#they are having the best sweet soda summer of there lives!

[sylveonkawaii289]

🥤🌺 Two bestie's outside hanging out in the summer taking a selfie at the Summer Soda Rock Festival! Seaberry has such a huge taste to rock music! 🥤🌺

[froggibus]

i really love how you write the obey me characters, i feel like theyre so in character and i appreciate that a lot! If i may, can i request headcanons of the brothers on how they help Mc stay hydrated? lol Especially now that it’s summer and drinking water is more important than ever. I feel like they would all have their own way of doing so.

thank you :-)

The Hydration Situation - Obey Me! Brothers

Genre: fluff/crack

CW: dehydration + effects of dehydration, lots of water drinking, kinda protective! brothers, Beel/Satan/Asmo are the only ones who understand hydration, slightly overbearing brothers, Levi is a weeb, reader kinda = MC

that is so kind, it’s really nice to hear you enjoy it!! summer writing has me in a CHOKEHOLD right now so I’d absolutely love to do this for you! thanks for the req & hope you enjoy 💓 also the title kinda sounds like a big bang theory episode lol

Lucifer:

he has some…interesting ways to make you stay hydrated

obviously he starts with the easy ones/what works on his brothers

he will make it more easily accessible, maybe buy you a cute water bottle & some stickers to decorate it

also will remind you CONSTANTLY

but if that doesn’t work, he’s going to Pavlov you (esp if you respond well to praise)

anytime he sees you drinking water, he’ll reward you (stickers, praise, snacks)

anytime you forget, he gives you a disappointed sigh (usually reserved for Mammon) and makes it well known that he’s upset

(spoiler: he never actually is)

if you ever complain about a headache, muscle cramps etc it’s SO over

the first question he’s asking is if you’ve drank enough water, followed by him asking you why you haven’t drank enough water

he WILL make you sit in his office with him while he does paperwork and monitor your water intake

until you’ve drank enough for the time of day & staved off the incoming effects of dehydration, you’re not leaving

(Levi begrudgingly partners with Mammon to try to rescue you, which just ends up with all three of you being locked in his office and forced to drink water)

Mammon:

he himself is not the best at remembering to drink water

however Satan told him some fun (read: unfun) facts about humans and dehydration that have made him paranoid for life

he’s absolutely convinced you’re going to drop dead on the spot of you forget your water for even an hour (very funny to watch)

this leads to him always carrying water for you in his bag and car like a worried mom, and setting alarms for himself to remind you

probably keeps an entire case of water bottles in the mini fridge in his room just so he can always have one on hand

however don’t you dare question why or else you’ll get a lecture :,)

“whaddya mean overbearing? d’ya wanna die or something? is that it? you’re my—our—human & it’s my—our—job to take care of ya”

whenever you guys go out to eat he’ll always force you to order a water and won’t let you get anything else (even juice) until you’re finished

accidentally ends up drinking more water himself, too

(also probably pavlovs himself into associating it with you)

despite how cheap he is, if you run out of water when you’re out and about, he will spend an absurd 5$ on a plastic water bottle for you

Levi:

again, definitely not the best at remembering his water

he lives off of Baja Blast or something (even tho he’s literally a sea creature)

he’s playing a game like Kenshi or Raft or something and realizes that humans are so fragile they’ll die without water

even tho he could technically research this he doesn’t and just lets himself panic spiral instead

decides that it’s now his responsibility to make sure you drink enough water and that he’s your protector

honestly it’s really sweet if a little dorky

trades out all his soda for water and Gatorade and when you ask about it he just says he’s ’being healthier’

feels super awkward when you praise him for that

whenever you come for your late night movie marathons he has a glass of water waiting for you (in some cool cup, no doubt)

he’ll offer you up some Gatorade if you finish and some ‘healthy’ snacks like strawberry pocky (cause it totally has real strawberry in it)

feels super happy and proud of himself that he’s helping you get better and staving off the effects of dehydration

probably forces you to wear a dorky matching bucket hat anytime you go outside

“it’s hot out! you need water and shelter or it’s game over”

??

Satan:

the least but also the most overbearing ever

read about it in some book about humans in the summertime and he’s been worried about it ever since

buys a notebook (that he lets you decorate) that he keeps a little water log in

he’ll colour in squares every time you meet your hourly water goal and (unbeknownst to you) he’ll give you a sticker at the end of the day if you meet it

you’re a little confused but who doesn’t love a free sticker?

super big stickler about sun protection too—if you try to leave the house without some SPF and a hat, he’s dragging you back inside until you agree to

you don’t really notice or care that much when he’s suddenly following you around with a journal everywhere—you just assume it’s one of his experiments

let’s it ‘slip’ to the other brothers so that they can watch over you whenever he’s not around (which just results in all of them panicking oops)

if the temp outside reaches above like 30c/90f, he won’t let you leave without a water bottle and some sort of sports drink

though he’ll really just find someway to coax you into the house

“there’s this new book I got in a lot online and I couldn’t help but notice it was also on your wishlist…care to take it off my hands?”

he thinks he’s slick… but also it works lol

you two end up spending most of the hot days inside, cozied up in the air conditioning of his room reading books

Asmo:

probably the only one who’s made you drink water outside of the summer months

he’s a stickler for hydration so anytime you’re hanging out, he’s always serving up some sort of new fancy water

has a little mini fridge of it like Chopped Leaf

watermelon, cucumber, charcoal, coconut—you name it

he lets you be for the most part, but if it’s a particularly hot day or he notices your skin and hair are looking a little dull, he’ll step in

does something lowkey, like a self care day

he’ll pamper you as a distraction to keep slipping you glasses of water, and by the end of the day, you’re back to your usual glowy self

he has a little app on his phone to track his water intake and probably has an extra little profile for you on it

the only one aside from Satan who also realizes you need electrolytes and vitamins in addition to the water

(meanwhile the other brothers have just been flushing all the nutrients out of you 😭)

don’t worry, he has an insane vitamin collection to make up for it

keeps those Alani Nu energy drinks around since they have collagen & stuff in them

also he’s like those people online who have like a crazy collection of different shapes/flavours of ice cubes

if you’re particularly sick or dehydrated, he’ll make a fun little game out of it by setting up a water bar or something for the two of you

it’s really sweet, honestly

Beel:

as a football player, he knows how important it is to stay hydrated

probably didn’t realize just how fragile humans are until you get woozy and delirious while playing football outside

he’s super worried but keeps it together and does a little research on his DDD

shows you where he keeps his secret stash of water, sports drinks & energy drinks

totally gives you a free pass to have any that you want too

after that, he’s watching you like a hawk

he’ll subconsciously time you and if you haven’t drank water in a while, he’ll give you a gentle reminder to

ends up getting you a water bottle (maybe one that matches his sports one ^^) just so that you’ll remember

like Mammon he keeps water on him at all times so that you can both stay hydrated

during your midnight snack runs, he won’t share with you until you drink a big cup of water (sometimes more if you’re having something salty!!)

he also has those flavoured electrolyte packets to make it a little more fun for you if you need it

or if it’s just very, very hot outside

he’ll make you a fun little glass of water and maybe even garnish it with an umbrella like a cocktail

also makes you eat lots of hydrating foods!! watermelon & cucumber are big ones for him, maybe celery and grapes too

he’ll make a little platter for you guys to share

Belphie:

I do not believe this man drinks water I’m sorry

didn’t care much at first about your water intake but when he notices you getting a little run down, he steps it up

makes sure to keep an extra glass of water on his nightstand for you whenever you come to nap or play games with him

sets alarms so he can wake up between naps and check on you

although he’ll just lazily text “water?” to you most of the time

and you just respond with a thumbs up emoji or something

probably finds those ‘sleepy mocktails’ online or something and makes you them before bed

like the magnesium cranberry juice ones

steals from Beel’s secret stash for you

probably has a secret mini fridge in one of his nightstands and stocks it up with extra water for you

on particularly hot nights (esp if you’re sweating a lot) he might wake you up so you can take a few sips of water

cause nothing is worse than waking up all achy with a dry throat and nose

making you drink more water kinda forces him to drink more water too

Asmo is absolutely seething with envy at how shiny Belphie’s skin and hair get

(this summer becomes known as the summer MC pees a million times lol)

masterlist | obey me masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[whereserpentswalk]

The Night Hunt

I need to eat. It’s not eating anymore. It doesn’t feel like thirst or hunger. It’s not something I would have understood as a human. I feel like I’m going to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t think anyone would mind if I did. My mouth is shaped so differently than it once was, I can’t move my jaws, I feel empty, I need it to fill me, and I feel empty.

The upper west side vampiric community center was cramped, getting everything it could from limited funds and real estate. The walls were white and the lighting sterile, their deadness only broken by overly enthusiastic posters. It was strange looking at the other vampires in the building, most of them seemed to be doing much better than me. Even most of the ones that ones you could tell weren’t human at a glance usually looked more human than me. It felt like everyone I saw was doing better than me, the petite girl in a black dress talking to her parents on the phone, the bearded man with cats eyes dressed in fancy clothes he had probably owned some version of for centuries, the snake mouthed person guzzling down a can of commercially sold blood like it was soda. I could assume a lot of the vampires I saw here had supportive families, and many others were old enough to be well adjusted to their lives. It almost hurt looking at vampires who could pass better than me, or who could better mask vampiric traits, this embarrassing envy, that I was a monster even by the standards of monsters.

I could have socialized, but I was too tired, and too thirsty. I had just been denied a good behavior slip by the New York State government, and thus denied a month’s supply of donated blood, and the building stopped being somewhere I wanted to be. Most vampires can’t get a good behavior slip, A lot don’t even try just because of how humiliating and restrictive life during the audit can be. A lot of them live off of relatives’ and friend’s blood, or buy it wholesale. I don’t have the option for either of those, at least not consistently.

I walked up Broadway, when I left, below the safety of the dark sky, and the calming yellow light of the windows, past the old brick buildings of a childhood that now seems alien to me. Best to get outside time in while I can, it’s summer, giving me few hours before the sun rises. It’s strange to remember when I walked down that street as a human. That deep loss of something I can remember but will never feel once more. Remembering how easy things were. When the restaurants smelled good to my body, instead of sickly sweet. It would’ve made me cry to see myself reflected in a window, if my eyes had tears to cry. To see I was the type of vampire other even other vampires shunning, too vampiric perhaps, to close to what they all fear being, too close to what they’re all accused of. I used to think of losing my humanity was a horrible fate, and now I am the bad ending for so many other nonhumans. I wonder how many of my kind’s advocates think I’m worthy of oppression. They say not all vampires look horrifying to humans, but I look horrifying to humans. They say not all vampires think violent thoughts about humans automatically, but I find myself doing that so often. They say not all vampires are weak to sunlight, or are hurt by symbols of their prior faith, but I am, and it hurts, and if acceptance means telling people it doesn’t hurt I’ll just get hurt more.

I tried to think of something to distract myself. Tried to think of friends who still cared about me, about that show I wanted to finish, tired to think about that Lord of the Rings fanfic that I wrote in middle school that I had though about on that street, on a bright day so alien to the humid night I walked through. No matter what I thought about there was always blood in the back on my mind. Even when a vampire isn’t thinking about blood directly, when they’re low, as almost fatally low as I was, it’s always able to be felt in the background. I could feel my body’s desire for blood, feel the pain and weakness of not having it. It was strange, to know that my body hurt because it wanted like, that my body only transformed into a vampire because it would have died from being bitten by one if it hadn’t. My body wanted to live as a vampire so much more than I did. My hands shook, my gate more unbalanced, more stumbling than it usually was, my twisted and inhuman mouth, the most inhuman part of my body, salivating. The staggered and almost animalistic walk must have made me look even more like a monster. The pigeons flew away when they saw me, they must have known, or maybe that’s just what pigeons are like.

 My once tan skin now so pale my organs are visible, my once fit body now skinny, my brown eyes forever white, and my mouth perfectly round and unmoving and filled with sharp tooth after sharp tooth like a lamprey. All so perfect to drink blood, all built to drain blood. It hurts to think I’ll probably be in this body for centuries. The same hoodie I’d been wearing for days still covers me a bit, as does my mess of uncut hair, I don’t really have to wash these things without human oils on my body anymore. It’s not good to think too long about that fact. There is no wonder my parents would rather consider their precious daughter basically dead, than know that she lived as this. I might do the same if I had a choice. I think about when I was turned sometimes, how I didn’t get to be turned out of love, or lust, or spite, how the bite was meant to kill me, how it would have killed me if I wasn’t rushed to the hospital, or if I hadn’t fought the attacker off. I never even knew the name of the vampire who attacked me. I didn’t know why he did at the time, I assumed it was from hate, I understand now, I would never defend attacking someone like that but I understand, he was hungry, I know how it feels to want blood like how he must have. People would have had me better in their memories if I had died, nobody admits it, but it’s true, my parents convinced themselves I had on religious grounds, saying my soul had left my body, I understand why, my reputation was not tarnished.

As I walked past stores and restaurants that had closed hours earlier, saw how little the world wanted me. I wondered how I would keep existing. I remembered that my transformation has made it so I wouldn’t age, couldn’t die a natural death at all, I realized how strange it would be for me to exist in a body like the one I did for hundreds more years, thousands if I got lucky. There was the feeling that maybe I’d be murdered, most of society didn’t even want the most human passing, most privileged vampires to live, it sucked even for people who had it so much better than me, maybe I’d just die, maybe one of those monster hunter gangs would finally due me in like they always threaten to online. But what if I didn’t, what if I had to still live. If I actually had put the work in to having positive relationships with the community maybe some vampiric elder would be able to tell me. As it was I felt lost, I didn’t know what I could be doing a hundred years from where I stood. Would things be better than, for me, for us? Would I be ok?

For a moment my eye caught a girl around my age. As a human I would have felt lust for her, she had that exact look that I used to like. Glistening hair dyed a candy colored red, a pale pink Cowboy Bebop t-shirt covering her chest. I would have felt lust, or perhaps a more noble sounding attraction, but now that part of me is gone, and seeing a young healthy body like that just makes me think about what it would be like to drink her instead of making me think about being in bed with her. I knew it was wrong, but it would feel so good, to feel my mouth punch into her neck, and drain her dry. I don’t want to feel this way, the logical part of my brain doesn’t like feeling this way, but it’s a feeling in my body. When I looked at her soft skin my teeth ever so slightly extended outwards, and the tiredness from the pain of thirst temporarily ceasing as my body filled with energy, my dreaming mind fantasizing about holding her as I drank her blood, as ashamed as I am of such thoughts, as little as I’d want to ever hurt someone like her, it felt so good in the moment just to fantasize. It was the closest I still had to feeling anything sexual or romantic, as many social media posts as there are telling you it’s a myth that all vampires lose their sexual or romantic feelings, it’s true for me, I don’t even have breasts or sex organs anymore, as horrifying as that is to even acknowledge about myself. Just another thing that makes me seem less human, and just another thing that makes drinking human blood seem to desirable. I didn’t want to hurt her, just looking at her walking, she seemed so happy, so pure.

I did nothing, yet she still crossed the street. I understood, it was late, and I was a ragged looking vampire walking near her, she had a right to feel safe. I ran, as thirsty as my body was I didn’t want to be near her, and didn’t want to cause a scene.

Best to flee uptown, Time Square is filled with Faeries, and Central Park with werewolves, and neither take kindly to my kind in the places they tend to hang out. There is a safety in being human, despite all the stories of young maidens scratched up in monster’s arms, with blood contrasting on top of their pretty white skin, most monsters with ill wills are way more likely to target other species of monster rather than humans. Humans are often well armed, and well defended by the law, and so many monsters are so eager to prove their kind’s validity through their hatred of another species of monster.

My running only stopped when I had to cross the street to avoid a church. One of those big ornate ones you’d see a vampiric villain hang out in in a thriller movie, with that shining stained glass they haven’t built in generations. They say it’s not anything divine that burns vampires that are weak to holy symbols, it’s just the memory of faith that hurts, the memory of the most human of all actions. Doesn’t change the fact that the pope still says we don’t have souls. The church ghosts all fled, they floated somewhere else just from seeing me, I wanted to yell to them “What? Are you too good even to haunt me.” I didn’t of course, I didn’t want to cause a scene. Maybe I would have if I wasn’t so weak from thirst.

I can’t get blood. The state won’t give it to me. My friends would say no if I asked. I can’t afford to buy it. I dropped out of school when I was turned, there wasn’t accommodation, and late classes were hard to get. Most of the friends I still have either treat me like a tragedy to fawn over, or like I could kill them at any time, they’re only human after all. I guess that’s why they recommend socializing with other monsters. I barely look for work anymore, even well-meaning humans are uncomfortable around me, though to be fair I’ve done nothing not to make them uncomfortable, and it’s impossible to ask them to close daytime windows, or keep silver and garlic away.  I spend so much time on the internet. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be this thirsty. I don’t want to look this way, and I don’t want to need blood. I never chose any of this, never chose to be bitten, never chose to be saved.

For a moment I saw another person on the street, alone with me. Some rich kid staggering drunk and barely knowing where he is, a sweatshirt from some fancy wizarding school clinging on to his body. His rosy yet pale cheeks, so vulnerable, not so privileged that he could hurt me, just privileged enough to feel like every bad though I could have towards him was punching up. He was the exact type of asshole that I’d expect to call me a slur, to be proud that wizards like him had engaged in just enough vampire hunts in the thirties and forties to be considered another type of human. But he didn’t. He didn’t notice me at all, he just sang to himself with his earbuds in and his eyes glued to his phone as he stumbled past closed stores.

I can smell blood on his lips. I remember that there is another way to quench my thirst. I’d have to drain him dry so that nobody would know. I don’t want to. I don’t want to be that type of vampire. His body is so fresh, I’d be full for like a year. I can’t stop looking at him and remembering my life. He’ll run but I can catch up to him, and he’ll taste so good. And I would be so hard to catch if I drained him to death, he’s a stranger, the case would go cold. I need blood, and he has blood, it’s like a trolly problem, you don’t need sadism to pick yourself when you’re tied to the tracks. And I can’t think of another way I could get blood before starving to death.  It feels weird to grab his wrist as he struggles, too thirsty to think too deeply. I don’t want to look at his face when he screams, but something deep within me is excited to hear a human scream. I feel sorry for him I think, he didn’t deserve this, I didn’t deserve this, if things were different… well they aren’t different. God my voice sounds demonic with this mouth. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

[jaidens]

I'd Give All Have, Honey If You Could Stay Like That, Oh, Darling Don't You Ever Grow Up

pairing [s] : bob floyd x reader

warning [s] : call your dentist as soon as possible! the sweet fluff is giving you cavities!

a/n [s] : requests are open! the pictures do not show what your daughters might look like.

Robert was a girl dad. If anyone has dared to try and make fun of him for being head over heels for his daughters and wife, call the ambulance. Jake pushed his buttons by calling him Baby on Board, but Hangman knew to never make fun of him about his daughters. You loved the way he could never say no to his daughters flapping eyelashes and pretty eyes blinking at him. It was sometimes annoying for how much candy your babies could assume if their daddy was taking care of them for a day.

Currently, Bob was holding his daughter Tessa in his arms, slowly running his hands down her hair. She was almost asleep, eyes attempting to stay open. Tessa was slumped against your husband's chest, drool slowly falling out of her mouth when she finally sleeps. Eventually Sophia, Tessa’s sister, clomps over to Bob, hands going up to try and grab her Daddy.

“Hey babygirl.. did you have fun with Uncle Mickey?” Bob's voice is calm and soft as he picks his daughter up in his other arm and pulls her up. Sophia wraps around her dad's arms, laying on his shoulder. You're sipping a soda while you scroll on your phone. “Mm.. daddy wanna go home. Sleepy.” It's only 6:30 but he swears his girls got your sleeping gene. You're almost asleep too as you lay against his shoulder. He's surprised you're even getting sleepy whenever Jake goes to turn another song on the jukebox.

“Hey, babe, Soph’ is getting sleepy and Tess is asleep. You think it's time to head out?” Bob says to you while he attempts to not wake up Tessa. “Yeah I think so. The girls have been up since six-thirty. And Mama needs her husband alone tonight.” He laughs gently as you pick up your bag and stand up. Your hand runs against Tessa’s soft curls and you kiss Bob softly. His cheeks turn a dusty pink. Even after fourteen years of marriage, he still gets flustered by you. You smile at him and pick up Sophia. She lets out a small whine before she relaxes in your arms.

The team gives you all hugs as you say goodbye to everyone. Sophia waves tiredly at Fanboy and Phoenix. You walk out the door and Bob follows behind you, holding the door open for you. You're walking to your car before Bob runs in front of you and opens the door for you, hand touching your lower back. “I’ll put the girls in their seats, love.” You kiss his lips and he smirks at you. He hands you the keys and you start the car with them.

You can hear him in the backseat buckling in Tessa and she starts to almost cry before he kisses her softly. Bob had a hidden voice he would never share, the soft voice from his choir days in highschool. You hear the relaxing Taylor Swift song that Bob held you to during the Speak Now tour in 2011. You remember telling him after the concert that you would dream about your kids with him during that song.

Now, your dream came true. Bob had kept his promise and whenever Tessa was born, he held her in his arms and sang just that song. It became tradition in your daughters’ lives to hear that song from their dad. It felt like you were in college again, in the back of Bobby’s best up Chevy staring at the stars talking about your future. The only thing you were sure of was Bobby would always be written in your stars.

Bob jumped into the truck, putting the windows down to let in the warm summer night. He flips the radio on, a random country station playing soft music. His hand falls to your thigh, thumb going under the rips in your jeans. “Y'know,” Bob begins, his head turns, looking at you and back at the road. “Jake said he could take the girls this weekend. His nieces are coming over. I thought we could go to the city for the weekend. Drink and go crazy, like we did before the girls.”

You laugh gently and nod at him. “Yeah sure. I missed those times if I had to be honest. I miss the mullet you had in highschool, and I missed when you held me in your arms that summer night when Daniel Carrigan said you sucked at football and you almost cried.” He pinches your thigh and laughs. “I still can't believe he said that.”

“Tess has gotten so big recently. I was scrolling through the pictures on my phone and I saw her when she was a little baby on her first day of school.” You show him the picture and you see the way he is for a moment. “I wish I could keep her like that forever. She was such a little baby.” Bob tells you and smiles at the photos of her dancing around in her little dresses.

He taps your thigh with his hand and grips the wheel. You know he's sensitive about his girls growing up and it's something so bittersweet; growing up. You've grown up with Bob, and you watch him watch his girls grow up. You remember telling him one day about how you were scared about growing up and what the future held. He only told you one thing,

“Whatever the future might hold, you can remember I'll always be there.”

That's whenever you knew you would be with him forever. The funky glasses he wore and his long hairstyle. He was stuck with you and you were stuck with him.

[sondheim-girly]

sandy headcanons!!! This is gonna be sort of a mix between book and musical canon, so bear with me!

-as is in the musical, Sandy is a soc

-she has a younger brother, and everyone in her family always pays much more attention to him

-he does better in school, he plays sports, and ya know their family is very very sexist, so he’s gonna be getting all the attention

-anyways that’s case one of Sandy always feeling like she’s second best!

-Sandy’s also super duper shy and quiet

-in kindergarten she already knows Bev cuz their parents are friends, and Bev is kinda like that extrovert that adopts the introvert, so they become ��best friends’

-At this time Bev is also friends with Ace because they ice skate together, and Sandy always feels like Bev prefers Ace over her

-also through their entire friendship everyone always prefers Bev over sandy

-Bev is outgoing, and hot, and flirty, and Sandy’s just that girl who hangs around her

-in middle school Bev stops being friends with ace, and sandy thinks this can mean they’ll get close again, but Bev becomes friends with Marcia and cherry, and sandy is left to be the second choice once again

-she’s friends with them through high school, but is always on the outskirts of the group, especially when she starts dating soda.

-in freshman year she has a bunch of classes with Soda, and they start talking a bit and they both have massive crushes on each other

-he asks her out, and of course sandy is thrilled! For the first time in her life someone is choosing her, putting her first, putting all of their attention on her!!

-and not only that, but it’s sodapop Curtis who could date pretty much any girl in the school

-also due to her appearance (in the book she’s described to have long blonde hair and soft blue eyes) and the fact that she hardly talks, everyone always assumes that she’s super sweet and kinda projects that personality onto her

-and that’s not to say that she isn’t! But it causes any other parts of her personality to kinda get ignored or go unnoticed

-such as her selfishness and constant need for attention!

-when the Curtis parents die and soda drops out of school they start spending less time together

-suddenly she feels like she’s second best again, and that he cares more about his brothers than her

-and she kinda knows how fucked up it is that she’s thinking that, but not really

-anyways this other guy at school starts flirting with her, and she’s like “omg two guys liking me??? More people putting me first above everyone else??? Yes please!”

-she starts sorta going out with this other guy as well, and yada yada they sleep together

-during summer break before junior year she discovers that she’s pregnant

-she knows that it has to be the other guys kid

-she calls him and tells him, and he’s like “ummm no wdym? That’s not my kid?” And she’s like “uhhh yeah it is” and he’s like “look sandy, my parents expect me to go to an Ivy League. I can’t do that with a kid to take care of! Please don’t tell anyone that’s my kid?” And she’s like “fine.”

-she knows that soda would marry her in an instant if she told him, but her parents would never approve and they would never be able to afford the baby

-plus our girl is used to a very rich lifestyle, she couldn’t handle being a greaser

-so she tells her parents she’s pregnant and they decide to send her off to live in Florida with her grandmother

-she has the option to say goodbye to soda, but she’s too scared so she opts to leave him a letter literally just saying “dear soda, I’m pregnant, and it’s not yours. I’m going to live with my grandmother in Florida. I’ll miss you, love sandy”

-leaving our boy absolutely heartbroken 💛

[calmcoldevening]

♡ Slashers as drinks ♡

Michael Myers — Water

• Firstly, it is good for the body (Michael can also be useful, yes)

• Secondly, if you replace many harmful drinks with water, your life will become much better. Well, if you spend more time with Michael, your life will get a little better (hey, he will kill all the people who somehow offend you, he will save your life from "bad drinks")

• Water is so delicious when you don't drink for several hours in a row. Seriously. Especially after some training. And so you come home after a long day, and you are greeted by this miracle (yeah, very friendly, especially with his emotionality) and you spend the whole evening together. Cute.

• Just, if you love Michael (I do), drink more water. And you will support Michael, and your body will thank you :)

Jason Voorhees — Morse

• It's sweet.

• It's delicious.

• This is useful, especially if it is at home.

• Well, just look at this adorable bun, it's impossible not to love it! It is so sweet and refreshing, like a delicious fruit drink made from fresh summer berries! It's like I'm back at camp again.

Bubba Sawyer — Cocoa with marshmallow

• Brighten up any of your cold evening with his warm, pleasant company.

• You, him and a warm blanket on the sofa in front of the fireplace, what could be better?

• This man has the most tremulous and loving hugs. His big plush body is literally created for pleasant, gentle hugs. And take another ginger cookie for both of you, and it will be the best evening of your lives.

• Cocoa will help you relax after a long chase after victims and dragging a heavy chainsaw. Bubba's tense body begs for such a pleasant rest.

Thomas Hewitt — Hot chocolate

• Like hot chocolate, it is very sweet and pleasant. Warms the throat and soul and all that.

• God, have you seen this divine man? I'm ready to kiss it all, it's the sweetest chocolate in the world.

• Lyude-Mae, thank you for raising such an incredible boy.

• Chocolate improves brain function and increases dopamine levels in the brain, isn't that a sign? In addition, the touch of another person produces dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin, which lift the mood and increase resistance to stress. Hugs?

Stu Matcher/Billy Loomis — Vodka

• Can I not comment on this..?

Vincent Sinclair — Milkshake (your favorite flavor)

• Oh, yes.

• Milkshake is especially good in the heat. A little cream, your favorite ice cream and some fresh berries (you can do without them) and voila, it turns out such a yummy.

• You can freeze and get ice cream. Multifunctional boy.

• If you start drinking, the cocktail ends in an instant, and then you want more and more... This boy is addictive.

• But he's so sweet...

Bo Sinclair — Pomegranate juice

• I just don't like pomegranate juice. But it's useful. Bo, what's the use of you? (Sorry if you like him)

Lester Sinclair — Mineral water

• Simple and tasteful.

• Lester is really like a mineral water. In a difficult moment, he will always offer his friendly shoulder so that you can lean on or cry.

• The best thing you'll find with a hangover...

• Quenches thirst better than sweet soda.

• If you add syrup to it, you will get a sweet fruit lemonade. This boy will help in all cases of life.

Pyramid head - Green tea

• Many people don't like it (for example, my dad), but if you try this divine drink, you won't be able to drink something else.

• Pyra is truly a gift to the universe!

• Improves well-being, skin condition, accelerates metabolism, improves mood and the name system... I can go on for a long time.

• Delicious both hot and cold (But the Pyramid head one is always hot as Hell...)

• This man is addictive.

John Kramer — Lemonade

• Simple and tasteful.

• You won't find a better alternative for the holidays.

• It's delicious. It's beautiful. This is always relevant. Eternal classics.

• With what other drink do you get to know the essence of this life?

• Chilled lemonade with ice cubes and mint...

Amanda Young — Red wine

• Oh, this baby is the best.

• Improves sleep. Any time spent with this goddess is fine, but sleep is especially good. Next to Amanda, you will only have sweet, pleasant dreams! Maybe even smut... I assure you, sleeping with her is a pleasure.

• Useful for pressure. If Amanda is around, your heart starts beating wildly in a chaotic dance, and the blood rises to your pale cheeks until this moment. Now you don't look so tired, right?

• Hugs and kisses with this gorgeous woman are like Paradise, so it's quite possible to say that she herself tastes like good wine.

Mark Hoffman — Black coffee

• He took my heart.

• No sugar is needed to taste this man.

• At first it seems bitter and nasty, but... Hey, pour me another cup, please?

• It's fucking addictive, and after a while you just won't be able to drink coffee with sugar.

• Where to sign to sell your soul to the Devil? I just want to drink this coffee forever (and have Hoffman forever, ahem)

• As black as his soul.

• Bitter, but delicious in its own way and damn sweet.

• For connoisseurs of true art and something truly beautiful.

Brahms Heelshire — Milk

• Baby Brahmsey.

• Helps you fall asleep. This man will ask for a bedtime story and a kiss before going to bed... And then he will throw you on the bed and ask you to fall asleep with him.

• You know, it's good for the throat if you're sick.

• Milk reminds of childhood ...

• Sometimes milk is nasty and Brahms too. If your mood is more towards tea than coffee, drink tea. Brahms will get mad and calm down. And after that there will be time for hugs.

Hannibal Lecter — Cognac

• This man is good.

• After his appearance in my life, I decided to connect my life with psychology and helping others (and after Kramer's appearance, of course).

• Always good. Especially if you are some kind of boss or a serious person, you should have cognac. In the movies, it looks like a success.

• This man understands exquisite things and looks so great all the time... Really cognac, there is no other way.

• Will support you on a lonely night and cheer you up when you meet some of your friend.

Will Graham — Black tea with milk/cream

• This is... Cute?

• My cousin had a grandmother, she always made me such tea. It evokes a feeling of nostalgia and comfort, as if I am back in childhood.

• This is the most comfortable character for me! So warm, sweet, sweet and pleasant ...

• It's unusual, especially if you try it for the first time, but it's delicious, I assure you.

• A combination of classic harsh tea and something soft and kind from childhood, Will is really the best.

• I want to get to know Will by sight. I want to hug him. I want to be him, okay?

[crappymixtape]

i hate you ( not )

REQUEST → anonymous, 500 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION ❝ love a good enemies to lovers smutty fic – anything works, just lots of sarcasm and name calling to build up the tension • 18+ | ( 3.6k – a nice lil mountain of angst that rolls down into a big ol’ valley of smut, steve x reader )

I H A T E Y O U ( N O T ) 🎶 dopamine, julius black

“Are you seriously following me right now?” you didn’t even bother looking over your shoulder as you shouted over the crunch of Steve’s shoes in the gravel behind you trying to catch up.

He was fucking impossible. Always finding a way to get under your skin. Telling you the way you stocked the shelves at Family Video was wrong. Making fun of your beater of a car. Chewing his chips so loudly in the break room you thought it’d make you go certifiably insane. Always obnoxious, but easily dealt with til now. When he’d gone too far.

A party down at the quarry. Too much beer and smoke and haze and the crack of the bonfire against the inky black sky. You were trying to talk to a boy you’d run into at the store, a cute boy. One that didn’t smack his lips or slurp his soda. One that didn’t look at you like you were the bane of his existence and it had been going so well for once.

Had been.

Until Steve.

“Yeah, they’re so fucking good live. Maybe I can take you next time they’re in town?”

“I’d love that,” your stomach flipped over, grin pulling at the corners of your lips as Liam looked down at you through his dark curls. Smiled at you warm and soft. Eyes deep and green, like the trees along the fence line at night and god, it was just nice to be treated like this for once.

“You don’t even like them,” Steve’s voice cut in as he stepped up next to you beer in hand, and your cheeks burned. Bright red, embarrassed and angry.

Liam looked over at Steve, confusion pinching between his brows and then glanced down at you.

“Oh, I thought you said–”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” you insisted, turning your back to Steve and trying your best to smile up at Liam, but the warmth on his face had faded.

“Okay,” Liam said, drawing out the vowel. Drinking the rest of his beer he tossed the can into the fire and jammed his hands into his pockets, “Well. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Wait! A-are you leaving? You just got here,” you protested, trying not to sound desperate. Liam was so sweet and all you wanted for once was just to have a nice time, but he was already turning to walk back up the hill.

“Yeah, sorry. I gotta be up early for work. I’ll call you,” he said, but you knew he wouldn’t as he forced a smile. Gave you a small half wave before heading across the gravel of the quarry and up to his truck.

“But–don’t you want to–” you stopped yourself short knowing it was useless. Steve chuckled behind you and you felt heat rise in your chest again.

Eyes squeezing shut and hands balled into fists, your nails pressed half moons into your palms as you spun back around to Steve. The glare you gave him wiped the grin right off his face and his lips twisted into a scowl.

“What?” he asked stupidly and you huffed a sound of disbelief.

“What d’you mean, what?” you shot back, taking a few steps toward him, “You just fucked that up for me. On purpose!”

“I did you a favor, that guy’s an idiot,” Steve grumbled and you laughed then. A hollow, humorless one that pushed itself from your lungs.

“You’re a real dick, Harrington,” you said, stepping up to him in defiance and he crowded down over you. Looked at you like a challenge. Eyes lit up bright in the firelight. Melted caramel. Amber. Whiskey and honey and you didn’t shy away from it.

“Oh, yeah? Well you’re no ray of sunshine, princess,” he was close enough now you could feel his breath warm over your cheek and the air grew thick, too hot, and it had nothing to do with the summer heat or the fire.

“Asshole,” you half whispered, using what little resolve you had left to tear away from him and stalk up the same hill Liam had toward your car, leaving Steve behind in a lurch.

You could hear gravel crunching behind you, the slip and slide of rock on rock punctuated by Steve’s sharp breaths.

“Are you seriously following me right now?”

“Yeah, if you just–Jesus Christ–slow down!” Steve’s feet skidded as he nearly tripped, but you kept going, digging in your purse for your keys.

You didn’t want to stay, didn’t want to hear whatever bullshit excuse he had loaded. You couldn’t. Not without ripping into him. Fumbling your key in your hand you jammed it into the lock just as Steve caught up, hands on his hips as he sucked in gasps of air.

“C’mon. Can you just–can you just gimme a minute?” he asked, out of breath and tone edging on pleading, but you resisted turning around.

“Why the hell would I do that?” you asked against your car door.

“Shit, princess. D’you really hate me that much?” his tone was even softer this time and you shook your head.

“Only as much as you hate me,” you snapped.

Finally getting the lock undone, you tried to wrench the door open, but Steve’s hand stopped you. Pressed into yours and kept it shut.

“God, what’s your problem?” you turned to hurl daggers at him, but the words died in your throat when you realized just how close he was.

Toes bumping into yours, hair falling all messy across his forehead, chest still heaving with the effort of jogging up the hill and everything blurred. Dizzy and spinning and even though you hadn’t been the one running, you couldn’t catch your breath.

“I don’t have one,” he said voice low and you felt your lips fall open at the way it made your stomach twist.

The anger that had settled in your chest shifting into something else. Something that felt dangerous. Swallowing thick you tried to shake your head, shake him, and you pulled your hand away from his.

“Sure seems like it,” you mumbled, mouth firmed in a line, trying so hard to stand your ground.

His brows pinched together. A mixture of frustration, uncertainty. Struggling to put words to the feelings that were squeezing in his chest, just as conflicted as you were. He looked at you through the long sweep of his lashes, eyes searching yours and bit at the inside of his cheek.

He thought he’d been in love with you the minute you walked into Family Video. Wearing your cut off jeans and an old baggy Hawkins High basketball jersey. Hair pulled up away from your face so that he could see the soft curve of your shoulders, the baby hairs that curled at the nape of your neck. You looked grumpy, frustrated, and the frown twisting across your lips drove him crazy. So did the heat in your tone as you talked to Keith, telling him you wanted was ‘a stupid job’ to pay for your ‘stupid bills’ and god if he didn’t feel stupid for staring.

There was no way you didn’t have a boyfriend. You were too hot. Too funny and sharp and cool. Hell, even if you didn’t have a boyfriend he figured there was no way he’d have a chance, so he did what he always did. Acted like he didn’t care. Needled you, pestered you, got under your skin. Got a little mean with it, but he hadn’t expected it to backfire. Hadn’t expected you play back and fuck if it didn’t make it worse.

Took to calling you Princess because he loved the way you glared at him.

Ate half your lunch just so he had an excuse to walk you across the street for a bag of chips.

Said you did things wrong just so you’d shove at him, tell him ‘if he was so good at it why didn’t he show you?’

And when he finally figured out you were single he felt like he’d fucked up. Like he’d taken it too far and there was no way he could be what he really wanted to be for you. No way to tell you how badly he wanted to take you out. How badly he wanted to treat you right. Hold your hand and call you baby.

Hey, baby.

How much he wished he could press his lips into yours and see if you tasted all sweet and tart at the same time. Sour on the outside, sugar on the inside. How he wanted to run his hands up your legs, feel you under him, tell you things that’d pull sweet sounds from your lips, but now you were here at this stupid party. Now there was Liam and he couldn’t help it.

Anything to keep him away from you and now he felt like he was answering for everything.

“See?” you insisted at his hesitation, huffing a sigh and turning back into your car, but Steve grabbed at your hand and spun you around again.

“S’not you!” he said a little too loud, cheeks burning with his admission and he bit his lips between his teeth, “It’s everybody else.”

Your face shifted skeptical, a little cynical, but he was so damn close. Too close and you tried to pull in a breath. Tried to hold onto your anger, but it slipped through your fingers like water. Scattered like wishes on a breeze as the scent of his cologne made you go all hazy. The look in his eyes pouring into you like kerosene on a fire. Made you want to grab fistfuls of his shirt in your hands and feel the full weight of him on you and–

“I don’t see what that’s gotta do with me,” you sniped, trying to keep your tone short, but it came out softer and he took the opportunity and ran with it.

“Everything, actually,” his lips tugged up into a small sheepish smile, but dropped again as he realized there was more to say. “I know I’m a dick–”

“You think?” you cut in and he leveled you with a look.

“Thanks,” he muttered and it pulled a little grin from you, but the next thing he said wiped it off your face, “M’sorry,” and your stomach flipped over at the way he was looking at you. “I just…I wish it were me,” he said, lifting a hand to your cheek and tucking a few stray locks of hair behind your ear.

Wish it were me. Your heart was racing.

“Wish what was you?” you whispered. Afraid to hear the answer. Holding your breath as he leaned in. Nose nearly brushing over your cheek. Close enough to kiss you if he wanted and god did you want him to.

“The one askin’ you out,” he whispered back and it struck you silent.

How was that possible? He was awful. Annoying and irritating and obnoxious and now he was telling you he wanted to ask you out?

“So ask me, Harrington,” you murmured and watched as his brows lifted in surprise, lips parted into a little ‘o’ as his brain raced to catch up.

“Wai–what?” he stumbled over his words and you pressed a hand to his chest.

“Ask me,” you said again and he huffed a laugh, tongue jammed into his cheek as he looked back down at you.

“Okay,” he managed, licking over his lips as he gathered himself back up, “C-Can I take you out?”

“Mmhm,” you murmured, nerves giving way to confidence and you pulled him down into you a little closer. Pressed your lips against his ear and whispered, “Kiss me.” And it nearly knocked him over.

Pulling away you looked up at him, whispered his name like a question and it blew his pupils wide. Dark at the center and fringed in gold and it was enough to make him lean back down. Soft and tentative at first, but bolder and braver when you sighed into him.

An exhale. A release. A realization of what you’d wanted this whole time and it made you grab his shirt in your hands, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and the sounds you pulled from each other were greedy.

More more more.

Hands splaying out over his chest you slid them up his shoulders and into his hair, pulling it lightly as his tongue licked into you and the moan he loosed made you press your thighs together.

“Shit,” he hissed, fingers pressing into the plush of your hips, mouth dragging hot down your neck and across your collarbone. Kisses messy and slipping on your skin and god you needed him. “Christ, princess, you drive me crazy,” he admitted and you grinned, all smug and holding the upper hand, but then he slotted a leg between your thighs and you lost it.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Felt like he was the only thing keeping you from falling away and it made you hold onto him tighter. You could still hear the laughter and the music down at the bonfire, but it sounded so far away. Both of you hidden in the thick, indigo shadows that fell out under the stand of trees, dark enough to not care what you were about to ask.

“Steve,” you pulled away just enough to speak and he stopped, both of you panting short breaths into the space between you.

“Sorry, can slow down if you want–”

“No–shit–” you squeezed your eyes shut to focus, “Don’t stop.” Swallowing thick you opened your eyes again and looked right up at him, “Just get in.”

Hands slipping against your car you fumbled to open the door to the backseat and half shoved him in before piling in after. When you closed it behind you the small space was suddenly filled with the sounds of your breaths. Quick and nervous and anticipating.

Steve sat on the bench, just as anxious as you were, and watched with heavy lidded eyes as you climbed over him. Straddled him with a leg on either side. Your dress hitching up and bunching at your hips and all he could do was grab onto your thighs for dear life. Pressing a hand into the seat behind his head you bit your lip between your teeth and pulled in a steadying breath.

“Here,” you whispered, taking one of his hands and sliding it between your legs. Making him feel the heat that had pooled there, showing him what he was doing to you and he groaned. A filthy sound that fell from his lips as he pressed his fingers against your soaked panties.

“Fuck,” he rasped, already wrecked from feeling how wet you were. “Okayokayokay. So fuckin’ hot, babe. Shit,” nonsense fell from his lips and you had half a mind to laugh at him, but his fingers were pulling your panties aside and touching you not your panties and it pulled a gasp from you.

At the sound his eyes darted up to look at you, make sure you were okay and you put your hand back over his. Moving his fingers in slow circles as they slipped against your slick.

“Like that?” he asked eyes still on you, keeping up the motion as your hand fell away.

You tried to say yes, but it melted into another moan and he leaned in to press a kiss to your neck. Mouth open and messy. Licking against the softness of your skin and sucking a bruise on it.

“Tell me,” he said into the hollow behind your ear, trailing kisses as he went, your hips rocking against his fingers as his circles grew tighter and faster.

“Like that–ye–yeah–yes. God, don’t stop,” you stuttered over your words hands moving to grip onto his shoulders as he slipped first one then two fingers inside of you.

He filled you up better than you could at home, your cheek pressed into your pillow, tears welling up in your eyes in frustration as you struggled to reach the spot you wanted. The hot drag of him sliding in and out in and out made you see white, made your tighten your hold on him and as you loosed another moan he bucked up into you.

You could feel how hard he was through his jeans against the bare skin of your thigh and it only made you want him more. “Steve,” you leaned forward and pressed your forehead to his, “Please tell me you have a condom.”

His fingers stopped moving and he loosed a heavy sigh, swallowing down the nerves that had pushed themselves into his throat. “Yeah, course, lemme just–” lifting his hips, and you, from the seat he yanked his wallet out of his back pocket.

He had stopped carrying them around after high school. Felt like it was fucking juvenile, but one time after Steve had watched you leave work, put his returns in the wrong spot and upside down, Robin had thrown one across the store at him. “Here, dingus,” she’d grumbled, “Don’t be an idiot.” And he’d been so embarrassed, afraid to tell her he didn’t think he’d ever need it, but he silently thanked her now. Always saving his ass.

Gently nudging you back into the headrests on the front seats he put his wallet down and fumbled his fingers against the button on his jeans. He was hard as a rock and when he undid his zipper it sprang out without any encouragement.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him as he ripped the foil of the condom wrapper between his teeth and thumb. Of course he drove you crazy at work, but you couldn’t deny you’d thought about him when you were alone in your room. Touching yourself beneath the sheets. Fantasizing about what it would be like and now that you were seeing it for real your heart hammered in your chest, legs slipping together as you grew wetter by the second.

He wrapped a hand around his length pumping once, twice, three times before rolling the condom down from tip to root and looking back up at you.

“Y’okay?” he asked, hands moving to hold onto your hips and you realized how ridiculous you must’ve looked.

“Mmhm,” you murmured and let him pull you slowly back into his lap.

“Gotta tell me if you aren’t,” he whispered and you nodded as he gave you a little smile, brushed your hair out of your face and looked just a little longer. “So pretty,” he said softly, words lighting a fire in your chest, and you pressed a kiss to him again. Sucking on his bottom lip and letting it go with a dirty pop and he thought he was going to come right there on the spot. “Sh–shit, okayokay,” he breathed, pressing his tip against your entrance, hesitating just a little and you helped him the rest of the way, pushing down slowly.

You watched as he filled you up, stretched you out until he was buried deep inside you, the tight fit making you squirm over him.

“Ohhh god, so tight, feel so good babe, Christ,” he rambled and you chuckled a little until he hit the soft, squishy spot at the back of you and you moaned loudly. Fell forward onto his chest and rolled your hips forward, silently begging him to move as if he could do anything else. “I got you,” he promised.

Hands gripping your hips again he slowly turned and lowered you down, your back against the seat bench, his arms on either side of you to hold himself up. Murmured soft, dirty things under his breath as he crowded over you, started rocking his hips into you, the wet sounds of you filling up the car.

“Wish you’d asked me sooner,” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist and he gave you a smug little smile.

“Yeah? Worth the wait?” he asked, breath hitching in his throat as he picked up the pace, fronts of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours.

“Shut up,” you gasped as he bottomed out inside of you. Tangling your fingers into his hair you pulled and it dragged a groan from him as he started to fuck you faster. Slipping a hand between your legs you drew tight, messy circles over your clit, pushing yourself closer and closer to the edge. “Ste–shit. Steve, harder,” you practically begged and the pleading tone in your voice sent him.

“Harder,” he said back, it was all he could muster, wrecked and chest heaving with each breath he sucked in, fucking into you with heavy thrusts, “M’so close.”

Opening your mouth a so close almost fell from your lips too, but the coil in your stomach had been so tightly wound that the combination of your fingers over your clit and Steve finally made it snap.

You clenched tight around him as you both rode out your climax. Head pressed against the seat and eyes rolling back to look out the window at the stars. The moon as it hung lazy in the sky. Steve spilling sweet words of praise into your ears and bringing you back down to earth. Wrapping you up soft and warm in his voice.

He rested his forehead against yours, both of your brows dewy with sweat, and let out a contented sigh as he softened inside you.

“Wish I’d asked you sooner too,” he murmured, poking fun at himself with your words from earlier and you leaned up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Worth the wait,” you finally agreed and he grinned.

God damn, was it worth the wait.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

[cinnamochis]

Girl's Night!

Baroness Von BonBon plans a girl's night with her best friends: Cala Maria, Sally Stageplay, and Hilda Berg. What could go wrong? Oneshot.

It was a wonderful summer evening in Sugarland, and Baroness Von BonBon was just finishing up the icing of the ruffles on her dress, humming to herself ever so sweetly.

She just couldn’t wait for her very good girlfriends to arrive, and to give them all a tour of her wonderful home!

Just as expected, in a few moments she heard the doorbell in the great hall of her candy castle, and she giggled and skipped out to host the sweetest, most delectable girl’s night ever! Oh, there would be a tour, and a big dinner, and then movies, and staying up late, and talking all night-!

“MUFFSKY! GUMBO! WHY AREN’T YOU OUT HERE GREETING MY GUESTS?!” Bonbon screeched. 

Bonbon’s attendants Muffsky Chernikov the muffin and Sargent Gumbo Gumball the gumball machine scattered across the hall in a panic. “Sorry, Miss Bonbon! Sorry!”

Muffsky finally heaved the heavy door open for the Baroness, and in walked Hilda Berg and Sally Stageplay. Behind them, Cala Maria was sitting in an enormous rolling bathtub, which was her go-to travel transportation. 

“Sally!” Bonbon squealed, waving her arms and pressing two quick kisses on either side of the older woman’s face. 

“You’re looking splendid, darling,” the actress said, smiling, “It was so nice of you to invite us all here! I notice my dear frienid Rumor didn't get an invitation.”

"Rumor Honeybottoms and I are no longer on speaking terms," Bonbon said with a dramatic sniff. "She's insulted me and written nasty, hurtful things about the delicious processing that goes into my candy too many times!"

Bonbon then went to embrace Hilda, but the zeppelin woman took a step back and gave her a discouraging look. “No thanks.”

“I heard you have quite a feast for us,” Cala said with a glint in her eye, smiling. “I’m famished!” 

“Yes, yes, of course, sweetie!” Bonbon giggled, squeezing Cala’s hand affectionately. She knew how her large friend had a rather large appetite, and enjoyed some of the same exotic cuisine she loved herself! “But first, a grand tour!”

She turned back to her attendants. “MUFFSKY! GUMBO! ROLL MS.MARIA AROUND THE GROUNDS!”

Bonbon then smiled and led her three friends around, first showing them a lovely view of the ice cream mountains just beyond the castle walls, and leading them forward and into the magical land of sugar she ruled over.  Meanwhile, her servants shoved and puffed trying to push Cala’s enormous bathtub to keep up with the group. 

“Why, it’s such a perfect place to live!” remarked Sally, gazing in awe at the forest of chocolate bars and rivers of soda. 

Hilda Berg looked somewhat amused as she tasted a low floating cloud of swirling cotton candy. “Logically it makes no sense,” she tutted. 

“When has anything ever had to make sense?” Bonbon laughed, grabbing a can of whipped cream and pouring it into her mouth. “And the best part is, the dirty little children love this place!”

Cala’s eyes brightened. “Yes, do tell us about the dirty little children.” 

Bonbon’s grin widened. “Oh, I’ll tell you. They come in here, sneaking little things! Hungry for my sweet treats, greedy, eating more and more! And once they’re all nice and plump…”

She stopped mid sentence, spit dripping down her chin and breathing hard.

Hilda and Sally were looking at her with confusion.

Bonbon cleared her throat. “Well, you’ll see for yourselves,” she said cheerfully. “It’s just about time for dinner!” 

Once back inside, Bonbon had her guests seated at a giant ornate table in the dining hall.  Cala’s bathtub was wheeled to one end while Bonbon sat at the head of the table, Hilda and Sally being seated on opposite sides. 

“Dinner should be ready in just a few,” Bonbon said excitedly, “so girls, dish! What’s going on with you all lately? What’s going on in the world? On account I can’t really leave Sugarland and all that, y’know?” She burst into maniacal giggles. "And it's been a few months since we all last hung out, ladies!"

“Same old, same old,” Cala Maria said, looking bored with the conversation and running her fingers through her tentacle hair. “Everyday, sailors come, everyday, sailors die. They stand no chance against the seabeast, Cala Maria.” 

“Haven’t you ever thought about settling down and finding someone?” questioned Sally, to which Cala shuddered with disgust. Sally frowned. “Well, the hubby and me are happy. Working and acting together has been so good for our marriage!”

Hilda scoffed, and Sally turned to her. “Well, what about you?”

Hilda crossed her arms. “I’m content just stargazing and reading my fortunes.” 

Bonbon began to giggle uncontrollably. “Not true! I know for a fact that you have a huge crush on Mr. Goopy Le Grande! The last time we were together you practically told me so yourself!”

Hilda’s entire face went as red as her dress. 

“So have you kissed him yet?” Bonbon teased.

“This is why I don’t hang out with you,” Hilda said, covering her face with embarrassment.  

“Dinner is served, Madame Bonbon,” spoke up Sir Wafflington from behind, and some of the other attendants came out from the kitchen wheeling a large trolley with steaming, covered dishes. 

“I hope you all enjoy what I prepared!” Bonbon said sweetly. “It’s my specialty!” 

“Finally!” Cala shouted, tearing off the lid of the dish, “I’ve been looking forward to some delicious, plump-”

She stopped right there. 

Hilda and Sally uncovered their plates too and looked down to see life-sized sweet treats of what looked like children to be on their plates. Two gigantic child-shaped cookies, one with blue and pink icing, the other with nuts, with frozen looks of horror on their faces.

“You like them?” Bonbon asked. “They’re nice and fresh.” 

Cala was furious. “You told me there would be juicy, plump, dirty, disgusting children to eat! Fresh meat! Alive! Not…this!” she fumed, throwing an enormous pink jellyfilled child donut to the floor. “What is this?! This isn’t food! This is…absolutely horrible! You’re a monster!” 

Bonbon gasped in shock.

“Let me get this straight, these are people?” Sally asked with a quivering voice. 

“They were,” Hilda answered, excusing herself from the table.

Sally fainted dramatically. 

“I thought as my bestie, best friends, you’d all like how much effort I put into all this!” cried Bonbon, her big eyes filling with water. “Well fine! Girl’s night is officially off!” 

“Help me,” whimpered one of the candified children weakly. 

Bonbon clapped her hands and made a high, piercing whistle. “Whippet! Whippet!!” 

There was a thunderous shaking, and suddenly the castle itself began to shake and groan. The candy castle was alive, and suddenly gigantic peppermint swirl arms crashed through the sugar crystal ceiling and descended down upon the group.

“That’s a good Whippy-poo,” praised Bonbon, stroking the arm of the horrible castle monster. She then pointed at her friends. “Will you show mumsy’s guests out, please?” 

“Your cupcake poodle is no match for the Cala Maria!” Cala growled, her eyes turning to slits and her tentacles forming into vicious snakes.  One of the giant arms launched at her and grabbed her from her bathtub, wrestling with her for a moment, before flinging her through the shattered ceiling and out of sight with a yell.

The castle made a victorious roaring sound.

“Who’s next?” squeaked Bonbon happily. 

“I’m good,” said Hilda flatly, snapping her fingers. A soft white cloud appeared at her feet, and she promptly used it to float herself up and out of there, and as far from Sugarland as she could get. 

“H-uhhh?” Quietly, Sally stirred, coming back to consciousness. The first thing she saw were the giant arms reaching out for her.

Sally fainted again.

“Well, I’ll say it went better than last time,” Bonbon sighed, tucking into her own plate and enjoying the delicious dinner she’d made for herself.

It would be a few weeks before she invited them over again, but one of these days they’d get girl’s night just right!

[madamescarlette]

Hi! List five things that make you happy; then, if you'd like to, put this in the ask box of the last ten people who reblogged something from you and spread some positivity! 🧡

There are probably more than enough of these in my inbox to go a little wild little crazy, so I'm like, why not list 25 things? (Love you Elli sending you my love!!!)

Dr. Pepper, but like no legitimately sometimes my reason for living is for the day I'll drink my darling battery acid soda next.

The feeling when you look right into a carnation and you keep wondering if you'll ever look right into the heart of it but it's constantly enfolded by a thousand tiny powdery folds. The mystery of it and the joy of it.

The gentle joy in my heart when people call me "Miss" Eden now. I don't actually know if it's a Southern-ism? But folks haven't really called me that since I was a little girl, but all of a sudden somebody did recently and it made me delighted for no reason at all. There's a weird perfect affection to it that's a joy to my heart.

Things that are blue in all shades and shapes and sizes, not least of all the particular eternal-blue of the October sky (headed towards me very soon!!!)

When you pick out a book on a whim and you might not be able to tell if it's truly good, but it reaches your HEART, and you have to cry in meeting it and being met in kind. (Indiscretion by Jude Morgan I still can't tell what I felt about you but you did make me cry so you know. There's that.)

Speaking of crying, I made (perhaps...the self-destructive?) decision to watch Persuasion 1995 and Miss Potter back to back last week and reader, I wept and I wept, but my emotions were in such a gooey state that I truly could not regret a bit of it. What's better than watching two of your old favorites and being enfolded by them?

Maybe a funny blessing, but I'm back in a choir that sings new things weekly and it is such a part of my heart that I had missed and I feel that part of me unfolding again from being hidden in the background for so long. JOY!

I have brand new glasses and will perhaps get another pair soon and I'm just. Vastly excited about it. They're like a shiny new facet of me and I love it.

So what if I'm an old lady and it brightens my heart endlessly that I can make my own tapioca pudding whenever my heart so calls for it. It's the little things in life babey.

Whenever I see my college best friend these days she HAS to pick me up when she's hugging me and spin around for a minute. And truly, everything to me.

I've kept this particular ProZD video open in my tabs since he posted it months ago because it never fails to make me cry-laugh I love this place so MUCH

It's just the right season to start wearing my beloved caramel-colored sweater again and it makes me the happiest to be back in my proper warm colors again. The world is right, you know?

Having Laufey's new album to listen to at lunch when I sit by the window and look outside into my favorite tree is such a beautiful memory that's going to endure burning bright in my soul for a very long time I think.

Similarly, having Maisie's album to happily caterwaul to when I drive to and fro as the sky paints itself a bright gracious blue or a heart-warming pink has been such a companion and comfort to my heart this summer, and I can't quite express how much it means to me. I haven't had an album be my friend this much in a minute, and I really needed that.

My brothers have taken to texting our sibling gc whenever they make some recipe they're particularly proud of lately, and it's so sweet and heartfelt to me whenever they all cry out in joy over each other.

Recently there was a visiting priest at church, and the joy when all of us in the choir realized simultaneously that he was Irish when he started talking was the funniest and sweetest to me. (Both my and my choir director's heads snapped up at the same time and it was the silliest billiest!!)

One of my grandfather's paintings sits on my wall now for me to look at every morning, a painting of the view out of his window, and it's just. Love to me, that's all.

I've been on a burst of reading again after a long period of stillness, and I just hit my goal (100) rather. sooner than I thought I would! It's a simple but beautiful thing! The gears of my brain are still moving after all, praise be for that.

I'm slowly coming out of my hardened, much-loathed yet unfortunately comforting shell of fear that I've lived in, fed and watered for the past few months. It's not much, but let's cheers to that. I sleep though the night and I go where I'm wanted, indeed!

I haven't gotten to play in the sandbox of story truly shamelessly and heedless of my own inner critic, but pray for me that this Inklings helps me break out of that. My mind is already turning, trying to spin something new, and it's also like meeting an old part of myself.

I decided to give Katherine Center's books another try recently, and I'm actually so glad that I did because she has the funny knack of making her characters into actual people, which not every romcom maker has the trick of. (Not a dig, btw, I am a romcom lover of old-- but even I must admit it's so nice to follow characters that act in the ways an adjusted adult does. Me at the end of the work day can only take so many fraught conversations, you know?)

Also might be silly, but I now own a blue lace dress of my teenage self's dreams and it fits me like a glove and I haven't stopped beaming with JOY over it.

I've been playing The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for the first time and I have to play it in veeeery tiny little chunks (like, an hour at a time, which takes great strength of will to do, let me tell you) because it makes me too happy and I feel the need to savor it, like bites of my favorite jam on toast.

Actually, you know what one of the best things in the world is? Lemon curd over melted butter on freshly baked bread. It's like eating sunshine.

The unburdening, lightening, brightening and gleaming feeling of being known when you've had a long talk with someone who can really see you. Maybe it doesn't come around that often, or maybe it comes often and frequently in such tiny ways that we can't anticipate or appreciate enough until they've built into such a succession over time, but regardless, it means everything to me. There's something so simple and true about being able to speak and be heard, and to listen and to hear in equal measure. It will always be a balancing act, but being able to take part at all- ay, that's the spice of life, isn't it lads?

[eoieopda]

hi jade! for the drabblepalooza, i wanted to request 'seven' by taylor swift and jin ^_^

here you go, my love 🦋

listen here

cw: angst, reference to character death (OC’s father,) funeral mention, implied childhood abuse (not depicted, not discussed in any detail,) alcohol consumption

sweet tea in the summer / cross your heart, won’t tell no other / and though i can’t recall your face / i still got love for you

You only came home for weddings and funerals. As time trudged on, the former became few and far between. Like you, the majority of your childhood friends left the second they were old enough to do so. Unlike you, the ones who hadn’t had tied that knot already.

The latter, on the other hand, had become more and more common over the years. They seemed to pile up, too. Former neighbors, past teachers, and extended family that didn’t stay in touch - like candles snuffed out, one right after the other.

Prompting train ride, after train ride, after train ride…

Eventually, you would run out of people to make this trip over. Though you felt terrible for thinking it, there was some comfort to be found in that. It was macabre, sure, but a relief nonetheless to picture yourself free of this place. To get rid of those skeletons swaying like windchimes in your closet.

This one, you decided, would be your last hatchet to bury.

It was funny - in some sick, sad way - that the reason you left town in the first place was what prompted your return. None of your friends could wrap their minds around your decision to go back to the start, but if you were being honest, you didn’t fully understand it, either.

Was it really closure that you were seeking? Or was it that inexplicable sense of obligation you could never quite shake? That lingering, undeserved loyalty gnawed at you, pushing and pulling until it dragged you all the way home.

Whatever it was, you hoped to discard it alongside your father in that hole in the ground. Then, you could finally wash your hands of all the dirt you felt but couldn’t see.

Having arrived back in town the night before his memorial service, you had time to kill. Without anyone to kill it with, you opted to burn moonlight at the local dive. There, drinks were cheap and conversation was easy to find. like always, both would be mediocre at best.

It wasn’t crowded when you first arrived, but the night would pick up speed sooner or later, you figured. Before the rush came, you snagged a prime stool at the bar. Sinking down, you greeted the bartender whose name you never learned; and you downed the complimentary shot of soju he’d slid your way upon recognizing you.

Lonely and now slightly buzzed, even your own mind failed to keep you company. It wandered back in time, giving you no choice but to follow.

“You can just stay here! We can sleep in the tree house for now, and when it gets cold outside, we can re-make the pillow fort in the basement!” He spoke so quickly, you nearly had to run to keep up.

You’d never forget that neighbor boy’s face, but his name had gotten lost over the years. Your memories were littered with potholes - little dips and hazards - and you hated that your hero’s identity had slipped through the cracks.

Your face scrunched up in thought as you considered his proposition. If you ran away for good this time, could you bring your dolls with you? He always said dolls were for babies, but they weren’t any different than his action figures.

You scrubbed your hands over your face, not thinking twice about the condensation you transferred from your half-empty glass to your flushed cheeks. Surely, that vodka soda wouldn’t do a thing to jog your memory. It did, however, reinforce the warmth you felt when you pictured the house at the end of your street.

Fuck!

You could recall every other detail about him. A gangly thing, he moved like a baby deer on long limbs he wasn’t used to yet. And he would whistle at you through the hole his baby tooth left behind. Front of his mouth, on your right.

He lived with his parents and older brother in a cream-colored house. It had charcoal grey shutters; a basketball hoop in the driveway; and a swing set in the backyard that you were never brave enough to jump from. He was, but that wasn’t surprising - then or now.

That boy didn’t push you when you paused. He didn’t tease you, even when you expected him to. He was kind in a way that only little kids seemed to be, so willing to share all of his earthly possessions and his sack lunch, too.

“Is your house haunted?” You asked in a whisper, as if the ghosts in yours could hear you from up the street.

He chewed on his puffy bottom lip for a moment, then he shook his head firmly.

You had to ask. The two of you had to make sure your escape plan covered every possibility; this was the worst of them. Even more quietly, you continued: “What if mine follow me and make your dad mad, too?”

His reply came easily, just like every other solution he found for your problems. “Then we’ll go be pirates! I don’t think ghosts can get on pirate ships, but we can ask my brother about it when he gets home.”

You were sure you loved him back then. You loved him still, for all the little ways he saved you. That neighbor boy deserved to be remembered fully, even though you moved away the following year. He may have slipped out of your life then, but his impact on it was lasting.

The fog in your brain was getting denser the harder you tried to wade through it. Perhaps if you slept on it, his name would come back to you in a dream. Whoever he was, you hoped he was happy. That his path forward wasn’t as obscured as yours.

After closing your tab, you steered yourself towards the front door. It chimed when you opened it, and it chimed again immediately when your shoulder knocked into it.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” He yelped, steadying you with one hand on each of your arms. “You alright?”

You blinked up at that clumsy stranger for longer than you meant to. Something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on what that might be.

A former classmate, maybe? A guest at a previous wedding or funeral?

You cleared your throat and smiled when you finally answered, “I’ll be okay! Did I hurt you?”

He towered over you, so you had to crane your neck to look up at him. He chewed on his plush lower lip for a moment, playing it up as if he was deep in thought. With a twinkle now appearing in his eye, he shook his head firmly. “Not a bit.”

His hands dropped from your arms as soon as he remembered he was still holding you. Shooting you a sheepish smile, he rattled off his next words without pausing to breathe: “Sorry, again. I hope you can enjoy the rest of your night without getting bulldozed by another stranger!”

You waved with a quiet chuckle and watched as that tall, kind man slipped away.

[cherrrysue]

can i pls have fics that have arranged marriage plot?

sure, here you go x

Arranged Marriage

I wasn't sure you meant between them or one of them with the other people so I'm doing both

- between l/h:

Adore You by isthatyoularry

M, 66k

“We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer. Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do. Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

Teenage Rebellion Never Worked Out So Well by panda_bear21

NR, 55k

Trust Me Tonight by 28sunflowers

“I’m an adult!” He glanced down at Harry, who seemed anything but at the moment, where he was definitely on the brink of a temper tantrum. “We’re both adults!” Jay glanced to Anne again, before breathing out a heavy sigh. “Yes, but you’re both adults that do not have jobs and who live off of our money… Which means, you have to do what we say… or you’ll have to find a new place to live.” “You wouldn’t do that.” Louis dared, hoping his glare was enough to guilt trip his mother into calling the whole thing off. Or to tell them that it had all just been a huge joke and they weren’t actually being forced into marrying a complete stranger. “Oh, but we would.” Or the super cliché arranged marriage fic where things escalate way too quickly.

E, 10k

After Harry’s eighteenth birthday, his father calls him into a meeting to say that he is to be married to Prince Louis of France in just over a week. Harry is excited, of course. The arrangement is better than any he could’ve hoped for, with such a young, handsome and kind husband. There is just one issue: Harry doesn’t know what happens on his nuptials, or how to get pregnant to give Louis the heir that he needs.

- l/h with other ppl:

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore

G, 102k

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead. The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

Sail Across Me by iwillpaintasongforlou

E, 21k

Harry is a prince that is about to be forced into marriage against his will and running away to sea seems like a much better option. Louis is the captain of the infamous pirate ship The Rogue and he has a thing for helping defenseless creatures. Especially when they're as pretty as this one.

Ever Since I Tried Your Way by flowercrownfemme

E, 25k

Harry had been kissed before, but never like this. He’d shared sweet, curious kisses behind bleachers and in soda shop booths, one or two more daring ones in cars parked on dark suburban streets, but the girls he’d kissed had never filled him with the desperation that erupted from Louis’ touch. He parted his lips and pulled him closer, as though he could breathe Louis straight into his lungs, as if he could swallow him. He wanted to consume Louis the way he consumed the body and blood of Christ. He wanted to place Louis on his tongue and feel him dissolve into a frothy mess of starch and saliva. He wanted to gulp him down until his teeth were stained purple and he was drunk on him. He wanted him in some violent holy way that made his hands shake where they were twisted in Louis’ shirt. In 1949 Harry left his bride at the altar, running away from the only life he'd known. When a kindhearted farmer offers him a ride in his truck and a place to sleep the two find themselves inexplicably drawn together. Isolated on Louis' farm with nobody but a field of dairy cows to intrude, the men are finally able to explore the parts of themselves they've spent their lives hiding away.

You Take Me Over, You're the Magic in My Veins by supernope

E, 36k

Louis can feel Harry’s eyes on him as he turns to head toward his seat. He tucks a secretive smile into the palm of his hand while he slides into place beside his sister, his mother’s seat still empty as it awaits the Queen’s entrance. He knows he should be behaving himself a bit more, should be focusing his attention on Gemma, rather than her brother. He’s working on borrowed time, is expected to announce his engagement to the Princess within the next few weeks, but he can’t seem to help himself. Gemma is lovely, kind and witty and beautiful, but he has no interest in being married to her, had no interest in marriage before her arrival, period. Teeth sunk into his bottom lip to disguise his smile, Louis risks a quick glance toward Gemma and Harry’s usual seats, finds Harry already seated and staring steadily back at him. His hair is a mess from Louis’ fingers and his cheeks are still flushed, and Louis’ heart gives a heavy, delighted thud. No, he thinks, he has no desire to be betrothed to Princess Gemma, but he finds he wouldn’t mind being married after all, if it was Prince Harry he was promised to, instead.

Chasing Empty Spaces by Lis (domesticharry)

E, 79k

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

[bobateastay]

soft bodies playing in the street (you've tasted love and it tasted sweet)

choi san & song mingi

cw: childhood friends/sweethearts!au, angst, brief fluff, fighting, blood, first kiss, implied/referenced suicide, last day alive

wc: 1.3k

title from ethel cain's god's country

Mingi is sitting in the road when San comes out of his house looking for him. It’s warm out, the kind of warmth that hasn’t really settled yet and so flits over your exposed skin, scared away by even the slightest of movements or shadow. The asphalt below his palms and butt is slowly warming up to the day. It won’t meet any tires today - the dead of summer rarely brings cars down their quiet street - but it does meet a second pair of feet, then hands, as San makes his way over and sits down beside him.

“Hey,” he greets the other, returning the small smile his neighbour gives him.

“Hey,” he replies, gently bumping shoulders with Mingi.

San sits cross-legged, meek and catlike the way he has been his whole life. He’s only just turned eighteen and is waiting eagerly for Mingi to catch up so they can do grown-up things together. Get beers. Smoke cigarettes. Rent a karaoke room in town. Enter the competitions listed on the back of cereal boxes. He won’t do any of it until Mingi has caught up to him. He won’t do any of it ever, really. He’s not fully aware of that yet, hasn’t quite grasped the concept of permanence and all of its consequences.

“You wanna go to the grocery store later? Yunho was talking about this new soda and I wanna try it,” Mingi says, picking up little pieces of gravel and tossing them across the road. He turns his head to look at San after a while, when the other still hasn’t said anything, and is met with a sight that makes goosebumps rise on his arms, even as the sun rubs its soothing palms over his skin.

San is red in the face from holding back tears, bottom lip quivering and eyes watery. His fists are clenched in his lap, white-knuckled and shaking. Mingi frowns.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asks him.

He doesn’t know it yet, but by this time tomorrow San will be dead. There will be no noble cause of death like they’ve discussed on the nights when confronting their mortality seemed like it was light years away, only a stomach full of his mother’s sleeping pills and a once-beloved t-shirt covered in barf. Looking into the eyes of the boy who’s been his neighbour since before he was even born, Mingi doesn’t know this yet.

All he knows is that despite San’s puny limbs and bony structure, it hurts like a bitch when he swings his fist forward to hit him. The punch lands right upon Mingi’s eye and radiates there uncomfortably, hot and throbbing like the beginnings of a fever.

“What the fuck?!” he yells into the quiet of the street. San swings again but fails to connect because Mingi is swinging right back, knocking him back into the asphalt. They’re both scrawny, have been their entire lives, and so they’re evenly matched as they hit and kick and shove each other in the middle of the road.

Sharp elbows dig into temples, knobby knuckles crack as they make contact with rib cages. Mingi grunts and yells and swears, landing a punch square on San’s mouth right as the other yanks on his hair. He yowls like a cat and is pushed backwards onto the road. His head hits the ground and for a moment it hurts enough for him to forget about what is happening - that his best friend has suddenly turned on him. He barely registers the somebody straddling him until something wet lands on his cheek.

He’s quick to assume that it’s spit, but when he opens his eyes he’s met with something else. San’s tears roll quickly down his cheeks, dripping from his nose and chin and eyelashes only to land on Mingi’s face. They come fast, hot, fat tear drops that pull whimpers from San as they make their way down his face. They warm him even more than the sunshine does.

“San,” Mingi manages to choke out, breathless and confused. “What’s wrong? What the hell are you doing?”

San doesn’t answer him, at least not in the way he’d been expecting.

Mingi is still breathless, still confused, as San leans down and presses their lips together. His first thought is that San’s lips feel just as soft as they look (along with that thought comes the sudden realisation that he’s thought about San’s lips before). His second thought is that this is his first kiss. Is this San’s first kiss? He thinks it is. Unless you count that one time he kissed the corner of Wooyoung’s mouth for a dare (it was supposed to be a full kiss but everybody let it slide when they saw how red Wooyoung had gotten). His third thought is that oh, he definitely understands why Wooyoung turned so red.

He parts his lips for a moment, trying his best to follow San’s lead, and tastes metal on his tongue. Just like the tears that are pressed to his cheeks, the metal is warm, coating his lips and tongue in a heady but not unpleasant way. His hands find San’s head, and he strokes San’s hair without really knowing why. He seems to understand less and less of what’s going on by the second.

“I love you,” San says suddenly, breaking the kiss to sit up straight on Mingi. It is revealed that the metal Mingi has swallowed down is blood pouring from a cut in San’s lip. A cut from the punch Mingi landed on his mouth.

“Shit, did I hurt you?” Mingi asks, even though they’ve both done a number on each other.

“Do you love me?” San answers with his own question, voice shaking just as much as his hands are as he laces his fingers with Mingi’s. He kisses down Mingi’s wrists, the cut in his mouth leaving stains of red in its wake.

“‘Course I do,” Mingi says reluctantly, embarrassed by his own feelings and the strength of them. His stomach is warm as he watches San kiss his arms. It’s an intoxicating warmth, nestling around San’s blood that he swallowed from San’s mouth, and floods the rest of his body as he struggles to sit up. Awkwardly, he pulls San to him in a tight hug. “I love you. I thought you knew that, Sannie.”

San noses at the spot where he landed his first punch, breathes on a stinging cut that he left behind by trying to scratch Mingi’s face. Neither of them know it yet, but that cut will leave behind a scar. It will be dark at first but will slowly pale and smooth itself out until it’s practically indistinguishable from the rest of his skin. There will come a day when Mingi will spend hours upon hours looking for it in the mirror, looking for the last gift that San left him. He does not know this yet. San will never know this.

“I’m sorry,” San murmurs. “I forget.”

“Will you tell me one more time?” San asks.

“That’s okay,” Mingi says, even though it isn’t really. He doesn’t like the idea of San not knowing that he loves him. He decides he’ll fix that starting tomorrow, not knowing that tomorrow won’t come for San.

“I love you,” he repeats. He feels San smile against him.

“You wanna go get that soda Yunho talked about?”

The soda doesn’t taste as good as Yunho described, though that might be because of the blood that’s still in Mingi’s mouth. They kiss again and San’s lips taste sweeter than any soda Mingi’s ever tried.

Soon Mingi won’t have a lifelong best friend - someone who was waiting for him before he was even in the world, who has always waited for him through thick and thin. But he will have a scar by his eye, and the blood that he swallowed;

The soda bottle San left behind in his room that he will keep for the rest of his life;

And the memory of kissing his best friend until his lips hurt,

while the asphalt grew hotter

and hotter

and hotter

beneath them.

.

taglist: @i-luvsang @peanutpmingib @sannierio @lokai-fi @w-iill @cutie-wooyo @sanjoongie @songmingisthighs @talkbykhalid @itsjustwinter @aursmrt

[mixergiltron]

Fangtastic.

Donn Beach created many famous Tiki drinks. One of the less common ones is the Cobra's Fang. This is due to the fact that a proper Fang is made with fassionola syrup. Fassionola is a bright red,sweet syrup made from a mixture of fruit juices and was supposed to be the syrup used in the original Hurricane recipe. Today,only a couple companies make proper fassionola making it difficult to find. Grenadine and even Hawaiian Punch have been used as a substitute,but they are not the same. While researching a posting on fassionola syrup,I came across the Fang and decided it needed its own posting. Here is the classic Don the Beachcomber Cobra's Fang:

Mix #187 Cobra's Fang

1.5oz dark Jamaican rum 1/2oz 151 Demerara rum 1/2oz falernum 1/2oz lime juice 1/2oz orange juice 1/2oz fassionola syrup 1 dash absinthe 1 dash Angostura bitters

Flash blend with ice and pour into tall glass. Can also be shaken with ice.

Sweet and berry flavored,similar to a Hurricane but not as sweet. The falernum and absinthe add some spice to give it complexity,and the 151 gives it some punch. Think of this drink as a civilized Hurricane. A nice summer drink with layers of flavor that gives yo a nice buzz without completely slamming you.

Of course,as with most classic Tiki drinks,there have been many riffs made over the years. Here a few I've enjoyed.

Mix #188 Mai Kai Cobra Fang

1oz dark Jamaican rum 1oz aged Jamaican rum 3/4oz falernum 1/2oz fassionola syrup 1oz orange juice 3/4oz lime juice 1/4oz grenadine 1/4tsp absinthe* 2 dashes Angostura bitters

Shake with ice and pour into Zombie glass.

*About 20-25 drops.

The Mai Kai's spin on the classic Cobra's Fang. It's less sweet and more citrus-y with a bit less punch. Try both versions and see which you like the best.

Mix #79 Vampire's Fang

1.5oz Plantation OFTD rum 3/4oz grapefruit juice 1/2oz lime juice 1/2oz grenadine 1/4oz allspice dram 1 dash Angostura bitters

Shake with plenty of ice and pour into snifter glass.

From The Search for Tiki's 2022 13 Nights of Tiki Frights,it's citrus-y with a touch of spice. Much less sweet than the classic,it lives up to its namesake thanks to the overproof rum;it will bite you.

Mix #189 Sidewinder's Fang

1oz dark Jamaican rum 1oz demerara rum 1.5oz lime juice 1.5oz orange juice 1.5oz passionfruit syrup 3oz club soda

Shake everything except soda with ice and pour into large snifter glass. Add soda and stir.

From the former Lanai Restaurant in San Mateo,CA,this was created in the 1960's. It's tart and citrus-y with a sweet passionfruit finish. The three ounces of soda water it down a bit,if I were to do it again I would cut it in half. And interesting spin on the classic. If you're not into sweeter drinks,give it a try.

So enjoy a Fang drink,but don't put away your bottle of fassionola just yet. I'm working on a full post featuring the scarlet syrup.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Queerplatonic (2) Masterlist

part one

A Day in the QPR of Dan and Phil (ao3) - INeverHadMyInternetPhase (BirbWatcher)

Summary: A day in the life of Dan and Phil, but as if they were in a QPR. So basically lots of fluff and cuddles, and a little bit of discussion about difficulties with coming out and why they're still in the closet

A Familiar Kind of Love (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne), INeverHadMyInternetPhase (BirbWatcher)

Summary: Born in a world full of magic, Dan spends his days running an apothecary and curing the sick. Potions and antidotes are his only friends, and he lives a happy life of quiet solitude - until a familiar he never wanted takes it all away. Forced to make a decision that’s life or death for one of them, Dan and Phil have to learn to co-exist together, entering a journey of self-discovery… and a familiar kind of love. Ace/Aro

All You Did Will Be Undone (ao3) - INeverHadMyInternetPhase (BirbWatcher)

Summary: What 2009 phan would have looked like if they were ace and wanted to be in a QPR

best friends forever? that's the plan. (ao3) - toffeelemon

Summary: "So who would you say Dan is to you? Flatmate? Best friend? Or lover?"

Dan wiggled his eyebrows in half irony, curious as to what Phil would reply.

Phil was uncharacteristically serious as he stared straight into the lens.

"He's my everything."

(or, official best friends and Youtube's power couple: Dan and Phil's platonic love story was forced to go public after their leaked wedding photos went viral.)

cupid’s aro (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Dan’s aro and still figuring himself - and his feelings about Phil - out. Short and sweet exploration of my feelings about being aro.

Demiboy (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan is dealing with exploring gender identity and Phil is there to help/be supportive.

Hugging You (ao3) - INeverHadMyInternetPhase (BirbWatcher)

Summary: Asking for a joint gaming channel is basically the same as a marriage proposal, right?

Last Night's Talk (ao3) - Fablethroughthedays

Summary: The night became riddled with anxiety, for Phil who ended up posting a new video. He felt familiar with this feeling. A routine of which anxiety resurfaces whenever he uploads a new video. Fortunately, Phil turned out to not be alone when he suffered this. Dan knew this all too well and got out of his way to help Phil.

Me and You (Are Not Boyfriends) (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan and Phil are a lot of things - best friends, flat mates, co-workers - but they aren’t really boyfriends.

not the only one (ao3) - farkenshnoffingottom

Summary: It's not until Dan starts editing the latest Internet Support Group video that he notices how much one of his answers points to Phil. Phil has to decide if he's really ready to start letting the world see the real him.

Pride (ao3) - INeverHadMyInternetPhase (BirbWatcher)

Summary: It's Pride, and Dan is feeling insecure.

QPR by Accident (ao3) - INeverHadMyInternetPhase (BirbWatcher)

Summary: Dan and Phil stumble across the definition of a queerplatonic relationship online, and realise that’s basically what they already are.

Speaking in Color (The Bright Red Crime Scene) (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Phil is a poet. He's never had an experience that he couldn't put in writing. But then he meets the boy who steals his heart and his words in the art studio, rendering him silent and in awe.

the courage of stars (ao3) - outphan

Summary: At Pride, Dan feels out of place.

The Gnomes Know (ao3) - TheDyingRedRose

Summary: A flower shop au, with a relationship that could be seen as friends to lovers, or a QPR

The Spring Sun in your Eyes (ao3) - TheMarginalThinker

Summary: Dan's mind has a funny way of messing with the rest of his body after winter is over, but nothing he or Phil can't cope with. This one happens to leave him a little worser for it is all.

What Winter's Song Brings (ao3) - TheMarginalThinker

Summary: Their kind was ruled by the seasons. Spring and summer belonged to battling for the last soda in the fridge and hiding from the insects that like to fly into the (necessary) open windows.

Fall and winter belonged to another life entirely.

--

Phil, Dan, Chris and Pj are werelings enjoying the cold season as wolf-y kids do.

When Opposites Attract (ao3) - confettiwrites

Summary: Dan doesn’t do a lot but sit around on his laptop until one night, at a party hosted by Dan’s brother, a guy dressed in oddly creative clothing stumbles into Dan’s room and suggests they go out on an overnight adventure.

you knew every shape of the moon (ao3) - outphan

Summary: Dan is a shy teenager, with no friends and no interest in dating. He likes the stars, but everyone thinks he's weird. That is until his new neighbour introduces himself.

[xninetiestrendx]

Mikayla doing a tag game Tuesday on a Tuesday??? And not a week late?? Shocker 😅 thank you @celestialmickey @mishervellous and @thepupperino @ardent-fox the tags 💜💜

name: mikayla

age: close enough to it being the last year of my 20s

what country do you live in?: the United States bleh

how many blogs do you have?: my one and only

how many blogs do you follow?: 184

are you a hugger?: yes, please come to me and I will squeeze you so tight

summer or winter?: winter ☃️

coffee, tea, soda, or something else?: all of the above. need my coffee, I’m a southerner so I have to have my sweet tea, and I live in Waco so I’m dedicated to Dr Pepper and I have water with me wherever I go. I’m a beverage gal🥤

something about you that might surprise people: I’m really really good at word searches

if you had to get a tattoo tomorrow, what would it be?: either a cutie little happy ghost holding flowers or I love you in my older nephews handwriting

would you consider yourself a private person or an open book?: privacy is good but I’m really open for the most part, I don’t have much going on

do you believe in soulmates?: a million times yes, my best friend of 10 years is my platonic soulmate ✨

would you consider yourself an introvert or an extrovert?: introvert with a capital i, my family says some people might think I’m rude because I don’t talk but I just don’t have anything to say..ever..to anyone 😂

tell me something good that happened to you recently: I got a raise!!

and finally, say something nice to yourself: you’re killin it bitch (affectionate)

tagging: @auds-and-evens @vintagelacerosette @gallawitchxx @shameless-notashamed @heymrspatel @sickness-health-all-that-shit @look-i-love-u @babygirlmickey @suchagallabitch if y’all would like 💕🌻

[hvnyz]

 if you’re hearing LAKE EFFECT KID by FALL OUT BOY playing, you have to know SANTIAGO ESPINOZA (HE/HIM;CIS MAN) is near by! the 38 year old POWER HITTER FOR THE ROCKIES has been in denver for, like,TEN YEARS. they’re known to be quite INDULGENT, but being BENEVOLENT seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble CARLOS MIRANDA. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those WARM SUNKISSED SKIN, THE CRACK OF A BASEBALL BAT, FIVE O’CLOCK SHADOWS AND LED ZEPPELIN ON A RECORD PLAYER  vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the LAKERIDGE DISTRICT long enough

pinterest ||connections and wanted connections

BASICS

FULL NAME: Santiago Emmanuel Espinoza NICKNAME(S): Santi, Tiago AGE: 38 DATE OF BIRTH:  May 4th 1985 PLACE OF BIRTH:  Syracuse, New York CURRENT LOCATION:.  Lakeridge District ETHNICITY: Nicaraguan GENDER: Cis Man PRONOUNS: he/him SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual RELIGION:  raised christian, not as strictly, but still practicing. OCCUPATION:  Power hitter for the Colorado Rockies FACECLAIM:  Carlos Miranda

PHYSICAL TRAITS

HEIGHT: 6'0 WEIGHT: 187 pounds HAIR COLOR: Brown  EYE COLOR: brown PIERCINGS: no piercings TATTOOS:  just this one on his hand SCARS|MARKS: one small scar on the left side of his head, just near his hairline, and another healed gash on his right knee. SIGNATURE SCENT: Jazz Club by Replica

PHOBIAS AND DISEASES

MENTAL ILLNESSES: n/a PHYSICAL ILLNESSES: N/a PHOBIAS: n/a

RELATIONSHIPS

MOTHER:  Alma Espinoza (nee Rivas) FATHER:  Cesar Espinoza SIBLINGS: none, he is an only child. RELATIONSHIPS: tba PETS: a bulldog named bear

PERSONALITY

ZODIAC SIGN:  Taurus MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good FAVORITE FOODS: his grandmother's vaho, picos, a hot dog from the guy at the stadium FAVORITE COLOR: burnt orange LIKES:  laying on the beach on a warm day, the smell of onions and garlic cooking, a cold citrus radler after a game, morning runs with bear. DISLIKES: sweet tea, horror films HOBBIES: beach volleyball, boxing, board games.

HEADCANONS

Santiago loves history and will watch the history channel or read history books in his free time. Gets his best sleep on airplanes. truly believes a late-night run with his favorite playlist will cure any negative emotion he has. calls his abuela every Sunday after she gets home from church, he hasn't missed a day since he moved out at 18. She was one of his biggest cheerleaders growing up, and he always confides in her. She is his safe space. Santi is a nice guy generally, but has a bit of an ego, years of being told you were a star will do that to you.

BIOGRAPHY

tw death

PAST

Santiago Emmanuel Espinoza is the first, and only child of Alma and Caesar Espinoza. Born in May of 1985 in Syracuse, New York, Santi came from fairly "normal" beginnings. His mother worked nights as a nurse, and his father during the day as a mechanic.

On the weekends in the summer, Santi and his father would go to Yankees games. Sitting in those seats, watching the game play out, sometimes well after sunset with a hot dog and a soda, those are some of Santi's fondest memories.

The obvious course was little league, when he wasn't watching a game, he was playing one, running around with his peers getting dirty and having a good time. What else was there to a perfect summer? Santi can still remember the taste of the vanilla soft serve ice cream after a long game.

When Santi's coach realize that there was a talent in him, more talent than was expexted out of his seven year old body, they suggested extra training. 'He could be something', he remembers his coach saying to his father, and Santi will never forget the look on his father's face. The pride he held that day, it was a rush.

Santi threw himself into it, baseball consumed him, even from such a young age, he knew that if he did well, if he lived beyond his potential, then he could make his family proud, and in turn, makke himself proud.

He played baseball through out middle school, and high school, and eventually, it got him into college, Vanderbilt University offering him a full ride to play for them. His mother cried the day he was offered his scholarship. His father hugged him for the first time in a while.

Tennesse was a big change compared to Syracuse, and initially, Santiago didn't adjust well. He felt like a small fish in a big pond. All of those boys on the team were recruited for a reason. It wasn't like high school where he was a standout player. He would vent his troubles to his abuela every Sunday morning over a cup of coffee during their weekly phone calls.

Eventually, things got better. Santi was able to prove himself to be worthy of his spot, and his teammates soon became some of his closest friends. His studies were fine, he kept his grades up enough to be able to play ball, the only class he was really enthusiastic about was history, his grades stayed consistently good for that one.

Santi's rise to fame wasn't effortless, no matter what anyone tells you. He worked hard, but from the outside, he looked like his scholarship, and then, his getting into the major leagues, was handed to him. He figured by then he had proved himself, but in the midst of him getting asked to play for the Chicago White Sox, he lost a few friends who thought they deserved it more.

Santi was young, and fresh faced when he began to play for the Sox, and although being the new kid was humbling, the notariety that came when he was able to prove how good he was got to his head just a little bit. People were showing up to games just to see him. People flocked to him at bars for dates or nights together. It all felt good, he felt like he was on top of the world.

| TW DEATH | It would all come crashing down when he had to take a year off because his father died in a car crash. Santi went back home, and he helped his mother, and his abuela, rebuild their lives with out their husband and son. He reconnected with his roots, and promised them both that he'd continue to make them, and his father proud. |END OF TW|

He was welcomed back to the team with open arms, but he wasn't sure he was fully in it. He wasn't sure he could go back. It wasn't until his first game, everyone cheering his name, the city skyline lit up ahead of him, that he knew he made the right choice in coming back.

PRESENT

Santi has been a power hitter and a star player for the Colorado Rockies for the last ten years. He loves the game, and his life, but he isn't sure how much longer he wants to play. Retirement is looking like it's somewhere near on the horizon. But who will he be when he's not playing? What will he do? All of these questions have been weighing on him since before the season even started.

Santi lives in the Lakeridge District with his bulldog named Bear.