#thought this image was really fucking funny and had to draw it duh

[flipit-turnways]

gay people always sitting in the way. whats a girl gotta do

found this on pinterest no idea where it came from

[emojackolantern]

UPDATE I AM STILL THINKING ABOUT THE POTENTIAL DAN AND PHIL TAROT AND @slitsfordan ASKED FOR MY RANT ON IT SO HERE ARE MY THOUGHTS ON CARD SYMBOLISM AS IT RELATES TO DIP AND PIP !!

The Fool - PINOF, particularly PINOF 1. the fool is about new beginnings, pinof 1 is the origin of dnp.

The Magician - superamazingproject. the intro to their collaborative content. the dream they put out into the universe. the seed they planted hoping something would come of it.

The High Priestess - BBC Radio 1. they didn't know when it happened how much would come out of it, they just knew they had to do it. that's intuition baby. that being said whoever said sister daniel you're funny as fuck.

The Empress - DAPG. the empress is about fertility and creation, mf they birthed a whole new channel.

The Emperor - DAPC. to me, if the empress is about birthing new ideas, the emperor is about raising them and giving them structure by which to grow. DAPC is just another in the saga of their collaboration, at this point.

The Hierophant - TABINOF. the hierophant is about tradition and also represents the teacher/student archetype. i think of them kind of like profits bringing the word to the people for the first time lol.

The Lovers - TATINOF. think of any picture of them together on tour and tell me im wrong.

The Chariot - DAPGO. im ngl this one is kind of a space filler for chronology's sake, but them writing a second book was definitely a choice they made that furthered their joint image. they willed that into existence.

Strength - Interactive Introverts. Strength speaks on the bravery and fortitude needed to overcome obstacles. Dan particularly has spoken at length about how this tour was hard for him.

The Hermit - Dan's hiatus.

The Wheel of Fortune - The wheel of fortune is about inevitability of change and the cyclical nature of life. I think this one might be too vague for a direct comparison to a specific event? That being said if you can think of an example of a time they were faced with the inevitability of change I am all ears. Either way drawing this card in line with the rws but with dnp motifs would be fun as fuck

Justice - Justice is about karma, about getting back what you gave. I think of their dynamic as a duo, how they give to each other and get the same energy back. I think generally this card would be more negative, talk about literal justice, but I don't think that applies to them.

The Hanged Man - The hanged man is about sacrifice and surrender. I already said this in previous posts but to me this is Phil— going back in the closet for Dan, staying in London while he went on tour, etc. it's the willingness to let things change how they will because you have faith that no matter how much they change they'll always be a little the same.

Death - the changes themselves. sister daniel is a really good representative of this to me, and of the ways dan- but both of them really- have learned to be more comfortable both with themselves and with us as an audience. it's a change for the better.

Temperance - temperance is about balance, to me the most obvious example is their work/life balance. the value they place on their privacy. the taking weeks off after particularly long stints of work. it's doing what you have to do to make sure this work continues to be fulfilling.

The Devil - Dan and Phil Crafts - Slime (duh lol)

I WILL UPDATE THESE LATER BC IM BUSY BUT ALSO IF YOU HAVE SUGGESTIONS I AM OPEN TO THEM:

The Tower - upheaval

The Star - hope for the future

The Moon - the unconscious

The Sun - success over the unconscious

Judgement - review

The World - conclusion

[babysprouseisart]

Honestly more things are pointing to a permanent separation for SH. No indications of any reconciliation sadly. And it makes it even harder without the confirmation. I guess when they start to get papped with their new SOs will be the day that it is confirmed they are done. And I hope it is soon. This push and pull with them is exhausting

Good day, anon, and welcome to hell. Screams for help will not save you, alas, because when it comes to a topic in which I am 99, 9% sure, I have no equals. I'm sorry you probably got the wrong address, but it's too late. I am merciless and bloodthirsty with anyone who tries to contradict my faith, tries to correct my point of view and convince me of their own, although I did not give it a reason. Because it's my fucking blog where I for x-billionth time has already expressed my exact points and agreed with some people which think and proved the exact opposite to all that you are saying. So be prepared to be slowly but surely tortured by my long ass post.

 So, let's start with what I said about my blog: only good vibes here. I am not interested/concerned about other opposite/negative feedings. I just don't want to make a big deal about it. Here, in my blog, we support Lili Pauline Reinhart and Cole Mitchell Sprouse in any case as couple as well as individuals.

 This means that under no circumstances do we talk about them, their relationships, their projects, their family, or their decisions in a negative way. Yes, we may disagree with something they do, where they do it, and how they do it (what they post, what they like/don't like, write or repost, who they meet, with whom they decide to be, live and communicate with, what they archive/unarchive, and so on), but we do not have the right to judge them or decide how to act. We also can't control it and it's none of our business.

 I repent if I once made the appearance of a person condemning one of them or their family for their actions and possible causes of the separation, it was only my objective external disagreement, points and thoughts aloud, nothing more rude, involved and inappropriate. And I think with many of my words said earlier (or the words of those I follow and reblog their posts) about the behavior of family/friends of Lili, Cole, and so on, people with brains and common sense could agree. Remember this, or write it on your forehead, so that the next time you write to me, you will see these words.

 Moving on, taking into account all of the above, I would like to tell you that it probably won't be enough for one blog to explain to you point by point all my beliefs and points of view on this subject, to prove to you that every fucking word you say is illogical shit and the most real nonsense. It feels like you're an alien who fell from another planet and decided to crawl into our hole with your impressions of a newborn baby who doesn't understand much about the world and its creators. Although in this case, I'm more of the opinion that you are a little asshole, in which the vein of hatred is boiling and you like to come to this and some other blogs to tell us your agenda although we have no idea where you have such rash thoughts, perhaps you have an extra chromosome? Dude, treat your paranoia.

 Further, given that I don't have much time and desire to describe all my points of view point by point, which, unlike your random set of words, really makes sense for hundreds or even thousands of people who have the gray matter to be able to think, I will attach my long - standing post, indicating all the facts at that time proving the opposite to yours. Although, I will try to supplement everything else as much as I can.

 While, we all ( I hope) already realized and accepted that for many reasons, during this quarantine, Lili and Cole had some problems, were distant and ended up apart for a certain period of time, immediately after the end point of the explosion and informing us of all these public actions on social media (I hope you understand), then after a few weeks, they were already confidently moving towards resolution and recovery and that's why:

https://babysprousehart.tumblr.com/post/618026656780648448/hello-i-hope-this-doesnt-come-off-negatively

This was written long before, but still has many valid points and I just want to widen some of them.

Take a sit and follow me word by word.

I shall start my addition of evidence, based on all the guesses and great opinions of others, as well as hints from the Lili and Cole themselves. I would like to start with a significant event and the day when Lili posted a photo from the Antelope Valley on April 28th, well, or 27th, depending on where you are.

Perhaps we lose some missing pieces in this puzzle and forget about something that was done earlier, but I just want to start counting from this moment.

A few facts about this photo/photos:

1) It was posted exactly 3 years later from their famous photoshoot, when very, very, very many people, mostly in media, began to suspect that there is something between them in a romantic way. It was exactly in the same place, exactly with the same style, exactly in a similar image (waving curly hair, light flying dress, black and white effect) and even without a capture. The picture marked the anniversary and is very important for the two of them. An undeniable fact, beat me.

2) That photo was definitely taken by Cole. Why?

Here are a couple more facts in addition to the first:

They have the quality of captured on professional camera.

You can see, that Lili did not tag the photographer and said jokingly that the photo was taken by Milo, why would she lie, or hide that it was anyone else, because clearly she just hid that because it was Cole.

You may have noticed that Austin, when asked who took the photo, whether she took it and whether she is a good photographer, says no and her reaction with a grin and laugh is priceless. She also didn't tag nor the photographer, neither Lili in her photos from there.

You can watch the vlog in the Colleen blog and see there are very similar figures to Cole, Lili and Milo walking along the valley, because, duh, they were there.

You can view her post, where you can see Cole from the back (notice his dark clothing, the same as on one of his post in the profile, which he has already deleted, as well as his position from which the photo of Lili was supposedly taken and it is just in the same place).

You can observe his style of photography and how similar the theme is to the photos from 2017.

You can see the same poppy behind his ear in one of the past stories.

You may have noticed that the photo of Lili is processed with the same effect as several photos in Cole's profile, and I can tell you as an amateur photo editor that it is very identical.

Question: why arrange such a significant photoshoot with your ex after a few weeks of separation? Why is Cole smiling in a photo (black and white one with a mustache and black clothes) probably taken there? Why is everything so secretive if they broke up? Why even post a photo that your ex-boyfriend definitely took? How can you calmly go to this place, which reminds you of your joint travels with your former lover? Therefore, this photo and later another one from there were the first iron arguments in confirming the improvement of things.

 I would like to continue with another ironclad proof.

Lili in early may very fiercely, after a few weeks of Cole's statements about slander and threats, which she did not respond to so clearly at the time, defended Cole and pointed out the private relationship and literally said that people should stop it and even though should hurt and bully her, but not him.

Question: did she defend her ex so publicly? Would Lili talk about a private relationship if that was the way her past relationship was most often? Would she have written anything at all if she didn't care about him and didn't feel something towards him? I don't think so, so it's gibberish to say so (about the break up) when it's the second unquestionable argument.

 Next, we need to talk about the general activity of Cole and Lili in social media. I just want to list some observations, in different order, but it seems like everything we have now:

If earlier it was visible in the posts of Lili that it was clearly a show off, then over time and after the published photos, she began to behave more sincerely and tenderly, began to publish Milo less, began to say that there was only the two of them less, has stopped showing how good she is without certain someone, as if for Cole showing that she could cope without him, which was visible in the posts and stories, she began to talk more about improving her mental health as a result of training, spoke about how later she was feeling better and that she was grateful for those who were with her and difficult times and in light moments, that you just need to live and enjoy.

Additionally, I can say how she shone with each photo, and it was a natural glow of happiness and settling down. She no longer sang sad songs or posted sad songs, on the contrary, posted sexy, funny and relaxed ones. She appeared more in photos taken by paparazzi. She posted sexy, energetic, romantic movies, funny cartoons, watched funny clips, was excited about her project, laughed, danced with her dog, played with a dog with macaroni, cosplayed Willy Wonka (we all have a feeling it’s Cole’s thing, no?), playing with sand, puzzles, posted funny memes in story, which unfortunately coolly accepted as the opposite, posted a poem with a typo and funny answered to a fan who corrected it, told more about poems and attached a photo with a fragment of a poem about love from her upcoming book. She liked some photos from the anniversary of the last episode of the series, where we remember there was a hot scene of her and Cole's character, she liked a Bughead drawing. Yesterday, she actually posted one of the sexiest videos that will not be posted, being single and lonely, we saw that she actually spent more personal time with Cole (I am not saying they weren’t doing t back then), which was investigated thanks to many amazing people here, and even if they don't live together yet, they are more likely to meet and have met with each other, and more hints on sexy times (because, come one, maybe Milo was the one who left a hickey on her neck, huh?), which is undeniable, just compare the fact that she is no longer in the old rental, and he is not in Kj's house, she then posted a photo from some place, which is very similar to where Cole shot a video with Jimmy Fallon.

 He also began to be more active in social networks, exactly after she started posting photos of the Antelope Valley, he posted a series of photos of the kissing couple, even if it was a gay drawings, they were filled with love, there was a photo of him with cattle with the sarcastic caption, then the photo about porn bots, with funny ask to leave him alone and saying it’s not allowed to be horny on quarantine, again a photo of himself with heart eyes that I talked about above, he posted a very funny video recently. There were more photos from the paparazzi after some time when Lili's usually flashed, and then it stopped, then his humorous photo in the washing machine appeared, which she probably had taken, and why so I explained in the attached post, he posted a photo from the walk, which was also probably taken with her, because again, she had a similar location, then he jokingly called Tommy ‘the’ muse, maybe roasting fans, but he didn’t use ‘my’, so, indicating he still has his own muse, then we saw him at that damn party, which caused people's panic, although he is an ordinary person and has the right to relax, and by the way at this party he was very happy and frisky, but nothing bad or shameful happened and he is innocent, then we even saw Cole, after Lili, delete many of the photos, although he had also unarchived some of them several times, as she had, which means that he did not delete them completely, but just removed many of them, leaving the most tender photo after or before the kiss at the famous moment when Lili wanted a toast and eggs at 1 am, or many photos reflecting her body, which also marks not a bad phenomenon, but a simple trolling from them. Proof of this trolling and unarchiving is on the vastness of other blogs and on Twitter, thanks to that girl's video.

 The way their condition and activity on social networks have changed is very noticeable and is also third undeniable fact of denial of the break up. You can compare photos of Cole taken by Alex, where he is clearly very sad and depressed, because it was taken somewhere in the interval of their real breakup. And compare this with his smiling and playful state during the interview with Jimmy, where he also sparkled with happiness and fun, constantly smiling and seemed to be aroused about something (or someone). I think even a newcomer will notice a change in their mood and attitude. You will see the difference. And this does not happen when going through the break up after 4 years of deeply imbued with love relationships. Please understand, damn it.

 I have listed alas not everything that speaks so vividly about things going in the right positive direction and is evidence that everything is getting better again, there will be only more I assure you and you will kiss my ass, as Cole said.

 Execution cannot be pardoned.

 You have one attempt to put a comma and decide your fate, but I think you’ll  fail because you are a total sucker anyway.

 Bye!

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH11

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

A/N: I don’t know. This is so unlike me but I’m throwing all the fluff and feelings at you in this chapter.

WC: 3208

SERIES MASTERLIST

Turns out that she got ready before he could even give the cat its whole treat. All her belongings are stuffed into a clutch bag and that’s when Dean remembered that he kind of dragged her out of the Roadhouse the evening before, with the intention of sobering her up but she ended up getting more drunk.

He just knows that he won’t make the same mistake again. 

The getting her more drunk part, not the whisking her away part — that part he would do again, over and over.

But he’s also glad that he made the mistake, because after all, it kind of turned out well for him; apart from her almost getting kidnapped — which he is still very salty about — but he pushes the thought out of his mind, doesn’t want to get riled up now because he still needs to drive her home and how weird would it be for her if he is his grumpy old self during the whole drive.

What a fucking messed up life, Dean thinks. And there’s the terrifying feeling in his guts again. One that says that he shouldn’t drag her into it. He tries to bottle up this feeling too, because the other feelings —  the good ones, the fucking great ones — outweighs the bad at the moment.

He stops her before they get out of his apartment, finds a hoodie by the door and wraps it around her before pulling up the zipper. Dean presses his lips into a grin when he sees her disappearing inside of it. His heart jumps at how cute she looks in the oversized clothing, wishes a little that she would wear more of his clothes. 

There’s something about seeing a girl in his clothes that turns him on very much, Dean can’t lie about that, and he thinks that maybe something isn’t wired right in his brain. But that’s really just wishful thinking on his part, doesn’t really want to keep his hopes up too high because after all, they haven’t spoken about all the shit that went down yet. He’s kind of terrified that she’d run once she knows. But he’s also terrified that she’d stay despite all of it. He just can’t make up his fucking mind, because both scenarios are quite scary to him.

As soon as they get into the elevator, Dean feels the urge to touch her, to be close to her, so he holds her up against the mirrored wall inside the closed space, kisses himself stupid on her as they made their way down to the parking garage. It’s like he really can’t get enough of her, can not get enough of the butterflies fluttering around in his chest when he holds her near. Can’t get enough of the sweet taste of her lips, wondering if her pussy tastes just as sweet. 

Must be so much sweeter, he guesses.

And he wants a taste of that too. Wants to spread her out on a bed, eat her out so she would scream his name. Wants her pliant and blissed out, wants her begging him for more. He’s painfully hard just thinking about it.

Y/N digs her blunt nails into the back of his scalp, pulls him so much closer and he’s so fucking hard he could burst, is thankful of his sweat pants because they leave him more legroom. 

And Dean actually wants to. Wants to take her right here, right now, doesn’t even care if they’re in public but he knows he can’t, because there’s just no time. Time is what he would need, though. Because he’d love to take his time with her, wants to take his time to draw out the moans and whimpers from her lips, wants to make actual love to her, not some quick fuck in a goddamn elevator. 

But it has to wait and he knows that too, because the elevator dings and they’ve reached the garage. 

He lets her back down, watches her adjust her dress and his hoodie with pink cheeks and spit slick lips, kisses her forehead, feeling her melt against him. He takes her hand and pulls her along with him. 

Dean pushes the button of the car key he grabbed from the box and there’s a big black SUV beeping and blinking up in the distance. They make their way across the lot and he opens the door for her, waits for her to hop in. 

“I...uh..” Y/N tugs at the hoodie and looks kind of uncomfortable.

Dean raises an eyebrow, “What?”

“The leather looks expensive, do you maybe have a towel laying around in your trunk?”

“What?” He frowns, not really understanding where she’s going with this, knows for sure that there’s no towel in there, except for maybe some heavy guns and a baseball bat.

“I’m..um.. I’m kinda wet down there,” She mumbles and it’s hard for him to hear because she lowers her head and for some reasons, she can’t look him in the eye.

“Sweetheart, speak up. You’re what?” 

She lifts her face to look him in the eye then, her cheeks flushed and redder than before, if that’s even possible, “I’m not wearing any panties and I tend to get a little wet, alright? Well, a lot wet, actually, and…” She gestures with her hand, pointing her fingers at the interior of the car, “I don’t wanna ruin your seat!”

Dean surges forward, and kisses her. It’s his way of trying to tell her that it’s okay. That she doesn’t have to be embarrassed. And he curses and groans into the kiss because of how painful his cock aches at the revelation.

“Use the hoodie, it’s alright,” He whispers, resting his hand at the back of her neck, their nose still touching.

There’s a crease in between her eyebrows as Dean stands back up straight to give her room in order to be able to take off the hoodie. She folds it and places it on the seat, looking back at him with the crease still there between her eyebrows, and for the first time, Dean can actually and finally kiss it away. 

Making his way to his side, he climbs in, settling into the seat and starts the engine. He looks over to her, sees her fastening her seatbelt before she tugs at her dress underneath her ass and adjusts his hoodie so that it’s right beneath her apparent wetness. A shudder runs down Dean’s spine when he thinks of it and his cock is complaining harshly in his pants. 

“You’re fucking killing me,” He mumbles, and she grins back a cocky grin, the sort of grin he usually only sees on himself. He licks his lips, swallows hard before he speaks, “What happened to your nice panties?”

“Oh my god, you did see them,” She throws her head back, closes her eyes and covers her face with the palm of her hands. 

“Duh, I changed you, remember?” They make their way out of the building and Dean swerves into the traffic. 

“Jo ripped them apart, they were literally hanging around my ankles, not much use there, are they?”

Dean lets out a broken sound at the vivid image she painted for him. He thinks that she most likely wasn’t wearing panties when he reached the apartment, probably wetted his bed and the covers he placed her on, and now she’s dripping onto his hoodie. 

This fucking girl, seriously. 

“I’ll get you new panties,” He says, and wonders if she’d let him go with her to buy new ones.

“You really don’t have to. They’re quite expensive, I admit, but it’s not like I need a lot of fancy panties.”

“No, let me. They’re panties. How expensive can a scrap of fabric be anyway?” He raises an eyebrow, looks briefly to her and back to the traffic as they head onto the highway.

“Oh, you poor sheltered boy, you have no idea do you?” 

Dean really has no clue, never had to buy them for anyone, only wore them once, but that’s a story for another time and he doesn’t want to scare her away before he can even come clean with more important things. But seriously, how expensive can a piece of fabric be? Especially the one she was wearing last night. They weren’t exactly covering a lot, but they still left enough for the imagination. 

“Well, the only way to find out is when I come and get those new panties with you,” He winks at her, feeling cocky all of a sudden. And Jesus, she really blushes so sweetly.

 ***

 Y/N insisted on him to stop at the Roadhouse so she could get her car, and now Dean’s driving behind her because he wants to make sure that she gets home alright. It’s the least he can do really, and it’s also some kind of a self service because it’ll ease his mind. 

He wonders if he can spare a man or two to watch her, thinks that maybe he should tell her the truth first, kind of knows that when she’ll find out that she’s been watched, all hell will break loose. He decides not to push his luck with her, not now when they’re right at the start of something that could be really good.

Dean still doesn’t know what he’s going to tell Ellen, though. Wonders how long he can hide the fact from her that her daughter is a fucking double agent and wanted to bring his whole damn family down, which also includes Ellen and the Roadhouse if he’s being honest, but Dean’s not sure if Ellen will see it that way. Jo’s her daughter after all, and apparently, blood is thicker than water.

While he drives behind Y/N, he can’t help but glance over at the hoodie she’d left behind. He sees a slightly bigger, darker patch on the already black hoodie. Dean groans out in frustration, she wasn’t lying about being wet, was she?

Fucking hell. 

He grips his steering wheel just a little tighter and tries to calm his nerves, willing his erection to go away — and fails miserably. 

What are you? Fucking Sixteen?! He curses at himself, doesn’t understand his own body anymore. She’s fucked him up real bad and the funny thing is, that he doesn’t even mind it, what does that say about him, really?

When they arrived, she thanked him for driving her home, but Dean can’t be shaken off that easily. 

“Come on, I’ll bring you to the door,” He ushers her into the building, shouldering at her until he feels her budging.

They walked up three flights of stairs and he waits as she fumbles with the keyhole. She seems nervous and he doesn’t really know why. Is she hiding a boyfriend in there he doesn’t know about?

Shit.

A boyfriend.

He never thought about that. 

The thought had literally never crossed his fucking mind.

Wouldn’t have thought of her to be someone who would do something like that, and Dean’s actually never been wrong with reading people. Maybe though, his brain made an exception because it’s not capable of reading people and feeling things at the same fucking time.

And now he feels stupid.

“Here we go,” She pushes the door open and he lets her go in first, in case there really is a boyfriend, which of course, he didn’t dare to ask her about. 

Dean steps in behind her, is kind of relieved that the apartment seems to be empty, “Sweetheart, can you tell me if everything is like it was when you left here yesterday?”

She frowns but looks around, shrugs when she turns back to face him, “Yeah, why?”

He doesn’t answer her, instead he takes a look around himself, but of course he wouldn’t know if something would be out of place because he’s never fucking been here before. 

Her apartment is modest and small, smaller than his living room, if Dean has to guess and compare. A stark contrast to his apartment which is the complete opposite in every way. It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t look cozy. He thinks that he’d take the apartment, because it’s really kind of cute, and he’d take the girl living here too.

There are two more doors. One right at the entrance, which he has a strong feeling is a bathroom. The other one is off behind the living room, which leads to her bedroom, he supposes. 

“You mind checking out your bedroom for me, Y/N?” He asks as he walks to the bathroom. He goes in and pulls the shower curtain to the side, just to be thorough.

“Everything’s fine.” She calls out from her bedroom and he’s at the door as she hastily pushes some papers under her bed with her feet. 

Something he’s not allowed to see, probably. He’s brushing it off, even though he feels like she’s hiding something from him. He’s not the right guy to talk anyway, because he’s hiding so much more from her. He hopes not for long though, because if he wants to keep her, he knows that he needs to come clean. And who knows if she still would want to stay after she knows? He wouldn’t blame her if she would want to run. Would maybe ask her to take him with her because God knows, he doesn’t really want to stay either.

He feels relieved though. Relieved that no one was here yet. Which means that they don’t know where she lives, and it makes him wonder if anyone else apart from Jo knows that one of his weak spot is her. He has a strong feeling that they don’t know yet, Jo probably wanted to serve her on a fucking silver platter. He gets angry again just thinking about it.

Dean takes in her bedroom from the safe distance of the door, doesn’t want to intrude which is weird because she’s been in his, but also he feels comfortable with her and the jury’s really still out if she feels the same about him being here. He notices one occupied nightstand. Sees that there’s no trace of men’s clothing in the room, or in the apartment for that matter, breathes fucking relief but subtly, doesn’t want her to know what’s going through his head, obviously.

“Good,” He nods as she walks out to join him, “When’s your next shift?” 

She’s taken off her shoes in between entering and now, because she’s standing short again. Doesn’t make her any less cute, not like he expected anything else of his feelings, to be honest.

“Tomorrow. Ellen texted me that she’s closing for one more night. Her date apparently took her upstate.”

“Okay, that’s good. You just rest, alright?” He walks to the door, knowing that he’s invading her space and the truth is, that he really should get going. Cas is probably going to run out of patience soon.

“I will,” She forces a tired smile, and walks behind him, “Do I tell her about Jo?”

Dean turns around, “No,” He shakes his head, “No, I’ll do it. Don’t mention anything to her. Go to work like you’d normally do. You don’t know anything if it should come up.”

“Okay,” Y/N’s gaze falls to her toes. 

“Any chance I can persuade you to quit your job?” He chuckles, plays it off as if he’s joking, but really he’s not, “I’d pay you more and all you have to do is take care of my cat when I’m not around.”

“Your cat has a name,” She grins, raising an eyebrow and Dean knows that she wants him to say it. 

“Jesus… okay, Cuddles, his name is Cuddles, are you happy now?” He laughs playfully.

“Yeah, but stop it!” She punches his chest and laughs heartily, “I really like my job.”

“I know,” The corner of his lips curve up, “Cuddles really likes you though,”

She doesn't say anything, frowns a little because she doesn’t get where Dean wants to go with that. And honestly, he doesn’t know it either. All he knows is that he’d like to have her around him, at all times if possible. He’s really trying hard not to go all possessive on her but given the circumstances, it would calm his heart if he’d know where she is at all times. He knows that’s an utopian thought and yeah, he’s not gonna do it, no matter how much he wants to put a 24/7 security on her sweet ass.

“Thought so,” Dean twists at the doorknob and turns around, “If you change your mind, let me know, yeah?” 

She nods with a smirk and when Dean wants to leave, she grabs at his shirt, pulling him down and kisses him. Her arms fly around his neck and he holds her around her waist. It’s good. So good. But it doesn’t make it any easier for him to leave now.

“I need to go,” He mumbles into the kiss, sucks at her lip and lets it out with a pop just for him to dive right into the kiss again.

“Don’t,” She whispers as she nibbles at his bottom lip. “You could stay.”

“Fuck,” He curses, kisses her deeper, harder, wants for her to remember him just by a kiss, “You’re fucking killing me for real.” 

She giggles into his mouth. Such a fucking sweet sound. It goes straight to his cock, that’s still fucking hard. He can’t even remember the last time he’s been hard for so long without getting any release.

“Baby, I need to leave, I’ll see you later, okay?” He parts from her, is a little out of breath. His chest heaves and he ducks down once more, kisses her nose, her eyebrow, her forehead. 

“Okay,” Y/N pouts, and that’s not fucking fair. He’s not prepared to see the pout. 

He lifts his hand to her face, thumbs at her lips, “Stop that,”

“Stop what?” She asks, but goes right back to pouting and Dean can’t help but think that she fucking knows how to bring him down.

“That damn pout of yours, I swear,” He thumbs at her bottom lip, paints it along her pout. 

She parts her lips, teethes at the pad of his thumb before she sucks at it, taking it deeper, and Dean knows he should be ashamed of the sound that’s coming out of his throat but he just can’t bring himself to care.

He steals another kiss, it’s hard and fast, before he can finally tear himself away. Dean knows that if he doesn’t go now, he will never be able to.

“Be good,” He says and feels a little guilty for dashing down the stairs as quickly as he did. Feels guilty to leave her pliant and spit slick, but he really needs to go and take care of business. 

Fucking business.

Dean gets into his car and runs the pad of his thumb that she’d been sucking at along his own spit slick lips. 

Fuck.

Turning up the music, he makes his way back, and tries to get himself into the right mindset to face Jo.

CH12

[bowtied-pasta]

Party Time

This might turn into a future chapter in one of my fics, im not sure yet. 😅 Anyway! This is a Splendor and True thing, once again. Finley and Damien are mentioned, but Gage plays a bigger part. Dark and Delta are also mentioned, as well as Ben very breifly. Enjoy! 💗

True’s head popped off her pillow when she heard the bumping bass of music kick up from somewhere in the mansion. Splendor was away for a meeting of some kind, having not taken any of them with him for professional purposes, or something along those lines. The music was definitely the party kind though. The kind that got your body moving and you would expect kids in high school to grind on each other to at prom.

That being said, she didn’t know they were allowed to throw parties. It had been a long time since she’d had the privilege of attending one though, so she was curious to see if that was actually what was going on.

Opening her door, the music playing became a little clearer, Bottoms Up by Trey. Her footsteps unable to be heard over the bump of the base that had no business being that loud, she made it to the top of the staircase just as Nicki’s rap began.

Her jaw fell open at what she saw. The entire entrance hall floor was covered in small circles with odd symbols written inside of them. She knew those well. Summoning circles. It seemed a few stragglers were late to answer their calls though, as she watched them pop in from seemingly nowhere and then make their way toward where she knew one of the bigger rooms were. Now she knew the purpose of the room. It was for parties.

Finley appeared from the direction of what True now dubbed the ballroom, walking with authority she knew she had, but not over beings that she didn’t control. She seemed to take in all the circles that had been drawn, huffing as she glanced around the room, freezing when her eyes landed on True. “True, please tell me there aren’t any circles up there.”

True pulled away from the banister for a moment, glancing around for anything she might have missed before shaking her head down at the proxy. Watching her sigh in relief before stiffening as Gage spoke up.

“True!?” She watched him run in, taken a back by the stuff he was wearing. His clothing was perfectly normal, but the guy had somehow glued small glow sticks to his face, they didn’t seem to hinder his speech at all. “True! Get down here, it’s party time. You told me you hadn’t had one in a long time, and I think you’re way over due!”

She sighed, smiling to herself as she walked down the stairs. Laughing a bit at Gage and his chaotically good intentions behind his chaotically crazy actions.

“You didn’t tell me it was for her.” Finley shot at him, arms crossed as she finally seemed to relax a little.

“You didn’t ask, babe. Besides, who’s to say we can’t have a party every now and then?” He shot her a wink as he grabbed True’s arm once she was in reach, dragging her towards the ballroom and away from the troubled ginger, not letting her try and sway True into not participating in what he had planned.

Her eyes quickly took in everything that had been set up. Lights, tables, chairs, food and music. There was no way Gage set this up all by himself, but she didn’t really get a whole lot of time to think about the strategy of setting something like this up. Gage walks her to a corner of the room with a group of what she assumes to be demons, she couldn’t be sure because most of the things that had been summoned quickly took up a glamour as soon as they walked in. The only thing she knew for sure is that they were busy passing around more than just a few blunts, one of them was busy setting up a few bongs. Of course, Gage had dragged her right to the stoners.

“Dark, it’s been a while, glad you and your mate could make it. Should we be expecting Ben too?” He nudged a dark elf looking man with his foot, his glowing red eyes taking in who was talking to him before he said anything.

“Oh, Gage! It has been a while. Yeah, Ben might pop in here soon. I just shot him the message a minute or two ago.” Dark wrapped an arm over the shoulder of the person sitting next to him. Seemingly a girl with brown hair and a red hoodie, her legs thrown over his own as she puffed out in his face. He chuckled as he took a moment to lock eyes and breath it in. “Delta couldn’t resist when I told them there was probably gonna be weed and food. You know how it is.”

Gage laughed as he took an empty seat next to Dark and patted the chair next to him for True to take. She took a moment though, this not being the normal crowd that she usually hung out with, but knew how to not be a total fuck up.

Dark looked her over for a moment, detached interest in her apparent as he took a hit of his own blunt. “So, you add a forth one to your polycule or is this just another proxy?”

Gage laughed a bit, pausing his retrieval of a couple blunts from the center table to wave a hand in dismissal toward Dark. “Neither man, Dots couldn’t make her a proxy if he tried. Way too.... well, its not place to say why or why not she can’t be a proxy.” He cast a nervous glance toward True before continuing. “But were happy as a triangle, and I think Fin would have a heart attack if she had even a single other person to worry about.”

Dark’s gaze narrowed at Gage as he avoided giving him an exact reason for True’s inability to be hired. Glancing between the two before he seemed to smirk a bit and nod. “Yeah, Finley is a bit uptight, but all spitfires have their charm.” He squeezed his mate with his free arm. “And you know, in a room full of people like this... maybe try and keep the stuff about Dots and his reasonings to yourself, yeah?”

Gage sighed as he lit a blunt and passed it to True. “Yeah, I know. But my guest list was incredibly difficult to put together, you would not believe how difficult some of these guys make their circles to draw. The audacity to have a difficult phone number. I wouldn’t have invited them if I thought any of them meant harm. You know me.”

He lit his own blunt as Dark nodded, his hand making its way to card through his apparently sleepy mates hair. Their head having nestled into his neck and their arms wrapped around his shoulders as they got comfortable. “Yeah, but I’ve seen a few that are questionable. I’m sure Finley and Damien are being diligent though. You proxies always seem to be good at that, no matter who’s you are.”

Gage shrugged as he took a few puffs, glancing over at True before doing a double take. “True, you do know your supposed to smoke that, right?”

She looked between him and the blunt, contemplating embarrassing herself even further or admitting she hadn’t ever smoked before. “Uh... well, I’ve never smoked weed before so, I’m not sure-“

“Say no more, I got you. I’ll make sure you don’t get out of hand. I’ve done this before and I promise you’ll be fine.” They locked eyes for a second, her trust in him winning out as she sighed and raised the blunt to her lips. Not unfamiliar with the burn that followed, reminding her of when Tim would show random acts of kindness after hard missions and spare her a cig or two, but she still coughed a bit as she hadn’t done it in quite some time.

“There you go, already almost a natural. I’ll have you high in no time.” Gage patted her leg reassuringly, tossing a friendly arm over her shoulder as they chatted and waited for this Ben person they had mentioned before to show up.

Of course, this being her first time smoking weed, she succumbed to it’s effects much quicker than Gage did. Her head titled backwards, her eyes glazed and unfocused, taking in the way the lights moved on the ceiling above her. She didn’t resist when the bong was passed around the circle once, twice, three times. She lost track of how much she smoked, but Gage kept his promise. She didn’t even remember getting walked out of the ballroom and taken to a little alcove with a fireplace, she didn’t remember being sat down or being given a blanket, and she didn’t remember how long she sat there staring at the fire place either. The entrancing movement of the flames keeping her captive as they swirled before her, her thoughts edging on dangerous territory as she had the sudden urge to attempt to lick them, but the chain gate in front of it prevented her from doing so.

“True? What are you doing down here?” Her blurred attention was caught by a voice that spoke up from behind her, making her turn her head slowly to see who could have possibly found her in such an odd place. Finding Splendor there, a worried look on his face as he took in her appearance. “Oh my, True. How high are you?”

She giggled and made grabby hands toward him. “Splendor! You’re home! Its hi how are you, you beautiful silly man. Now c’mere.” A dopy smile on her face as she waited to be picked up by the tall man.

She heard him sigh before she felt his tendrils wrap around her and lift her, making her giggle a bit more before he wrapped his arms around her. Walking her out of the room as she watched the ceiling design change, her attention taken entirely by her moving background. “You know, I really need to go home.”

“Oh? Why is that True? Where is home?”

“Home is with Splendor, duh. He lets me live there, with him and his proxies. Damien, Finley and Gage... Gage is a crackhead though. He got me soooo high. Uuuggh.”

She felt the person carrying her laugh, making her laugh too. She didn’t know what was so funny about what she said, but his laugh made her laugh. It reminded her of him. “True, why do you need to go home?”

She hummed as images of him shot through her smoke filled brain, a small smile lifting the edges of her lips. “I still need to tell him.”

She felt the strangers pace change a bit, she was pretty sure she was on some kind of staircase, but she couldn’t be sure. The ceiling getting closer to her not even being registered as a possibility in her mind. “Tell who what?”

She nuzzled into the strangers warm embrace as she felt sleep come up on her, way too tired to care much for paying attention to anything anymore. “I still need to tell Splendor how I feel about him. Its very important to me, I’m just not great at telling people about... feelings... and shit..... I don’t feel too good right now. Can I sleep please?”

The stranger was silent for a moment before responding, his arms wrapping a bit tighter around her as he continued walking her towards wherever their destination was. “Yes, you can sleep now.”

Her eyes drifted shut and didn’t open when she felt soft fabric seem to envelope her in a warm embrace. The last thing she heard before drifting to sleep was the stranger, blankets tucked over her at the same time. “Sweet dreams, Schatz.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #348

“nothing will be free  /  nothing will be done  /  black out the sun”

Do you have any famous relatives? My third or so cousin is the author of Not Without My Daughter, but she's not like a smash hit or anything that most people know. I really do recommend the book, though. It's a long read, but a beautiful, true story. Do you care about celebrity gossip? Nah. Have you ever failed a science course in high school? No; I was very good at science. What’s your favorite breakfast food? Cinnamon rolls. Does your house have a basement? No. No house I've ever lived in has had one. Do you like Hot Topic? Well duh. Do you think imagination is valuable? VERY! Just imagine how many incredible things wouldn't exist without it. What was your reaction to your first time falling in love? Unspeakably happy, and I felt like I was building a future with someone. I felt like I had purpose, which I should mention to anyone reading is a mindset to NEVER adopt. No one gives you purpose; you're born with it. How much weight can you lift at once? Ha, not a lot. When you have your own house someday, what color Christmas tree do you want and how will you decorate it? I want a black one with faux snow on the branches, then maybe red ornaments. Kinda look like blood dripping off. Sounds metal. Name three YouTube channels you’ve been loving lately. Lately, John Wolfe, The Dark Den, and Aim To Head Mix. Have you ever bought a designer purse? No. Do you wear jewelry often? No. What color was your senior prom dress? Black. Are you colorblind? No. Name the people you know who are colorblind. Jason's older brother is colorblind to two colors, but idr which. Would you ever consider a career in writing? I'd love to. What was your first favorite color? Red. What do you think about horror movies? I love them. If you love them, what’s your favorite? I really enjoy The Crazies and both The Blair Witch Project movies. Oh, and of course Silent Hill. Got any cool Christmas presents picked out for family or friends yet? I don't have the money to get anyone presents... and while I sometimes get ideas about something I could make someone, then it wouldn't be fair to the rest of my family if I don't make them something, too. What’s your favorite word and why? I really like the sound of "serendipity," as well as its meaning. It's just a pretty, nice word. Do you like to do craft projects? If so, what’s the coolest thing you made? Not really... I think the coolest thing I made was when I put the clay heart I made in Art into a shadowbox, and a poem I wrote was in the background. It was a gift for Jason. I remember working really hard on the whole process and being really happy with it. I don't want to know what he's done with it since. What’s one occupation you think gets paid too much and doesn’t deserve to? I don't know. What’s something you are currently saving money for to buy? Everyone knows about Venus' terrarium by now... Do you smoke/vape? If so, what brand do you smoke/what device do you use? No. Ever done drugs? No. Tell me one of your worst habits. Catastrophizing. I take a tiny seed of something potentially bad, and in seconds it's a damn redwood tree. And I do mean "in seconds." What’s a weird quirk you have that no one else you know does? I don't know, I don't have any particularly unique ones, I think. If you game, what type of headset do you use? I just use earbuds. Do you think you would be a good therapist? You know, it's funny, I've actually pictured myself as one a few times, given my level of understanding and empathy for people, as well as how deeply I want to see others succeed and spread the word that recovery from things like depression is very possible. I've never truly entertained the thought, though, given I'm quite sure I legally couldn't be given my suicidal past and mental illnesses. There is also NO way I could listen to so many people's suffering and manage to stay healthy myself, so, no therapist position for me, thanks. Have you ever been to a Chinatown? No. Do you prefer chunky or creamy peanut butter? Creamy, 100%. Do you stop to pick up heads-up pennies? No. Do your pets have collars? Describe them: Roman has an adorable navy one with a bowtie. Do you have any friends that speak any languages you don’t understand? Old friends, sure. What is something you want to begin learning? I want to improve my ability to perform what in therapy is called "opposite action," where you do the opposite of what your depression (or other conditions) make you want to do. It always helps me feel good, like when I draw even when I don't initially feel like it, but it's rough to really force yourself to do it. What is a food you find comforting when you are sad? Ice cream is my comfort food. What is a quote you find comfort in? There are really a lot, but none come to mind immediately, gah. What is one Tumblr blog you really appreciate? I actually haven't been on my main Tumblr in months, but oh my god there is a Markiplier blog called "lady-raziel" and she is FUCKING HYSTERICAL. The meme quality is A+. What is a comfort movie/show for you? When I actually liked watching movies, I enjoyed watching Silent Hill when I was down. That whole franchise just makes me so happy. What is a recent creative project that you are proud of? That I'm PROUD of, idk. I'm not that happy with the last drawing I made, and I haven't done any serious writing lately that I find noteworthy. What is a video game that you find comforting? Shadow of the Colossus is probably #1. I find it so relaxing while equally epic as fuck. The soundtrack is to die for, and after playing it a billion times, it's pretty easy for me to kinda breeze through and just enjoy myself. Do you know how to bake bread? If so, what is something you’ve baked recently? No. Would you rather live in the mountains, city, beach, or the forest? THE MOUNTAINS!!! Particularly in the woods IN the mountains! Are you closer to your mother’s or father’s side of the family? Mom's. I don't even remember anyone from Dad's. Have you ever been in a “perfect relationship”? I thought so. Have you ever lost a fingernail or toenail? No. Were you a Disney or Nickelodeon kid? I preferred Disney. Have you ever been inside a jail/prison? No, and I don't plan on it. Have you ever dated a guy with a beard, mustache, or goatee? Jason had a goatee usually. He'd go clean-shaven sometimes. Did you ever name your stuffed animals? I named every single one I got as a kid. Now I don't, really, unless they're really special. What’s the name of the person who cuts your hair? I'd rather not share, given her name is very unique. Do you like cheeseburgers? Yes, they're one of my favorite foods. Do you have a Flickr? Yes, but I don't use it anymore. Did you ever want to be a fashion designer? No. Do you drink milk? Yeah, I love milk. Where was your FB display pic taken? My room. Have you ever burnt your tongue like REALLY bad? If so, what on? Yeah; white rice. My dumb ass didn't realize it had JUST come off the stove. My tongue hurt literally for weeks. Have you ever gotten your legs waxed? No. Do you own any CLOTHES from Victoria’s Secret? Er, are undergarments not clothes? But I know what you mean. No. What are your grandfathers’ names? William and... I can't remember Dad's dad's name. Have you ever seen a snake in real life? Well yeah. Are you against seances? I don't know if I believe in them being effective, but either way, they seem like a bad idea. Even risking luring a negative energy/spirit to you is something I'd stay away from. Do you own any superhero shirts? No, just Harley Quinn ones, some with the Joker on them, too. I need to toss 'em though because I am like, violently against romanticizing their abusive relationship. I used to just like them as a story character couple, but I got to a place where it just seemed... wrong to "glorify" it by wearing merch and stuff. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica, durrrr. Who is the biggest jerk you’ve ever met? Can you believe that would be my former best friend? Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never had an animal in my path. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you like kissing in public? If you're my serious s/o, I could care less, so long as it's a simple peck. I'm not making out in front of people. Do you think someone has feelings for you? I don't know. Do you want to be in a relationship this year? I don't know. I'm lonely and love feels amazing, but I need to get my life on track before I can be a good partner to someone and not just dead weight. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you? Huh, funny, he's the one that walked away. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander? Uhhh that would depend on how serious we are, where we are, and just what mood I'm in. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you? ugh What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone? also ugh What’s your dirtiest secret? TMI AHEAD. Probably receiving oral while bare-ass naked on the chaise in the living room while we were home alone. Or having sex in my sister’s bed. Oops. Would you ever get lyrics tattooed on yourself? Yeah. I already do, anyway, and I plan on getting another. Can you photoshop images well? I'm decent at it. Where did you last drive to? Mom and I went to go get our Covid vaccines today. What’s the first verse of the last song you listened to? "I don't know what we're supposed to be, but I know we lost it along the way to something better, something so much more than pleasure that we seek, so blind inside to fill these holes left by these lies that we tell to ourselves as we manufacture our own hell." What do you hear right now? The aforementioned song: "BLACKOUT" by 3TEETH. What was the last thing you laughed about? This is so fucking immature lmao but when we were driving earlier, we passed a gas station that had a sign that was advertising Coke, but due to space limitations, it abbreviated to "2 liter Cok" and I cackled like a child. Mom laughed harder than I did. Do you know any gay people personally? Ye. What was the last thing that startled you? I think it was a car hoonking at somebody the other day. What was the last thing to make you even remotely sad? Today's been a kind of rough PTSD day thanks to Facebook. My old high school friend had her beautiful daughter, a childhood friend just got married the other day, another friend is due to have her baby in just a couple weeks... It's just weird but even more painful to know it was the life I once fantasized about with a guy that just dropped me and made a break for it. I hate admitting that there's this deep, deep bitterness in me about it, like he took my life away from me, even though that's of course very unfair to say. I don't want to talk about this anymore, so moving on with my day.

[newbornwhumperfly]

all i know is you’re the nicest thing

CW: references to past non-con, dissociation, panic attack, references to victim-blaming.    

a spinoff gift fic of @haro-whumps brilliant, heart-wrenching group whump series. this is based on some headcanons we’ve exchanged. i hope you like it, haro!!!                                                 

Snow is thick on the ground and Galo is going stir-crazy.

He hasn’t been able to run around the mansion for a week now. While it was kind of a fun challenge to wrestle through the drifts when they were ankle-high, it’s now impossible while keeping good form. Per usual, he’s been visiting the gym regularly but that’s come to a stop with the week before Christmas, depriving Galo of even this pressure-release. He still lifts weights, pushes and pullups until his arms tremble but he’s pushed himself as far as he can without burning out. Video games always exist, obviously.

What’s really funny, Galo thinks sourly, plucking a thread loose in his coverlet, is how a little cold weather makes you realize how isolated you are. Sure, he’d never really cared for Christmas. Correction: he kinda hated it. Aside from the fact that he’s decidedly not religious, the holiday was always bound up with baggage. Being made to wear festive, uncomfortable dresses to seemingly infinite parties full of infinitely shallow, shitty guests tripping over themselves and one another to flaunt how well they were doing. 

Ever since he’s gotten his own place, Galo never bothered with his own celebrations. No SO, no super close buddies to chill with, no way in hell he’s gonna make plans with anyone in his family. Outside of the occasional Christmas party at work and its flimsy temptation of free dessert and sparkly booze, he hasn’t bothered.

Now though…

Galo worries his lower lip as he sips the smoothie Sasha made for him. There’s a sprig of holly on the rim and it makes him grin. The timid woman has blended his breakfast for the past seven months and he’s come to lean on the reliability of it, the way that Sasha assembles the ingredients just so, drawing out a fresh deliciousness he’s never managed to coax from the mixture. She’s really damn good with food and he remembers to tell her so whenever the opportunity arises. It never fails to soften her.

Now he has people to take care of. Well, ok, they’re not children. But sometimes Galo feels that way, as guilty as it makes him. They’ve learned helplessness well, as they were trained to. As it was beaten into them over years and years, until they were broken, stitched back together with brutal routine. He grips his cup, fingers flexing in rage. Aunt Bethany may be cold in her grave but Galo’s anger refuses to cool, needing only a flinch or stammer or any unbidden reminder of the abuse to stoke that fury. The many weeks Galo has lived with these traumatized slaves has only peeled back fresh layers to the nightmare, all of it fuel to the simmering heat that lurks below his skin. He said he wasn’t religious but he really hopes hell is real.

Galo threads his fingers through his tuft of hair, yanking firmly to shake that train of thought off its runaway track. Now he can’t even work out until the burn of adrenaline smothers the hateful heat in his veins, he needs a new distraction other than his guild or fucking video games he’s played a hundred times before. The charity places he fills his spare hours with are all closed too, the heavy snowfall blocking most of the volunteers from service. He really is gonna go crazy, stuck for long, quiet hours in this sprawling estate with only his slaves for company. Who can’t leave and will all probably feed off his tension until they’re all an accidental frown away from a breakdown.

Fuck.

Bethany is gone but her horrors haunt this house, the ghosts waiting to strike in every corner.

Galo wonders if these guys celebrate the holidays at all. None of them can buy eachother anything, duh, but they’d probably made do? He doesn’t really have any clue what slaves would do on holidays but it’s probably none of his goddamn business. If he had to venture a guess, they probably did something special together after Bethany fell asleep. Or who knows? Maybe Christmas had shittier associations for them than even he had. That assumption was probably depressingly accurate. They were clearly devoted to this little unit of theirs and had probably found some way to make the day nice for one another.

And Galo had the nerveto feel stymied. He groaned as he threw an arm over sore eyes, blocking out the gaming livestream he was listlessly tracking on his laptop. He sure as hell wasn’t throwing a party in this gothic funhouse, most likely the first time in the group’s memory that they didn’t have to arrange an event. He was sitting pretty on millions of dollars, bemoaning his loneliness on a holiday he didn’t even celebrate in the first place.

He’s sure that the poor bunch downstairs could only dream of getting good things like he could get for himself anytime he wanted.

Oh.

Galo sprung up from his lazy sprawl against the headboard, an idea flaring up, getting brighter and warmer the more he thought on it.

This…this could be a good idea.

Could be being the operative word here, Galo determines, clicking away from the livestream to open a new search page as he reaches for his notebook and begins to flip through the pages of observations. He pauses, massaging his eyes as he considers his options. He’d have to be verycareful with this one; if he’s gonna do this, he needs to do it right or not at all. It might be a big fucking mistake, with the potential for backsliding practically a minefield under Galo’s still-balancing feet.

But it has been months. Dozens of days had crawled by without incident and he’s got wiggle room when it comes to potential fuck-ups – the last triggering incident was over two months ago and it had nothing to do with Galo’s actions. He figures he is safe for now. But, then again, he might never be safe when it comes these people – or rather, they might never feel safe with him, he acknowledges, heart panging sharply at the thought. Is it worth the risk, disturbing the fragile balance he’d so painstakingly built over the stretch of time?

Galo sighs, trying to release his tension the breath as he rubs his temple, ruffling the buzz of hair distractedly. It might be selfish, but he wants – desperately – to make them happy. To do something for them all other than just stay out of their way. There’s always the risk, in anything he says or does or doesn’t say or doesn’t do, that he will hurt them without even knowing it and it hurts. One thing he knows for sure is that he’s never been that person to resign themselves to doing nothing. Nothing is written in stone – if he has the heart and the care, he can do what he puts his mind to.

Sucking air into his lungs in one big, fortifying whoosh, Galo squares his stiff shoulders and starts typing suggestions into his search bar. He’ll start with Greyson, since his choices are easier, and then work his way down the list. He’s got less than a week and if he can do this right, and he needs – he reallyneeds – to get this one right, then they’ll be happier. And that’s all that really matters in the end. These people have never expected kindness outside of one another for their entire lives and Bethany had built the world in their minds in her image, a world of casual cruelty.

Well, it’s about the time to change that, and if Christmas is supposed to be a time of rebirth or whatever, Galo will exorcise his aunt’s presence with the ass-whooping spirit of the motherfucking season.

                                                        ~          ~                              

Master Galo has been…animated.

Galo is almost always cheerful, at least in their presence, but the past week has thrown the man into a state of nervous energy. It isn’t…bad, as far as Greyson can pinpoint. There is an excitement which hovers around him but there is tension too. He’s been muttering under his breath a great deal, mumbling to himself in a distracted, half-aware manner as he has tended to do when he has a lot on his plate. He has been glued to his laptop a great deal as well, tending to pace with it as he wanders on socked feet between his usual haunts. Most hours, he drifts from one room to another, sometimes shutting himself into a room to make a call, sometimes contemplating something on the screen in long pauses, biting his lip, brow scrunched in focus.

Greyson has warned the rest to take care and not distract Master Galo, as he is prone to bumping into doorframes or nearly tripping as he turns about to set the device down and scribble swiftly in that bulky notebook that he carries in his pants pocket everywhere he goes. Whatever Master Galo’s true mood, Greyson knows it would not do to disturb his patterns of distraction. It has already been tense downstairs, what with Master trapped inside due to the harsh weather and lack of exercise routine. A bored Master is dangerous. His full attention could be easily caught by anything (or anyone) who got in his way right now.

And he cannot help but notice, even though he should not notice, as it is none of his business, that Master Galo keeps the screen darker than usual when he carries it around and he always closes it when Greyson or one of the others approaches. He does the same with the notebook but there is almost a caution to the movement when Galo notices he is being observed or approached, snapping the device shut and looking for a moment almost like a guilty child caught sneaking a treat. Greyson does notwant to think about what that means. He will find out soon enough, he suspects.  

So for almost a week, as Christmas Eve crept closer through the soft, white hours, passing too slowly and yet too fast, Greyson watched and waited for something to happen.

                                                           ~          ~                           

Nyla has brought several packages up to Master Galo’s room in the past week.

In the past, she wouldn’t take too much note of this. Mistress had had everything delivered to her once her knees got too bad to go out shopping anymore and she had always given Nyla’s own knees a good whack with her cane when Nyla brought her the latest purchase.

Now, however, it is unusual now and unusual is always bad. Master Galo doesn’t tend to buy things for himself, besides the occasional video game or set of clothes that he often chooses to drive out and pick up in person. Now, he has eagerly grabbed each new package from her, a pleased, giddy grin on his face every time. She doesn’t know what it means but she has noticed Master’s hyperactivity and knows that Greyson is concerned. When she allows herself to dwell on it, it concerns her too.

Master’s behavior might not be bad (yet) but Nyla certainly isn’t going to call it good. Master Galo insisted he wants Christmas to be uneventful and while Nyla would typically be beyond grateful for such a reprieve, her anxiety worsens with the lack of planning to busy her worried mind. Nevertheless, she pours the fretful energy into perfecting what she can. She can always be perfect. Nyla assures herself of this constant as she polishes and re-polishes, scrubs and sharpens and floats like a dust mote through the halls, quivering at the ready for Master’s beck and call.

Her headaches are beginning again. The season ushers them in without fail, sharp heat coiling down her neck, her jaw, up through her temples and between the eyes, at times so stabbing that she nearly staggers from the anguish. She doesn’t though, despite being uncommonly tempted to grimace against the cruel pale glare of winter sun through every window. Putting it out of her mind, she glides quietly in rooms near Master Galo. 

Adjusting this, that was already straight. 

Wiping this, that was already spotless. 

She scrubs at a wood-stain on the balcony for the sake of scrubbing, letting the tingling cramps in her overworked wrists and sore knees distract her from the pain in her head. How much her jaw felt like it was trying to escape from her face, how much her neck seemed trying to twist off from the rest of the spine, and the constantpressure, the throbbing patch of nose, eyes, brow clamped with a spiked vice.

Mercifully, dusk was coming swiftly at the heels of the noon, the quickly dimming sky beckoning in Christmas Eve. Nyla has told Greyson to be ready with the car in case Master should want to go somewhere at the last minute. Lilah has kept the driveway shoveled with Evan’s help, bless them both, and salted. Sasha putters about the kitchen, busy with nothing as she travels in slow circles like a crumb circling the drain. They all feel it. They are all waiting. Master has been locked in his bedroom all day and most of yesterday, doing…something. Other than an occasional soft curse, Nyla has heard little when she passes (pauses, lingers, eavesdrops) by his door. She doesn’t think about what might be coming, what could be about to descend upon them swifter than the evening, better to lose herself in little meaningless labors.

Her focus thankfully helps her avoid a start when Master Galo flings his bedroom door open and pokes his head out, glancing about until his eyes catch Nyla, already risen from her futile polishing to a poised, submissive, smiling stance.

Perfect. She is perfect.

“Oh! Hey, Nyla, good – you’re exactly who I wanted. Um, is everyone…busy right now?”

Nyla parses the question. Everyone should be busy. That seems to be the right answer.

“Yes, Master Galo. Is there anything you require?”

Master didn’t seem outwardly displeased by her answer so she let herself breathe into his reply.

“Awesome. Yeah, actually. Why don’t you tell everyone to finish up whatever they’re doing? If it’s not finished, it can wait till later. After that, can you tell everyone that I wanna see them, and you too, in the living room? I’ve got some…gif-, uh, good surprises for everyone.”

Nyla can’t breathe in. She has breathed out already and can’t breathe back in. She needs to breathe in. Needs to speak.

Surprises.

For everyone.

Oh god. 

Oh please.

Breathe.

She’s missed his words, muffled, underwater, swimming through too-thick air, no sound.

You need to breathe.

You need to listen.

Listen!

Air thins around the words and they make it to Nyla’s ears.

“-holiday spirit and, uh, yeah. It’s my festive mood coming out I guess. Don’t wanna give it away, you’ll all see the surprises in a moment anyway! But, yep, a few minutes? That good?”

Breathe.

She’s still smiling. She can feel it. She can feel her face, her mouth, her hands clasped in front of her. She can’t feel her lungs for some reason.

She blinks.

Nods.

She’s answered Master, right? God, please, has she answered Master’s question?

She must have. She must have. She must have answered correctly because he is grinning and nodding and thank holy god he isn’t really looking straight at her, rubbing his neck in that strange way he does sometimes. She must have answered him because he hasn’t gotten angry and he’s closing the door and she couldn’t have made it worse and she can’t make it worse and she’s perfect and she-

Perfect.

The word is like a splash of cold water and Nyla remembers how to inhale, knees buckling briefly with the dizziness of no air, catching herself on the balcony as the head-neck-spine-wrist-knee pain floods through her awareness, riding in on the icy wave of fear.

Surprises.

For everyone.

Perfect.

Enough. Nyla flicks her tender wrist with sharp, punishing taps until her limbs unfreeze. The moment she trusts her legs to carry her, she scoops up her cleaning supplies and lets her body take over. Drift gently down the stairs to inform the others. Obey. Guide the others.

Be perfect.

                                                           ~          ~                           

It’s about fucking time.

Evan allows himself to savor this small prick of resentment on his swift walk to the living room, following only a minute behind Greyson, who’d tersely passed along the command.

Huffing harshly through his nose, he lets the tic in his jaw relax into his required, submissive blank while he tucks the flyaway hairs at his neck and forehead back into his ponytail. He doesn’t give a damn, of course, how pretty he looks. It’s not like his Master is gonna fuck him…probably. Gifts are not good; Evan should know that by now. Should know better than anyone. His gut lurches oddly at the memory of clammy, clawed hands pawing and pulling and scraping and taking what they want. He hasn’t been eighteen in a while but the space of years makes no difference and he can still smell the stench of smoky, heaving gasps. He can still feel the confusion like a sticky sweat crawl through his limbs morphing into terror-rage-shame.

It’s just the scent-memory which summons nausea, nothing more. He just…hates the smell of ash on breath. Hates that it’s been months since he’s had hands on him, years since that was new, hates that the hands fill his dreams and make him wish he had no skin to touch at all. He scratches the ghostly caresses off in the shower and tries to be grateful, bitterly, that no new hands have replaced the phantoms. Master isn’t gonna fuck him, at least, not soon. He shouldn’t have any reason to care about “looking proper”.

But Nyla would care, Evan thinks, the months-old regret clenching like an invisible vice around his heart. He owes it her to still be good, to at least try to live up to her poise.

It’s this duty which lulls him as he glides, smooth and graceful as he can, into place behind Nyla in the living room. He notices how she and Greyson have put themselves at the front, forming a fragile wall in front of Lilah, who is quivering in place and hunching to make herself shorter. Sasha has placed herself at Lilah’s left, shoulder almost brushing her bowed head as she curls ever-so-slightly inward towards the teen. Evan has been left Lilah’s right to stand at, his tall form shielding her from the room’s entrance. All of this was Nyla’s doing, of course it was. She has ensured that Lilah will, at least, not be the first to endure what is to come, has given her time to brace herself.

Evan’s love and respect for Nyla soars and nearly overwhelms him for a moment as he tries mirroring her back-straight neck-long eyes-low hands-clasped-lightly posture. She had forgiven him a while ago though softening took far longer and he is grateful for the generosity of time when he hears her hum, barely audible, in approval.

It is the only sound other than crackle-rumble of the enormous wood-fire blazing high and hot and he glances to the side to see the orange shadows dance over Lilah’s face. The dull roar has drowned out her breathing, too loud, too uneven. She hasn’t gone Quiet yet and he wishes she could when the flames reflect tears threatening to spill from her eyes already. She’s trying very hard, he can tell. His sweet baby Lilah. His sweet baby girl. He wishes so badly he could hug her right now. He wishes Master wasn’t about to hurt her for no fucking reason.  

Stop it.

Those thoughts are dangerous territory and Evan will notlet himself ruin anything for everyone else. This isn’t about him. He needs to be perfect right now, for Nyla, for Lilah, for all of them. He owes them that much at the very least. It gets harder to keep his face flat, however, when Master practically strutsaround the corner.

In all the months he’s been here, Master has never looked so energized. He’s switched out his usual t-shirt and shorts for a casual suit, hair slicked, and when he strides to a halt in front of the Christmas tree, he’s almost bouncing on his heels. His hands keep clenching, unclenching, clenching with whatever jumpy giddiness that’s put that wide grin on his face. Whatever restraint has kept him tethered is loose now and it trembles through every line in his broad body.

Evan drops his gaze to the rug so he doesn’t have to look anymore, tracing the red-white-green stitching of embroidered wreaths below his shoes. He knew, he knewbetter than to trust Master Galo’s mood, so peppy, so eager, so cagey. Master’s gonna drop the act like a heavy fist down on their heads and Evan might almost be sickly satisfied if not for how a traitorous nausea is curling in his gut to swallow the rage, if not for how his whole family is trembling around him, if not for how he’d almost – almost – begun to wonder if Master was…different.

At least this stupid, stupid, stupidpunchline is about to be called. Cold comfort now with how chipper Master is, how he can barely contain himself with the sweet satisfaction of it all, to watch his slaves quiver on the cusp of long-awaited suffering. Evan just hopes its everything Master’s fucking dreamed of.

                                                     ~          ~                                      

Lilah is so confused that she wants to cry.

Usually, the tension would strain every muscle tight, fighting her mind that kept trying to Go Away, ‘cause it wasn’t time yet. She is about to cry, a little wetness escaping, wiped away quickly. She can’t cry yet, she can’t even cry yet ‘cause nothing even happenedyet and that’s bad. She can cry later. There’ll be plenty of time to cry, soon. Soon, will go Quiet and she won’t be worried about anything.  

She doesn’t understand.

It’s so stupid to be confused. This just…used to be so simple and it hasn’t been the same recently and…she doesn’t get it. Evan was right, of course Evan was right, he’s always been right about Mistress things. She should’ve trusted him more about Master. But…but he…

He seemed different.

She’s never been good at the games, not like everyone else. She’s stupid about the rules anyway, and there’s so much that the rest of them all understand so easily, that they’ve learned from so many years of being good. She should know that there will always be a game. There will always be a rule. A test.

But still. He really did seem like he might be different than Mistress. His games were so very different that Lilah would wonder if he had a game at all. That’s stupid. But she had a good reason to be! Master had always been kind to her. He’d always smiled at her, real big, and he said such nice things about her work! He gave her lots of rewards too. Lots of rest and new kinds of food and special tools to make her yard-work easier, even though Lilah had always done a good job without those things.

“It’ll help you as a thanks for being so good at everything”, Master had told, all his teeth showing.

She should’ve known that was a lie. It had to be. But she’d wantedso badly to believe it.

Master never got mad when she went Quiet – kind of sad, or what looked like sad, and watchful and worried. But never mad. He’d never get mad at Lilah, even though he’s been mad at the others, been mad at Evan, even though they’re all better at this. Good enough for years. Good enough, at least, to not be punished all the time, day and night, beaten into place ‘cause she always had to be reminded of how not-good she is.

Bad girl.

Why? She just wants to know why and wanting hurts. Her heart hurts. It’s not a scared-hurt. It’s a sad-hurt, heart sore and throbbing wildly. She feels sadder than scared and that’s new and stupid but…she really did think Master woulddo something bad when nobody has been really bad and now he isgoing to and…she just doesn’t know why. But he is. And he’s happyabout it. Evan would say it’s ‘cause Master enjoys it, that he enjoys playing with them the way he does. She should listen to Evan. Why doesn’t she listen? Why can’t she ever keep up?

‘Cause you’re a bad girl.

Master’s voice rings suddenly through the room, the noisewhere there was no noise pulling Lilah’s breath in a little too quickly and Sasha barely twitches at her side. Lilah swallows a whimper before it escapes her dry throat and just…listens to Master.

 Please, let him get it over with quickly,she begs to someone, anyone.

 Please let it be quick.

And, horribly, selfishly.

Please.

Let him choose someone else first.

                                                       ~          ~                                        

“Ok! First off, Merry Christmas Eve to everyone.”

A silence hovers briefly and Sasha stumbles to say “Merry Christmas, Master Galo” in sync with the rest of the group. Their chorus, fortunately, hides her stammer. Master has not seemed to mind her stumbling speech but right now? There’s no doubt it that every broken phrase would tally up in whatever pain is to be doled out now.  

“Thanks! So, you’re all probably a little confused by the lack of celebrations. I know my aunt had tons of parties but…that’s just not me. I don’t love parties at the best of times and I really don’t love Christmas. But I figured, hey, I can do the holiday my way and you’ve all been a big part of changing how I feel about it. Everyone’s been awesome about decorating the house beautifully and making things feel cheerful, so, thanks so much for that. I really appreciate it.”

There is another beat of silence before Nyla, sweet, sacrificing, perfect Nyla, glides forward a couple of steps, Greyson carefully sidestepping to fill the space in front of Lilah, and kneels at Master Galo’s feet before taking up his hand to kiss it.

“Thank you, Master, for your kindness. We are all honored to serve you in whatever manner you desire.”

Sasha thinks, for the first time in a while, of how starkly largehis hand is next to Nyla’s head. Cold sweat beads on her brow as she measures those palms as though examining them for the first time, how when Nyla’s lips touch the backs of Master’s fingers, the span of his knuckles bridges her brow from temple to temple. He could crushNyla’s face with a firm squeeze, shatter her delicate little nose with one heavy slap, how could Sasha everhave forgotten that, even for a moment?

And now, the little blonde woman is deliberately putting herself at those heavy feet, pulling that meaty hand towards her lovely face, flattering and appeasing, indicating that she has chosen to go first for whatever this is. She’s so brave. She’s so good. Sasha loves her so much and she wants to save her so badly. Sasha wants to curl around Nyla’s kneeling form until Nyla is hidden away by Sasha’s arms and back and she’s safe from the pain which frightens Sasha so much and which Nyla so plainly does not deserve. But she is petrified and spineless and would only make it worse.

Oh, Nyla.

Greyson.

Lilah.

Evan.

Me.

Don’t react poorly!

Sasha blinks furiously until her tears settle behind her lids, pulsing with restrained grief.  

Don’t make this worse than it’s already going to be.

                                                       ~          ~                                    

Greyson should’ve been the one to approach Master Galo first.

He has a…dialogue with Master and either way, he is older, more practiced, should be quicker to know what to do. But Nyla has caught onto being what she should be in half the time it took him and has thrown herself into the line of fire with her typical grace. It sickens Greyson that he was too slow and let her take the burden.

Currently, Master’s glee seems to have abated at Nyla’s gesture and, seemingly, was not replaced with rage. Yet. He blinks down at Nyla’s upturned, sweetly submissive, face and smiles softly at her. No smirk. No secretive glint in his eye. Nyla must have done the right thing, yet again. Master has yet to…use Nyla in that way but he clearly acknowledges the faultless state of her service and it softens him towards her.

“That’s…wonderful, Nyla. Very good! Hey, while you’re down there, can you help me pull these boxes out?”

Before Nyla has even crawled over to the bottom of the towering Christmas tree, Master has crouched beside her, scooping out brightly wrapped packages from below the swoop of the low-dangling branches and jangling the glittering ornaments. Brushing pine needles off his pants, Master piles them, gesturing Nyla to copy him, onto an armchair before swinging back towards them all to clap his hands decisively and grin once more.

“Alrighty, then. So! Nyla?”

“Yes, Master Galo?”

Soft, immediate, lilting.

“I guess since you’re, uh, right here, I’ll give you your gift first. Uh, can you hold your arms out, Nyla? This one’s a bit big.”

Greyson has barely time to blink before Master has practically dropped one of the largest packages, a box of wide, flat golden cardboard topped with plaid bows, into Nyla’s quickly outstretched arms.

What?

“Sorry! Sort of threw it at you, didn’t I? You can go back to the rest, Nyla. Greyson, you’re up, my man.”

What?

Greyson’s feet carry him forward, arms already extending, body reliably obedient even while his brain is lagging.

 “Here y–, oh, no need for both arms. Heh, sorry, dude, your gift’s not Nyla-big.”

What does that mean?

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t need to understand, Greyson reminds himself harshly, he only needs to obey. So he remains blank, cups his palms as Master Galo places a little sleek black box, neatly bound in white ribbon, into Greyson’s palm. It is not professionally wrapped, Greyson absently notes, the tape was raggedly snapped off the dispenser and the bow is a bit crooked. He glides into place back at Nyla’s side, poised like emotionless pillars with their…gifts held stiffly in front of them as each person is called forth. Lilah, then Sasha, and, finally, Evan; all are handed a package, unique in size and decoration and received quietly and quickly before they are re-assembled as they were before, only now clinging to…

Most likely, the instruments of their imminent torture.

Or, as Master Galo is saying…

“Awesome. Alrighty, so, you’ve all got your gifts now. That’s good. You’ve probably noticed that they’re kind of sloppy. I wrapped them myself and…let’s just say, I wasn’t born to be a decorator. You’re just gonna have to live with it, heh. So…if you guys wanna sit down, like, on the couches or on the floor or, like, wherever you feel most comfortable opening your gifts? Just, uh, yeah. Everyone just go ahead and enjoy!”

All are silent and it is Nyla who folds elegantly to the floor and first begins to peel the wrapping back, small hands fluttering like butterflies as she unwinds the ribbon. Greyson folds alongside her, hesitating a brief moment as he catches Master’s eyes on his knees and then, slowly, sits on the ground and folds his ankles neatly in front of him. Master looks pleased when he sits this way rather than kneeling and Greyson’s jaw slightly slackens as he settles in beside Nyla. Her quick grace disguises her shaking to all but Greyson, whose arm touches her shoulder and absorbs her tremors. He leans, barely, against her, steadying her (and, honestly, himself as well) while he neatly disassembles his own package.

His box is the smallest, Greyson has noted, so he is the first to lift the lid and find…

A pair of glasses.

They are frameless at the bottom, rimmed in delicate wire that is stained redder than a ripe apple. It matches the hue of Greyson’s favored necktie. Spongy black nose pads and grips at the tips of the temples show how the eyewear would grip the face comfortably. Coiled beneath the neatly folded pair, clipped to the ends of each temple, is a fine chain, dozens of miniscule links glittering silver beneath the clear lenses.

They are…beautiful.

Greyson cannot do much more than blink. He can tell that everyone else is unwrapping slowly, glancing from the corners of their lowered eyes at his reaction and he shouldreact in some way. But he…he can’t…

What?

He finds that he is trembling as he plucks the frames from their nest of silk cleaning cloths, cradling them like they will shatter if he breaths wrong. His eyes raise almost without intent, catching Master Galo openly watching him, a soft hesitance weighing his gaze. Greyson nearly starts but Master gets ahead of a potential apology by gesturing vaguely at Greyson’s gift.

“I, uh, I peeked through B –…through your records and found your prescription. It said five years ago and I don’t know if your eyes changed since then and, well, if I’d gotten an appointment for you, this wouldn’t have been a surprise. Someone recommended I make them a tad sharper and so I did but, if you wanna adjust them or if they’re too strong just tell me… Anyways, I, uh, I really hope they see as nice as they look, heh…oh, yeah, and the chain is to keep them around your neck and the cloths are yours. Like, in case that wasn’t clear, all the stuff in the box – hell, the boxif you want it – is all yours. But, I hope you enjoy them, Greyson.”

Greyson cannot speak. He opens his mouth, moves his lips, and nothing emerges. Trembling more pronounced now, his hands pull off and fold his glasses and tuck them into his breast pocket, he does not choose to do this. He does not decide to lift the new frames to his face, unfold them, slide them into place and loop the chain behind his neck. He blinks as his body reconnects with awareness again, the missed moments of automation causing him to startle bodily with the clean, unscratched, clarity of the room before him.

There is…something inside Greyson’s chest. It is like a living thing, pressing, stretching the wall of his sternum. It takes his heart and his lungs and squeezes, mercilessly.

It hurts. 

The animal is resurrected, awakened from a peaceful sleep to roar in his blood, unfamiliar with the way his insides are warm and loose and tingle like his legs after rising from hours on his knees, all the blood rushing back to the numb area. He feels and it aches and his throat is tightened by the same animal grip on his innards.

The tight, the hot, the blood-rush, the suddenness of the old tenderness is tearing at Greyson and, suddenly, all he wants to do is weep. No hollow, scraped-out loss prompting the swollen heat pounding like a pulse behind his lids. A press, inexorable as it is tender, against his sternum is cracking him from the inside and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He abandons his typical protocol of vacancy to bite his inner cheek savagely, allowing the throb to distract and dull the other strange unfamiliar anguish below his ribs.

It hurts but Greyson can take hurt. This anguish which is not anguish will be smothered too and once he allows the ache in his gnawed mouth to ebb, he is clearer again.

                                                        ~          ~                                        

Evan is pissed.

At least, he’s really trying to be. What he really feels, right now, is confused as hell. Which angers him more, ‘cause he can take his own pain and humiliation and the games that never ever end but this is, admittedly, pretty fucking weird.

He will, in his own mind, confess to being tense, if not really surprised, about his box being the biggest. But as he lifts his…gift out of its mountain of tissue paper, he can’t feel much of anything. It’s like his head is disconnected from his shoulders and his hands move on their own to unfurl a frankly enormous blanket, at least six feet in all directions, fluffy and hedgerow-green and thick and light all at the same time.

The first thing he registers is how soft it is.

He almost starts when he feels the texture of the blanket, fingers sinking into the tufts of…what is it? Evan doesn’t know, he’s never touched something this soft. He almost expects it to melt like soap-foam between his palms but it settles, barely a weight against his folded legs. It feels nice.

Evan snaps back to clarity, lowly roving a glance around to the others. They’ve all opened their own gifts and they’re all as confusing as Evan’s. They all look like gifts, but real gifts. The sort which Mistress’ “friends” would exchange during those god-awful parties. Sasha is cradling something bright and delicate in her hands, Nyla’s got something to wear perhaps, and Lilah’s unwrapping something fluffy. He can’t clearly see what Greyson got in that little box but he’s oddly silent.

Evan tries to stay sharp. He needs to be sharp, to be aware, nothing is more dangerous than getting distracted right now. Nothing is…good about getting a present. But he’s drawn like a throat to thirst by the softness in his lap and sets his jaw before cautiously lifting the blanket like a cape over his shoulders. Tufts tickle the nape of his neck, gentle bulk shielding his torso from the open air, and Evan feels more than allows his spine to relax just a fraction.

It feels so good. He likes it so much and he hates that he likes it as much as he does. Yet even as he straightens his spine and keeps his eyes down, he cannot help but turn his cheek just barely so that the tufts brush, feather-like, against the skin.

Liking this is fucking dangerous, of course it is, of course it is, it must be fucked up somehow. But Evan is tired of caring right no. And so leans further into the softness. Maybe he’ll pay later but if he really got this as a…giftthen he’s gonna damn well enjoy it like one.

                                                     ~          ~                                       

Nyla is stalling.

Yes, she’s offered herself first. Yes, she made a show of opening her package. But…she hesitates and keeps twitching away when she tries to peel back the mountain of red tissue. She smooths is back in layers, slippery as onionskin, crackling at even the littlest movement. She’s afraid of what she’s going to find and she has no excuse for her delay but that fear which keeps her fussing with the final sheet of tissue.

It is only once Greyson has lifted his gift out its box that she finally, unforgivably late, folds back the final barrier. It is in the same moment that Greyson’s gift becomes clear in her periphery, unmistakably a new pair of eyeglasses, when she comprehends what lies before her in the box.

A dress.

A dress?

It is a dress and it’s a pretty dress and it looks expensive and it’s a real gift and Nyla almost doubles over, spasming fingers gripping the edge of the box in an effort to remain grounded. She hides her tremble with busy movements, not really thinking but allowing her body to take over and carefully pull the dress from its crinkly nest.

Nyla knows little about clothing except from what Mistress Bethany and her guests wore but she knows what quality cloth feels like and this dress is certainly a cut of the finest. It has a supple, satiny feel but it isn’t silk, more like good linen in a soft blue imprinted with a pattern like white and grey stitching. It is crisp and flat and smells a little like vanilla when she moves it. Pleated skirt which could hit just below the knee, elbow-length sleeves, slimming waist. It has a wide neckline which doesn’t plunge to her breasts but instead would barely sit above the collarbones and sit halfway down the shoulder to show off their delicate swoop. It would show off the arc of her neck perfectly.

She would look so elegant in this dress, appearing so proper and almost fancy in a modest way. It is how she has dreamed of looking, sometimes, when she neatens her apron and flicks lint off her drab, black, uncomfortable uniform. In this dress, she would look as perfect as she behaves.

Absently, she strokes the along the mysterious fabric, wondering what it would feel like against all of her flesh. She nearly shivers with pleasure at the very thought of sliding that material over her head, zipping it up nice and neat. She suppresses a second, cold, shiver when a gratitude rises, unbidden, at her presence amongst the rest of the group. Mistress Bethany had never forced any of them to strip more than a shirt in front of one another but…who knew what Master Galo might command? If they had been alone when Master Galo gave her this, she would certainly assume she was meant to unclothe and slip into her giftstraight away. Display it for him. Looking pretty in it for him.

Master has paid close attention to them all, that much is abundantly clear. Nyla glances to the side and sees how Sasha is mesmerized by her gift. It is some sort of hair ornament, a flat clip to bridge the top of the head, a glorious, darkly polished wood that had been carved with an inlay of golden roses. It won’t just hold back the cascade of ebony hair, it will brighten the wavy length which Sasha combs between her fingertips, which soothes her so. Which one would notice if one watched her for long enough. Sasha’s fingers fly between hair and the ornament, sunk fully back upon her heels as she turns the clip over in her fingers like it is glass, watching the firelight catch all the petals and vines of gold.

Sasha loves her hair. She loves her gift.

It is all gift, Nyla realizes. All of her clothes are a gift. Seeing properly enough to do tasks obediently, having glasses at all, is a gift. Everything they are allowed to have is already a gift, graciously given on strict conditions. Nyla can go without her gift – her clothes – at any time Master Galo desires.  

Nyla soothes her fluttering pulse with a low breath, stilling her hands so they won’t seize the fabric and scrunch that ironed hem. She is here, right now, with her family. She traces the pattern with her eyes, counting the facsimile of stitches on the bodice as she allows that thought to ease the edge of sudden anxiety. There is absolutelyno sense in torturing herself with scenarios like that, no sense at all. There was no need. Even…ifsuch an idea did come to Master Galo, Nyla would give him no reason to play it out. She was perfect, she had always been perfect, and she will continue to be perfect; it is the only thing she can control. Nobody will have any reason to hurt her. Oh, Master can hurt her, of course he can, but he won’t have a reason to do it.

She won’t evergive anyone a reason.

                                                        ~          ~                                   

Galo hears a giggle and the surprise causes him to glance up from the game he’s been pretending to play on his phone, sprawled on the armchair several feet away from the group.

Lilah has opened her gift. A little red winter hat, ear-flaps and all, topped with a cotton puff which Lilah is poking at. She has pressed a hand to her mouth but is still grinning through her fingers as she pokes and ruffles the little poofy ball on the hat, on the matching gloves, on the tassels of the matching scarf. Lilah has lost herself in an almost open delight, youth bubbling through her nerves as she bats at her gift. Her bruises have long faded, all the cuts pinked and flat with age, so her freckles are stark. The absence of wounds makes her look so much younger than her eighteen years and her glowing grin gives her a childish glow.

Tears well in his eyes and he has to press his knuckles against his lids as he tries to swallow back the ache in his throat.

“Thank you so much, Master Galo! Thank you!”

Galo hopes his eyes are clear as he glances up again and sees that Lilah is the one who spoke. The others are clearly carefully looking anywhere but at either Lilah or Galo and, to be honest, he’s a little shocked at what amounts to an outburst from Lilah. She is trembling violently but is also clutching her gift tightly to her chest, gazing at Galo with…gratitude, heavy as worship, in her eyes.

Her grins widely at her, his gesture seeming to brighten that gratitude to a feverish glow. It’s all too much for Galo all of a sudden and he has to look away again so the tears won’t betray him and leak down his face, hoping to God that his reply doesn’t sound too choked.

“You’re welcome, kiddo. I’m…really glad you like it.”

                           i’m gonna throw myself into a pit now! hope ya’ll liked it!

[caffeinatedfantasy]

The Seal pt 5: Markings

{ Chris: [bio] Pt [1] [2] [3] [4]/ ?? [ Set: Vaguely after Lesson 5 ] [ AO3 Link ]

Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised by Mammon tagging along. Since my room had been destroyed and Beelzebub wasn’t letting the Avatar of Greed into his room, he’d become needier. Sticking by my side at basically any chance he could get, I should have expected that he’d insist on following me to the House of Purgatory to see Solomon. 

“I, the Great Mammon, am supposed to make sure you don’t get into any more trouble, and Solomon seems like trouble.” He’d insisted in his familiar theatrical way. Insisting that it was for my sake and not because he’d been there when Asmo had insisted that I wanted to fuck Solomon and he was trying to stop that from happening. [ He’d even insisted to Asmo that was definitely not the case. He was just doing his job protecting me! Duh! ] 

I did not mention that I didn’t really have much virtue that needed protecting in that department. Or that sex would definitely complicate things there too. 

So I didn’t really argue when he tagged along. And he ended up being pretty useful, all things considered. 

Solomon showed me how he was able to summon Asmodeus. And, with Mammon’s help, I showed exactly what I could do with the pact. 

Which was basically give him commands like a dog and have him listen. [I refused to say it out loud in case he decided that he was too embarrassed, but his love of getting his hair pet made that image stick a little bit too well.]

And that was my introduction to anything visible when it came to the pacts. 

“I believe its just the power of the pact that’s acting, then, and not you.” Solomon explained, his fingers to his chin in thought as he circled around Mammon [who was currently stuck in place by a ‘Stay’ command and pouting about it]. “But I’d have to take a look at the pact’s mark to be sure.”

“The pact’s mark?” My hand went to my stomach absently, rubbing the skin where my own ‘mark’ hid as I frowned in confusion. 

“Yes. When you use the pact’s magic, a little symbol should show up on Mammon’s skin since it would be primarily drawing from his magic.” I... Liked the sound of that. Seemed safe. Except. 

“I haven’t seen any symbols on him though...” I reached forward and kind of tugging on Mammon’s jacket, as if it was hiding just underneath and he started blushing and swatted my hand away.

“Unless you’re using the pact on him in bed, I doubt that you would have.” Asmodeus’s tone, and his expression, were primed to get a reaction out of Mammon, who started on one of his rants about how he, the Great Mammon, was not interested in a human that way and of course I hadn’t seen him like that! And besides, he would never let me do that... Like that. He wasn’t a pervert, unlike some demons he knew of.

I was glad Mammon had gone on that rant, because my cheeks had started to heat up, but after a little bit of him so vehemently denying it. The idea was more funny than anything. 

“Mammon, is it somewhere you can show us?” I was curious now. I kind of wanted to see it. He paused, face still red, and nodded. “Can I see?”

There was a long moment where he didn’t say anything, just kind of stared at me like a deer in headlights. Asmo started to say something snarky and teasing [about how it was cute that he was getting embarrassed] and that did it. Mammon tugged off his jacket and shirt and pointed to a spot on his shoulder. 

I didn’t see anything there, though. Frowning, I reached forward and felt along his skin there, as if I could feel it somehow. But it just felt like skin. Soft. And very warm. 

“You have to give an order first before it will show up.” Solomon explained, stepping closer to look as well. 

Maybe a little too close. Because I could feel his heat as well now and having two hot guys standing so close to me and the only command I could think of to give to Mammon was. “On your knees Mammon.” 

He went even redder, trying to resist for a moment, before a symbol flared up dark red against his skin and he listened, a small glow to it, and it was right under my fingers, surprisingly cool compared to the rest of him as I traced it gently. 

Arms suddenly around my waist made me jump though and I glanced over my shoulder to find Asmo grinning wickedly at me. Solomon was looking at the mark now, and Mammon had been stubbornly looking away the whole time, so he managed to whisper into my ear unnoticed. “I felt that.” 

I pulled away from him a little bit, cheeks warm, and decided that maybe I could ask a question I’d been wondering because it wouldn’t seem so weird right now and Asmo had reminded me with what he said. “I didn’t even know it was there. Is that because I can’t use magic, or...” 

I trailed off, waving vaguely, trying to figure out how to ask. “Should I have been able to... I don’t know, sense it or something?” 

Solomon shook his head, his expression still thoughtful. “Unless the mark was infused with your magic, then no. Even if the marking was your own creation, you’d need to add that into the spellwork. His own inherent magic would mask it too much.”

And all my anxiety about the Seal flew right out of the window at that. So chances were low that he could even sense the tattoo, so I didn’t have to worry about that, at least. And since it had been done by some cheap trainee for fifty bucks, I doubted there was a way Solomon had secretly imbued magic into it. [Not that I was going to announce to him that it was there because there were still too many questions.]

I had a few more questions after that. Letting Mammon put his shirt back on, and finishing up the short mini lesson, we all had to be back to the House in time for curfew, so we headed out. [Which I still thought was absolutely ridiculous, I’m an adult damn it and I was going to argue with Lucifer next time he brought it up, especially since this time my walk home I had two demons with me.]

Asmodeus left Mammon and I shortly after we got back, giving me a such a grin that I knew he was going to tease me about my moment of lust later, and Mammon walked me to Beel’s room, going on about an idea he had to make money. I smiled slightly as we stopped. 

“Thanks for coming with me today.” He started on about how of course because he couldn’t let a weak human like me just go there by themself and I just laughed and gave him a hug before ducking into Beel’s room. 

[flying-elliska]

I know we’re all waiting for the sky to fall on our heads right now but I’m not ready for fluff week to be over yet so here’s a few glimpses of their post-paint honeymoon weekend. Enjoy <3

SAMEDI 19:12

God, how many time is it possible to fall in love with the same person ?

Lucas asks himself this repeatedly over the week end, as he learns to see a whole new side to his boyfriend.

His boyfriend !

His boyfriend, who is a disaster in the kitchen. His boyfriend, who curls into him as if Lucas was the one that was two heads taller than him. His boyfriend who's been making cute little drawings of all of their meetings.

The image that had been haunting him the past two weeks, that of Eliott the player with the piercing stare and pretty words, the Eliott that could floor Lucas with a glance and stomp on his heart in the next minute, the Eliott he cursed himself for falling in love with - melts away like it never existed in the first place.

In his place now there's Eliott the dork, who makes terrible jokes and then smiles at Lucas knowing full well he can get away with it anyway but still wants his approval regardless. Eliott who loves to call himself a wild forest creature but is way too affectionate for that to be even remotely credible. Eliott who doesn't spare any effort to make Lucas understand how much he cares. Restless, maddening Eliott, who seems to prioritize kissing Lucas first and breathing second, and can’t stop himself from following Lucas even to the kitchen when he goes for a snack. 

Lucas always thought it would feel weird, to have a boyfriend, but it really doesn't. It's the most natural thing in the world, maybe because him and Eliott ? They just fit.

...

Now they're entangled on the couch-bed again, watching tv. They never really bothered to fold it back into a couch again. The others are giving them a wide berth. He doesn’t want to throw Manon out of her room, really, and Eliott said he liked it here too much to go back to his appartment - and vaguely alluded to people who might drop by there unexpectedly. Here at least they know how to see the unexpected coming, and the unexpected said he was going to visit one of his old hook-ups anyway and that there was extra lube on the fridge and to call him if they ever needed advice with anything (hell no). Lise has been pointedly walking around with huge noise cancelling earphones while giving them dirty looks and pointedly saying that if she suspected anyone ever did anything in the kitchen again she would set the couch on fire and Lucas would have to go back to the basement. Eliott had the gall to ask if that also meant food and she answered, deadpan - “Oh for you, it certainly does.” 

Manon left for Emma’s in the afternoon after presenting them with a tray of muffins and a glowing smile, specifying that they were chocolate chip and vanilla, “the best way to make muffins”. Eliott said he considered that a challenge, and Manon told him to spare his energy for more important things before exiting the room. 

Lucas can’t help but feel for her - must be hard to see a couple getting together right in front of her as her own woes are still ongoing. He always thought being happy made people into morons but strangely it’s allowing him to see other people more, to care when he was mostly too exhausted to, before. 

“You should try to make her muffins, he tells Eliott. You know, if you can actually manage to make something not totally disgusting, I think she would love someone to engage in a culinary battle with. She’s way too smug about those muffins.” And she needs distraction from a broken heart, he doesn’t say, I just got over one of those and it’s the worst feeling in the world. 

“Oh but right now we -”

Lucas puts his hand over Eliott’s mouth. 

“But I require at least a week to recover before you try to poison me again.”

...

There’s people putting their hands in boxes full of tarantulas on TV and Lucas couldn’t care less. Eliott’s hands are busy on him, one playing with the little hairs at the nape of his neck, the other one tracing the outline of his ribs and slowly inching lower. He feels drunk, and wonders why they ever bothered to put their clothes back on again. 

One week ago he was bawling his heart out on this very couch, feeling like he was drowning and all his support systems were failing him. And now ? Well, he’s swimming in bliss. 

The pain was real. He can’t let go of the worry totally, it cut too deep. In time he wants to be able to educate people so they stop making gay jokes and he wants to know what exactly made Lucile such a powerful figure in Eliott’s life that he had such trouble letting go so they can exorcise her completely, and he wants to arm himself so that pain never comes back. But he can’t be like that right now. Right now he isn’t able to be anything but meltingly soft. They are going to coagulate into the couch and leave stains, and the petty part of him thinks that it will serve Mika right for being such a nuisance. 

Eliott laughs that high giddy laugh of his, and no parts of Lucas, petty or loving or otherwise, can think anymore. 

“Hmm”, Eliott says as he runs the tip of his fingers along Lucas’ arm, touch featherlight and sending shivers along his’ spine, “maybe I should have drawn you as a spider.” 

Lucas turns to him with the most disgusted look on his face he can muster. 

“What the fuck ?”

“Well, yes, look, you’re getting goosebumps, it looks exactly like the hair on those spiders” he says, leaning his head slightly in the direction of the TV. 

“So you think what, that I’m scary and it’s a challenge to touch me, is that it ?”

“No, spiders are misunderstood. They’re a vital part of our ecosystem. They eat the nasty bugs.” Eliott leans down to kiss his arm and looks up with playful puppy dog eyes. 

“You’re totally one of those guys who likes weird animals, don’t you ?”

“Well duh, I like you.” 

“Oh yeah, is that how it is now ? No more cute hedgehogs, I’m a spider ? Is that how you’re planning to keep my attention ?”

“You’d be cute in any animal form, even the weirdest.”

“F*ck okay, I understand why you won’t let us go to your appartment now. I bet you have a box full of roaches under your bed. Or like, a f*cking snake hanging out in your pipes.”

“Well, I brought my snake with me, baby.” Eliott wiggles his eyebrows at him, looking way too pleased with himself.  

“F*cking hell, how do I find you attractive ? You’re so lame ! ”

He starts to push himself up so he can leave, and what happens next is exactly what he knew was going to happen. Eliott rolls on top of him in one fluid move, flattening Lucas into the cushions, lining up their bodies and pressing down. Lucas's next breath comes out all shivery and high pitched. It's embarassing but not as much as what happens next.

As Eliott lowers down to kiss him he grinds his hips against Lucas's, and stars shoot up his spine.

And then he stops, and whispers in his ear "So I'm lame, huh ?"

Lucas lets out a noise he'd never thought himself capable of making, a needy moan that has Eliott in pieces against him, as if he wanted to tease but in the end, neither of them have any self-control left.

All melting,  no more walls, not even to be funny.

...

At some point afterwards when they finally fall apart to catch their breaths, a weird wizard on the TV with a raspy voice is scolding the players for having taken so long to solve the enigma and being so messy about it, asking them if they need help to put keys in keyholes, and then looks at the camera with a look so fierce Lucas almost jumps back, his fake eyebrows almost falling off. 

“Shit I think he’s seen us !”

Eliott laughs into Lucas’ neck, low and easy and delighted. F*ck, it’s so good to be weird together. 

next up DIMANCHE 15:36 and insta shenanigans 

[gnj9ata]

So in the attempt to get my creative juices flowing again, I decided to test myself with a little creative challenge. One night I was just laying in my bed and I typed in “creative challenges” into YouTube and came across a few results. Among those results was this video here:

So I decided to take a “Ah, Fuck it” approach and do the video. Now just as a heads up, I am cheating a little bit because of two reasons.

1.) I watched the video all the way through before I decided I was going to do it. After watching it, I said “Sure...I will do this.”

2.) I just didn’t have time to do it during the week, so I watched the video like around 3 AM Thursday and decided I will tackle this challenge on the weekend when I had time. So I am not going into this completely blind and I did have a bit of time to think of how I am going to tackle each challenge, so there is that disclaimer. (And that really plays a part in the final challenge, I will explain more on that later.)

It’s friday, I just got off of work and said “Well, let’s do this.” And document it here on tumblr.

So first Exercise, The Paper Clip Challenge.

For this, the idea is to come with as many uses you can think of for a paper clip in one minute.

This is how I did:

So I only came up with six in one minute. I actually thought I was going to do a bit better because when I was laying down thinking about this challenge initially, I was coming up with alot of ideas. (which is something I noticed with most of these challenges, they seem easy in practice, but in execution, my brain just kept drawing blanks) However, I couldn’t think of any when I did the challenge and the minute was up before I knew it. 

Whelp...

Next Exercise, The Upside Down Image.

In this, you have to draw the image below on paper in three minutes.

Easy right?

This is what I did.

I mean....I am no Vincent van Gogh, but it isn’t bad compared to my usually drawings. I completely butchered the trunk though. I think I actually draw this better upside down then I would have if the picture was in the right orientation. 

Next Exercise, The Five by Five Circles.

In this, You are suppose to draw five circles across on a sheet of paper and then five down. Like this:

And then draw a small image in each of those circles in two minutes. 

This is how I did.

Botched! This is another challenge I thought I was going to do really well on but NOPE! I only manage to draw an image in 9 of the 25 circles. *facepalm*

And I don’t even know if half of these quality as images. I remember thinking “Man, Exercise 3 is going to be cake, I am going to draw just alot of food and video game references.” Naw....when I hit that timer button, my mind went blank. Also, I kinda of cheated with this challenge a bit 

Next Exercise, Complete the Image

The idea of this one is to draw two lines like this on a sheet of paper:

Then, finish the image. 

This is what I drew:

So I decided to draw little Indian like hunts for some reason. The funny this is when I originally was thinking about doing this challenge, I said to myself “Hmm...I will draw a picture of the classic Atari game Asteroids, but then when I watched the video again to prepare, I saw the guy’s image in the video and for some reason it made me want to draw Indian hunts with a campfire and a little river. I tried to draw like some meat and a boomerang near the bottom, but it didn’t come out right. 

And lastly, the final exercise, The Nine Dots. 

For this, you are suppose to draw nine dots like this:

And then connect all nine dots with 4 continuous lines. So this is where the disclaimer I made above really comes in. I am going to be honest, I didn’t know how to solve this originally, I paused the video when I originally saw it and stared at the screen for like 3 minutes. Dumbfounded. Before I spoil the answer, I especially recreated what I was going to do. 

So my brain was thinking once it touched another dot, that would be one line. However I didn’t truly grasp the idea that he said CONTINUIOUS and the pen/pencil couldn’t leave the paper. 

So here is the solution:

Once I saw the answer, I was like “Oh...Duh.”

So if the line went through the dots, completely ok. To be fair, he never said it couldn’t go through the dots or not, so I guess that should of been a sign for me. As long as the line was continuous. So I guess I was thinking too literal or didn’t truly grasp WHAT was being said. Really cool Brain teaser though. 

And there you have it. The 5 Creative thinking exercises made up by this random dude on YouTube is now complete. 

What have I learned?

I need to get more creative. 

[onenettvchannel]

#OneNETnewsInvestigates: American Netizens & Bashers are Boycotting the Nintendo for Skipping All the Independent Games and Caring for Super Smash Bros. Ultimate

KYOTO, JAPAN -- A partner showcase presentation of Nintendo Direct Mini was not in good shape for the bashers around last Thursday at 10am (Eastern local time) for skipping all the Indie Games (which affects the Undertale and Jackbox Games). Miko Kubota (Radyo Patrol #20's Veteran Reporter) was on the scene for our Investigation to OneNETnews.

In case you're wondering on both of these... What is Nintendo, Nintendo Direct & Indie Games? According to the information database from Wikipedia, "Nintendo Co. Ltd. is a Japanese multinational consumer electronics & video game company headquartered in Kyoto City. The company was founded in 1889 as Nintendo Karuta by craftsman Fusajiro Yamauchi and originally produced handmade hanafuda playing cards. After venturing into various lines of business during the 1960s and acquiring a legal status as a public company under the current company name, Nintendo distributed its first video game console, the Color TV-Game, in 1977. It gained international recognition with the release of the Nintendo Entertainment System in 1985".

On the other hand adds, "Nintendo Direct is a series of online presentation or live shows produced by Nintendo, where information regarding the company's content or franchises is presented, such as information about games and consoles. The presentations began in Japan and North America with the first edition on October 2011. While a shorter version of the main type of Nintendo Direct that showcases information about software and hardware across all Nintendo platforms. There is also a separate vertent of this type of Nintendo Direct, named Nintendo Direct Mini: Partner Showcase that feature games from Nintendo's developing and publishing partners".

And for the Independent Games however... "An independent video game or indie game is a video game typically created by individuals or smaller development teams without the financial and technical support of a large game publisher, in contrast to most (triple-A) games".

#NintendoDirectMini: Partner Showcase | September 2020https://t.co/Nfzd8zXfzF

— Nintendo of America (@NintendoAmerica) September 17, 2020

Just a few hours before the Partner Showcase, these bashers are deadly unhealthy. This happens before...

Yeah, I hate how nintendo fans begging for more newer nintendo games like Mario anniversary collection for example, than indie games and Third party games treatment which is don’t care about.

— Mat 💫 (@Iczer07) September 1, 2020

personally im skipping these partner showcases and staying uninformed about anything announced in them until Nintendo at least stops calling these streams Direct Minis

— snakehugz (@snakehugz) September 16, 2020

calling these filler streams "Direct Minis" tarnishes the reputation of the Nintendo Direct, please stop referring to it as if it is an actual Direct or Direct Mini

— snakehugz (@snakehugz) September 16, 2020

Nintendo fans thinking smash will be in the mini direct pic.twitter.com/tHiYRjbIhQ

— reyn time (@blackwidow2234) September 16, 2020

Really, Nintendo? Another partner showcase? If this is what you think of your fans, this is what I think of you. pic.twitter.com/QjYFG60Pql

— robothing (@MarioToenails) September 16, 2020

I'm not, and I'd say the same for indies who don't deserve the hate they've got in the last days. I'm just arguing that these last non-first party showcases had a bad timing. It doesn't help on anything with Nintendo's eternal silence.

— DoE (@DevilOfEdginess) August 27, 2020

i canot bleieve nbtendo didn’t give me my mario 64 remastered revengEan e at the indie game showcase!!!!!!!!!! fuck u nintendo idiot sitpid AAAAA AI HATE NINRENDOahahahaaaaaaa stipud idiot ocompany!!!!! pic.twitter.com/HJ5QxJ7qNU

— mindfloww (@mindfloww_) August 19, 2020

And after.

Example: Smashers LOVE to hate nintendo for every decision in any smash game. But then completely ignore or make fun of indie platform fighters. They'll go to great distances to play like....project m, or melee on an emulator. But won't touch Icons, Brawlout, or RoA.

— Jamison (@Ggjeed) July 22, 2020

>Nintendo indie direct >No smash announcement Wow Nintendo do you just like hate money or something? fuck you Nintendo, I'm never purchasing another game from you for the next 26 seconds you hate your fans and you just lost another one

— |VRG| Rusty! (@JohnExodiaWick) March 17, 2020

To be quite honest, I kinda hate watching #NintendoDirectMini and #NintendoDirect because it's usually filled with a lot of toxic fans who hate it even if it has FANTASTIC announcements because "Duh, no Smash means bad Direct, duh."

— Yaboichipsahoy (@YaBoiCh43658878) September 17, 2020

I'm unfollowing #Nintendo twitter. The past 6 months have been nothing but hate against Nintendo, and they had me convinced Nintendo was really doing us wrong. After today's #NintendoDirect, I know they just take their time and do it right.

— Tanishq Kancharla (@moonriseTK) September 3, 2020

STILL NO HOTEL MARIO ON SWITCH??? IM DONE FUCK YOU @NintendoAmerica #Nintendo #NintendoDirect I HATE YOU. THIS IS YOUR OWN FAULT I AM NEVER BUYING NINTENDO AGAIN NO ONE CARES ABOUT 3D MARIO!!!' pic.twitter.com/Xbp4pOuQfg

— lucia ⛓ (@GDDR6X) September 3, 2020

Just a thought, but gaming fans should either A. Appreciate the indie titles that get announced and find the ones that look fun to them OR B. STFU 🤷🏼‍♂️#NintendoDirect pic.twitter.com/VdPwJKP3XC

— 𝔻 𝕒 𝕧 𝕚 𝕕 𝔾 𝕚 𝕝 𝕥 𝕚 𝕟 𝕒 𝕟 (@DaGiltyMan) August 26, 2020

Another crappy showcase. Great job Nintendo. You're the king when it comes to crappy showcases

— Robyn Wolph (@LegendOfZelda77) September 17, 2020

Worst direct ever, there wasnt even a reveal for the rest of the smash dlc 2, botw 2, splatoon 3, super mario galaxy 3, not even smash dlc 3 and 4 😡😡

— Dnamssdup (@DnaDan6) September 17, 2020

THERE WILL NOT BE SMASH BROTHERS IN THIS DIRECT!

— Jaedon Daniels | SirPeelz (@JaedonDaniels1) September 17, 2020

Nintendo: We're going to showcase titles from our developing partners. Twitter: BOTW 2! Every Smash Reveal! PRIME 4!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's like you people can't read.

— Stormageddon222 (@Stormageddon222) September 17, 2020

Most of these reveals are old ones so that’s a bit shitty to do to us. 2.5/10

— Jaxon Skye (@WiiMusicDevil) September 17, 2020

These tweets are subject for boycotting with the honest shameless retards at the moment, in skipping all the Independent Games and caring for Super Smash Bros. Ultimate.

I hate indie games, leave that for Nintendo’s man!

— Jigen (@yesdimeji) September 16, 2020

Imagine being an indie game developer and working hard on your game for it to be released in the switch. And you have to deal with hate from nintendo fanboys just because you aren't a direct or new smash bros character. Atleast try their games out before assuming its bad. pic.twitter.com/8IqS6VH3RY

— 🖤Andrea Chan🖤 (@real_andreachan) August 31, 2020

I hate Nintendo fans. Count the indies & third parties in 2020 just like the 2017 image, or fuck off with your inaccurate comparison that you're posting just for clout. https://t.co/XTWYOrvL1n

— Billy (@Billybae10K) August 22, 2020

"WHERE WAS SMASH!?!?! I HATE NINTENDO!". Not everything has to be about Smash DLC and stuff like that. Just be happy with what we get. If you can't do that, then just don't watch the Indie and Third Party directs.

— Ruby (@ruby52986) August 26, 2020

YOU MEAN THERE ISNT GOING TO BE 10 NEW MARIO GAMES ANNOUNCED?!? WHAT ABOUT SMASH >:(((TYPICAL NINTENDO, TAKING THEIR TIME AS USUAL. GOD I HATE NINTENDO. I HAVE HIGH EXPECTATIONS FOR THIS DIRECT, AND THE FACT THEY MISSPELLED NINTENDO AS "INDIE" SHOWS THAT THIS DIRECT IS GONNA SUCK https://t.co/Aq7MUIUifG

— Cryptik (@PhantomCryptik) August 17, 2020

I understand why people are upset about the absence of a full #NintendoDirect but the Mini Partner Directs and the Indie Worlds are allowing the third party games to have room to flourish while Nintendo just relaxes and rides the #AnimalCrossingNewHorizions wave.

— Stephen C (@theday) August 26, 2020

You are funny. I imagine you do the same to every person you find that has a different opinion than you. I did not started this conversation to insult you nor boycott or call you a faggot. I just been incredibly underwhelmed with Nintendo recently.

— Hollowboy (@Koukunari) September 17, 2020

SHUT UP THE GAMES RUINED IM NOT BUYING IT BOYCOTT NINTENDO HHH!!!!1!!!1!!!!!

— sour (@sour_yoshi) September 16, 2020

How dare Nintendo draw a red circle around Mario's sexy mustache BOYCOTT THIS FUCKING GAME!!!!! https://t.co/ynnZk8BU3g

— Ελευθερία ή Θάνατος (@TheCutePyro) September 16, 2020

Sucks huh? Hahaha Nintendo fans should boycott this game and play Devil May Cry 2 (Now available on the Nintendo Switch) instead. pic.twitter.com/2n6b0pXzkT

— shhhh (@terukhoe) September 15, 2020

Mfw the entire internet tells me that Mario 3D All Stars is an absolute rip off with a stupid selling window and that I should boycott Nintendo for it pic.twitter.com/gACXQFJBHe

— Alek (@Trail_txt) September 13, 2020

#BoycottZelda #BoycottNintendo #STOPPERREO https://t.co/SUsGYyWNw9

— Маrshall [#AviciiForever ] ◢◤/⚫⚫⚫ #CowboyBebop20th (@MarshalAfterAll) September 11, 2020

Although this happens for Undertale & Jackbox Games are up for boycotting issue on Nintendo.

DON'T GET THE "UNDERTALE" OR "DELTARUNE" THEY WILL GIVE YOU THE COVID Their made by Toby "Radiation" Fox, yes you read that right, the same radiation as 5G!! BOYCOTT UNDERTALE NOW!

— Thomas (@thomasnet_mc) May 2, 2020

Why not cancel @tobyfox ? And boycott undertale while we are at it pic.twitter.com/Yq4sAeOyx1

— Angel Simp Ara (@karikoritene) August 29, 2019

were playing 1 of the jackbox games n i hate this 1

— 🍔 cheese 🌻 erasermic brainrot (@GargoyleHouse69) September 5, 2020

After however many months in quarantine I truly, from the bottom of my heart, hate Jackbox games. I cannot stress this enough.

— Katie Burke (@senicRTKate) July 24, 2020

ALL MY IRLS ARE BORING MEANING THERE IS NO WAY RHEY WOULD GET JACKBOX GAMES HATE IT HERE

— strawberry 🍓 ophie month (@loonacatgirIs) June 25, 2020

NOBODY EVER WANTS TO PLAY THE DRAWING JACKBOX GAMES AND I HATE IT

— Rinzy 🖌️🖋️ 💙 (@RinzyArt) March 25, 2020

The Jackbox games are fun. The Jackbox community is hot garbage. Your experience is a cut of the same cloth from every Jackbox stream I've seen. Inevitably, some shithead will drop in and ruin the fun for everyone. I hate people sometimes.

— G O Λ T S (@lordofgoats_) October 7, 2019

We speak with Justin Smith (@JBN029) on Twitter's Direct Message (a small affiliate from YouTube Gaming) told exclusively to OneNETnews for this response:

Basher tweets are close to unfair for boycotting all the Nintendo products and games with the Hate Speech in a political way. His private response that only handles for the Hardcore fans of Nintendo with the newest games today. That doesn't mean the company of Nintendo has no shame to do and forced to shut down originally in Japan and worldwide.

Nintendo does not have a comment to OneNETnews as unfornate but... No apologies was made for this controversy at the Nintendo Direct Mini's partner showcase except for the hidden voiceover to The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, takes over to Monster Hunter Stories 2.

Special Thanks to DJ Unikitty (formerly ColeThePony from Canada) for sending us a news tip.

SOURCE: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nintendo https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nintendo_Direct https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCvCod83ilJ3jwkkOxSS8yNw/about?disable_polymer=1 https://www.shacknews.com/article/120427/monster-hunter-stories-2-wings-of-ruin-will-let-us-befriend-rathalos-on-switch-in-2021

SEVERELY HONEST DISCLAIMER: The views and opinions expressed from this news article are not necessarily those from the Nintendo Co. Ltd. Furthermore, the assumptions of this news article will NOT state, intervene or reflect those of our Radyo Patrol reporters. The station, management, interwebs and the network. Thanks for reading everypony!

-- OneNETnews Team

[thebarbarianbarber-blog]

@davekatweek​ Day 6: Fluff Day!

You and Dave are camping by the lake and you really want to see a meteor shower. But first you gotta wake Strider up.

(for anyone interested: the actual peak of Perseids’ shower is tomorrow - 8/12)

(also i apologize in advance for any linguistic mistakes in this, i’m not a native english speaker)

Make a wish

You crawled into the tent and immediately spotted his messy white hair which were sticking out of the sleeping bag along with his head.

- Dave! - you whispered while shaking his shoulder. - Dave, wake up!

- Sod off, Kankri… I’m done with your shit…

You rolled your eyes. Is your voice really that similar to your brother’s screeching?

- Come on, sleepyhead. Are you wearing your shades? Fucking hell.

- How many times... do i have to tell you… that quick talking… is not rapping... fuck, man, get a life...bla bla bla, i can’t hear you… - Dave muttered.

You gave up on whispering, found his ear and said his name out loud right into it, using all your power of will not to shout. Strider slowly turned around to face you, clearly not satisfied with this turn of events.

- It’s not morning yet. - he growled.

- No shit, Sherlock. Now move your ass, please, and come with me. - you said softly.

- Oh fuck no. I forgot it’s your stupid star party.

- If that’s what you want to call it, yes, it’s my stupid star party and you’re invited. Even though they’re fucking meteors.

- The stars are fucking meteors? - he asked with a snort.

- Well, yes- I mean- No. Goddamnit. That was so unfunny. The opposite of funny, even. - you decided, smirking. - Now get up. We’re going to watch the Perseids.

- Yeah, sure. - he yawned. - Why now?

- Now is the best moment. As you already know, tonight is the peak of the meteor shower which lasted for almost a month already. But the biggest number of them is expected to be seeable in the second half of the night and in the early morning. I certainly don’t want to miss it so I’ve decided now is the right time to wake you up. I want to witness it with you. - you said the last sentence a little more quietly than the rest.

- Wow, thanks. Now I have to get up or else I’ll be an asshole. - he complained.

- Too late. You’re already an asshole, asshole.

Despite the darkness, you noticed he was grinning while getting out of his sleeping bag. You grabbed some apple juice and started to look for orange soda (Dave had chosen the drinks, obviously).

- What? Have you already drunk all of it? - you asked with surprise, showing him three empty bottles, once filled with unhealthy beverage. He examined them and muttered:

- Fuck you too, Dirk.

You sighed and threw the garbage into the bin outside. You were running on apple juice from now.

Dave followed you to the lake. There you sat on a blanket Strider brought with him and enjoyed the landscape before your eyes. The sky above a city full of lights was an image you both learnt to treat as a constant and accept. The sky that night, however, was so much different. It seemed almost alien with its stars, those natural light bulbs, all shiny and majestic, forming constellations that showed themselves only to those far away from urban districts, that sparkling chaos against a background painted with indigo, sapphire and navy blue. Said picture was doubled, one might say, by a reflection in the lake, perfectly mirroring the original. It would be difficult to tell them apart if not for tiny waves ruffling the surface of the water. The forest surrounding the area was filled with a calming silence, though a lonely owl could be heard hooting now and then.

Your tent was the only one around and you haven’t seen anyone so far. This fact made you happy as you dedicated this trip to Dave, even though you were the one excited to see the meteor shower. Nonetheless, you had all this place and all this time for yourselves. You have been looking forward to it for so long.

- Well, how do you like it? - you asked your boyfriend quietly in order not to disturb the peace of the forest.

- It’s dark around here, not gonna lie. I almost feel like I’m one with nature. Like, you could see me on the street and be like “Why hello, nature. How have you been, bro?” And then you’d be like “Oh snap, it’s just you Dave! I thought you were nature.” And I’d say “Yeah, that’s ‘cos we are basically the same person.” That’s pretty much how tight I’m with nature right now. They seem cool.

- Okay, enough of this bullshit.

You took off his shades because, of fucking course, he had them on all this time.

- How about now? How would you describe your relationship with nature?

He looked around in amazement. You could swear his eyes were getting more and more beautiful with every time you saw them.

- It’s just so… - he started. - It’s wonderful.

You smiled.

- I told you it’s not the same in the city.

- And you were damn right.

He gave you a warm gaze and you suddenly felt so lucky.

- Thanks for showing me this place, Karkat.

Love for him that filled you seemed too big for your body.

- Oh, i forgot to tell you. Newsflash. - he paused, for dramatic effect as you suspected. - Rose called me when I was driving and you were sleeping like dead. That scared me a bit, too be honest. Don’t do that again, man.

- Alright, alright, what did Rose say? - you had a feeling it was important. He seemed concerned which was rare in his case.

He hesitated.

- Oh boy. Imma tell you. Flat-out. Straight to the point.

- God, just tell me already!

- Here I go. - he ran his hand through his hair. - Rose and Kanaya want to adopt a baby.

You gasped. Dave was looking a little nervous.

- That’s… Fucking awesome! - you said.

- They went to an orphanage and all that shit. Things are serious. I mean, it takes a hella lot of time to finally get this fucking child and it’s a huge deal apparently. But, yeah. We’re gonna be uncles, dude.

- We’re gonna be uncles. - you repeated.

- Yup. Guess who’s gonna be the cooler one.

- We’re gonna be uncles.

- That’s right. D-Strides over here.

- We’re gonna be fucking uncles, Dave! - you put your hands on his shoulders.- I have to call them.

- Are you nuts? What is it, 3 AM? Chill, you’ll talk about poop and diapers and the psychological drama you and my sister are crazy about but all of this tomorrow, m’kay?

- I guess you’re right.

You looked at the sky feeling a weird mix of excitement and fear. You definitely haven’t seen this coming. Even though you knew it was just the beginning of the adoption process, you still regarded the news as a huge change.

And then you saw it. It was a second, maybe less, but you saw it. A shooting star drawing a bright line on the sky’s canvas and then fading away. Without thinking, you made a wish out loud:

- I wish for a good child for Rose and Kanaya. I wish they wouldn’t wait long for that baby. I wish they would be the best mothers in the world. And I wish we would be the best uncles ever. I wish that kid would receive love and acceptance from everyone around them. I wish they would have a great childhood.

You stopped talking as you decided it was enough. You didn’t consider yourself superstitious but… Fuck, you just wanted them to be happy.

Strider was staring at you, half-smiling.

- That was cute.

You looked away.

- So… What about us? - he asked shamelessly.

Your cheeks were burning. Thank God it was dark.

- What do you mean? - you wondered, knowing exactly what he meant.

- Do you wanna raise a lil’ brat with me? Or a bunch of them. They’d be all over the place yelling and shitting themselves… But I could teach them how to drop it like it’s hot and you could feed them doritos or whatever a bambino eats. Would you like to get in this shithole with me? Like, in the future. Duh.

He was ridiculous.

- You are ridiculous. - you said, chuckling. - I’m pretty sure you are aware that babies don’t eat fucking doritos.

- You’re missing the point, bro.

You were, indeed, missing the point. That’s because you had no idea what to say. You imagined having a kid with Dave. He would be a good father. Full of energy, funny and more caring than he appeared to be. You, on the other hand… You could easily lose control. And you would never forgive yourself if you hurt a child. Your hypothetical child.

- I… I’m really not sure, Dave. - you answered quietly.

- That’s okay. We have tons of time, right?

- We have some, yes.

He was studying your facial expressions for a moment before he said:

- I know what you’re thinking. And I bet you would be the best fucking dad that could ever exist.

You widened your eyes in shock.

- And now you’re thinking something like “how the fuck did he know that?”.

You nodded.

- Surprise! I was a damn psychic this entire time!

- No, you weren’t, shithead. You just know me well, I guess.

- Yeah. And that’s why I know you would kick ass as a father. I mean, you would be so awesome. Not like literally kick ass, that would be terrible.

- I get it. Stop embarrASSing yourself.

He laughed, like a dumbASS he was.

- Just don’t sweat it, alright? - he said, smirking.

- I’ll try. - you promised with a sigh. - I’m gonna get some juice.

- I miss you already. - he whispered when you got up, making you smile.

You went to the tent, grabbed two bottles of the drink and came back. Dave was staring at the sky with his mouth open.

- You missed it! - he exclaimed, facing you. - You fucking missed a star, man!

- No, really? - you asked, disappointed, forgetting to remind him that it was a meteor.

- Hell yeah! It was so bright and bigger than the first one! It just… Pchooooo! Through the whole fucking sky like it was nothing! - he was gesticulating (aka throwing his arms in all directions) trying to show you the trajectory of the Perseid. -  And it was so fucking glorious! What the fuck? Why did you have to go bring this fucking juice?!

Before you could say anything, he pulled you by the arm, forcing you to sit down.

- From now on, no running away. You stay put and watch this motherfucking star bath with me.

- It’s a meteor shower, actually-

- Who the fuck cares what it’s called? It looks awesome. Why didn’t you tell me there was a fucking star wars battle scheduled for today?

- I told you a million fucking times: let’s go and watch it! It looks cool! You never fucking listened!

- Yeah, not enough fucking times, then. Also you sounded fucking boring, no offence.

You rubbed your temples.

- Now that you’ve seen a bit of it, i suppose you don’t find it boring anymore, do you, Dave? - you asked after calming your nerves a little.

- Of course not. Meteors fucking rule.

He wrapped his arm around you and suddenly all your negative emotions decided to go and fuck themselves. Everything seemed to be perfectly fine and it was because he loved you and you fucking loved him back.

- Well? - you asked softly.

- Huh?

- What did you wish for?

- Yeah, like I’m going to tell you.

- And why wouldn’t you? - you asked, raising your eyebrows.

- What if when I tell you it won’t come true?

- Hey! I said my wish out loud. - you reminded him.

He didn’t respond.

- Oh come on. I know you don’t believe in all that shit. Just tell me.

A sinister grin appeared on Strider’s face.

- Make me.

You decided you want to play his little game. You kissed his lips gently and then, without further ado, put your tongue into his mouth. He sighed. You placed your hands on his waist and looked into his incredible cherry-red eyes. He broke the kiss and hugged you before leaving busses on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your neck. You pushed him lightly so that both of you were lying down on your sides. He embraced you tightly and began caressing your back. You ran your hand through his shiny white hair.

You loved the touch of his body, the warmth it was giving to yours and the warmth you were feeling inside. Every time you were kissing, hugging, touching, it felt like it wasn’t enough. Before you met him, you thought that making out would bore you. Seriously, for how long could people do that? The same things over and over again, what’s the deal? Oh boy, were you wrong. You wanted this to last as long as it could and when you weren’t seeing each other for a long time - when you were both studying for finals, for example - you longed for him, for all the little talks you had, for his eyes, his whole body and for this unique feeling, uncomparable to anything you’ve ever felt before.

If you were to put it into words, you’d say you felt complete.

You almost forgot!

You sat up and gave him a significant look.

- Oh right, the wish. - he whispered, flushed and cute. - I’ll tell ya, promise, just let’s cuddle a lil’ more, ok?

You rolled your eyes and smiled. He was so convincing. You returned to your previous position, looking at his face with curiosity.

- Okay, so… I wished for a hella good future for us.

- Yeah?

You couldn’t help but smile and he scratched his head nervously,

- I just wanted us, this, to last as long as possible. - he went on. - And that it would be all cool between us. Just. Camping and drinking together and showing you my dope raps and hating on dumb movies and… The rest, you know.

He chuckled awkwardly. He was acting like such a dork while talking about your relationship and it was making your heart melt.

- When I saw this star… I mean meteor… I thought, hey, why not keep it like this. With you. You’re the shit, man. I mean. I like you. Really. - he hesitated for a second. - I love you.

Dave fucking Strider was lying next to you, his facial expression resembling the one of a naughty puppy that has just broken the most expensive vase in your house. Fucking Dave Strider who has just confessed his love for you. Dave Strider (fuck), the most charming, intelligent, handsome and sensitive human being you have ever met.

You would never pay him a compliment using all those superlatives at once, of course. His ego was big enough in your opinion.

And there he was. The love of your life and your best friend in one person.

- I love you too. - you said shakily after who knows how long.

He smiled and you would smile at that moment too if you weren’t already smiling this whole time.

- I wish it would stay that way, bro.

That was it. You just had to hug him with all your might. You laid your head on his shoulder and felt warm streams on your cheeks. Fuck. Why did you have to be like this? Crying like a baby while hugging your boyfriend. You couldn’t stop. Your tears were soaking in Dave’s T-shirt and all you could think about was the fact that they were tears of joy. You cried, filled not with sadness, but with joy for the first time in your life. For the first time you had a reason to cry that way.

After a few minutes you calmed yourself down, still embracing Dave. He said nothing, though kept on patting your head and back, kissing your neck and ear and hugging you as tightly as you were hugging him.

All of a sudden, he stiffened and then said:

- Yo, check this out!

You sat up and turned skywards.

They were everywhere. Tens of meteors falling down at once, right before your eyes. Flashing lines drawn from different angles, varying in sizes and brightness but all equally marvelous. You were afraid to blink in order not to miss any of them. The Perseids appeared for a second, maybe two and then faded into nothingness. It would be impossible to dedicate a wish to each and every one. You didn’t have the ability to count them, either. All you could do was watch this performance of light and darkness, dynamics and steadiness until it was over.

And when it finally was, you were staring at a sky that suddenly felt so empty.

Neither of you said anything for quite a long time as you were both amazed by what you saw. When you looked at Dave, you noticed his eyes, as well as his mouth, were opened wide. He faced you and blinked. You were no less thrilled than him.

- That was beautiful. - you mouthed.

- You are beautiful. - he responded, flirtatious bastard.

You snorted and kissed him on the cheek. He yawned. You patted your thighs and he laid his head on them. You played with his hair for a while and continued to observe the sky.

After that great number of meteors you saw, you were excited and not sleepy at all. You were hoping to see another one or two.

Eventually you saw a shooting star (at that moment you realised that this term was incorrect) and looked at Dave, wanting to tell him. However, you saw his eyes were closed and heard him breathing slower than usual. Goddamn sleepyhead.

You, just like Dave, wished it would stay that way.

You also came to a conclusion that watching him sleep is like watching a meteor shower for millions of hours. Or even more beautiful.