#thursday is real hustle

[foldingfittedsheets]

Back in the dawn of days I worked at Red Robin. It was my first real job after a brief stint at a dog kennel. Many people don’t know this but there’s a costume. A Red Robin mascot costume. I’d never seen it before I worked there.

He’s a violently red bird with empty eyes, a vacant grin, the most atrocious yellow leggings you’ve ever seen, and feet to make any Kingdom heart character swoon. His name was Red.

I was a host, and we were the only ones called upon to wear the costume. We’d don the bright yellow tights and corporate fursuit with someone leading us by the hand so we didn’t crash into everything.

The mesh screen in Red’s gaping mouth was supposed to let the wearer look out. Visibility was a joke. The restaurant was a dark gray haze of bustle from inside Red’s head. So every Tuesday and Thursday there’d be a two hour shift of a designated Bird Buddy leading the visually impaired sacrifice around.

After being forced to wear it during a heat wave and vomiting from the overwhelming temperature, I had vowed to never wear it again. But every new host always had a tiny secret longing to wear it when they first started. This desire never survived the full two hour shift.

So I was working a day shift with a newer host, Lauren, who had been openly enthusiastic to wear it. The manager hustled up to tell us that a little kid was here for his birthday and desperately wanted to see Red. We weren’t scheduled but impromptu requests could be accommodated when the restaurant was slow.

I said, “Great, Lauren can do it and I can be her buddy.”

I grabbed the hapless Lauren and dragged her to the dry goods storage where the suit was stored and where we changed. I closed the door and dragged the suit down. It had a particular greasy ground in smell to it.

Frying food, hot oil, and body odor had all permeated the faux fur with a unique reek. The management mouthed empty nothings that the suit was sent for monthly cleanings. It was common knowledge they were lying through their teeth. The smell of Red was eternal and unchanging.

“Okay, so take off your pants, put on the tights, then step into the body and I’ll zip you up. Then you get a vest and the head goes on last, got it?”

Lauren stared at me. I stared back. She made no move to change.

“Okay…” I repeated, “So you take off your pants and put on the tights?”

Lauren shifted nervously, silent. Not changing.

“Do you need me to turn around…?” It hadn’t occurred to me that she might be shy based on her personality, all the hosts were fairly blasé about changing in front of each other.

“I didn’t….” Her voice dwindled to a decimal only perceivable by bats.

“What’s that?”

Blushing vibrantly she raised her voice to the level of a tiny mouse to squeak, “I’m not wearing underwear….”

I stared at her harder. Our uniform pants were dark denim jeans. The thought of rubbing my bare pussy into denim for a whole shift was on par with dry humping a sheet of sandpaper. “You’re… you’re not wearing… anything?”

She shook her head miserably.

We both regarded the yellow tights worn by most of the host staff. We contemplated a lack of underwear being pressed into those communal tights, adding to the miasma of Red’s smells.

But I was sure as fuck not getting in that costume.

“Make sure to take the tights home and wash them.”

Her eyebrows went up. She met the bitter steel in my eyes and crumpled. I turned my back and she did what she had to, slipping naked as a babe into the neon spandex of Red’s tights. Lauren trustingly kept a grip on my hand as I navigated her through trays and tables to terrify the tiny birthday boy.

To the best of my knowledge, she never did wash the tights.

[bettyfrommars]

A little something inspired by this edit by @somnambulic-thing of what I imagine as a version of a mechanic!Eddie, but he's also biker!Eddie to me, or anything you want.

mechanic!Eddie x Reader

18+Only, secret work crush, gender neutral reader, just some yearning fluff with mention of weed and alcohol, bit of slut shaming, some sage advice from Wayne.

word count: 1.7k

Eddie had been staring at the door to the office and zoning out for a while when you opened it to step into the bay, and his unblinking gaze accidentally lingered at your midsection.

“What’s wrong?” You glanced down at your outfit, thinking maybe your zipper was open or something worse. There were three other mechanics besides Eddie there that day, each of them knee deep in the hustle and bustle of the busy season.  A boombox on one of the tall, red cubbies blasted hard rock while an electric drill buzzed.  

His attention snapped back to the bolt he was crouched down to tighten on the rim of a Ford Bronco.  

“Nothing,” he grunted, cranking the ratchet so that the muscles on his tattooed bicep bulged. He had on his signature summer uniform of black coveralls with the sleeves ripped off.  His hair was tied back in a pony with a navy-blue bandana on his head, making it easier to slip his welding helmet on and off.  “I didn’t know you were working today.”

Now, that was a big fat lie.  Spotting your car in the parking lot when he came in every morning was one of those things that set his day right.  You’d taken Thursday off the week before, and he’d moped around in a bad mood for the entire shift.  

Almost four months you’d been working in the office, and he still hadn’t summoned the nerve to ask you out.  Instead, he drank too much after a show at the Hideout one night and ended up letting some random chick crawl all over him.  The next day, the guys he worked with would make it sound more serious than it actually was.

“Soooo Munson, I heard you got lucky with Deep Throat Dana last night. They say she can suck an orange out of a tailpipe!” 

And then the entire shop broke out into wheezing laughter like a bunch of hyenas, as if something funny was said.

It made him cringe, and he cast a side glance to see if you were within earshot.  “Nothing happened with that girl,” he wanted to say to you.  “We kissed, but I just couldn’t…ya know?”

But also, why did he feel the need to explain himself to you? It was as if he was being faithful to a dream.  You’d never give him the time of day out in the real world.  Sure, you knew just how he liked his coffee, and you asked him questions about DnD and his band as if you were interested.  But, you were just being nice—he could tell.  At first he thought he was special, but quickly realized that you treated everyone the same.  You were, in fact, a thoughtful, likable person.  Surely your only interest in him was as co-workers, nothing more.  

Also, he could hear Wayne’s voice in his head: “Don’t shit where you eat, son.” 

It was his uncle's long-standing advice to never get involved with a coworker, and Eddie just happened to agree.  If he was ever lucky enough to take you on a few dates and then you dumped him or broke his heart, he wasn’t sure he could work at the garage anymore.  On the bright side, he also had a CDL to operate heavy equipment, so maybe that would be his cue to become a long-haul trucker.  

Deep breath Munson, you’re getting way ahead of yourself.

You hesitated in the doorway for a beat with Mrs. Chadwick’s paperwork for the Oldsmobile sedan in your hand, wanting to ask Eddie how his day was going.  But then he sank down onto the creeper and rolled under the vehicle as if to avoid you in a hurry.  

You really didn’t know what to make of him. 

One second, you’d be certain he was flirting, but then later that day, he’d huff out the door without even so much as a wave. He’d tease you about things, like your collection of random motel pens or the music you liked, and then you’d give the energy right back and wait for that gremlin smile to spread across his face. 

The other day, he’d left your favorite candy bar on the desk for you to find.  You knew it was him because he was the only one in Hawkins you’d told.  How the topic of sweets came up, you weren’t sure, but you’d never forget the curious narrowing of his eyes when he asked which one you liked best.

You had this strange feeling that he was secretly studying you.

The other night you were sitting across from your friend Tina, having burgers and beers at The Hideaway, when Eddie just happened to breeze in.

Your heart stuttered, whatever you’d been saying dying on your lips, completely losing your train of thought. The vinyl in the booth squeaked as you craned your neck to watch him. That was the first time you’d ever seen him in street clothes without coveralls on, and it was raining, so his long hair was soaked.  He greeted the woman at the cash register, and you were too far away to hear, but apparently he was there to pay and pick up his takeout order in a big brown sack with greasy handprints on it.  You thought about waving him down to ask if he wanted to join the two of you, but he did his business in a hurry and didn’t seem to want to be noticed.

“What’s going on?” Tina asked, gaze darting from you to the Dio patch on Eddie’s back as he exited the building.  She munched a french fry before wiping ketchup off her lip.  “Did something happen between you and Eddie?”

You snapped a look at her.  “You know him?”

“Well, not intimately,” she ate another fry.  “But I went to school with him, and bought weed from him a few times.”

“He sells weed?” You cocked an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised.

“It’s been like, a while, but maybe he still does.  How do you know him?”

“We work together,” you brought the half-eaten burger up for a bite and paused there.  “I think he hates me.”

“I highly doubt that.” And then she stared pointedly at you when she said, “he’s cute,” with a knowing smirk. 

“Ha,” you adjusted the napkin on your lap. “Well, as you know, I plan to stay single for the rest of my life.”

“Sure, sure.”

When it got closer to 6 that day, you scrambled to get off the phone with a customer, worried Eddie might slip out again and you wouldn’t see him for the entire weekend. After hiding in the supply closet for a full minute to avoid Phil—one of the other mechanics who liked to talk your ear off—you finally made it to the break room, panting as if you’d just run a marathon.

Eddie was there, bent over to snatch a Pepsi out of the vending machine.  Freezing in place, you suddenly forgot how to form words.

Eddie felt like an idiot, like for sure you’d caught on to the fact that he’d been finding shit to do for the past half hour just so he could be there to have some private time with you.  He didn’t like the idea of you closing up the shop by yourself, especially now that it was getting darker sooner. 

And then fucking Phil wouldn’t leave. His wife had relatives visiting, and he was shuffling around like a sad puppy trying to avoid going home.  Eddie had to pretend he needed to take a shit just to get rid of him, and was halfway surprised the dude didn’t follow him into the bathroom.

He usually brought his own lunch, but the snack and soda machines were always tempting.  He knew how to open the damn things up and thought about doing some last minute grocery shopping to make up for his crappy wage.  

You cleared your throat.  “So, what are you up to this weekend?  Any fun plans?”

Eddie pulled his shoulders back and spun around at the sound of your voice, fisting the can in one hand and running the other through his hair.  He’d been growing his bangs out, and they were just long enough to tuck behind his ears.  The length was so fucking annoying at times that he’d often considered chopping them to nubs.    

You were smiling at him, eyes bright and sincere, and it made him feel all fuzzy inside like his brain was made of cotton candy.

“My day was good. You?” That was what came out of his mouth, and then he let out a silent, internal scream that made his ears ring. 

But he recovered quickly. “I mean, I don’t have any plans.  I don’t usually have…I mean, my buddy Jeff and I might go see a movie, but not like major plans.”  He didn’t want to tell you he was taking a trip out to Rick’s on Sunday to beef up his supply for weekly customers.  He sure as hell couldn’t restore the van on the chump change he made at the garage. 

You stared at him intently, softening when you realized he was nervous.  

How could that be?  Did you make him nervous?

You pulled a folded piece of paper out of your back pocket and held it up.  “I found this at the laundromat.  It says your band is playing at The Hideout on Tuesday.  Is that still happening?”

Pinched between your thumb and forefinger was one of the handmade fliers Gareth had helped him make.  

“Well we…yes-–” he cracked open the lid of the soda and it fizzed everywhere, dripping down his arm and onto the linoleum floor. “Shit, I’ll clean that up, don’t worry.”

He didn’t want you to get stuck having to get the mop out to clean again, so he put the leaking can down on the lunch table and went over to grab something to wipe it up.  

He busied himself with sopping up the mess, albeit poorly, while you inched closer.

“I think I might stop by and check you guys out,” you saw that his face was red when he stood, chocolate orbs lit up in anticipation.  “Maybe we could have a beer or something after?”

His cotton candy brain tried to filter his next thought, but it was too late.  “What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight?” You blinked a few times.  “Is your band playing somewhere tonight too?”

“No, but I—” the tip of his tongue slipped side to side between his lips.  “If you’re not busy tonight maybe we could go somewhere to eat or drink or hang out or something.”

“Or something,” a grin quivered in the corner of your mouth. 

And then the two of you were just standing there, close enough for your breathing to fall into sync. Gathering up a nice helping of nerve, you reached an arm out and ran the back of your knuckles down the front of his shirt.

Eddie was vibrating.

Don’t shit where you eat, son.

No disrespect Uncle, but fuck the job.

“Anything," he said softly, hope blossoming in his chest like those wildly palpitating hearts in cartoons.  “Anything you want.”

[lickmycoffeecup]

HAPPY TMAGP FINALE DAY EVERYONE

(Its Thursday where I am!)

Here’s my thoughts on TMAGP 30

Spoilers under cut

I wanted to sit on this instead of giving an immediate response cause… I was actually kind of underwhelmed by this episode? And I wanted to make sure that was how I really felt before saying anything.

THAT BEING SAID, I DIDN’T HATE THE EPISODE.

A lot happens!

But also… A lot didn’t happen?

They set a lot of stuff up, which is great! But I feel like it also didn’t give a whole lot, and now we’re just kind of left waiting. I trust Alex and Jonny, but it just really left me feeling like, “Wait? Thats it?” And now we have the hiatus!

Anyway, its a good episode! I’m looking forward to next season! Which is why I feel kind of bad that I’m not more enthusiastic!

Now for some thoughts on the episode itself.

SAM HAS A COLD.

I died when Alice’s phone rang. CAUSE NOT COLLIN TOO????

I feel so bad for Alice, cause she can’t be everything to everyone. And her running after Sam is understandable. But I know its gonna crush her if something DOES happen to Teddy or Collin (and this is a Magnus podcast, SO I MEAN????). She’s gonna have so much regret not hearing either of them out, and I hope that she doesn’t let that get to her too much.

Good for Lena! Get out of there, honey! She really said, “Fine. You want it? You can have it!” And dipped, and she’s honestly so iconic for that.

Also good for Gwen! She’s in her Finding Out Era 😌

She’ll be finding out REAL SOON.

I loved The Custodian! I was so excited, I actually paused the episode to see if maybe that was Joshua Gillespie 😂

ONLY FOR HIM TO GET ARCHIFISTED.

Imagine going 30 years, avoiding the horrors, just to get GOT by the ONE horror who wasn’t in your weird little shopping mall prison? RIP dude, you’re on the GOAT list.

“We want your teeth!” killed me 😂

But seriously, what the hell??? Is Hilltop the next Panopticon prison? What are all these shops?

The Great Mall of Horrors??????

I was honestly surprised that Celia finally came clean with Sam, and that for SOME reason she was gonna toss him in to balance everything? Like I saw it coming, but at the same time, lady, you still got me.

This part was a little ??????? for me, cause like. Celia knew automatically what they would find. But then she can’t remember how she got to this world? So like, did she not wake up next to the tear? And why exactly is it calling HER back? When we haven’t had any indication of other doubles experiencing the same thing. Did they kill their doubles and set things “right” before they started getting called back? Was Celia tossing Sam in her way of avoiding murder to balance everything? BUT ALSO HOW IS THAT NOT AS BAD CELIA?

I see where she’s coming from, wanting to stay with Jack. But also I’m not even fully sure of where she got the idea. Maybe it was from the cases? Maybe she was getting emails we haven’t heard?

And like… Was Sam just opportunistic? Would she have thrown ANYONE in there? Gerry? Helen? Basira? Alice or Gwen?

She hesitated in the end, I had a feeling she wouldn’t be able to do it. BUT WOULD SHE HAVE STOPPED IF IT WAS ANYONE ELSE?

Some have also suggested maybe Jack is a demon baby. Maybe keeping her here. We’re not even sure Celia gave birth to Jack.

Either way, WE STILL HAVE A LOT OF QUESTIONS, CELIA!

I love that Alice bribed the taxi guy, and she respected his hustle.

NOW, I really wanted to look at the transcript for this next part, but as of writing this. I haven’t seen it posted yet. SO ONWARDS. I will quench my curiosity when its posted.

I DONT KNOW THAT [ERROR] AND SAM WENT THROUGH THE TEAR. It didn’t seem super obvious to me that thats what happened. Which is why I wanted to see the transcript.

If they didn’t, it begs the question what will happen to Sam, who is getting sick. Will [ERROR] just let them go? And why was [ERROR] even following them? They clearly didn’t go there for the Magnus Outreach Center. Is Sam’s trauma just really tasty?

If they DID go through the tear, I’ll be so curious to know what effect that will have on [ERROR]. If they wind up back in the TMAverse, since there’s no fears there now. Will we finally find out who [ERROR] is? Will they be a regular person again, with a non-semi sentient people biting tape recorder?

And last but not least… I hope Alice punches Celia, and then they get to work!

This was a wild season, I really am excited for the next season! Looking forward to reading what others have to say about this episode!

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 3

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 3/? 3.8k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Fantasy — something that Eddie is intimately familiar with.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: SMUT (18+ mdni), m!masturbation, Eddie is absolutely feral in this chapter sorry not sorry.

Wednesday, October 2nd 1985

Eddie smacked the blaring alarm clock next to his bed. 7:10 AM. It was chilly in the trailer, and that wasn’t doing anything to help his motivation. He knew he shouldn’t linger any longer, but Wednesday mornings were always the roughest. 

Eddie had it down to a science. If he rolled out of bed at 7:10 that would give him twenty minutes to take a piss, brush his teeth, throw on some clothes, and microwave the leftover coffee that Wayne made the night before so he could hit the road by 7:30 and be at school by the first bell at 7:40. Whoever decided that was an appropriate time for anything to start was clearly a sadist. That was the plan anyway, whether he beat the bell or not was always a toss up.

He had hung around much later than he should have at the Hideout last night. Later than the other guys, anyway. Bill was there, as he always was — his favorite of the five drunks who attended his shows. 

Sometimes if the other members of Corroded Coffin wanted to head home earlier than Eddie wanted, he would hang around and Bill would buy him a beer or two and the owner would turn a blind eye. He was a gruff sort of guy in his 40s, at least Eddie guessed anyway, he’d never really asked him. He wasn’t much unlike his uncle Wayne and that endeared him almost immediately. 

So he’d shoot the shit with Bill until their beers were gone, and sometimes that would take Eddie out past 1 AM. He didn’t know exactly what compelled him to stay out so late, but what he did know was that hanging out with Bill made him feel like a real adult. Sometimes he would even forget for a moment that he had to get up at ass o’clock on a Wednesday morning and go to high school at 20 years old.

Today he made it to school by 7:43. 

By the time he parked his van and hustled into the building, the hallways were slowly filtering out, everyone headed to their homerooms before class began at 7:50. Eddie was half inside his locker when he heard his name.

He looked up to see Chrissy Cunningham walking briskly down the hall, her strawberry blonde hair looking pristine as usual, pulled back in her signature scrunchie. She smiled and waved at him, which he returned, only to see Jason Carver hot on her heels.

The truth was, with the way Eddie was dressed, most people just left him alone and that’s how he preferred it. It was by design. Chrissy sure seemed to notice him though, and so did Jason, especially after the basketball team lost their first game last Friday. 

Eddie wasn’t sure why he would be to blame when it was Jason’s own big stupid mouth that landed him in detention the Thursday before, but by the looks that Jason was giving him the past few days, it was clear to him that he had not forgotten their little trifle in English class. 

Eddie shot Jason a mocking look in response to the glare he received. It was all he could do to not laugh at how ridiculous the whole thing was. There was a small part of him that wanted to talk to Chrissy just to press his buttons but quite frankly high school drama was one of the last things he ever wanted to be involved in. 

______

By the time fourth period rolled around, Eddie was grateful he’d dragged himself out of bed and slogged through the day just so he could see you.

He watched you from the back of the classroom as he did every day, cheek pressed against his knuckles.

Today all he could do was stare at your ankles. You were wearing these sharp twill pants with the cuffs rolled at the bottom and a pair of loafers on your feet, no socks. 

Eddie watched as the way the tendons your ankles flexed when you paced about the front of the classroom, gesturing with excitement as you talked about the structure of a story, the beats that keep the reader engaged, the how the theme ties it all into one nice package.

He loved it when you got like this. Loved to see the passion behind your eyes, to hear it in your voice. Loved how adorably geeky you were about literature.

His eyes traveled up your trousers and settled at your waist, admiring how they accentuated your proportions. His hands itched to hold you there.

Something about you made his caveman brain light up. 

He wondered how long it had been since someone had touched you like he wanted to.

He would take his time, slow kisses traveling from your mouth all the way down the expanse of your neck. He would use his teeth, make you tremble under his touch and hold your waist tightly against his body to brace you as you melted. 

More than anything he wanted to see you come undone. Wanted to pop open every button you had so carefully secured this morning, wanted to run his hands through your hair that you had so thoughtfully styled and leave it an absolute mess. He wanted to devour you.

And just like that Eddie was no longer in class. He was in a bed on top of you, teeth nipping at the delicate skin where your neck meets your shoulders as you meweled beneath him. He was looking down at you now, admiring how the column of your neck presented itself to him when you tipped your head back in ecstasy as he pressed his way into your sopping folds, splitting you open. 

You dropped the chalk, shaking him from his reverie.

Eddie shifted uncomfortably in his chair, he was fully hard. 

He tried looking out he window to see if he could bring himself back down to earth, but then you bent down to pick the chalk up off the floor and his mind was right back in the sewer.

He was back on top of you, rutting into you, feeling every inch of your tight gummy walls. Making you numb with pleasure, so numb that you forget that anyone that had ever touched you before him. You would cry out his name and come undone around him and he would fill you with so much cum that it would gush out of you when he finally, reluctantly, separated from you.

Eddie swallowed and shifted again, discreetly tucking his painful erection into his waistband. He looked down at his desk, hand resting against his forehead to shield his eyes from your gaze should you happen to look his way.

He fiddled with the pen sitting there, trying to distract himself from the thoughts burning into his mind. 

He knew you would be gentle. You would coo at him, dragging your fingernails softly down his back as you lay there together in the darkness, pressing kisses to his temples, his cheekbones, his forehead.

The bell rang, jolting him from his fantasy. 

He sat up straight, face flushing as the rest of his classmates packed up their things in a sudden noisy haste. His balls ached. He knew this feeling wasn’t going to go away on its own. The thoughts were ceaseless and he needed to do something about it.

Eddie shoved his notebook into his backpack and rose gingerly from his chair, following the flow of traffic going out the door.

“See you later, Eddie,” you said with a small wave as you leaned against your desk.

He waved back, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks once more. 

Eddie knew this school like the back of his hand. He knew that there was a door at the end of a hallway by the gym used for loading and unloading equipment that was typically left unlocked. It lead straight into the parking lot. 

Once he exited your classroom, he moved swiftly toward the main hallway, rounded the corner, and made a beeline for the gym. Once he got to the end of that hallway he pressed into the door handle and boom — he was out. 

Eddie’s van was easy to spot in the parking lot. He swung open the side door and crawled inside, sliding himself down the one long bench seat in the back. He shut the door promptly, thankful for the privacy that the tinting on the small  window next to him provided. The parking lot was empty anyway.

Eddie shook his head as he undid his belt buckle and zipper, he always felt so dirty when he did stuff like this but he knew that if he didn’t he would be miserable for the rest of the day, aching and unable to think of anything else, and that wasn’t good for anyone. 

He sighed as he pulled his throbbing cock from the confines of his boxers. He ran his fingers along the underside of it, eyes widening at how damp he was already. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and gave himself a few long strokes, sighing from the delicious friction. He squeezed and swiped his thumb over the tip, over the slit where the precum was starting to bead again. He was so sensitive already, he knew he wasn’t going to last long and that was probably for the best.

Typically Eddie liked to take his time, liked to tease himself. He liked the build up, liked to bring himself just to the edge and then pull back. Again and again until he couldn’t take it anymore. It made the release so much more powerful. It made every spurt of cum he earned feel like an explosion. Absolutely brain blanking. 

He shoved his pants and boxers around his ankles. It was not lost on him that he was wearing all black and he knew how much of a mess he was prone to make. 

He spat on his right hand and stroked himself slowly again while his left cupped his aching balls to soothe them. It was warm and wet and he thought about you again. Thought about how much you surely longed to be touched, about how loud you’d sigh at the first stretch of feeling him inside your aching cunt. Thought about how wet you were, how the slick would gather around the base of his cock as he fucked into you.

He didn’t even need to stroke the tip, just the knuckle of his index finger bumping against the heart-shaped underside of it was enough, that sweet ridged spot right beneath it that felt exquisite. If he wanted to he could make himself cum by just rubbing his fingertips along that spot over and over.

He wasn’t going that route today though. Today he wanted to feel as much friction as possible while he imagined your perfect tits bouncing up and down each time he buried himself to the hilt inside of you. He wanted to feel the pressure on his shaft as he dreamt about how tight you were, how you’d clench around him as you dug your heels into his ass to try and bring him impossibly closer. 

He choked up on his cock with his hand as he increased his pace, hitting that spot with his finger over and over. He was leaking again and it only aroused him more. He swiped at it with his thumb to spread it around, giving him the slip that he craved. 

He could feel the pressure start to build, the telltale ache from deep within. His left hand tugged at his heavy balls to draw them further away as they crept closer his body in anticipation, he wanted to hold out just a little longer.

Long enough to imagine rutting deep into your drooling cunt, the filthy sounds that would come from your pretty lips as he struck that sweet spot inside of you, over and over again. The squelching that would come from your swollen lips below as he absolutely reamed you.

There was an animal inside of him. He bit his lip as his heart rate increased, as did the pace of his hand. The chain on his wrist rattled in rhythm with it. He was so sensitive and so close. 

He widened his legs to gain the leverage he needed to thrust into his fist. He spat on his hand again and the wetness sent him reeling. 

“Ah, fuck,” he sighed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. “You want me to cum deep inside you, hm?” he muttered through gritted teeth.

Suddenly there was a stretch inside. A warm, radiant tingle. “Mmm, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard, fuck.”

His left hand braced the seat, fingernails digging into the vinyl, right hand pumping furiously as he chased his climax. 

“Oh shit, fuck, fuck,” he whined, throwing his head back as he gasped. 

It was the moment right before the release that was the sweetest. The tingle he could feel radiating from deep inside like a big yawn. He liked to draw these precious seconds out as long as he possibly could. He stopped pumping his hand for just a second and gripped himself at the base to make time slow to a crawl as it ripped through him. There were no thoughts anymore, just blinding pleasure. 

Unable to take another millisecond, he pumped his hand again. He threw his head back and groaned as he felt the gooey warmth rise in his cock and explode like a sneeze from deep within. 

“Oh fuck,” he whined, panting desperately as he pumped out thick ropes of hot, sticky cum, thinking of nothing but the wave of relief he felt with each delicious spurt. 

He came so hard that it arced as it shot from his tip. He might have hit the ceiling with it, he wouldn’t know and didn’t care. There was nothing else in the world that existed outside of his bliss.

His hips bucked and he pumped his hand a few more times, slower now, squeezing out every last delicious drop as he watched the creamy fluid gather around his hand. A wave of peace washed over him. 

The beast inside him was satisfied, for now.

He flinched as he let go of his reddened cock, hyper sensitive now. He closed his eyes and sat there for a moment in silence to catch his breath and allow his heart rate to return to a normal pace. 

Once the euphoria faded, there was another wave that hit him — disgust. 

He looked around the van. There was cum everywhere. On his thighs, on the floor, somehow he managed to hit the back of the drivers seat with it. 

He sighed and leaned forward to grab a pile of McDonalds napkins sitting on top of the console between the two front seats. He wiped the cum from his hand first, then his thighs and around the base of his softening cock. 

His hair fell forward as he leaned down to pull his pants up — that’s when he noticed it.

There was cum in his hair too. 

“Ugh.” He screwed up his face in disgust and grabbed another napkin to wipe it away.

After he’d used up every last flimsy napkin for the dirty job he sat back and assessed his work. It was a satisfactory job, though he realized he really ought to get some sort of trash bag to keep in the car.  

As he sat there in the silence of his van there was another feeling that overcame him — hunger.

______

Eddie managed to sneak back into the building just in time to swing through the lunch line. He grabbed a plastic tray from the stack, sliding it along the counter. The kitchen was practically empty. In fact it wasn’t until Eddie tapped his lunch tray on the counter that one of the lunch ladies even noticed he was there.

She looked up at him from the mashed potatoes she had just saran wrapped and sighed. Eddie looked at her with the most pitiful eyes he could muster and she came over, peeling back the saran wrap to plop a serving of mashed potatoes onto his tray followed by a generous helping of gravy. She turned toward another wrapped container and grabbed a fresh pair of tongs to dole out one of the last Salisbury steaks. 

“Much appreciated,” Eddie said graciously. 

He took his tray, walked swiftly toward the Hellfire table and plunked himself down in his usual seat at the head of it.

“Hey man, what took you so long?” asked Jeff.

“Yeah dude lunch is like, half over,” said Gareth with a little laugh.

“I uh,” Eddie stalled, his mind blanking, completely unsure of what to say, “Had to get something out of my van. Why the fuck does it matter?”

Gareth put his hands up and raised his eyebrows in a joking sort of way, “Just asking, dude, jeez.”

Eddie unwrapped his plastic utensils, reflecting that in hindsight he probably should have stopped at the restroom to wash his hands. He was thankful it wasn’t pizza day.

Jeff flicked at his empty milk carton, making it spin. “So I was telling Gareth that I think we should have some extra band practices this week.”

“Yeah, we could probably tighten up Hand of Doom a bit more. It was a little sloppy last night,” added Gareth, “You wanna come over after school?”

“I’ve got tutoring after school, it’s a Wednesday,” Eddie said with a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Gareth’s eyes lit up, “Oh yeah that’s right. Lucky son of a bitch,” he said, giving Eddie a playful shove against his arm.   

“Yeah how’d you score that deal?” asked Jeff.

Eddie sawed at the Salisbury steak with his flimsy plastic knife, “It’s obviously ‘cause I’m so fucking brilliant .”

Gareth snorted, “Wish she thought I was brilliant enough to spend one-on-one time with, she’s pretty hot.”

The table responded in lewd chuckles and nods. Eddie glanced down at his mashed potatoes, offering a weak smile to join in with the others as his heart beat faster.

“Yeah well, stick around for an extra two years, then maybe you can join the gifted and talented club,” he said sarcastically, shoving a bite into his mouth. 

The steak, which was a generous thing to call it, was cold. He was too hungry to really care though. He thought of you again, leaving the noisy cafeteria behind as his mind wandered to a restaurant somewhere in another timeline. You would of course be wearing some strappy little number, laughing at his jokes in the candlelight. You would talk about your writing and use words that he vaguely understood and he would just sit there and smile. 

Jeff flicked his empty milk carton across the table. It tumbled in front of Eddie, splattering the last of its contents as it bounced off his lunch tray before hitting the floor.

The table erupted in laughter. 

Eddie swallowed and sighed.

______

For the first forty minutes of his time with you it was all Eddie could do to keep his eyes on the history textbook in front of him as you pointed out key paragraphs and details that would likely come up on a test. Eddie wrote them down hastily in his beat up spiral notebook, looking up occasionally just to catch your fingers moving delicately across the pages. 

This would be a challenge on any given day, but since it was difficult for either of you to read the textbook upside down, today he was seated beside you, and that made it exponentially more challenging. 

You were doing that thing that thing where you would bite your lip in concentration as you skimmed through the text. It was all he could do not to stare.

Instead he focused on where his pen met the paper, trying especially not to think about the mess he made in the back seat of his van. He felt absolutely filthy.

He was close enough to smell you. The scent of your shampoo, your laundry detergent mingled with the warm, natural notes of your skin. He wanted to wrap himself up in it. He inched his face closer to the textbook, and your hand, as you pointed out a line about the senate in ancient Rome.  

A lock of his hair fell forward and brushed the back of your hand, but to his surprise you did not pull away.  Instead your face inched closer to the textbook. So close he could feel the warmth radiating from you. He couldn’t help but glance up. Your eyes met his for just a moment and he swore he saw your cheeks turn a deeper shade.

Your eyes shot over to the clock on the wall. “I have to get going a little early today. I’m having dinner at my mom’s tonight,” you said, clearing your throat a little. “Though if I’m being totally honest I’d much rather be here.”

Eddie sat back in his chair, brows knitting in confusion. “Can’t be that bad, can it?”

“It wouldn’t be if my mom didn’t invite this guy who I haven’t seen since middle school. Family friend, well, his mom is her friend anyway. She’s trying to set us up or something,” you said, rolling your eyes.

Eddie felt a prickle of possessiveness shoot down his spine. “Can’t you just tell her no?”

“Trust me, I want to but it’s tricky with my mom. It’s hard to explain. I just try to keep the peace. If there’s one thing she has no shortage of it’s opinions about what’s best for me.”

“Well, you’re a big girl now. You can make your own decisions.” The words escaped his mouth before he had time to consider them. He was relieved to see the smile in your eyes.

“You’re not wrong,” you said thoughtfully, “You know, moving back home wasn’t even my first choice. I have some friends in Chicago, I could have gone there. Mom thought it would be better for me to be closer to family and honestly I was such a wreck at the time I couldn’t even argue.”

Eddie folded his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing with concern. 

“I mean at first it was comforting being someplace familiar, but at the same time it’s just…” you shook your head, trailing off. “I’m sorry. We should really be focusing on your schoolwork, not my personal life.”

“It’s fine. Besides, your life is way more interesting than ancient Rome anyway,” he said, he wondering for a moment if that was too forward to say.

You sighed, offering him a weak smile. “I certainly wouldn’t say that, and trust me I’m the one living it,” you said with a little shake of your head. “I mean I’m flattered you think so, but we should focus on getting you caught up before the test on Friday.” 

He watched your hand as you tucked your hair behind your ear, the soft curve of your eyelashes as you glanced down at his textbook. There was a trouble behind your eyes. A sadness that he wished he could mend. 

Instead he just scooted closer to you and picked up his pen as you thumbed through the pages.

______

I have one request — If you enjoyed this chapter, especially if you ask/asked to be put on the tag list, I ask in return that you REBLOG and tell me what you like about this fic, even just something short and sweet! Please engage with me, it’s all I get in return for writing a story that you love for free 💜

Tags list: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @inknopewetrust @msgexymunson @bebe0701 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @bibieddiesgf @idkidknemore @miahellagreat @alizztor @godcreatoreli @shotgunhallelujah @ethereal27cereal @willgrahamspsycheval @munsonsgirl71 @strangerthings1983fan @eddiemunsonsbitch @tlclick73 @emxxblog @siriusmuggle

@sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @heyleylatour @catherinnn @maximizedrhythms @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @delightfulpeanutpiebiscuit @ruby-dragon @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @bbyhargrove @eddiemunson011 @trashmouth-richie @secretdryrose @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage

[keytomind]

I am so proud of you.

I see you running through and breaking down bricks walls, seeking approval of those whom you care about. Too often, they were looking the other direction and weren’t paying attention, so you go and dust yourself off, regroup, and find the next brick wall that you can destroy. But your body is sore, it has been broken and bloodied, and you need to learn to take better care of yourself, because this is the only life that you will be given. I am proud of you for having a good heart, for being there for others who aren’t there for you, for not looking for anything material in return, for doing the right things - I am so proud of you.

I see you working harder than anyone you know. I see you sacrificing your Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights to care for families other than your own. When others are out celebrating themselves like they won something or they earned something when they haven’t won shit, you make yourself available for families who need you because you are trying to give yourself a better life. Most people will never understand the sacrifices that you have made, especially in this generation. I am proud of you for your work ethic, for your dedication to your craft, which is a career that you thought you could never compete in; you are an overachiever in this regard. I am proud of you for setting a great example for your niece and nephew, for being a giver and not a taker, for not asking for a damn thing and thriving in your independence. You could have made excuses, but you didn’t. I am so proud of you.

I see you working even harder on your fitness, specifically your Peloton. In a few short years, you have ridden more miles than many ever will. You wake up early to work while others still sleep, and you stay up late to work some more while others rest some more, if they’re not out partying like the rockstars that they think they are. All of the sweat, all of the tears, all of the hustle that you have invested into that bike and yourself is something that you questioned if you could do it, and you did. I am proud of you for your efforts, for your dedication, for the accountability that you take upon yourself, for all of the sweat that you have poured out of your body so that you could live a better and healthier life. I am so fucking proud of you.

I see you when you are alone, when you are hurting, when you feel like nobody gives two shits about you. The truth is that you have a lot of people who do care about you; it’s just hard to quantify sometimes because a lot of them are friends from somewhere like Tumblr and no one that you know in real life. These online friends of yours have gone as far as committing your birthday to memory and celebrating you in ways that people you have known for 41+ years fail to do so. Cheers to them, as you have become friends with some truly amazing people. I know it isn’t easy, but I am proud of you for being strong for others, even if it feels like your circle in real life is only there for you when they need something from you. I am proud of you for sticking up for people who mean nothing to you but they may be unable to fight for themselves, for the people whom you put a smile on their face when no one else does, and for helping others who cannot offer you much of anything in return. I am proud of your selfless acts and for not letting lesser people ruin your character. I am so proud of you.

Never change and never stop doing what you are doing. Keep working hard and continue to be a good person to everybody, and if people aren’t good to you, may you continue to find the courage and the strength to walk away from relationships and situations that only serve to do you harm. I know you don’t hear this enough and I am terribly sorry for that, but I will always be your biggest fan and sometimes, the words might escape me, but you need to know that I will always have your back and I will always give you my best.

I am so fucking proud of you. 🖤🖤

[octuscle]

Hey support

So I decided to go to my first fetish event at a club next weekend, but being a shy always in my own head kinda guy I was a little anxious about the whole thing. So I thought, I might find some temporary presets or changes on Chronivac to last for the night to get me out of my own head and make me feel more at home with being at the event.

I think I messed something up though, cause although the changes are suppose to be temporary and only for the day/night of the event, I can’t put my finger on it, but things seem to be changing in my daily life right now, over a week before the big day.

It's Sunday morning. According to your memory, you had a quiet Saturday evening on the sofa. Chips, Netflix, a bit of wanking. A perfectly normal Saturday evening. But why the hell do you have this hangover? And the apartment smells of beer and cigar smoke. Full ashtrays in the kitchen. Empty whiskey glasses. Full condoms on the floor. A few jockstraps. Empty poppers bottles. What was going on here yesterday. And where did that hairy, snoring fellow on your sofa come from?

It's 6pm when you finally get rid of the fellow (hottest Sunday morning sex ever), you've tidied up and cleaned. Now you feel like a cigar. But not at home anymore. You've just got rid of the smell to some extent. But now you need a whiskey and a cigar.

You actually thought that the stranger on the sofa owned the biker boots and the leather jacket at the coat check. But he left your apartment wearing just one of the jockstraps from the kitchen floor and a pair of tracksuit bottoms. But now you're standing in front of your hallway mirror with one of the jockstraps, a 501, a white T-shirt that doesn't fit at all badly, the boots and the leather jacket. And you like what you see. There are cigars in the leather jacket. And as if remote-controlled, you walk through the evening streets until you find yourself standing in front of an inconspicuous door in the basement of a side street. You ring the bell. The doorman greets you with a fist bump and says it's good to see you back. Your regular seat at the bar is free. Your whiskey and ashtray are ready before you can even take a seat. You like Sunday evenings here. No curious tourists. No hustle and bustle. Real men who want their peace and quiet. And maybe a quick fuck. The fellow who disappears into the toilet had clearly made eye contact with you beforehand. You follow him…

Monday morning. Shit, you could have stayed in bed for another hour. But you have to look good at the weekend. And you have to go to the gym before work. And you're still wearing the urine-yellow and cum-encrusted jockstrap from yesterday. Your cock never gets limp when you wear it. Your PA shines through the stretched fabric. Fuck, you're so horny that you have to jerk off in the shower. And with every movement, your PA gets a little thicker. And your circumcised foreskin comes back. As you stuff your sweaty clothes into your gym bag and put on your suit, you think wistfully of your leather jacket. You miss the smell of masculinity in your work clothes… And the creak of leather.

On Tuesday after work, you get changed and go to your favorite barbershop. Hair radically short, beard in shape. On the Friday before the party, you only need to have the contours corrected once. You're actually always here twice a week. Great atmosphere. You're not the only man sitting in the styling chair in leather jeans. And with a cigar and a glass of whiskey, it's almost like being in your favorite bar. And once you've changed your clothes and had your hair done, you can see what's going on in the bar. As you might expect, not much. But Hendrik, the Danish barman, plays with your nipple piercings. And just before you leave, there's a submissive skinhead who first serves as your urinal and then gives you a blowjob. Good evening!

Yesterday was a normal day at the gym, but on Thursday you realize that the big fetish events are in town this weekend. There are more men than usual at the weights in the morning. And the men are bigger, more muscular and hairier than usual. It smells of sweat and musk. The air is full of testosterone. Damn, there's more than one ass you'd like to fuck. And a number of fellows obviously wouldn't be averse either. But you won't cum until tomorrow night. You want maximum pressure on your balls. You spend the evening with leather waxes, brushes and polishing cloths. Boots, pants, jackets, shirts, harnesses… There's a hell of a lot of black leather to polish to a high shine. Your new fullsleave has healed perfectly. The new sling is hanging, the St. Andrew's cross is fitted and tomorrow morning you'll swap the cotton sheets for black leather. You are a neat freak. But planning and preparation is everything!

Today is Friday, so you can wear leather trousers to the office. The dirty jockstrap and cock ring underneath. The white button-down shirt will be changed quickly later. You don't want to waste any time.

You change in the barbershop to the cheers of the other customers. Zac takes the opportunity to trim the fur on your chest. There are already long queues outside the club. You don't care. You just walk through to the entrance. You greet the doorman with a handshake and a French kiss. He returns the favor by grabbing your bulge. Fuck, your balls are about to burst. The party can start.

Pic found @my-gear-smoking-favourites

[uenodivision]

Attention!

Last week, the eight teams for the Collab Tournament were revealed. Today, I'll be showing which team is competing against which, as well as the general rules for the tournament. First off, the rules. Yes, they're boring and suck, but they are needed.

Rules:

Schedule: The Collab is scheduled to begin on November 2nd, the first Saturday of the month, and will continue through the rest of the month until the fourth Saturday, which is the 23rd. I'll try to have all of the songs posted by or around noon. If not by then, then definitely before 5 P.M.

Sending in Songs: After the theme has been chosen (and a winner from the previous round has been shown), you will send me a song that you want your OC to sing, either by PM or IM. The song can be whatever you want. If it's animated or by a real person, it's fine. I don't judge; I know how hard it can be to find a song/singer that sounds or feels like your OC. (Don't forget the title of the song!)

IMPORTANT: If possible, try to send your songs in ASAP. I'd like to have all songs by no later than each Thursday night or Friday morning, so I can begin work on the week's songs. If you need help finding a good song or think you won't be able to post a song in time, either let me or one of your teammates know, and we'll do our best to help. If you don't, I'll leave the choice of song in your teammates' hands. If you don't like the song they chose, oh well.

Themes: After discussing it with my friends, it's been decided that I will be choosing the themes for each team to do their songs on. The themes will generally only be one word revolving around a certain feeling (similar to what ParaLive does). I'll try to pick a theme that's easy for people to find songs for. But if you can't find a song that fits the theme or doesn't sound like your OC, then don't worry about it and just pick a song that you like. As stated, I know how hard it can be to find a song that feels/sounds like your OC.

Voting: Voting is scheduled to begin as soon as the songs have been posted (which is why I'll be trying my hardest to make sure they are all out by noon, if possible). I learned from last year, so I won't be using Google Polls this time since it's annoying. I'm not sure which poll system I'll use, but I'll be sure to let everyone know.

As stated, voting is scheduled to begin each Saturday afternoon, and will last until Tuesday evening, which is when the winning teams will then be announced, along with the new theme. As soon as you have listened to the songs, be sure to head to the poll on the website and vote for the team you think won.

IMPORTANT: I know I'm probably wasting my time and breathe by saying this, but please try to be fair and honest when you vote. Don't just vote for the team that has your OC in it, as that takes all of the fun of the contest. This is partially the reason why I'm not using Google Polls this year cause it allows a person to vote more than once, and that ruined the voting last year.

I think that about covers everything. If there's anything else, I'll be sure to let everyone know.

So now, without further ado, allow me to show just which team will be facing which in the tournament for the first round:

1. Dragon's Keep vs. Adrenaline Rush

Theme for Battle: Hustle

Definition: 'the relentless pursuit of goals, and the determination to succeed against all odds. The story of grinding and working hard, pushing through challenges, staying focused, and never giving up.'

2. AKATxSUKI vs. Sireen's Angels

Theme for Battle: Unity

Definition: 'the strength and power that comes from coming together as a team or a community. The idea that when people join forces, they can achieve more than they ever could alone.'

3. Cyber Nexus vs. Darkness Made Flesh

Theme for Battle: Dreams

Definition: 'the aspirations and goals that drive us forward. The hopes and ambitions that fuel our journey, the visions of what we want to achieve, and the relentless pursuit of our passions, turning them into reality.'

4. Future Forward vs. Nerd Roulette

Theme for Battle: Freedom

Definition: 'the state of being free from constraints, limitations, or oppression. It's about the ability to act, speak, and think without hindrance or restraint, breaking free from anything that hinders you.'

So, these are the first-round teams and themes that will take place on the 2nd of November. I look forward to the songs that are sent in, and a good contest. Until next time.

@katsushika-division @oita-division @sapporo-division @kanazawa-division @edogawa-division @akihabara-division03 @aichi-division @shinagawa-division @setagaya-division @kobedivision @naha-division @fukuokanodivision @kagoshima-division @sendaidivision @kumamoto-division @ginza-division @suginami-division @akihabaradivision @okinawa-division @shizuokadivision @minato-division01

[stxr-bxy]

pagan marauders hcs

in this universe paganism/real witchcraft = wizarding world and paganism is actually respected as a religion

most of them are hellenists but there are also roman and norse gods too

james

- works with athena

- he just loves powerful women

- or women in general tbh

- also works with apollon bc he’s the sun

- not super religious but goes to temple every Wednesday to visit the athena alter and on Sundays for the apollon alter

- makes a stupid amount of moon water because he uses it all the time

- no clair or psychic abilities but is very intuitive

- i imagine he got into hellenismos because euphemia is part greek (hence her name)

sirius

- prefers roman mythology over greek but is eclectic/neo pagan

- she works with Dionysius because they’re both drama queens and Venus because she helped him with embracing his femininity and feeling confident

- wears a carnelian necklace all the time bc she’s ✨that girl✨

- when she first quit weed she would smoke lavender because it puts you to sleep without causing highs

- goes to temple with friends to hang out and leave offerings

- had really strict catholic parents but never felt very connected to the church and god never really interacted with him no matter how many times he reached out

- his parents don’t think that being pagan = devil worship but they’re those people that think any god except theirs is a demon trying to hurt ppl

- was one of those tiktok witches for a while but then realized that witchtok is shit for information

remus

- he’s jewish but he’s still a witch so he still counts for this

- burns a lot of sage bundles

- Sirius sometimes goes to temple(jewish) with him so he’s not alone but most of the time he goes with his parents

- was actually smart about his journey and immediately bought books because social media is mostly bullshit

- he’ll sometimes go to his friend’s temple(pagan) with someone (usually sirius) when their other friends aren’t going or are working

- he’s very supportive and does have some idea of what’s going on

- except he keeps asking who some people are like some obscurer gods or mortals from myths

- “who’s selene again?” “for gods sake remus you ask this every time” “sorry. but still who is she” “the moon goddess remus…” “oh yeah”

- claircognizant, he just knows things

peter

- he was raised pagan because his moms are pagan (peter has two moms argue with the wall)

- works with freyja and demeter and goes to temple on thursday and friday for both

- he and marlene go for nature walks when it’s nice out and they sometimes look for crystals when they walk

- one time he found a really big quartz and took it home (he asked first ofc)

- also believes in animism and loves animals

- has a cat named luna (i have a cat named luna so i am projecting)

- clairvoyant, has visions and prophetic dreams

lily

- was raised jewish and even though she went along with it when she was young she didn’t really feel connected to god so she converted to hellenismos when she was 15

- works with persephone and aphrodite (i know they don’t get along but it’s fine because they’re not on the same altar)

- goes to temple on mondays and fridays for persephone and aphrodite

- meditates a lot and likes to make sure her chakras are aligned (i know chakras originate from hinduism but i’m pretty sure they’re an open practice any hindus can correct me in comments or rbs)

- loves rose quartz and opal

- always does her crushes astrology charts to make sure they’re compatible

- one of those girls with lots of incense

- when she was crushing on mary she wore so much rose quartz and carnelian to get her to notice her

- lowkey scared of tarot bc it’s way too accurate, she prefers oracle cards

- wears pentacle necklaces for protection

mary

- works with medusa (because of the hc that mulciber sa’ed her so she likes her story) and aphrodite

- veils on holidays and when she goes to temple

- reads tarot for people as a side hustle

- loves florida water and uses it a lot because she’s latina

- wears her evil eye/nazar a lot

- has a little home guardian statue and it’s a statue of a little cat

- bought her first veil from amazon and it had such a bad energy that she couldn’t cleanse out so she just threw it away

- when she goes to the beach she looks for shells to put on her aphrodite alter

marlene

- works with hekate and persephone

- has always loved the idea of witches since she was a little girl

- her parents were also strict catholics but marlene never believed in god, she knew somewhere deep down that he wasn’t as real to her as her gods

- her parents basically thought that witchcraft was the devil’s work and they never approved of it, they still don’t but now they’re used to it

- meditates during the full moon

- makes devotional playlists for her deities

- has lots of crystals because “i just think they’re neat”

- avoids doing shadow work but then her deities get mad so she reluctantly does some

- one of those girls who has rusty nails and dead bugs just so she can hex your ex

- clairaudient, was always confused by the ringing in her ears and what it meant

regulus

- works with hades and persephone

- loves the myth about them

- his parents raised him catholic but he stopped believing in god pretty quick because his prayers were never answered

- loves it when mary gives him tarot readings

- prefers runes to tarot but still likes tarot

- goes to temple on mondays because of persephone

- he talks with lily and marlene about persephone a lot and celebrate her return together

- his favorite holiday is yule because he loves all of the folklore surrounding it and the trees

- he used to charge his rose quartz in the sun because he didn’t know you couldn’t do that and then the color faded so he stopped doing that

- does lots of shadow work because he’s fucked up in the head

pandora

- a lot of people think she works with gods like iris or aphrodite but she actually works with nyx and hekate

- does scryings for people

- clairsentient, always picks up on other people’s emotions and the vibe of a room

- goes to temple on saturdays for hekate and with reg on mondays because the services include nyx and persephone

- one of those girls who used a spirit/ouija board and then all of witchtok came for her

- very experimental, uses egg shells in hexes and stuff like that

- also works with the fae and leaves them offerings for ostara and litha (and just in general)

- gives people little rocks and crystals she finds

- little kids love her and they always have such a good energy

- makes art of her deities

barty

- italian folk witch and pagan

- always wearing his nazar to protect from il malocchio cause he doesn’t fw that shit

- works with hades and hermes

- he’s half italian on his mom’s side so he got his practice from her

- uses people’s hair in his spells and no one knows where he gets it from

- “barty why the fuck is my hair in your spell jar?” “idk man…” “liar”

- messes around with tarot and runes when he’s bored

- goes to temple on mondays with reg and pandora and wednesdays for hermes

- clairvoyant (to go along with the seer barty hc)

- mabon is his favorite holiday because food

dorcas

- works with selene and hekate

- her and marlene love talking about hekate and honestly they could talk about her all day

- lowkey wanted to work with freyja at one point but she already has enough deities

- veils a lot for spiritual protection, can be as simple as a bandana or her hair braided but she likes regular veils too

- one of those girlies who walks barefoot in the forest

- grows her own herbs in her garden

- selenophilic

- needs to know everyone’s big 3

evan

- not super religious but still a witch

- he mostly does kitchen witchcraft

- he makes simmer pots and uses herbs when cooking

- hangs rosemary over his front door to protect

- has a cinnamon broom

- mops with rosemary water

- can’t meditate for more than ten minutes because he gets distracted or has an itch or something

- forgot to mention he worships luna, solass ( idk how to spell it) , and the mother (moon, sun, and earth)

- avid pentacle wearer

[nightshadeweek]

Nightshade Week 2024: Prompts & Rules (text-only info)

Find the version of this post with images in this post!

Prompts

The event has three themes: Headspace for fluffier and happier prompts, Whitespace for thematic prompts, and Blackspace for darker and angstier prompts. You can pick whichever suits you best, mix and match, or do your own thing.

Nightshade Week 2024 will run from Monday 25 November until Sunday 1 December.

Headspace prompts

Day 1: Cuddling Day 2: Stars Day 3: Meeting Friends Day 4: Photos Day 5: Handholding Day 6: Mewo Day 7: Sleep/Napping Together

Whitespace prompts

Day 1: Hurt/Comfort Day 2: Whitespace/Blackspace Day 3: The Real World Day 4: Firsts/Lasts Day 5: The Nightshade Flower Day 6: OMORI's Ending Day 7: The Dreamer

Blackspace prompts

Day 1: Denial Day 2: Fight Day 3: Death Day 4: Body Horror Day 5: Knife Day 6: Injury/Wounded Day 7: Forgiveness

Jokers are for when none of a day's prompts appeal to you, but you still want to follow a prompt and not borrow from other days.

The jokers are Alternate Universe, Truth/Lie, and Vulnerable.

Daily prompts

Some inspiration for each prompt.

Day 1: Monday 25 November

Cuddling: Whether it's done out of emotional necessity or to get closer to one another, nothing goes above a good hug.

Hurt/Comfort: In a dream as volatile as this one, it is so easy to get seriously hurt, be it physically or emotionally. How do they handle this pain, and how do they handle seeing the other hurt?

Denial: When one's existence revolves entirely around denial, it can be easy to fall into these patterns. Is this about the Truth? Or is there denial of something else, such as feelings?

Day 2: Tuesday 26 November

Stars: They shine so bright in the purple sky above, but they have never been real. Or maybe this is about the hustle and bustle of a more literal stardom?

Whitespace/Blackspace: To some, they may mean home. To others, they are nothing but a perpetual nightmare. What can be found in these native domains?

Fight: A physical altercation or a battle of wits. Sometimes, tensions rise too high, and the best way to resolve them is to fight over it. Maybe this refers to a more metaphorical fight.

Day 3: Wednesday 27 November

Meeting Friends: Maybe they meet the dream friends, or maybe, the real friends come visit them. Maybe they meet friends they have never met, friends they didn't even know existed.

The Real World: There's something out there unlike any dream. How do they interact with the real world? Who would they be if they were living people? How does the real world impact the dream?

Death: What does it mean to die when you are a metaphorical concept in a boy's imagination? What does it mean to witness death, fictional or inherited from the real world, in such a dream?

Day 4: Thursday 28 November

Photos: A friendship long gone and a Truth deeply buried. What photos would characterise their lives, and which picture-perfect moments deserve to be immortalised?

Firsts/Lasts: There is a first time for everything. First and last meeting, first and last fight, first and last soft moment together, first and last kiss.

Body Horror: A dream created by such a morbid individual is capable of terrific horrors. What if the body itself is the subject of this horror?

Day 5: Friday 29 November

Handholding: They say that there are many levels to a relationship, and that holding hands is the most intimate acts one could share, voluntary or not.

The Nightshade Flower: Which flower represents Stranger and Omori? Or maybe this is about a plant in the Nightshade family?

Knife: A weapon to protect the Dreamer. A tool to prepare food. A symbol of one's hurt. A desperate way out.

Day 6: Saturday 30 November

Mewo: Mari's black kitten. A constant waiting for something to happen. A last connection to a girl long gone.

OMORI's ending: Two boys smiling at each other in a hospital. A long way down. Tragedy at a sleepover. A desperate last resort. An unseen middle way. How do these events impact the dream?

Injury/Wounded: Pain and wounds may work differently in this dream, but that does not nullify them. What injuries might one suffer, and how are they treated? Why wound one another?

Day 7: Sunday 1 December

Sleep/Napping: The dream itself is intrinsically linked to sleep. Maybe there's a soft moment when they can sneak in a little nap together.

The Dreamer: Sunny, the creator of this world and everything Stranger and Omori are. How their duty changes their relationship, or how his existence matters.

Forgiveness: When it's all over, when all has been said and done, maybe there is room for a new start. Maybe, the first steps towards healing can be made, rough as the road to forgiveness may be.

Rules & Guidelines

Above all, have fun!

Enter the event however you would enjoy it most, that's all that matters. If you're interested in being reblogged by the account, these could be an interesting read.

What tag can I use?

You can use the Twitter tag #nightshadeweek2024 and the Tumblr tag #nightshade week 2024. You can also tag the account (@nightshadeweek on both platforms) if your entry wasn't seen or send a DM to the account.

How do I pick prompts?

You're free to use and interpret the prompts however you want. You don't have to do all the prompts, you can skip days, you can mix prompts, you can do prompts on different days, etc. If you want, you can also simply submit some Nightshade fanworks that don't follow any prompts. This event is all about celebrating Nightshade and creating new things for it together.

What content will be shared by the account?

This event is accessible to all ages. While canon compliant dark themes and gore are allowed, any works with sexually explicit content won't be shared by the account for this reason.

Do I have to complete every day or follow one category?

Not at all! You can do one day or all days. You can do one path or all paths. You don't have to follow a set path either; the categories are just there to give the prompts themes. You can do for example one Headspace prompt, two Whitespace prompts, and four Blackspace prompts. Mix and match as you see fit!

Can I submit late entries?

Late entries are definitely welcome! After the event has ended, I will still regularly check the tag and share late entries.

Can I add other characters and ships to my fanworks?

Go wild! The main focus should be on nightshade in order for it to be shared, but other characters and ships (including other Omori or Stranger ships) can be depicted as well.

Do my entries have to follow canon?

Nope! You can work within any canon you want, so long as the characters featured focus on Omori and Stranger in some way. You want to do the entirety of the week for an AU where they're real people? Go wild!

Can I make platonic works too?

Absolutely! All dynamics are celebrated here.

Let's see what beautiful creations y'all have in store, and I look forward to seeing the fanworks that flow from this!

[callsignspark]

anything for you | part two

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x Rebecca Hermann (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, implied violence against women/children, discussions of murder (nothing explicit/gory), inaccuracies about hotel ownership, implied child neglect, descriptions of anxiety/panic attacks, discussion of insecurities, eventual smut, warnings to be added as needed 

word count: 5.5k

series masterlist | main masterlist

note: here's part two, thank you to everyone who read the first part and left such kind comments - you're all so lovely!

Thursday, June 22, 2023 | San Diego, CA | 1332 PST

“When you asked if I was free for lunch, I thought this was going to be a fun, sexy thing.”

“And you thought garlic-and-onion-filled gyros were the appropriate pairing for a sexy lunch?” She snorts, rolling her eyes when he keeps talking, ignoring her teasing.

“I wouldn’t have said yes and ordered your favorite-” Jake pauses to shove a huge bite into his mouth “-if I knew you were just going to torture me with this stuff.”

“That’s disgusting, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Rebecca looks at him with disdain when he opens his mouth to show off his half-chewed food. “How you were voted California’s most eligible bachelor eight years in a row is a complete mystery to me.”

“I never had lunch with the selection committee.”

She smiles at his joke, then straightens up, getting down to the matter at hand. “So, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I don’t care what color our napkins are.” He groans, flopping back into the loveseat where they’re sharing lunch.

“Well, neither do I!” She huffs, flapping the fabric samples toward his face. “Pick one: pearl white or ivory cream.”

“Those look fucking identical.”

“They basically are.”

“So why does it matter?”

“Because Michelle needs an answer today on what we want for the reception, so please pick one.”

“I want whatever you want, darling.” Her blood heats up; the combination of the condescending pet name and how attractive he manages to be while lounging on the uncomfortable corporate-chic cushions is practically lethal.

She practically whines his name, tired of the back and forth on a conversation they’d already had three times. “Stop being a patronizing dickhead and just pick one of the nearly identical napkin options.”

“The right one.”

“Perfect, a fantastic choice.” She tosses the samples on the table and pulls out her phone to text the decision to their wedding planner. “You know, it would be nice if you would help make some of the real decisions for this wedding, too.”

“But you’re doing such a great job! And besides, I’m giving valu-”

“If you say, “valuable input on the honeymoon” one more time, I will sit on you and shove that salad down your throat, I swear to god, Jacob.”

“You say that like I wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Keep it up, and I’ll shove more than just the salad.”

He sits up, a huge grin lighting up his face. “Wow! You are so feisty today, Mrs. Seresin!”

“I’m not Mrs. Seresin yet; you pompous, jacka-” Her joking tirade is cut off by his desk phone.

“Honey, as much as I love it when you’re mean to me, gonna need you to hold onto that thought. I told Ginger to hold all calls while you were here unless it was an emergency.” He hustles to his desk, brushing his fingers against her cheek as he passes. “This is Jake Ser- okay. Okay, hold on, sweetheart, she’s right here. Just a second.”

He waves her over as he holds the receiver away from his mouth, “It’s your sister, and she’s crying.”

“What?!” She trips getting up, her mind immediately going to the worst-case scenario. “Delilah? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“Th-they-they aren’t-t-t…”

“Try to breathe, honey. Are you okay? Can you tell me if you’re hurt?”

“N-not hurt.” It’s a relief to hear, but Delilah’s breathing is too unstable to be comfortable.

“Alright, okay. It’s okay. I’m right here. Don’t want to trigger an asthma attack, so we’re gonna take deep breaths together, okay? Just like we used to when you were little.” The sisters breathe together, the older one making sure her inhales and exhales are loud enough for the younger one to hear over the phone.

It takes a few minutes, but Delilah’s breathing starts to level out. “Thanks, Becca.”

“Of course, kiddo. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“My academic awards ceremony is tonight, and I’m probably getting a big math award, but Dad just called me to tell me that they’re not gonna make it because it’s Mom’s birthday! They’re going to dinner and then to the bars with the guys from Dad’s crew! Can you believe it?” Her voice is weak but borderline shrill. “It’s my senior year – the last big thing besides graduation – and they’re not coming!”

The last three words send Rebecca’s mind into a spiral. All the times she had heard that exact phrase and then been the one to care for her sister flashing through her mind. At seventeen, being forced to be a primary caretaker to an infant Delilah during the limited free time she had in between school and work. At twenty-eight, and parenting her preteen sister because her biological parents decided to go on a month-long trip to the Caribbean. Every time they had deemed something else more important than their child. The countless volleyball and softball games missed, cash wasted on tickets for the school musical, parent-teacher conferences that were straight-up ignored half the time. When Rebecca was younger, she would mourn the gas money burned and the free time stolen as she acted as a personal assistant and valet to her sister, driving back and forth to practices, dentist appointments, dance classes, play rehearsals, haircuts, anything that Delilah needed. Looking back now, she was grateful they had gotten to spend that time together.

“We’ll be there.” She interrupts without thinking.

“You will?” Delilah’s voice is soft but pleased. The intention of her call was just to vent to her big sister, let out the frustration of being ignored again by her parents. “You don’t have to. I know you’re both busy.”

“Never too busy for you, babe. What time does it start? Do you want a ride?” She sinks into the desk chair, crossing her legs and leaning back, hoping the pressure building behind her eyes doesn’t turn into a full-blown migraine.

Rebecca can feel Jake hovering before he squats next to the chair. She ignores him in favor of letting the now happy voice of her sister wash over her. It’s a solid plan until a large hand lands on her thigh. His palm is warm where it lays against her skin, and his fingers gently rub the material of her skirt, letting her know he’s there. She turns her head to the right and peeks an eye open, watching him watch her.

“Is she hurt?” He mouths the question, looking relieved after she shakes her head.

She hesitates for a second before putting her hand on his, rubbing her thumb along the back of his hand in thanks. Jake takes the opportunity to hold her hand, playfully squeezing her fingers a few times, a ghost of a smile on his face. The sisters talk a bit more, confirming plans for the evening and saying “I love you” before hanging up. Rebecca drops the receiver into its cradle and leans back, looking at the ceiling. The office is quiet, the clock on the wall making the only noise in the otherwise silent room.

“Since we’re not preparing to storm Normandy, I take it everything is okay now?” She hums in confirmation, still staring at the ceiling. “What happened?”

“They’re not coming.”

There’s something about the way she says it – voice hollow, emotionless – that sets warning bells off in his head, but he still asks, “Who?”

“Fucking Seymour and Brittany.” She starts pacing. “It’s Brittany’s birthday, so they’ve decided that it’s not necessary to attend Delilah’s academic awards ceremony. Her senior year academic awards ceremony. Her last one. Where – because of her intelligence, hard work, and high academic ranking – it’s extremely likely that she’ll be receiving a boatload of awards. My father called her and told her they weren’t going to make it because they’re going out to dinner and then drinking with those idiots that hang around him! As if they couldn’t do that after the awards are over! It starts at six, and it’ll be like, at a maximum, an hour and a half!”

Jake stares in shock at the woman trying to wear a hole into his carpet. It wasn’t uncommon for her to curse or to be louder than usual when joking around, but the last time, the only time, he had seen Rebecca raise her voice in anger was that fateful night in February when she reamed him out after breaking into her house. Since then, her demeanor has matched the woman she had always been known to be. A kind and thoughtful person with a quieter disposition, one that hid a tough side she brought out only when needed, and a wit sharp enough to cut glass. Her voice is scathing, decades' worth of built-up frustration and resentment being released, and it freezes him in place.

“It’s just so unfair! I know they don’t like me, that I’m the “black sheep” of the family, or whatever the latest lame-ass attempt at an insult my father has taken to calling me. I don’t care about that. I worked my ass off junior and senior year to get a good scholarship, and I did. I practically put in full-time hours to save up enough to get out of that fucking house, and I did! The day after my eighteenth birthday, I packed up that crappy Camry – that I bought with my own money! – and moved into that sketchy apartment with five roommates. I worked hard to be the “outcast” of that family! I escaped, and they don’t like that, and that’s fine. I don’t need them to like me!”

Her voice was getting louder, the pacing and hand gestures more frenzied. She could feel her blood pressure rising, but she couldn’t stop. She hadn’t been this mad in years. She actually couldn’t remember the last time she was this angry.

“But it’s not fair that Delilah is treated like that! Like some show pony they can trot out when it pleases them. I know she’s the kid that was created on purpose, and I was the mistake no one wanted, but they just show her off like she’s some shiny object! Bragging about how smart she is and her amazing grades, her talent and how she gets cast in lead roles in the school plays and musicals, her athletic prowess, and how she definitely could have gone D1 if she wanted. But she doesn’t want to because she’s going to dedicate herself to helping others – something they know nothing about – but, of course, none of that actually matters to them! I can count on two hands the number of things they’ve actually showed up in the last eighteen years and still have fingers left over! And the worst part is she still believes they’re going to show up! That they’re suddenly going to give a damn about anything she does. That they’re going to treat her as more than a way for them to make themselves look better. And she doesn’t have anyone else because the only other family left is our grandfather, and it would take a fucking miracle for him to show up to an event where there’s even the slightest possibility that his son might be there. There’s no one else, so I said we’d g- oh my god.”

She stops on a dime, turning on her heel to Jake, who was shaken out of his stupor after the third curse word and now is staring in disbelief at his fiancé. ���I said we’d go. You don’t have to go. I’m sorry I said you were coming without checking first-”

“I want to go.”

“-I just got caught up in the moment and didn’t think about it. You don’t have to-” His words register. “What?”

“I said it’s okay that you RSVP’d yes for me; I want to go.”

“You don’t have to. It’s not your sister.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I’m aware of that. Otherwise, this engagement would be kinda awkward. And illegal.”

“What?” The joke goes over her head; she’s only half paying attention, her body still on a high from anger and the adrenaline rush that hit when she heard her sister crying.

“Because if she was my sister, then we’d be related, which is illegal or at the very least frowned upon…” He trails off, realizing he’s not getting through. “Wow, that really got to you, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m used to their bullshit; I usually don’t get so mad. But hearing her cry on the phone like that, she was practically hyperventilating when you answe- wait. How did Delilah even get through?”

“I put her on the allowed caller list.”

“You did?” She’s surprised.

She probably shouldn’t be anymore. Except for the rough start to their engagement in February, Jake had a perfect gentleman.

His generosity is unfamiliar to her, unexpected from a man of the Dagger organization. And she hadn’t been expecting the same care to be so easily extended to her sister. She assumed she would have to make more demands to ensure Delilah was taken care of properly. But he’s done everything she was planning to ask of him, and more, before she even had the chance to bring it up. A college fund set up with safeguards in place so only a select few have access, protecting the money from her greedy father. A brand-new car: one that’s cute and practical, with a top safety rating, in her sister’s preferred color. A week-long trip over Delilah’s spring break to the three schools she was considering so she could make what Jake called “the most educated decision possible.” He even almost bought a house that neighbored the campus of her final choice, a decision that Rebecca had to talk him down from. She’s still suspicious that he secretly bought it, despite a lengthy lecture on why that was a dumb idea.

Despite his kindness, it was hard for them to interact with each other at the start of their engagement. The first month was awkward, filled with distrusting glances and silted conversations as she settled into the guest room of his ocean-view property. Their proposal announcement was spent answering questions about the financial impact of Rebecca joining Eagle Hotels as the head of the newly reformed community and charity outreach division instead of their whirlwind romance. The press conference was supposed to be the way to launch the couple to the public, grabbing attention and headlines at the fact that California’s eternal bachelor was taking a wife who was going to use the profits of his multi-million company to pour money into cancer research and other worthy causes. Instead, the next day, the media was speculating about the financial future of Eagle and the validity of their relationship, not believing they were in love – or even liked each other – due to the lack of chemistry and the visible discomfort radiating from them both.

After reading that even reputable publications questioned the engagement, Rebecca realized they needed to become friends. Being comfortable with each other would allow them to sell the relationship to the public and investors while having the bonus side effect of convincing the older members of the Dagger organization that were still doubtful. Getting to know each other on a surface level and becoming friends would allow that to happen without having to get too close. Her plan had worked. They became comfortable with each other, the speculation stopped, and the gushing over their relationship started.

It also had the unintended effect of him becoming even more thoughtful, taking her into consideration and asking her opinion, even when it wasn’t necessary. He makes her laugh, a perfectly timed terrible pun lifting her spirits on tough days. He gives affection freely. Keep gestures subtle in public, a hand on her lower back or whispering in her ear just to follow it up with a kiss to her temple, all done to get perfect paparazzi shots of the couple. In private, around friends and family, his hands are bolder but never disrespectful. A strong arm around her waist, a gentle kiss on her neck, a warm hand on her thigh.

It's not what she’s used to from men, and it flusters her, even knowing it’s an act.

Then, the reminder that it’s an act puts her guard back up. Reverting to constantly reminding herself that this is a business agreement, a marriage of convenience.

Nothing more.

It’s hard, though. He makes her feel safe. Something a man hadn’t done in a decade.

Even when something happens that rips her back to reality and she’s reminded that this isn’t a real relationship, she feels safe. She knew what she was signing up for when she agreed to the marriage. What it would mean to be the wife of The Hangman. That he was a dangerous man who had done horrible things. There’s been several nights when he comes home late, knuckles intact to ensure plausible deniability of the Dagger leader, but with dark red flecks on an otherwise pristine white shirt that betray his innocence. It’s clear from the fact that Jake lets her see him on nights like that, nights when business had to be taken care of, that he trusts her. She trusts him, not fully, but enough to know that with him, she’s safe. She knows that as long as it’s not his blood that he comes home covered in. But another night, another ruined shirt, and the reminder runs through her head on eternal rotation.

This isn’t real. It’s to protect your sister, your family. This isn’t real. It’s to protect your sister, your family.

“Of course I did. She’s family. Oh honey, come here.” He pulls her close after catching sight of her lower lip wobbling and hugs her soft body into his harder one. Mentally admonishing himself after the moment he takes to appreciate her curves when she’s practically crying. “It’ll be okay. She’s going to school; it’s paid for, and she can stay with us during her breaks. Or we’ll get her a good internship, so she doesn’t have to come back at all. And after we get married, she doesn’t ever have to see them again if she doesn’t want to.”

“I know.” She rests her forehead against his collarbones, breathing to try and stop the tears threatening to escape. “I’m just worried.”

“About what?” One of his hands starts rubbing her back, the other drifting down to his favorite spot on her hip. “We can fix it, just gotta tell me.”

“Everything? I don’t know; I just feel so guilty. For the longest time, I was resentful that I had to take care of her so much, and of course, it was them I was mad at, but I’m afraid it seemed like I was upset with her. And then there were so many years where I was more distant than I wanted to be because dealing with them was just so awful. And I couldn’t get her out of there, and I’m worried that those two have hurt her in ways that I’ll never be able to understand or fix.” Her voice gets tighter as she speaks, cracking on the last word.

“Hey, breathe. It’s okay. I know you feel bad, but you did everything you could for her. You did what you had to do to protect yourself. And even though you were kinda distant, you still spent so much time with her. She loves you so much; she wants to be just like you. And let’s face it – with both parents alive, no documented history of abuse, and your father being who he is, no judge in the county would have dared to give you custody. You did the best you could do, and it was enough. She’s kind, smart, and funny, and I’m 110% certain that is all of you.” He wipes a tear that falls. “And I’m here now. Together we’ll keep her as safe as we possibly can. I will do everything in my power to protect you both. Okay?”

She sniffles, “Okay. Thank you, Jake.”

“Of course, anything for you, you know that. Now let’s see a smile!” Her weak attempt at a smile is met with his wide grin. “There’s my girl!”

His smile turns confused when she bites back a laugh. “What?”

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

How the fuck did I get here?

Rebecca has had that exact thought countless times since February. If someone had told her five months earlier that she would be sitting in the back of her high school’s auditorium next to Jacob “The Hangman” Seresin, and not only would he be her fiancé, but he would be willingly and eagerly attending her sister’s academic awards ceremony, and that it was his idea to buy a bouquet of daisies and make a reservation at the nicest steakhouse in the city to celebrate afterward, she would have taken that person to the emergency room for fear of horrific brain damage.

After the call with her sister Jake had cleared the rest of his schedule, insisting they spend the rest of the afternoon together. He spent the next few hours driving them around town, completing a to-do list that existed in his head. The first stop was a jewelry store to pick up two necklaces. One he immediately put around Rebecca’s neck. A beautiful white gold pendant with a teardrop-shaped peridot gemstone that rested perfectly on her decolletage. August’s birthstone for her and her sister’s birthday. The second box had an identical necklace, a graduation gift for Delilah, he explained. She didn’t have a chance to protest the much too expensive gifts before he was dragging her down the street to a bookstore where they argued over the best author of the twentieth century for almost an hour. Leaving with multiple books by Ian Fleming and Sue Grafton for comparison purposes and a promise to the owner to return. They popped into Rebecca’s favorite bakery for a snack and left with a baker’s dozen of treats and two iced teas. Splitting a chocolate donut, they dropped the rest of the pastries at the Machado household for Javy and Julianna to enjoy on their anniversary weekend. The last stop was a florist on Main Street to grab a bouquet before they picked Delilah up and headed to the school.

It had been a perfect afternoon.

The more she thinks about how smoothly everything went, how natural it felt, the more stressed she becomes. It shouldn’t have been easy. It shouldn’t have happened at all! He had more important things to do than spend the afternoon together. Why would he do that? She’s attempting to distract herself from the overwhelming feelings threatening to send her into a panic attack by flipping through the awards ceremony program when she sees it.

Her brain disconnects from her body; she can feel it happen. She knows the room is loud; it had been loud when they sat down, but now everything is muffled, and the only thing she can hear is blood rushing in her ears. Her body suddenly feels like concrete, heavy in a way it isn’t usually; an invisible pressure pushing especially hard on her sternum, making her breathing staccato and shallow. The folded booklet in her hands is now blurry, her eyes so unfocused she’s seeing multiple of the program swirling in front of her. Her hands start to shake in a way they haven’t done in a long time.

It’s the goddamn program. A voice in her head tells her. How are you supposed to deal with this? Seeing her name out of nowhere!

Another voice interrupts. No! It’s his fault. He’s being too nice; it wasn’t supposed to be like this! He wasn’t supposed to be like this.

She distantly thinks both of the voices are probably right. Because for the second time today, she can feel Jake’s concern from where he’s seated next to her – the auditorium is old, and the seats are packed together, reminiscent of a time with laxer safety regulations – and Rebecca knows that his eyebrows are scrunched together. They do that when he’s confused or worried; she noticed a few weeks after she moved into his place. She can feel his hand land on hers, and his breath is warm against her cheek where he’s leaned in close to check on her. He’s probably asking if she’s okay, asking what’s wrong, asking if she needs anything, shockingly sweet for a man suspected to be the cause of twenty-two deaths, but she can’t focus on him because right there, printed in black and white, is her mother’s name.

Monroe Mathematics Scholarship - $5,000 Given to the graduating senior who completed all the advanced mathematics courses with the highest overall four-year average and is pursuing higher education in medicine, engineering, or education. Established in 2009, this scholarship was created in loving memory of Laura Monroe and is generously donated by an anonymous alumnus. 2023 Winner: Delilah Hermann

“-ecca? Honey?” Her ears come back into play as a hand turns her face to the left. Dazed brown eyes meet worried green ones. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Liar.

The green eyes narrow. “You’re lying. What’s wrong?”

“I- just… flipping through the program and seeing her name sprinkled throughout it right next to the words “graduating senior” got to me. She’s not a baby anymore. She’s going away to school, at a school that’s far away from me. And I’m going to miss her.”

Not a lie. Not the truth either.

“Oh, honey.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder, right hand absentmindedly playing with her hair. “I know, it sucks. It was hard to send all three of my sisters off to school, especially Kayla, and we’re not nearly as close as you two are. I don’t have any words to make it better, but I get it if that helps?”

“Yeah, it helps a little bit.”

“Good. Now!” He pulls her in close, pressing their cheeks together as he dramatically gestures toward the front of the auditorium. “Who exactly is that punk sitting next to my sister-in-law?”

“You don’t recognize him? That’s Travis.”

“Travis Kazansky?” She nods as she settles back into her own seat and firmly closes the program, she still felt dazed, but the weight of his arm was grounding. “Actually, where are the Kazanskys?”

“Sarah mentioned that Tom’s treatment was harder than usual the other day. I think they were planning to stay home so he can rest. Poor Travis. His senior year has been pretty rough.”

“God, he got big. What happened? Why are they sitting together?”

“Well, he went through puberty; that tends to happen to children, especially those that are 18 years old.”

He lets out a sarcastic chuckle, “You’re so funny I almost forgot how to laugh. Why are they sitting together?”

“Probably because they’re friends, Jake.”

“Friends?! How did those two become friends?”

“Delilah was his trig tutor, and they became friends… how ever kids become friends these days. TikTok or whatever. I don’t know anymore.”

“I thought she was taking calculus?”

“She did take calc, but she was a tutor for lower-level math classes this year.” A small smile forms on her face, watching the two teenagers shyly flirt with each other, surrounded by their friends.

“Jesus, you two are smart. I don’t know where you got- Look!” Jake interrupts his own muttering to aggressively point down front again. “Look at that! He put his arm around her!”

“I see that. It’s very sweet.”

He looks incredulous. “Sweet?! That’s not sweet! He’s taking advantage of her!”

“You’re being ridiculous! He puts his arm around her, that is not taking advantage of her. He is a perfectly nice boy!”

“No, he is not “a nice boy” – he’s a teenage boy! He's the starting quarterback and captain of the lacrosse team!”

“Hmm, wow, sounds familiar.”

“Exactly! I know what he’s like because that’s who I was!”

She rolls her eyes at the overprotective brother routine. “And you turned out fairly decent. I think we’ll be okay.”

“No! He’s not good enough for-”

“Jake. What he’s doing is totally harmless. He’s a good kid, and we know his parents very well. I’m not worried about it. And I’m actually glad a cute boy is flirting with Delilah. I didn’t get that, so I’m happy she’s getting to experience it.”

He freezes, looking sideways at her, noting her wistful expression as she watches the younger blonde boy play with her sister’s perfectly curled hair. “No one flirted with you in high school?”

“No, which isn’t surprising. I was a dork and so painfully shy. Besides, no one wanted to be known for being the guy that flirted with the too-smart-for-her-own-good, fat girl.” She shifts in her chair, dislodging his arm from her shoulders, uncomfortable with the vulnerability she had accidentally shown. His response is interrupted by Principal Scott attempting to start the evening, the entire audience cringing at the feedback that reverberates through the hall.

“Well, it’s nice to know some things around here never changed.”

Jake is worried about the woman in his passenger seat; she hasn’t once made fun of his music choice or criticized his bad blinker habits. She’s been staring out the window since they left the restaurant, just watching the bright lights of downtown. “You didn’t cry as much as I thought you would.”

His bad joke works, as it so frequently does with her. “Oh, like you’re so tough! I heard you sniffle when Delilah got the math scholarship.”

“How could I not be proud of her? She won seven awards, and that was the biggest one I saw listed in the program, and she won it!” His eyes go big as he defends himself.

She leans back into her seat, crossing her arms across her chest. “It is a big award, must be a pretty successful alumnus who donated it. Wonder who it is…”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool of them, whoever they are.”

She goes to question him – fairly certain the anonymous alumni donor is him – when he makes an unexpected turn. “What are you doing?”

“Ice cream.”

Her eyes narrow, “I thought you didn’t want dessert?”

“Maybe I just wanted to have some alone time and get a lil something sweet with my something sweet.”

“You said no at the restaurant, that you were “too full” for dessert.” She points out.

“Well, I’ve since changed my mind.” He sniffs. “A man is allowed to do that.”

“Mmmhm. You’ve done that a few times tonight.”

He plays dumb. “What do you mean?”

“When Delilah mentioned that we were going to Morton’s for a celebration dinner in front of Travis, I thought you would blow a gasket. But instead, you invited him to join us; I didn’t even have to nudge you. And you didn’t complain once when you called the restaurant to adjust our reservation.”

“Anything for you, my dear.”

She starts chuckling at him. “Stop it! You are so full of shit. There was nothing! No complaining, no protesting the, the- oh, what did you call him when he put his hand on her back? Oh! No protesting the “devil child” joining our dinner? And by the way, I can’t believe you suggested that Travis drive Delilah home and then stuffed fifty bucks in his hand so they could stop and get ice cream!”

“He’s not a bad kid.”

“Oh, and what pray tell has caused this sudden change of heart, Mr. Seresin?”

“He was very polite and respectful.”

“And?” She pokes his arm, poking him harder when he mumbles something. “I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“…and he called me sir without any prompting.” He backs into a spot, completely avoiding eye contact once in park.

“Oh my god.” Her chuckles turn into full-blown laughter. “You are so ridiculous.”

“You’re so mean to me.” He looks genuinely sad, pouting in the driver’s seat.

She unbuckles and leans across the console, getting in his personal space with a smile bigger than he had ever seen from her. “I thought you liked it when I’m mean to you?”

Her voice is low, sexy, even as she’s mocking him with his own words from earlier in the day. Suddenly his whole body feels hot, and he laughs to deflect, praying to any available deities that his neck isn’t turning red. “You know what?”

“What?”

“Just for that, you can pay for ice cream.” He climbs out of the car, smile growing as he listens to her protests about how she wasn’t even the one that wanted ice cream, so he should be the one to pay. She’s still making her case when they meet at the bumper, but he doesn’t respond, distracted by how she hooked her hand through his elbow without thinking. He stares at the ring adorning her fourth finger, and his heart thumps.

This is what the rest of our lives are going to be like.

She gently pinches the inside of his bicep as she presses into his side to give more room to a young family juggling a stroller and three young kids on a sugar high, wiggling her fingers at the baby propped on his mom’s hip. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Always, my dear.”

tagging: @atarmychick007 | @briseisgone | @bussyslayer333 | @emma8895eb | @hangmanbrainrot | @mayhemmanaged | @myfaveficrecs | @roleycoleyreccenter | @soulmates8 | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @shanimallina87 | @gretagerwigsmuse | @hangmanapologist | @mothdruid | @mouseymagines | @notroosterbradshaw | @princessphilly | @rhettabbotts | @roosterbruiser | @ryebecca | @theharddeck | @withahappyrefrain

If you would like to be added to the tag list for future parts, please send me an ask!

credit for dividers here

[bigbrainkatrina]

In All the Gin Joints in All the World, He Asks For Coco Moo

"Ah, I'm fuming, Sheila," Drew explains as if that is a very normal hobby. "You remember my arch-foe, James Possible?"

She snorts. Arch-foe. Dumb. "Yes," she chuckles.

"This is his daughter," he growls and then says in an annoyingly shrill voice, "She can do anything!"

"Uh huh," she laughs. "Bitter much?"

i. try the coco moo. it's soothing.

You meet the most interesting characters working late nights in Go City. Weekdays especially. That's what draws out the real sad sacks.

She almost laughs at this Poindexter the second he saunters into her bar. Body so thin and springy, he wobbles like a penguin with each kick of the squeaky shoe. His glasses are unflattering at best, crooked and likely snatched from an old man just trying to read his paper in the park. And God — that suit! Navy blue sport coat with a clip-on bowtie from a party supply store.

Poindexter looks so oblivious looking over the seedy tavern with beady eyes, so it surprises her when his voice scratches like a dog bark and he slouches into the bar and spits, "Appletini. More on the apple, less on the tini and in separate glasses please."

She groans and leans towards him. "Uh huh. Well you know what they pay me for, right?"

He shakes his oblong head. "I'm unfamiliar. A genius like me spends most of their time at coffee shops and libraries, not riff-raff like this, but my dear, it has been a day."

Ah, his braggadocio brings out the nasally underpinnings to his deep voice.

"Uh huh," she drawls. "Cool backstory. Anyways, I'm paid to put a lot of apple and a little bit o' tini into a metal shaker and shakey-shake 'em. Then I give it to you. If you're gonna be a fussy cuss, you can just buy the full bottles and I'll give you your own glass and shaker."

The man scratches his chin — wow, his fingers are like a baby's. So tiny she's surprised they can even bend. "Mm, I would — but then Mother would call me and ask why I spent so much on a bottle of tini."

"Your mother?!"

"Mm yes — well — it's my account — she just — erm — has access to it…" he grumbles and his cheeks glow like mulberries.

"It's not actually called tini by the way but alright," she smirks and slides three glasses over to him. Apple, tini, and whatever Poindexter whatever proportions Poindexter wants it to become. "Closed or open tab?"

"Depends — do you have Coco Moo?"

"What?"

"Nyrgh. Closed tab."

He hands her his debit card and while she doesn't do this for everyone — she sneaks a peekaboo at the name because he's just so much. She needs a name to her pain. "Andrew Lipsky?"

"Yes," his eyes nervously scroll elsewhere. "But if you want to see my work, you can internet my pseudonym: Doctor Drakken!"

Internet my name — what the flip is this guy talking about? She almost asks but spots some regulars somehow managing to jam their entire party of four through the same door frame at once. Ugh. She hands the card back to Poindexter and winds up getting slammed with a rush.

Poindexter gets aggravated early into the rush (it's very noisy) and slaps his notebook shut, leaving behind a very specific clump of cash as a tip. When she has time for it, she counts it off and finds that it's a perfect 15%.

Huh.

ii. to prove that i'm brillianter than the lot of them

If you asked her why exactly he likes her joint so much, she could not even fake a response. But Poindexter struts in every night, at least every night she works. She's a part-timer after all. Monday through Thursday, eight to two thirty AM with one half hour break at eleven. All her other weekday time is devoted to studying — she's a sophomore at Go City U — paying through the nose to get herself a teaching degree so she doesn't need a side hustle anymore.

Well — her weekend life isn't really a side hustle. Her dumb lummox of a brother calls it that — she calls it a charity case. She's actually not that into it — crime fighting that is — but she does have superpowers and regrettably loves violence — so it'd be weird if she wasn't out there saving the world.

It's just part time anywho.

Her big brother though? He wants her to quit the bartending gig and drop out of college because duh um Shego! the city needs you blagh gurmp I'm really stupid. So not happening. Unlike her brothers who never questioned their reality, she has direction. She studies hard and works for those tips because one day — she's blowing this joint. No more superhero antics for her.

God, she's a freakin' superhero. That'll never roll right off the tongue. But yep, she's got the key to the city and everything. You already know who she is. The moody green one from Team Go. And she's the only one with her head on straight. Mego, Wego, Hego — God, she can't believe she let them call her Shego.

To be fair, her pitches — Fuckgo, Shitgo, Pissgo — though brilliant names, were a little juvenile and she should have known better.

iii. the traditional captive - captor relationship

Poindexter ends up being such a character. Beyond that pocket protectin' exterior — he is committed to being a regular at this bar, though he still hasn't decided on his drink yet. But he always ventures to see if the bar has introduced Coco Moo yet, the answer always being no.

So every night is a new concoction. Even an apple with only a bit o' tini is too much for the guy to stomach. She doesn't get what the appeal is for him but he always shows up, and he always sits in the same seat and takes up three other stools with his backpack and binders.

When she has time, she hears him out. He loves the sound of his own voice and over time, his rants become an anthology of all the times that people laughed him out of something. Like the time the kids laughed him off the four square court. Or the time he got laughed off stage in a high school performance of The Tragedy of Julius Caesar. Or the time James Possible laughed him out of college.

Yes, yes. James Possible. She has no idea who that schlub is but he comes up a lot. James Possible this and James Possible that, ugh. She starts to hate James Possible too, if only for making a neat bookends to Poindexter's pathetic life of rejection.

It's about a month into him coming to her bar that he officially becomes a regular. He struts in as always and her coworker elbows her in the ribs. "God, I hate that guy," the coworker growls. "He never fucking tips."

Huh. Weird.

She doesn't know what to say because whenever she serves him, Drew tips a solid 25%.

iv. fo'sheezy it's off the heezy

It's not every night you come out from the kitchen and find that your favorite customer has turned blue, and yet here we are.

He doesn't even seem stressed out about it. No, he's just leafing through the drink menu as always, trying to find something (that regrettably isn't Coco Moo) that could possibly give him some semblance of happiness.

She almost wonders if he's even noticed his new look but she knows she should give him more credit, so she hangs in the back kitchen for a little bit until she can think of a joke. Because something about him being blue is making her anxious, she is so not coming out until she can properly defuse the whole thing.

After ten minutes, she decides to go with the first joke she came up with, even though that now feels stale and disingenuine. But she sells it as an off-the-cuff gag when she leans in and snarks, "Wow. Violet Beauregarde over here, huh?"

Drew looks over his glasses and slides them back up. "Ha ha. And that's not a funny ha ha...but, — mhrm, it is a funny story. You see — it was a Tuesday…"

She rolls her eyes. "Eh, I'm good on storytime." Drew's smile falters and for a moment he actually seems disappointed. But no — he loves it when she kicks his teeth in like that. It's probably because his mom was too nice to him.

There's a quick flush of lime across her own cheeks but she tosses it off. "By the way, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" he licks his lips.

She holds up two fingers and retreats back to the kitchen, already biting her lip. She really doesn't want to go through with this but it's too late now. There's a simmering pot of homemade hot chocolate waiting for her — or rather, him.

She's embarrassed to say but she actually came in early to prepare this: two cups of whole milk, a quarter cup of sugar, two tablespoons of cocoa powder, a cup of chocolate chips, a teaspoon of vanilla extract, and a cinnamon stick. Simmering for hours with the occasional stir. She used the extra time to power through her homework much to the chagrin of the kitchen staff but no one dared give her any lip — she was scary as Hell after all.

She pops out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs in hand and slides one in front of Drew. His gasp of joy ("COCO MOO?!") is so endearingly shrill she can't help but stare as he slurps the drink all over his face. His eyes shine as his lips purse inward, a chocolate mustache spread across his apelike maw. He leans in and raises an eyebrow to her and very cooly says three words that shake her to the core. "You do care."

She fails to fight off an authentic smile and sits across him. They clink mugs and bottoms up.

v. i'm going to open up a can of freak on all of you

Aviarius is always up to some nonsense. Bird Boy says he's taking over the world but she can never quite make the connection as to how his actions will tangibly lead to absolute, infallible power. Hego says that's because she has no imagination, but really it's because their arch-foe is dumber than a sack of bricks. But Hego won't hear it. Dude's positively convinced that Aviarius is Public Enemy #1.

But will her brother kill the dastardly foe? No, of course not. Moral high ground and all that. Hego has all the power in the world and uses it for — what exactly? Sure, big man likes to pin the baddie to the ground and lecture him on the differences between right and wrong — but...big picture?

That's nothing.

Aviarius is deluded to think that he'll actually conquer the world. There's a few months where she's pretty sure he's in on the joke — but no he's dead serious. He's as career about this as Hego.

So every Sunday morning Aviarius pops up and robs a bank acting like this is it — his big break. And Hego takes it so seriously, and of course Team Go downs the bird once again and locks him up in the pokey. Yet somehow the cops are dumber than the villains and Aviarius flies again.

And Hego is scandalized! Aviarius boasts and brags as if a prison escape actually means something nowadays — though it's the equivalent of climbing out of the baby crib.

God, is there anyone in this city with two brain cells to rub together?

So she does something a little — ah — morally iffy? She — erm — she sabotages a classic Aviarius caper. Yes, she lets him get away. Because fuck it, why not. Possible change in the routine, and an opportunity for Hego to understand how fruitless this rivalry is.

"My Gods," Hego is shaken to the core as he watches Aviarius' silhouette dissolve in the sunlight. "We — we failed the planet. Team Go. We must not rest until we stop Aviarius. It could be this very moment that the mad man takes over the world."

She rolls her eyes and grabs her brother's burly shoulder. "Hey."

"Oh don't give me that look Shego!" Hego growls. "You'll see! You'll be talking about him in your political science class tomorrow! The ramifications of what it's like to live under a totalitarian mastermind!"

"Hego!" her voice catches in her throat. Are they really doing this right now? "Aviarius is an idiot who ran off with a big bag of money but guess what? Everyone knows his ugly mug! You think he can go around spending any of that? No! Chill. Out."

Hego makes to say something but instead sniffles. His bulking frame folds in on itself and he storms off.

Guess not. Today's not the day it implodes. She feels the metaphorical blood dripping from her mouth and wishes there was more of a smackdown in her town….

She feels bad — watching the Big Kahuna drag a thick arm across his nosey-wosey to wipe away the tears and snot. This is actually her fault after all. She sabotaged the mission and now she's starting to wonder what possibly motivated her to allow that.

It's just — petty. She's petty and has some work to do.

vi. ah, my teenage foe

It's been a month since Aviarius' hollow victory and surprise surprise — nothing of any significance happens. Except Coco Moo is officially added to the menu at the bar. While the drink is obviously cheaper than anything else on the menu, Poindexter tips tremendous percentages that mirror the money she used to get off him when he was weaning into over-priced self-destruction.

But this night — the game changes a little. Poindexter doesn't have much to talk about and in fact, he hasn't even brought his notebooks; his backpack is still strapped tight to his blazer.

This is the first night he asks for the Wi-Fi password and it take her a few minutes to actually find it somewhere in the employee handbook. He spends hours pouring over his laptop, tossing headphones on when the late night riff raff storms in to make a ruckus. She tries to make small talk with him but he merely grumbles indecipherable words like "Uhrm...nyrgh…" so she gives it a rest until her lunch break.

Ever since she started working here, she used her lunch breaks to go out for a smoke break and fit in some reading for school — and even though finals are coming up — she uses the half hour to slide onto the stool besides Drew. But he's too focused to even notice her, so she peers over his shoulder.

Kim Possible: She Can Do Anything!

She raises an eyebrow and looks over the site. It's some twelve year old cheerleader who is apparently saving the world with this dumb looking kid and his naked mole rat. Also available for babysitting gigs?

Weird.

The name too. Kim Possible. Why does that sound familiar?

"Yo, Doctor D!" she finally says.

Drew yelps and turns to face her, his blush is purple now because of the perma-blue skin. Super weird but she's also used to it. "Um...hello Sheila."

"You're not using our Wi-Fi to look at porn are you?"

"Huh? No! Wh—what is porn actually? Perhaps I am using it for that…"

She stares at him for so long and he doesn't even flinch, so she is forced to put a pin on that and steam ahead. "Don't worry about it. But um...seriously, what are you doing?"

"Ah, I'm fuming, Sheila," Drew explains as if that is a very normal hobby. "You remember my arch-foe, James Possible?"

She snorts. Arch-foe. Dumb. "Yes," she chuckles.

"This is his daughter," he growls and then says in an annoyingly shrill voice, "She can do anything!"

"Uh huh," she laughs. "Bitter much?"

Drew's face drops and he blushes. "Well my hubbub with James was a formative experience for me and to see his daughter do so well — out of sheer luck at that — "

He grumbles some other things but she stays hung up on the sheer luck part because that's a weird thing to say. So she asks him about it.

"Mm," Drew pauses and purses his lips. "I have a theory — see — this site is called kimpossible.com yes? Well — there's also impossible.com — for Team Impossible — you've heard of them I trust?"

Is it weird for a bartender to have heard of Team Impossible? Maybe? But of course she knows them and fuck it, she actually likes Drew so she tells the truth and nods. Strange she has to mull that over for so long, usually she's more knee-jerk in conversations, but something about Drew makes her want to be careful. Because this friendship might actually mean something one day.

Drew goes on to explain his theory that Kim Possible's first contact was actually trying to reach out to Team Impossible but made a typo...fascinating stuff really. Makes sense too, it's just one letter off.

But she can't stop thinking about Team Impossible…see, it was a week ago that she met them; it was for an interview. She likes their style, this whole capitalist heroism angle. Charging people for their services. Makes sense. The lack of a paycheck is why she can't stomach taking time for Team Go anymore. Freakin' bartending at minimum wage pays the bills. Not superhero antics. Those don't do her any favors. Hego refuses to accept any payment. Because of morals.

What freakin' ever.

Team Impossible turn her down though. They give her some corporate schlock about how their team isn't a good fit for her but she sees right through them; the boys' club just doesn't want to split the cut with her. Well. Okay. They will rue the day they — ugh. She's starting to internally rant like Doctor D.

By the end of the conversation, she's actually proud of Little Kimmie for knocking Team Impossible down a peg. But on the flippity, she hates this brat because once again, a hero who doesn't accept payment is storming the scene and that makes it harder for gals like her….

Gals who just want to put a roof over their head.

vii. has society gone completely to seed

She hates ceremonies — like, she already accomplished the thing, why does she have to show off? It's done. She's not a student anymore, she's alumni. Summa cum laude baby.

And see — now she's annoyed. She wouldn't have been annoyed if she didn't have to doll up for this dumb thing but guess what? She paid for extra tickets and guess who decided not to come anyways? Ah-yup-yup. There's an empty metal chair with a reserved sign over it. She's not stupid; she can tell that the Wegos duplicated themselves to fill out their row.

God fucking damn you Hego.

Among the black storm of everyone throwing tasseled caps in the air she peaces out. Enough is enough. "Where is he?" she growls at Mego.

Mego throws his hands up. "Listen, I don't want a fight right now — how about we just take you out and celebrate?"

"No. Where. Is. He?"

Mego looks aside and grumbles something. Sounds like Aviarius. Unfuckingbelievable. She snarls and spits. "Fuck him," she says coldly. "Seriously. Fuck him."

"I know, he's being a bit of a bonehead — " Mego starts to say.

" — a bit?"

"Okay, a lot of bonehead, I dunno," Mego shrugs. "Fuck, don't take it out on me. Listen if you want to fight let's just do it and get it over with, okay? You can yell and scream all you want right now, but when we're done we're going out — and we're not gonna talk about this — and we're gonna get fucked up. It'll be fun."

There's a long pause. "Should we go home?" the Wegos ask together.

"Yes," she and Mego say together.

After the twins depart, Mego looks her right in the eye. "Hego wants you to exchange your college hours for Team Go hours — "

" — no. I've already committed that time to the bar."

"To the bar?" Mego doesn't mean to sound judgmental but oho — he's really going through the motions of it. "I thought you wanted to be a teacher."

"Yes — what?! It's my job you ass — just because you decided to freeload in Go Tower and not worry about actually trying — you know what? Fuck it. I don't care."

It's not the first time a conversation between them has gone like this, and it's not the last, so Mego doesn't bother. They part ways and she feels kind of gross. He does too, because she's right. She's always been right, but it's easier to call her a crazy bitch and be done with it. But when the chips are down? No duh — Team Go is squandering on borrowed time.

She's shaking for some reason. It's weird. She's quit Team Go like seventeen times — oddly enough she's never thrown in the towel when Hego's around. Only with Mego, whom she actually kind of likes. And she always comes back. Be it a day or a few weeks, she comes back, ready to brawl.

This time though, it takes three months for her to return.

viii. do you think that I'm evil

"Nyrgh…"

"What are you grumbling about tonight? You're kinda pissing me off."

Drew looks up, looking worse than ever. He used to have such good posture — now he's a hunched over lunatic with darting eyes. "Demenz," he says simply.

"Oh God, what is it this time?" she shakes her head. "Did he call you Violet Beauregarde? Because you can tell him I came up with that joke three years ago."

"No, he hasn't quite found his nickname for me yet fortunately — " Drew ponders but shrugs it off. "Demenz invented the weather disruptor machine I've been working on."

"So? He invented it." Drew doesn't even bat an eye so she has to continue her lecture. "He obviously came up with it before you did, if that's what you're implying."

"Ah!" Drew waves a finger in the air. "I did not steal from him! No! I — I invented it too! You see, I came up with the concept independently!"

"Mhm," she smiles wryly.

"He can just build faster because he has an army of henchmen. It's not fair!" he pouts.

Yep. There it is. Another red flag. Drew's been throwing up a lot of them lately; she already knows he's a mad scientist aspiring to be a wacked out supervillain, but he's way too much of a softy for that field. She almost wants to sit Drew down and tell him the honest-to-god truth: that she is a superhero. Then she can give him some real talk pointers on how to get his act together.

Because this Kim Possible kid now? She's huge. She like saved the world six times or something last week. Like she's already graduated from fighting off goons like Aviarius. If Drew — Drakken — wants to compete — then he needs to let go of this stupid James Possible grudge and actually do the work.

"You know Doctor D," she says while wiping off a dusty glass. "You should just steal the weather gizmo from him if you want it that bad."

"Hm?"

"Steal it! You know — spooky evil stuff."

"Aaaaaah…evil..." Drew mulls it over and pulls back his stupid pompadour into a ragged ponytail. "Stealing, huh? Well — I prefer to call that outsourcing and either way, I don't have the manpower to do that, I'm a one-man band."

And that's the end of that for some time.

ix. you think you're all that

Drew gets banned from the bar one night. She's not even there to see it. Apparently Drew comes in with Demenz for drinks on a night she wasn't working and they got into a bit of a spat. Something about Dementor calling him the Genie from Aladdin, and Drew calling Dementor Winnie the Pooh.

Yeah. Dumb. Drew could have cooked up something better. He really needs to spend more time journaling so he can be faster on the uptake.

But there's a spat and that spat becomes a brawl. Everyone starts smashing things and at the center of it is her snivelling Poindexter. It's nights like these that she wishes she helped him out with the whole evil thing because Jesus Christ — someone beats the tar out of him. Yeah. A glass shatters across Drew's face and those splintered shards dig deep. He's got this gnarly scar running down his cheek, leading from the corner of his eye.

Honestly, he got off easy. With the mouth on him it's a wonder he didn't get into more trouble...but yeah, someone got the drop on him and now — that villainy career? It's probably over now. Poindexter doesn't have the moxie. How can he not see that by now?

She feels sad for him. Not enough to go visit him at the hospital but — there was — potential? He had this spark and it could have been fun but now...

...now she's catching herself brewing Drew's Coco Moo. She stops when she realizes he's not coming. She considers drinking it alone but pours it out into the sink.

x. but you're not

By day, she's a superhero. By night, she's a bartender. And every moment in between she's hungry.

She's addicted to job applications. At first she is very selective on what she applies for but there aren't any biters. When she does get lucky enough to score an interview, she hits the employers with everything she's got and somehow never gets a call back. Not even an email. So after some desperate months of that, she just applies everywhere.

She remodels her resume and draws up cover letters as if she's a full time writer. She can sell a book out of her stupid please hire me diatribes. But nothing seems to land and after six months of ten applications a day with no interviews — she gives up.

Because fuck it. It's not her that's the problem, it's the world that doesn't get when they're seeing gold and she's not going to wait up anymore.

So she becomes full time at the bar for some reason. She doesn't know why. Everyone she started with four years ago has moved on to bigger and better things — probably — she just kind of assumes those people are happier than her. The only thing that's consistent are the regulars — aside from Doctor D.

She thinks about him more often than she'd like to admit. She gazes at the door when she punches in, wondering if they'll push open to reveal that ungodly strut he always marched in with. Months pass by as if they're nothing and he never returns.

xi. i do think of us as kind of an evil family

The only reason they're at the chemical labs that night is because Aviarius and Mathter are teaming up to do — something. Who cares anymore. She just shows up because it's an opportunity for her to beat the crap out of someone.

But while she's sneaking around, she sees a man crouched over a safe. He's grumbling very loudly and is apparently deaf because he doesn't hear her footsteps pattering across the metal girder.

Gross, dry black hair, rattail, awful posture, tiny digits, and Violet Beauregarde skin peeping past the high-collar of his coat — oh God.

She squats down and watches him fuck up the safe combination again. He pulls out a notebook and reads off the numbers out loud. "Thirty six...twenty one...four. What — what am I doing wrong?"

She can't hold it anymore; it's like watching your teenager try to march out the door in that outfit. Like — honey no.

"Seriously?" she laughs.

You can hear a pin drop. For a second. And then you can't. Because Doctor Drakken shrieks and scrabbles away, but she grabs him by the boot and he trips into the safe. He looks at her and scrunches into a fetal position almost. Then he blinks and remembers her. "You're — you're — whatsername — the girl from the bar!"

She rolls her eyes but forgives him. Doctor D's not good with names. At least for people he actually likes.

"You're — " he stutters. "A superhero!"

She just grins and lets him process it all on his own.

"You're — you're Shego! Oh that makes sense — your name is Sheila Go, isn't it? I don't know how I didn't get that."

"Eh, most people don't somehow. Everyone in this city's an idiot so…."

"Mm, well I'm no idiot, I'm a genius!" Drakken declares. "I just seem to have copied the safe combination down wrong.

She rolls her eyes. "Are you kidding me with that? Dude, Doctor D, you never use the combination. Those change all the time — you want to bring the equipment — here. Move over."

Her fist lights up into a brilliant emerald and Drakken needs no reminding that he better back up. Her hand closes in on the safe and the metal immediately lights up at the intensity. It's hard to hold a flare this long — but for him? For him it's kinda worth it. So she drags her hand through the safe until she burns a little hole out and pow — the metal gap ker-thunks to the floor.

"So — you're helping me then?" he asks.

Her eyes widen a little. "I guess I am, huh?"

There's such an uncomfortably long silence that it almost makes more sense to kiss him than do what she is about to do.

"I don't want to do Team Go anymore, it's dumb," she shrugs, trying to play it cool. It's not like these thoughts have been tormenting her for years or anything.

"Ah, and I do need an assistant," Drakken grins something surprisingly charming. It's not like he's been a loser with no friends except the bartender ever since James Possible got him kicked out of college.

"I'm def not your assistant, but I'll do with partners."

"Sidekick?"

"Partners."

"Henchwoman?"

"No. Partners."

Drakken eyes her as if any second the cameras are about to swarm him from all over and broadcast his naivete and gullibility all across America. But no one comes.

"We'll stop you Aviarius!" Hego proclaims from waaaay across the lab, saying it with the relish of an actor who can deliver a line one hundred times and somehow always keep it fresh. "Even if it's the last thing I do."

She snaps and grabs his tiny hands, making the decision for him, rocking his arm up and down. "We'll talk logistics and titles later — let's steal the cash before my brother trounces that idiot. Drakken's your monicker right?" She wants it to sound like she didn't already know that — but she's no phony. Not like Hego. And Drakken sees right through the I-don't-give-a-fuck-facade.

He nods along anywho. Because he likes the banter.

She grins. "Good. Doctor Drakken and Shego. I like it. Kinda like Frankenstein and Igor — "

Drakken raises a finger to make the exact same point that just came to her mind.

"So not a lab assistant," she shuts that down fast and laughs as he droops like a rapidly wilting flower. "But we're going to make a big time villain out of you, Doctor."

He smiles and finally grips her hand back.

"Partners," they say together.

[milawritesstuff]

I really hope pedri get break and get better

And gavi needs to calm down too He ie on fire 🤯

It’s being reported a thigh injury 😬 which I’m hopeful won’t be too bad. We can sit him out for the match against Cadiz with that lead on Real. I think we definitely need him back for next Thursday at Old Trafford.

Gavi is now suspended for that next match against ManU. 🙄

Also yes I absolutely adore futbol and will totally discuss with you if you want lol. Writing about my faves is just a second hustle to that.

[taleswrittena]

The Heck family home was a whirlwind of activity on that typical morning. Frankie Heck, the indomitable matriarch, found herself juggling a multitude of tasks while her children hustled about, preparing for another day of school. Amidst the chaos, Sue Heck, the ever-aspiring majorette, twirled her baton with a mixture of nerves and hope.

"How do I look?" Sue asked, her eyes scanning her siblings for any sign of approval. "I can take it. I need some constructive criticism. Tryouts are on Thursday."

Axl, the mischievous older brother, couldn't resist injecting his own brand of humour into the situation. "You know what would really impress the judges? If you lit the ends on fire like they do in Hawaii," he suggested, a smirk playing on his lips.

Sue, her determination shining through, dismissed Axl's playful suggestion. "This is a serious sport, Axl. They don't just let anyone wear the white patent leather boots."

In her earnest attempt to demonstrate her baton skills, Sue's grip faltered, and her beloved baton went flying, crashing into an unsuspecting object in the nearby breakfast room. Axl, the ever-optimistic dreamer, couldn't help but express his disappointment.

"Aw, man, that would've been so much cooler if it was on fire," he lamented.

Frankie, ever the multitasking queen, swiftly made her way towards Sue, concern etched on her face. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I thought you were babysitting for the Craigs on Thursday night," she said, her voice a mix of worry and practicality.

Sue's face fell as she realized her commitment clashed with her aspirations. "Oh right. I'm gonna have to cancel," she admitted reluctantly.

Frankie, mindful of their tight finances, raised an eyebrow. "You sure that's a good idea, honey? I'm just saying we don't know what'll happen with the majorettes, but if you go babysitting, at least you know you'll have six dollars."

Undeterred by her mother's concerns, Sue voiced her determination. "Mom, with the swine flu outbreak, I have a real shot this year. A lot of good people are down."

Her attention then shifted to Brick, the youngest member of the family, who sat quietly at the table, engrossed in a book. Notably, he wore a ladies' garden party hat atop his head.

"Brick?" Frankie inquired, momentarily puzzled by the sight. "Oh, right. Hat Day next week. Well, good job being ahead of schedule. That's definitely a crazy hat."

Brick, his mind consumed by the desire for attention, suddenly realized his faux pas. "It's Hat Day next week? Oh no, I need a hat," he muttered, a hint of panic creeping into his voice.

Frankie, caught off guard by Brick's revelation, struggled to find the right words. "Uh... Brick?" she stammered, her mind racing for a solution.

"This isn't for Hat Day. That would be embarrassing," Brick confessed, his vulnerability on display. "I just wanted people to pay attention to me at breakfast. Yesterday, none of you said a single word to me."

With the conversation shifting gears, Frankie's attention returned to Axl, her hopes pinned on him fulfilling his responsibilities.

"Axl, you're coming home right after school to work on your Aztec paper, right?" Frankie questioned, her tone firm, yet tinged with a hint of doubt.

Axl, feeling the weight of his impending assignment, brushed off his mother's reminder with a hint of annoyance. "God. Chill. I'm on it," he replied, attempting to project confidence.

Unfazed, Frankie plucked a sheet of paper from Axl's neglected textbook, her eyes scanning the requirements. "Are you?" she probed, her voice laden with skepticism. "Twelve to fifteen pages, double-spaced, with no fewer than six color charts or graphs, bound in an Oxford ready-clip clear-front report cover. Mr. Gottlieb's tough. He's not going to pass you just so you can play basketball."

Axl, keen to shift the blame away from himself, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, parents need to talk to him. He has no school spirit," he retorted, his frustration with authority simmering beneath the surface.

Frankie, well aware of the assignment's significance, emphasized its weight on Axl's overall grade. "Axl, this is 40 percent of your grade. You do get that's almost half, right? 'Cause I remember you were also 'on it' when you got that D in math," she admonished, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and exasperation.

Defiant, Axl pushed back, his attempts at independence falling short. "The paper's not even due for a week. God, you treat me like a little kid. I'm practically an adult," he protested, his frustration seeping into his voice.

Frankie, refusing to yield, listed the countless ways in which Axl still relied on her. "In what way? You don't make your own food, you don't buy your own clothes, you don't even remember to flush the toilet unless I remind you," she countered, her voice filled with maternal wisdom.

Undeterred, Axl clung to the notion of his impending adulthood. "I'm almost old enough to go to war," he declared, his words filled with a mix of bravado and insecurity.

Frankie, never one to miss an opportunity for humor, quickly dismissed his claim. "Not if we want to win, you're not," she quipped, a touch of sarcasm lacing her voice.

Amidst the familial tension, Mike, the sturdy father figure, made his entrance, observing the exchange with a measured gaze.

Axl, seeking solace, turned to his father, seeking an ally in his struggle. "Dad, how do you live with her?" he asked, exasperation coloring his words.

Mike, a calm and practical presence, offered a simple explanation. "I live with her by doing what she says. You will do the same," he advised, his tone reflecting both the weight of experience and the inevitability of their dynamic.

Unable to contain his frustrations any longer, Axl directed his ire squarely at Frankie. "God, you are so annoying! You just live to make me miserable!" he exclaimed, his words carrying a mixture of hurt and defiance.

With Axl storming off in a huff, Frankie turned to Mike, her frustrations evident. Seeking solace in her partner's presence, she found solace in his reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Maybe we should call that one a write-off and just focus on the others," Mike suggested, his voice a soothing balm in the midst of familial discord.

And so, the Heck family's morning unfolded with its usual chaos, their individual battles and dreams weaving together in a tapestry of love, frustration, and the unbreakable bonds that held them together through the ups and downs of everyday life.

IM??? WHAT IS THIS? WHERE IS THIS FROM?? DID YOU JUST RANDOMLY WRITE THIS?? HELP???

[a2-4]

Looking for an urban oasis to escape the hustle and bustle of city life? Look no further than our clean, cozy, and affordable vacation condos located in the shopping center of Pasay city.

Our stylish and well-appointed rooms offer a comfortable retreat from the bustling streets below, but the real highlight is the stunning views of the city skyline and beautifully landscaped interiors of Shore Residences. With a perfect blend of city convenience and relaxation, our guests can enjoy the best of both worlds.

Our prime location also puts you just steps away from the city's top attractions, including casinos, theme parks, museums and shopping destinations, so you can explore everything the city has to offer without ever straying too far.

Please take a look at our standardized rates for the rooms:

Balcony-view Rooms: (Sunday night to Thursday night) P2500

(Friday night and Saturday night) P2800

Pool-side Room: (Sunday night to Thursday night) P3200

(Friday night and Saturday night) P3500

Feel free to contact us and book your next holiday!

[ugly-anastasia]

Thursday, November 16 – Character #Inspo: Find five existing fictional characters who remind you of your character (or who inspired your character). Post two pieces of inspiration from each character (A gif, a quote, a video clip, a screenshot) and write a little bit about how that character relates to your own.

someth wrong with her <3 an annie manifesto

(spoilers for Glass Onion, Such a Fun Age, Yellowjackets, Succession, and The White Lotus below)

It's no secret that I love unhinged women like this is barely scratching the surface of my favorite characters that inspire Annie but I tried to narrow it down for this.

Birdie Jay from Glass Onion

This is kind of a goofier one, but I loved this character in Glass Onion. I read something once about how Knives Out is about criticizing old money rich people and Glass Onion is about criticizing the new-money-hustle-culture-opportunist type of rich person. I think that's very true, and a lot of Glass Onion is about exposing the lie that these people have something very special and genius about them when in reality they are often employing a combination of luck, good looks, charisma, useful connections, and a willingness to screw people over at times.

Birdie is less sinister and more... kind of stupid. And while I do think Annie is very smart in her own way, she can be very ignorant about things that get her into a lot of trouble. I thought the "sweatshops" thing was hilarious and so Annie— a girlboss building an empire in the fashion space, but she doesn't even know what a sweatshop is. As for the header image, I thought that scene was very fitting as well! Like Annie, Birdie deals with criticism by telling herself this story that other people simply don't understand, that she's just misunderstood and someday they'll all see. I do think that Annie is misunderstood by her peers at times, but that doesn't excuse her behavior and it definitely doesn't make her a visionary lol.

2. Alix Chamberlain/Alex Murphy from Such a Fun Age

This is one of the characters who inspired Annie to begin with. (As a side note, I think it's wild that this book came out in 2019 and now in 2023 the influencer girlboss protagonist shares names with 2 Internet it girls of the 2020s lol). For those who haven't read it, the plot of this book is kind of complicated but it's basically about the misguided ways that white people often respond to racism and sometimes appropriate dialogues about race for their own ends which often undermines movements. It's also largely about hustle culture and liberal white feminism and so all of these things were percolating in my brain when I wrote Annie.

As you can see from the heading, the protagonist, Alix, who is the influencer girlboss in question, changes her name from Alex to Alix, and "Chamberlain" is her husband's last name when she gets married. This is part of what inspired me to have Annie go by Annie instead of Anastasia; Alix did this to try and seem more unique and sophisticated while Annie did it to try and sound more American.

I also wanted to address the quote I put in the header, which is more of a general thing about the character than a specific moment. Like Birdie, Alix is a character who tells herself a lot of stories to protect herself against criticism. In Alix's case, it's also about denying that she's harmed people, because even to herself she can't handle that guilt.

3. Misty Quigley from Yellowjackets

Misty <3 We're moving into real Unhinged Lady territory here. I actually got Jackie on that character quiz, which you would expect from a character who's kind of a queen bee, but I think what's important here is that Annie isn't a queen bee, she's just trying really hard to be. Misty is the prototypical nerd, but she fights her way into the spaces she wants to be in through sheer force of will. She doesn't play soccer, but she gets on the team by becoming the equipment manager. And in the wilderness, she makes herself indispensable through her medical knowledge.

I chose Misty's Citizen Detective moment because I thought it tied in with Annie's arc on the Squire, how both of them are nosy but it's mostly because they are lonely and want to be a part of something. I also wanted to highlight this moment because Annie can be quite aggressive and borderline violent sometimes lol and I think she gets a lot of joy out of "coaching" someone the way she sometimes gives Toby pep talks.

4. Siobhan "Shiv" Roy from Succession

Look you knew I was gonna talk about Shivvy didn't you? The scene I picked is from a really intense fight she's having with Tom, they're like literally on the verge of breaking up because due to complicated plot things Tom has betrayed Shiv and they just weren't talking about it but now they're finally airing all of it out there. And they get to the end and Shiv, who has been saying really horrible things to Tom, just breaks down and says, "Well, that's not a very nice thing to say, is it?" It's in response to Tom saying she wouldn't make a good mother.

And I think this moment is so Annie because she really does put on this tough girl energy, and once in a while she even fake cries to get what she wants, but deep down, she is just a sensitive, wounded person and if you hit her in the right place and at the right time she will break down. Which leads me also to point out episode 4.1 when she is scheduling breaks in her schedule to cry and insisting to her brothers that she is fine meanwhile her husband and father are conspiring against each other together to screw her over further if she goes through with divorcing Tom. Because she is that averse to show people her true feelings! And yet she cannot push them down forever!

5. Daphne Sullivan, The White Lotus

The thing I loved about the Sullivans is that when you meet them, you think they are just your typical vapid rich people, and then you realize they have an incredibly fucked-up relationship, and then you think maybe they're kind of onto something in a weird way (is that bad to say lol). Daphne continues this thread of the tough-girl-who's above-needing-love, and I think her weird little jealousy game with her husband is the perfect example of that.

But I also think, like the other examples, deep down under the surface of Daphne is a sad, romantic person who does want love, and I think in the iconic moment before she leads Will off to the cave where they ostensibly hook up, her heart does break to learn that her husband may have slept with Harper. Partially because Harper has betrayed her, but also partially because maybe she thought this time would be different. But she holds her tears in and gets her revenge, and that's kind of Annie's whole thing.

[davidpwilson2564]

Bloglet

Monday, July 31, 2023

Note: Pee Wee Herman dies. 70. Cancer. Thinking back on his movie, "Pee Wee's Great Adventure"...that became a cult classic.

Bus to the East Side (have to see Dr. N, the "other" eye doc). On Third Ave groups of young Blacks, hustling weed. Sampling it. Bringing their stuff to upscale neighborhoods.

My visit to Dr. N a success. I tell him I am almost retired. Tell him I'm contemplating being a greeter at Walmart. He's a music enthusiast and amateur trumpet player. We talk about the "Real Book"...an essential for finding all the good jazz tunes. He says his two loves are music and eye surgery (!). (It is the latter that pays the bills. Frank Zappa is said to have said "Jazz is the music of unemployment.")

On leaving, my eyes having been dialated I suffer from the sun glare,I have a rough time...proceed carefully. At last home. And happy to be. In time my eyes are back to normal.

Tuesday, August 1, 2023

Trump indicted in Jan 6 case. Jack Smith makes his pronoucement. Georgia and hush money and E. Jean Carroll, etc. will have to wait. Trump is supposed to show up on Thursday. He's a chicken; I can't imagine his showing up. This story takes over the news. Is hashed and rehashed. Trump, on his "site"...Truth Social (you have to love this name), says it's like Nazi Germany. His new lawyer rants about freedom of speech. ("If they can do this to an ex-president they can do it anyone," etc.) Trumpers are up in arms. Republicans, for the most part, are remaining silent. (Not Chris Christie. He's piling on.)

It is reported that thus far this year DJT has spent twenty million dollars on legal fees. Going through the donations that gullible followers have submitted.

As they say: Watch this space.