#triple bunk beds for kids

[plushfurniture]

[mkfurnishing]

Featuring Kids Triple Bunk Bed (90 cm x 190 cm), this bunk bed also has four drawers on the stairs, and two large drawers under the lower beds for storage. In the options above, you can choose the colour of the drawer fronts to suit your room.

In order to accommodate the stairs on the bed, the top bunk's mattress is 35cm longer than a standard single mattress. The space at the end of the mattress has a small shelf for storage.

Between the two lower beds, there is additional space for storage. Some previous customers have used this space for storage boxes or night lights.

[little-twig]

Are Triple Bunk Beds Safe For Kids？

Are Triple Bunk Beds Safe For Kids？

Are triple bunk beds safe for kids? There are many parents who are struggling to make a decision on whether or not to buy a triple bunk bed for their kids. Triple bunk beds are a great way to increase the sleeping area of your children, but they are also a great way to increase the risk of injury. Read our full report on the safety of triple bunk beds for kids to make an informed decision. We…

[greatestexpectationss]

A Quiet Moment

Luke Castellan x Fem!Daughter of Persephone Reader

Description: You and Luke get a rare quiet moment in Cabin 11 accompanied by some troubling thoughts. Luke's always there to make you feel better and you know him better than anyone else.

Can be read as a stand-alone or part 2 to Poison Ivy

Warnings: mentions of alcoholism, mentions of mental health (season depression), making out, I think thats it?? Also not edited sorry!!!!!!!

“Luke, this is not good,” you’re pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation. The cabin is in total disarray, you’d left Luke and a majority of other campers there to begin to clean it while you helped the Demeter kids in the Strawberry fields. You’d come back to, though a smaller mess, a mess nevertheless. 

 Cabin inspections are later tomorrow afternoon, and you can already tell the Hermes cabin is so totally screwed. Cabin 11 is chaotic as always, to be fair it isn’t Luke’s fault, Hermes houses his children, unclaimed children, and minor gods' children alike. As a child of Persephone, you’ve only ever known the Hermes cabin as home other than the few nights you’ve spent in the Demeter cabin with your friend Katie, you fit in there as a child of Persephone and your power of chlorekensis makes you fit right in. Chiron in a desperate attempt to make more room in the Hermes had asked you if you’d like to move into the Demeter cabin permanently. You’d told him no, Luke needed your help managing the campers, but you’re sorely regretting it now. 

Your boyfriend pouts at you from his bunk where he’d collapse in exasperated exhaustion just moments before you’d return. “This whole thing is rigged, how’re we expected to be clean, we’ve got like triple the campers?” he groans. Then he sits up on his elbows eyeing you up and down. You’ve discarded your camp half-blood t-shirt and are left in your forest green spaghetti strap and dark denim shorts. He smiles like he’s won the whole damn lottery. You're exasperated resolve melts a bit when he speaks again.

“You look pretty,” he compliments you. You smile, blush, and roll your eyes before collapsing on his bunk beside him, ignoring the campers scurrying around you to get to their activities and clean up their own messes. 

“Thank you,” you whisper as he reaches over and moves a piece of hair out of your face. “Anytime Poison,” he replies, a cheeky smile on his face. Then as if remembering something he sits up and addresses the few campers that are still scrambling about the cabin, “Go enjoy the rest of your free time, we’ll take care of the rest of the damage in the morning.” They all cheer and thank him, but you know this was just a clever ploy for Luke to get the cabin empty for a second. 

“How was your day?” you ask him, sitting up and sitting crisscross on his bed. He follows suit facing you and interlacing both your hands between you. “You’re looking at it sweetheart,” he gestures around to the mostly not clean cabin. 

“This took you all day?” you tease. Luke flicks your forehead, you laugh in response. 

“Don’t be mean.”

“Who me? I’m not being mean.”

He shoots you a look.

“Well now you know how I feel, you’re always teasing me.”

It’s takes about five seconds for Luke to wrestle you onto your back, knee slotted between your thighs, while both of his hands mercilessly attack your side. Your writhing beneath him, laughing so hard you can’t breath. 

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you squeal, he halts his movements and pokes the dimple by the corner of your mouth, that only shows when you’re laughing hysterically. 

“That’s what I thought Poison, you know we’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” he’s slowed his movements, now one hand still stroking you cheek, moving down to your hip and pressing you depper into the mattress, his other hand holds him up so he’s not completely crushing you. You blush furiously at his implication, the last time the two of you had been in this position, it had been sinful, granted you weren’t in your cabin where anyone could walk in at any moment, but still. “You’re gross,” is what you decide to respond with, but he just laughs and leans down to kiss you anyways. 

Kissing Luke is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve kissed other boys before him, but something about the way he kisses you, you know he’s absolutely ruined you for anyone else, he kisses you in a way you know will screw up forever. You don’t know what you’ll do if he wakes up one day and decides he doesn’t want you anymore. The thought makes you kiss him harder, and pull him closer. His thumb rubs soothing circles against your exposed skin from where your shirt  had ridden up a bit. One of your hands rests at the base of his neck pulling him closer, begging him to kiss you harder. Your other hand hovers at his lower back, when you try to pull him closer there too, he pulls his face back from yours, breathing heavily. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks you, he kisses your check once on both sides softly and then looks at you again.

“Nothing, just keep kissing me,” you tell him before pulling him back to your lips. 

He mumbles your name against them, but then indulges you for a moment, your brain is going a million miles a minute, you don’t know why you can’t turn it off sometimes, but the thought of loosing Luke plagues your mind too often, were you destined to be like your father, who loved your mother in the spring only to be left again by the fall, he had never truly gotten over his one great love, Persephone. You couldn’t imagine ever getting over Luke either, especially with the way he’s kissing you so tenderly now.

He pulls away again, making you pout. 

“I can hear you thinking, what’s up?”

You almost tell him but he’s always trying to make you feel better and for once you want there to just be nothing wrong. You’ve always been a little more darkness than Luke, you think. He’s the camp golden boy, perfect in all the ways that count. You’re Persephone’s only (claimed) daughter, who grows plants from nothing, and grows vines of poison ivy around people who piss you off. Your moods change with the seasons, and as Fall grows nearer you can feel yourself growing darker. You just want a moment with your incredibly hot boyfriend to not think of the impending darkness that’s right around the corner.

“I’m okay, really,” you tell him, he’s not convinced clearly because he stays hovering over you but he won’t lean back down to kiss you. “Luke, c’mon we’ve got like–” you check your watch, “30 minutes until the first round of campers are back.”’

“But you’re worried about something, I can tell,” he mutters, “It’s almost September, that’s what’s buggin’ you huh?” 

Sometimes you hate how well he knows you, “Okay, yeah, you’re super duper smart now do you wanna make out with me or what?”

He laughs, and leans down to kiss you again, it’s a peck not at all what you were looking for and you groan. “Luke–”

“Look, I’m all for making out, and I’ll distract you if you really want me to,” his voice is husky in your ear, in the way he knows you love, but then he pulls back to look at you again, “but we both know this is still gonna be buggin’ you afterward, and I just want to make you feel better.”

You sigh, cause you know he’s right, annoyingly right, and stupidly handsome, you still really want to make out with him, but you don’t want him to feel like he’s a distraction, because he isn’t. He’s Luke, and you love him with everything you have.

“You’re never a distraction,” you promise him eagerly, you move to sit up and he follows suit, leaning against the headboard of the bunk and opening his arms wide for you to snuggle into is chest, you place a kiss over his heart. “You’re the main event baby.”

He snorts and pulls you closer, “That was incredibly corny Poison, you going soft on me?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. But seriously, you're incredibly sweet."

You lean up and kiss his jaw. He kisses your forehead in return.

A moment of silence passes before he asks the burning question on both of your minds. 

“Are you going home this year?”

You’d spent most of your time at Camp Half Blood being a summer only camper, but the last two years you’d been a year rounder. Your dad had never really been the same after Persephone disappeared from him, never to return, at least according to your aunt. When you’d been younger you’d been a handful and provided your dad with a distraction from his sorrows. But as you’d grown older, made friends, and forged your own life, your father had started drinking again. The more he destroyed himself, the more he destroyed you and your already almost non existent relationship with your mother. You resented him, but you resented her more for leaving him with nothing more than a hollowed shell of who he used to be. He’s been writing you letters, but you can’t bring yourself to respond.

“Probably not,” you admit finally, “I don’t want to see him and besides,” you curl into Luke more, “I want to stay with you.”

Luke’s arms tighten around you as he peaks down at your face, “You do?”

“Of course I do.” 

Luke kiss your head, you smell like flowers and goodness and the things he loves. He thinks he could stay right here with you forever. “Are you sure?” he asks you. 

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask, feeling self conscious now, you don’t have the opportunity to let your anxiety consume you for long before Luke is reassuring you. 

“Are you kidding? Of course I want you to stay. I love it when you’re here, you know that.” 

You smile up at him softly, his brow furrows, a little crease at the center where you can tell he’s thinking really hard about something. You reach up to smooth it out, but he catches your hand with his own. “You do know that right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, and you do. You really know it, in the back of your mind, you know Luke loves you as much as you love him. 

“Good, because sometimes I think you don’t get it, how much I love you. I’d do anything for you, just say the word,” he lets you reach up to smooth the crease from his brows.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“You get this little crease between your brows when you’re worrying about stuff, did you know that?”

Your pinned back down on the bed before you get a response, he’s kissing you like you’ve been wanting him to this whole time, Hot and searing with his hands in all the right places. You could die happy, right here, wrapped in his arms, his lips pressed against yours, and his tongur sneaking into your mouth. You stay like that for a few minutes, unaware of the time ticking away. You both pull away a little breathless. 

“I love you,” he says quietly, “a lot.”

“I love you too,” you reply kissing the bottom of his scar softly, “a lot.”

He leans down to kiss you again but you place a hand on his chest pushing him away from you. “We should probably clean the cabin now,” you relent, sighing as you look at your watch, the first round of campers should be returning in about five minutes, Luke takes a look at your watch and groans.

 “You were right,” he admits, head tucked into you neck as you play with his hair.

“I’m sure I was but youre gonna have to be a little more specific babe,” you reply matching what you’re sure is his cheeky smile buried in you neck. 

“We should have just made out.” 

You push him off the bed.

[shotbycup1d]

Guide to Camp Jupiter: Shopping in New Rome-Part 1

(Tip: ALWAYS bring a child or legacy of Mercury with you to go shopping in new rome, an expert bargainer. Discounts and freebies guaranteed, I bagged a 75% discount from a boutique before, trust me.)

-There is a line of fashion shops, this is how the campers get their regular supply of jeans, combat boots, running shoes. And of course Octavian’s Cargo Pants.

-The fashion shops are the ones that supply the camp’s purple t-shirts and togas.

-Plant shop with a connected plant nursery, children and legacies of Ceres frequent this location, they supply fresh produce to Camp Jupiter and grow medicinal herbs that the camp infirmary uses to cure diseases or heal injuries. -Restaurants with traditional Roman food and a mix of western cuisine. They also serve wine to the residents of New Rome & campers over 21.

-A really tall bookstore building with 5 stories, you can either borrow the library sectioned copies or buy the wrapped ones. There are comfortable plush couches on every level with soft rugs covering the marble floors.

-There is a city square at the centre of New Rome, a space for festivals, carnivals, music concerts (from children and legacies of Apollo) and can be rented out to use for private events.

-Right on the Main Street, there is a giant bakery that sells enchanted (and non enchanted) pastries, cakes, just about whatever confectionery you can think of. They are THE biggest supplier of sweet treats in New Rome and they have a catering service for all those rich legacy families when it’s a kid’s birthday. I highly recommend you get their triple chocolate chip cookies, they are the closest thing to ambrosia in my opinion.

-And moving on from the food we have a certain Augur’s (or actually Haruspex’s) favourite store. The New Rome branch of Build-A-Bear. Now I’m not sure how they managed to open a store here without blowing the whole ‘Modern Rome’ stuff on the mortal supervisors of the franchise but they probably have some front like how the Greeks at Camp Half Blood have their strawberry business. I’ve got to admit this place is great, apart from selling pre-made and custom plushies, they also have a selection of bed sheets to pillows in case you want some for your bunk back at Camp Jupiter. (Seriously, this is the only way to express yourself because posters or anything on the walls of the barracks are banned, I’ve seen too many Tristan McLean bed sheets from my half-siblings though. What is it with children of Venus and that man?)

hope you liked this one, ( I didn’t proofread it so excuse any mistakes) Let me know your own takes on this)

link to other works:

Cohort Barracks

Shopping In New Rome Part 2

[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved. Concept inspired by this AU, Push. Trying to stick with established lore but taking some liberties to make the drama work. Multiple headcanons from various sources I’ve come across included as suits the story. Starts roughly five years before Murder Family, I’m making assumptions about the timeline]

[18+ rating for language, implied sexual content, violence, alcohol consumption and general Hellaverse-ness]

[Part 1/?? Word count: 3761]

———————

Moxxie’s back slammed into the rough wooden bed frame as he heard the distinctive clang of prison bars rattling shut. He still couldn’t believe Chaz had just left him there. Grabbed the goods and ran. The imp realized his boyfriend was just as shitty out of bed as he was in it. He started tearing up as he climbed on the bottom bunk. Moxxie knew his dad wouldn’t bail him out or anything. He might have been the boss’s only (legitimate) son but he was also the most junior member of the family. And Crimson was not a sentimental imp.

Moxxie had been caught red clawed too, pinned by the security gate. No need for any formalities like a trial in the Greed Ring. A mugshot, strip down, and forced into a jumpsuit before the cops tossed him in a cell. Of course, Greed’s police force was basically a mafia on a wider scale.

“Soooo, what’re you in for?” A voice drawled from the top bunk. Moxxie hadn’t realized he had a cellmate. Oh crumbs, had the other demon heard him crying?! If there was a way to ensure you didn’t get out of prison in one piece, it was letting others know how weak you were the moment you were locked up. His tail reflexively whipped closer, as if trying to hide himself.

“Okay, not much of a talker, are you?” The voice almost sounded jovial. In prison? A squeak of the mattress and the other prisoner launched himself to the floor with theatrical flair. Before he could do more than sit up and blink the tall imp gripped his hand to shake. Not the vice-like grip his father used, hard enough to make claw shaped indents into the other’s hand. It was a firm, friendly shake.

“I'm Blitzø, the "o" is silent. I'm sure we're going to get along just fine. So, what's your deal? What'd you do? Who'd you diddle? You look like someone good with a gun. You look like someone who could shoot up an office-“ Moxxie tried to interject, but the other imp plowed on.

“-and I hope you are 'cuz I got a plan to get us out of this dump but I'm going to need some help, you think you can give me a hand? I need to get out to my daughter. The babysitter will kill me if I don't get back soon. Also I got some business scheduled in Pride that I gotta get back for. Do you like kids? 'Cause lemme tell 'ya. They're a-fucking-dorable.” Moxxie felt his eyes warming up with more tears but his lips were forming a shaky smile. He realized he hadn’t smiled like this since… well he could barely remember. At first he thought since Chaz ditched him, but really it was since his mom “disappeared.”

It took a couple of days for the cellmates to enact Blitzø’s plan. Moxxie had to learn the complex’s layout and they had to make sure they could get to a weapon cache. Their escape was successful, both of them got banged up, and Moxxie’s body count tripled as a result of the escapade.

A few things they learned about each other: Blitzø’s circus background made him extremely agile and prone to acrobatic feats in a fight. He was batshit crazy once the ichor started flowing but he kept his eye out on his partner. The scarred imp backed up Moxxie more than once when he floundered while they fled for the Pride Ring. His plans were grandiose but he was quick to adapt and quicker to protect his cohort.

On the other claw, Moxxie was even better with firearms than Blitzø thought. So long as the kid kept his composure, he didn’t miss a shot. It was almost magickal and he saw more magick than most of their kind. The kid seemed quiet and well mannered for the most part. He could get absolutely fucking feral in a fight, becoming an even better shot if that was possible. But he was insecure and desperate for approval. The pure shock on his face when Blitzø told him “nice work Mox,” after they got out told the older imp that he’d probably never been praised in his life.

One bonus to no trial before you were thrown in prison? No one was too keen on dragging you back if you got out. Especially if you massacred 80% of the guards on your way out, traumatized 18%, and awakened some very interesting feelings in the final 2%. It wasn’t worth spending hard grifted money chasing down someone who would just do the same thing even if you managed to catch them. If they’d run off from Mammon, the escaping prisoners would be hunted down. But otherwise, even the police mafia didn’t give that much of a shit.

The duo had snagged a couple of overcoats so their bright orange jumpsuits would stand out less. The plan was to get to Blitzø’s apartment, check up on his kid, grab some cash to rent Moxxie a room for the night and change before Blitzø had to be at his appointment.

Except once they got to the Pride Ring, Blitzø started freaking the fuck out. “Shitshitshitshitshiiiiiiitfuckingdammit.” A stream of profanities just kept coming out of his mouth as Blitzø picked up his pace.

“Um, sir?” It was drilled into Moxxie to address superiors as sir or ma’am; Blitzø had taken charge during their escape and didn’t seem to mind being called sir. “What happened, you started panicking once we got here.” This was presumably the older imp’s home turf, yet he was more off balance than at any other point in the past three days.

“FUUUUUUUCKokay Mox, change of plans.” He spun around and grasped the shorter imp by the shoulders. “I lost track of the time and I can’t miss this appointment. Do you know anyone in this ring that can put you up for the night?” Blitzø doubted it. It seemed like the kid had stayed in Greed up until now. A quick head shake confirmed that. “You got two choices, cause I don’t have time to get you someplace first. You can head off alone and we’ll meet up tomorrow or you can come with me, play along, and hope it’s not worse than prison.”

Moxxie was taken aback; first off that was the most words in a row without swears he’d heard from Blitzø. Second, “Where are you going that’s worse than prison?”

“A Goetian estate.”

Moxxie’s jaw dropped. He might as well have said he was meeting up with Lucifer. Yet… Blitzø had an appointment to be there. And it was important enough that he couldn’t even check on his kid first. Not to mention, wandering around an unfamiliar area wearing a prison jumpsuit was next to suicidal. “I’ll stick with you sir.”

“Ballsy! I knew I fucking liked you Moxxie.” He whirled around and started loping toward the fancy ass side of the city. “Keep up Mox! We gotta go!”

It took about half an hour of running and weaving through crowds but they made it before…whatever time Blitzø was so intent on outrunning. He had started running even faster about halfway, his desperation more than apparent. Once he passed through the gates, all the tension left his body. He slumped to the ground; Moxxie hesitated as he gaped at the ornate fencing. The gate and elegant fence had the symbol of the Goetia family (a crowned heart) emblazoned every few yards.

Moxxie had grown up a privileged life, especially for an imp. Servants, tutors, a well stocked manor. But the building in front of him was on another level. It was more of a palace than anything; multistoried with heraldic banners hanging, multiple manicured gardens, statues strategically placed and the master’s sigil glowing prominently on the wall. And that was just what he could glimpse in the full moon’s light. This was the difference between money and royalty.

“Last chance Moxxie. C’mon in or head off somewhere and I’ll meet you at my office at noon tomorrow. If you’re still standing around here in a few, those fuckers will drag you with me anyway.” He gulped and stepped onto the grounds next to the other imp. “Still ballsy.” Blitzø’s grin was back.

“Here’s what’s going to go down. Any minute now some beefy hellhound fucks are gonna show up to haul me in. They might grab you, might let you walk. Either way, keep your mouth shut and just back me up if I ask. Hopefully we won’t see that overdressed bitch tonight but if she’s around don’t make eye contact. And-“ whatever he was about to add was cut off as four hellhounds jogged up.

Blitzø wasn’t kidding about them being beefy. They were all different breeds but they all had biceps as big as his head, wrapped in artfully ripped suits. The matching suits, earpieces, sunglasses, and crisp posture gave them an air of professionalism that was a sharp contrast to his dad’s goons.

“Oh look, it’s the Chucklefuck squad and the Douchenugget duo. Who’d you piss off to land the night shift?” Blitzø taunted the Hounds, seemingly indifferent to the fact any one of them could snap him in half. Two of them grabbed Blitzø by the arms, grinning sadistically at the thought of manhandling the smaller demons.

“Lady Stella specifically requested we escort you in, Blitzø.” Blitzø winced “Satan fucking dammit.” Apparently Lady Stella was the overdressed bitch he’d mentioned. “She’s got a party tonight so she doesn’t have to hear your scrawny ass getting pounded. But she knew how much you’d like friends to bring you home.” The Hellhound punctuated his words with a sharp snap of his teeth.

Home? Moxxie backpedaled in confusion, only to bump into the leg of another security Hound. Said Hound grabbed him around the torso, easily pinning both arms and leaving Moxxie’s hooves dangling far from the ground. He struggled, trying to at least get back to the ground. The size difference and Moxxie’s lack of weapons meant he didn’t stand much chance at the moment. The pair with Blitzø took the lead, not caring that his dragging hooves were tearing furrows into the lawns or creating sparks on the paths.

Blitzø let them, worn out from the prison break and subsequent dash back to Pride. He was too tired to try to keep pace with his “escorts.” He kept glancing back to Moxxie, trying to reassure him. The younger imp was clearly terrified. He couldn’t really help the kid at the moment; the bulldog faced Hellhound carrying him lifted his lip whenever Blitzø looked back.

Fuck this fucking farce and fuck Paimon with a rusty crucifix for doing this, Blitzø thought to himself for the ten thousandth time in his life. Best to go through the motions as quickly as possible. The group arrived at one of the drawing rooms and Blitzø was dumped unceremoniously on the thick carpet.

The whirlwind trip through the estate proved to Moxxie that royalty had a whole different definition of luxury from what he knew. Paintings, mosaics, sculptures, exotic plants were just the beginning as they rushed through hallways wider than his bedroom at his dad’s. He’d lost count of how many doors they passed before they reached one in particular.

Blitzø was thrown to the ground but the one holding Moxxie didn’t loosen his grip. Blitzø glared back at the Hellhounds, hissing. The Hounds responded with low growls. Everyone went silent when a lithe figure snapped the cover of a book shut and unfolded itself from a lounge by the fireplace. This had to be one of the Goetia, presumably the master of this estate.

His extreme height was the first thing Moxxie noticed. Moxxie was about average for an imp in height; the glimpses he’d seen of imp servants in this maze were all much smaller. Blitzø was on the taller end of the spectrum but the Hounds were easily double his height. This royal demon towered over them all. You could stack Moxxie, Blitzø, and even one of the small servants on a Hellhound’s shoulders and they still would barely be eye level with the demon’s glowing eyes.

At least the bottom set. He had two sets, a large bottom pair and a thinner set above that could have been mistaken for elegant eyebrows if they hadn’t been glowing red. Glowing eyes weren't unusual for hellborn, but the deep red pupil-less aura was still intimidating. The white facial disc only enhanced that aura with its contrast.

What could be seen of the demon’s form was covered in smooth grey feathers, sheening in the firelight. The plush robe he wore was lightly cinched at the waist and barely clung to the shoulders, showing the feathers covered the majority of his body. He stalked deliberately to where Blitzø was climbing to his hooves, features set in a stern expression.

“St- Master Stolas,” Blitzø stuttered as the avian demon loomed above him. Master?! Oh crumbs, what in Satan’s name is going on?! Was all that talk about a daughter, starting up a business, growing up in the circus, everything just a lie? “I got back as quick as I could, I didn’t even have a chance to check on Loonie first…” Stolas cut him off with a gesture. Apparently the daughter talk wasn’t a lie at least.

Stolas glanced at the Hound carrying Moxxie. “Put the little one down,” he ordered in clipped, cultured tones. “I’ll deal with them from here.” The Hounds exchanged glances and grins. Suddenly Moxxie was on the ground when his captor opened his arms. “As you wish, Prince Stolas.” The imp was getting serious mood whiplash. Stolas wasn’t just a member of the Goetia but one of the princes. Maybe Blitzø was right; this was worse than prison.

The guards hadn’t left the room before Stolas leaned over Blitzø, foreheads nearly touching. “What the FUCK were you doing in the Greed Ring that landed in you prison!” The Hellhounds grins grew wider as they shut the doors and Moxxie was sure he heard the slap of a high five. “Are you not being careful enough in the other Rings? You know if you get in trouble I have to get you out of it. And we don’t want that, do we my itty bitty imp?” Stolas punctuated his words with taps between Blitzø’s nostrils. His words were furious but Moxxie could see his expression softening once the doors clicked shut. He had plenty of experience being berated and threatened by Crimson, but he was getting so many mixed signals he didn’t know what to do.

“A job went bad, Master. It won’t happen again.” Despite just having a royal yell at him, Blitzø’s smirk was back. Without guards around he was able to give his companion a double thumbs up while replying. His voice sounded utterly defeated but his posture had perked up.

“Luckily for you, what passes for authority in the Greed Ring isn’t likely to give a shit about a couple of escapee imps. Speaking of which,” four dazzling red eyes locked onto Moxxie. “Who is this that you’ve dragged along?”

“Moxxie got tossed into my cell, I couldn’t just fucking leave him there. He’s a crazy good shot, figured he’d be a good candidate for that project we talked about.”

“Hmmmm,” Stolas seemed to be looking the young imp over. It was hard to tell without any pupils. “We will discuss this later. For now,” the prince continued in a haughty tone, “we need to establish the punishment for your little slip up during your extraneous activities. Both of you, follow me.” Stolas turned, his robe and tail feathers swirling dramatically around him. Moxxie looked nervously in Blitzø’s direction. There was a faint glow under the older imp’s shirt collar as he replied “Yes Master Stolas.” He gestured for Moxxie to follow, not at all concerned about what Stolas might have planned as “punishment.”

Apparently the room they’d been delivered to was the first and most public in the master suite. They entered what looked like a well appointed bedroom with a huge canopied bed adorned with blankets and a nest of deep cushions. There was a bookshelf inset in an alcove next to a chaise lounge and chairs, a small desk, and hints of a bathtub on a raised dais shrouded by curtains. Candles and moonlight made the Goetia emblem glimmer wherever it was stamped or embroidered.

The door locked shut behind them, nearly making Moxxie jump out of his skin. As soon as the door was shut, Stolas swooped down to Blitzø, cupping the imp’s cheeks with a tenderness that made his yelling in the drawing room seems like a hallucination. “Are you alright dearest?” the prince cooed as he stroked Blitzø’s head. “Mmph, I’m fine Stolas, really.” Blitzø’s voice was muffled from Stolas’ talons smushing his face. “Just tired from that last sprint. Almost didn’t make it in time. Fucking Cinderhella bullshit.”

“I’m sorry darling. I’ll keep working on it. I’ve been so worried the past few days.” Apparently satisfied that Blitzø was unhurt, the owl demon moved to nuzzling and preening the imp’s particolor skin.

Blitzø gasped at the soft feathers brushing his neck. “Stolas, if you wanna fuck as part of my “punishment” I’m on board, but I don’t think Moxxie wants to watch.” He looked at the other imp over the prince’s head. His face was flushed and a lazy lascivious smile spread across his lips. “Unless you wanna watch Mox. I’ve always liked an audience.” He waggled his eyebrows; Moxxie couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

Stolas’ eyes jerked open. He let out a surprised hoot before shooting up to his full height. “Ah! Um, yes, o-of course! We can pick this up later Blitzy.” Blitzy? Within moments Stolas had shifted from a pissed off royal yelling at his property to a flustered loverboy using pet names. “Apologizes for not properly introducing myself earlier.” He bowed with a deep flourish, putting his face eye level to Moxxie. “My name is Stolas, Prince of Ars Goetia.”

Blitzø stretched, popping vertebrae all down his spine and tail. “Didn’t your daddy tell you not to bow to imps?” The same jovial tone Moxxie heard when they first met was back in his voice.

Stolas snorted. “My father, the shit eating bastard that he is, can go fuck himself. Preferably with something full of splinters to join the stick up his arse.” The prince was just as foul-mouthed as Blitzø, with the addition of a fancy vocabulary. He guided Blitzø to the lounge and offered a nearby easy chair to Moxxie. It was built for a Goetia, meaning any imp had to jump to climb up and their feet would dangle childlike once seated. However Stolas produced a step stool from the book alcove, so he could seat himself with more dignity.

“Hi, I’m Moxxie Knolastname.” Hopefully neither of them would recognize the name of one of the Greed Ring’s crime families. “Sir, what the fuck is going on? You didn’t mention any of this before we got to the gates. What was all that about?” Moxxie gestured wildly to the rest of the palace, hoping to indicate everything that had just happened.

“Eh, guess you deserve some explanation. Not the best time but fuck it.” Blitzø rubbed at his forehead, specifically the All Imp Circus brand in the middle. In the space of a blink it changed from a black skull faced heart to a white heart topped by a crown, flanked by decorative lines. “Short version, my dad fucked me over and sold me to the Goetia. His dad,” he jerked a thumb at the lanky owl reclining next to him, “decided to add to the jackassery and bound us.”

“And I am not about to copy his example so I give my darling Blitzy as much free reign as I can manage.” Stolas wrapped his arms and legs around Blitzø with a look of glee. It was simultaneously tender, protective, and possessive. “Unfortunately, members of both my family and staff are quick to spread word to my wilted prick of a father and other members of Ars Goetia, so we maintain a semblance of the master/slave dynamic outside my chambers. Hence, all that.” Stolas vaguely waved in the same direction as Moxxie had before latching back onto Blitzø. “Eugh, Blitzy, you smell awful. That prison cannot have been sanitary. Please get cleaned up dearest, you and… Moxxie, was it? Hopefully we have something clean that will fit you; you’re a bit taller than much of my household staff.”

“I’m sure we’ve got some of my old stuff that’ll work. But seriously Stolas, I couldn’t check on Loonie before this. Can I pop out real qui-”

“Loona is fine.” Stolas interjected with a comforting tone. “I had one of the maids check up on her and the ‘babysitter.’ She let them know you were delayed and offered overtime pay to the young lady.” The maid, one of the few who was loyal to Stolas and Blitzø, relayed that the imp girl, while possessing a distinct country charm, was “thoroughly pissed” at having to watch over an angsty teenager without pay. She’d been all smiles again when informed of the extra money she was being advanced.

Blitzø took a deep breath of relief. He’d adopted the nearly adult Hellhound just a few months ago and they were still getting used to each other. He didn’t know what she’d do on her own yet, hence the babysitter. She was an imp from Wrath he’d gotten to know during the Harvest Festival Stolas had to officiate. She decimated opponents in the Pain Games so Blitzø knew she could handle just about anything.

“Thanks Floof,” he gave Stolas a quick frenching before heading through an inconspicuous door near the bed. He pushed Moxxie along and heard Stolas’ trilling voice call out. “Make sure you put those jumpsuits in the laundry hamper. I look forward to having a little prison bitch around later.” All of Blitzø’s spines stood up at the thought and a tingling warmth raced over him. Not about to let Stolas get the last word, he shot back through the closing door, “I’m sure Mox’s will fit you like those slutty rompers you like to prance around in.” He could hear hooting chuckles from the other room while Moxxie clapped his hands over his head.

—————

Moxxie blinked as the lights flickered on. As if one suite of rooms wasn’t enough, here was essentially an apartment sized for imps. It was much like a studio apartment with one large area for sleeping, eating, relaxing, and a mini kitchen. The furnishings weren’t a match for the rest of the palace, but decent and sturdy. There was a closet and one other door leading to the bathroom. No windows. The only exit was through the master suite. Moxxie started breathing hard as he realized this was basically an upgraded cell.

“Yeah, I know it’s kinda freaky. But it’s one of the safest places in the building.” Blitzø opened the closet and started tossing clothes on the bed. “We set this up after Stolas married that bitchy feather duster. Only people that can get in are me, Stolas, his kid, and one of the maids. Oh, and the people I bring in.” He took the pile of clothes and dropped them on Moxxie. “These are all too small for me now. We could raid the servant’s closets buuuuuuuut…screw that. Now let's see if there’s anything to eat.” A quick look in the fridge produced beers and a comically large cheese wedge. “Oh fuck yes, that woman deserves a raise! Or a good dicking if she wants it again.” Blitzø had the cheese in one hand, a beer in the other hand that was unzipping the prison wear and his tail wrapped around another beer. “You wanna eat before you clean up? There’s more beer, some fried chicken, and I think a salad if you want it.” He stuck out a forked tongue at the thought of vegetables. “Maybe a good enough fuck will get her to stop putting salads in here.”

Food, real food not prison slop, sounded great but a bit of time alone sounded better. “I’ll wash up first sir, I can’t stand this thing anymore.” Blitzø chomped away while giving him another thumbs up. Moxxie caught a glimpse of white scars covering patches of the other imp’s neck, arms, and torso, and what looked like a gold choker at his throat. He closed the bathroom door and dumped the clothes onto a bench. The bathroom wasn’t ostentatious like what he glimpsed in Stolas’s room. It had all the basics in a reasonable size. One thing he did notice was the horse decor. Horses and horseshoes everywhere. The rubber devilduckie was even a cowboy.

It was probably more polite to take a quick shower. Moxxie needed some time to regain his footing though, so he soaked in a bath. He’d been off balance since crossing the gates. Of course, nothing could have prepared him for anything he’d come across here. From everything he’d picked up Blitzø and Stolas were in a shitty situation and trying to make the best of it. It didn’t mean Moxxie had to stick around though.

Yeah, the older imp had broken him out of prison and talked about hiring Moxxie at his new startup. But he also hadn’t mentioned anything about being connected to Hell’s royal families.

Then again, Moxxie hadn’t mentioned his mafia family. He really didn’t want to either. He’d be just fine if his dad thought he died in the prison riot they’d caused during the escape. He could disappear in Pride and leave his own fucked up family behind. Blitzø and presumably Stolas were grateful for his help. Even if he didn’t want to work for them in the end, they probably wouldn’t just kick him to the curb. He wasn’t good at making deals. Crimson hadn’t let him join any important talks yet. But maybe he could leverage some cash out of the pair before finding his own way.

That would have to wait for the morning at earliest. From the sounds of it, Stolas was very enthusiastic about keeping their “appointment” tonight. With at least a glimmer of a plan, Moxxie finished washing and started digging through the clothes. There were a lot of t shirts, tanks, and leather pants. Skinny fit pants at that. Almost all the shirts had some sort of horse design; from one that said “Wild Horse” in messy red letters to one with a trio of sparkly pastel horses rearing under a full moon. Eventually he found a button down with a tailcoat that was pretty close to his normal clothes. It wouldn’t be tailored perfectly but it would do for the morning. For the night he found pajama pants with a horseshoe pattern that he didn’t mind sleeping in. He wasn’t about to sleep nude in a room with a horny couple he barely knew one wall away.

“All yours sir.” Blitzø was flopped on the couch, having finished both the beers and cheese. He was working his way through beer number three, which he took with him to the shower. Moxxie rummaged through the fridge, finding not only what Blitzø had mentioned but the makings of sandwiches and a container of soup. A little more digging around the miniature kitchen and he found various dry goods that would make a decent meal. By the time Blitzø came back he was plating the spaghetti with cheese sauce he’d made. He topped it off with some chopped up fried chicken for some added protein. He made a sizable batch; he doubted a cheese wedge and beer was enough for Blitzø.

Blitzø himself emerged from the bathroom, dressed in horse print boxers (which didn’t hide his slight erection) and a fitted black tank. “Thank fuck, Stolas was right about the stink. Laundry’s gonna have fun with those jumpsuits.” His nostrils flared suddenly. “What the dick? Where’d you get all this Mox?” His eyes were shining at the food and Moxxie could swear he was drooling.

“In your kitchen sir. There’s plenty of dry ingredients for easy meals, probably so you don’t have to disturb the main kitchen during your… ‘appointments.’ I would have liked some mushrooms or fresh herbs for flavoring, the ground and dried ones just don’t quite measure up but I can understand the maid not wanting to have too much perishable food here if your stays aren’t consistent. In any case making a bechamel sauce is fairly simple, it is one of the mother sauces after all and the cheese was perfect for melting into it. I did cheat with the chicken and used the microwave but it works out since there’s not too much cookware here either-“

“Wait wait wait. You made this?” Moxxie nodded. Blitzø yanked open the door and yelled “FLOOF CHECK THIS SHIT OUT MOXXIE CAN COOK!”

There was an undignified squawk before the owl demon cleared his throat. “I hope this is more impressive than the ‘ghetto nachos’ you presented me with.” He had to dip his head to enter the room but once he was in the ceiling was high enough that he didn’t quite brush it with his crest feathers. “Oh! Oh my! That looks delightful! And it smells excellent.” He closed his bottom set of eyelids and inhaled deeply.

“Hey! Ghetto nachos are damn tasty.”

“I’m not saying they aren’t but microwaving processed cheese slices onto tortilla chips does not count as cooking. This on the other hand,” the prince opened his eyes, a pleased expression that had nothing to do with sensuality on his face. “This is incredible. Do I detect some mustard added to the bechamel?”

Moxxie hadn’t expected anyone to notice. “Yes, your highness. With the chicken already being breaded, I felt it would compliment nicely.” He’d never been able to talk to anyone about cuisine before. Everyone at his father’s house had laughed at him. Maybe his mom would have liked to talk about it…

“Please, call me Stolas in private. Might I try a taste?” Moxxie twirled noodles around a fork, making sure both meat and sauce were included. Stolas savored the bite, his eyes closing and his feathers fluffing up. “As delicious as I hoped. As I’ve had dinner already, I won’t keep you from such a well made meal.” He nuzzled the base of Blitzø’s horn before bowing out of the room. “I’ll be waiting Blitzyyyyy.”

Blitzø was already diving headfirst into his plate. “Christ on a stick Moxxie, this is amazing. And that’s not just a week of prison food talking.” How he could taste anything shoveling his food in his mouth that fast, Moxxie didn’t know. He did notice that Blitzø was eating with more enthusiasm than at any other meal they’d shared.

Before Moxxie had more than half his portion, Blitzø was slurping down the last noodle.”That was great, thanks Mox.” He dumped dishes into the sink. Stifling a yawn, he headed back to the master suite. “Make yourself comfortable. Sheets should be clean.” That lascivious grin came back. “Unless watching is the kinda shit you’re into. Stolas’ bed’s big enough for all of us if you feel like joining.” Moxxie nearly choked on his pasta.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this! The fic is in process and currently around 25k words so there’s a lot more coming. Next part will open up with NSFW content, heads up.

Next>

[whatiwishfanfiction]

The Great Lorax Rewrite (beginning)

Hey guys, here's the beginning of the fanfiction I'm writing on Ao3. The aim is to tell Once-ler's whole story from beginning to end without Ted interrupting. There are four chapters up so far, and a lot more to come:

"Where is it? Where did you put my guitar?"

Once-ler smacked his head as he looked under the triple bunk bed he was forced to share with his brothers in their small house.

"Reckon if ya don't get out there n' chop some trees, I'll let Brett n' Chet smash that dang guitar for good!" his Ma's voice called from the kitchen.

His younger twin brothers and sister laughed from the dinner table.

"Hurry up n' get more money from yer wood," Brett complained. "We only got three potatoes in our stew today, n' they're smaller n' ping pong balls."

"Yeah, an' none for you, Oncie," said Gizette. "I get the last one!"

"Why can't I ever have any of the stew if I'm always the one earnin' the money?" Once-ler tripped out of their closet-like bedroom, and squeezed around the table through the equally cramped dining area. This was made even harder by his abnormal height; he always had bruises on his knees and elbows from being such a tall person in such a small house.

Before him sat his shorter, but equally ungainly family, squished around the table: his mother with her teased up hair balanced by a bow, in her patched polka-dot sweater while serving brown stew water, the twins Brett and Chet with ripped up overalls and squashed hats who were staring eagerly at two tiny potatoes on their plates, and the youngest "baby" Gizette with ratty hair, buck teeth, and the biggest serving of stew of all (which was still not very big).

In the corner Once-ler's father was asleep in the rocking chair by the fire, using his old gray coat as a blanket. His gray hat was pulled over his stubbled face, and his ax laid on the floor beside him after his long day of woodcutting. Once-ler had to avoid the blade as he tiptoed to the only corner of the room with enough space.

"Because, sweetie," said his Ma, "You're the oldest child, and we have to think of the youngins. It's time for you to be an adult. Anyway, we've all got to make sacrifices when times are hard." The fancy unidentifiable dead animal she always wore around her neck bobbed its nose as she scooped the last tiny part of the stew into her own bowl.

This was always the excuse whenever Once-ler said he needed anything: "We have to think of the youngins." He understood the sentiment, really. It just seemed like he couldn't recall anyone ever using that argument during the short time he'd gotten to be the youngest. The youngest kids were also older than he'd been when they'd first started using this excuse. In fact, it seemed his family had decided Once-ler was an adult the second he'd been born, and that the others could never grow up.

[count-alucard-tepes]

Any headcanon about how was the childhood of Katakuri, Oven and Daifuku?

Ooooh let’s see what I can come up with!🤩

Katakuri🍡, Oven🍞 and Daifuku🥮

Their childhood was pretty much regular in terms of going to school and making friends except that they all looked a little different from the usual kids at school. It never bothered them though, they were always pretty confident and strong kids.

They have asked about their father but their mother would just say he died is some shady way so that would be the end of it. They did not question their mom because they’re terrified of her.

Since they had several step-fathers, they tended to just put up with them until their mother got bored of the men in her life. They never got close to them or even looked at them as actual father figures.

When ever they felt cold, Daifuku and Oven would cuddle up to Katakuri and cuddle into his scarf.

They has a triple bunk bed when they were growing up but would all end up sleeping on the bottom bed.

They always had their meals together because food always tastes better when you eat with someone…especially with siblings because they could talk and laugh.

They were the father figures to their siblings even at a young age as is all older siblings are whether or not parents are present.

[muzaktomyears]

As Ringo Starr observed, “There was the love-and-beads personality and the bag of anger.” The first really did blossom in India, whether it meant putting in the hours to learn the sitar under the great Ravi Shankar or finding tranquillity in Rishikesh in the company of the Maharishi. The problem with the spiritual pursuit is that it can be mistaken for a quick road to enlightenment, particularly among Westerners discovering Eastern traditions, and Harrison proved to be no more rapidly enlightened than the next would-be yogi. The Beatles’ press officer Derek Taylor recalled a transatlantic flight on which Harrison was chanting his mantra. When a concerned flight attendant asked if everything was all right, he snapped: “F*** off. Can’t you see I’m meditating?”

quote from the Times review of Philip Norman's George Harrison: The Reluctant Beatle

George Harrison by Philip Norman review — the tetchy, much mocked, reluctant Beatle

Harrison was a sensitive soul overshadowed by his bandmates but he blossomed musically after the Fab Four broke up. By Will Hodgkinson

If the title of Philip Norman’s biography makes you wonder why anyone would be reluctant to be a Beatle, the first few chapters provide the answer. Coming from a loving, supportive, working class family in Liverpool, George Harrison was 14 when an amiable Paul McCartney invited him to join a loosely congregated skiffle group called the Quarrymen. To which the group’s acid-tongued 17-year-old leader John Lennon responded: “Who’s that bloody kid who’s always hanging around?”

It didn’t help that Lennon’s guardian, Aunt Mimi, a frightful snob, took in Harrison’s teddy boy gear, Scouse accent and sticky-out ears and dismissed him as exactly the kind of riff-raff her nephew should not be hanging around with. As Lennon recalled, “He came round to [Aunt Mimi’s house] one day and asked me to go to the pictures with him. I pretended I was too busy.”

Did it get better for that bloody kid once he was officially a Beatle? No, it did not. So quiet that one early associate remembered him as “the Invisible Man”, Harrison was routinely subjected to all manner of indignities — he lost his virginity in a Hamburg bunk bed while John, Paul and the band’s original drummer Pete Best looked on; and when he vomited on the floor of a Hamburg flat in a drunken stupor one night, the other Beatles christened his puke of shame “the Thing” and decorated it with matchsticks.

Given this early treatment, you can see why it was so hard for Harrison to be taken seriously by his tormentors in the years to come. It meant that however good his songs were — and few can argue that Isn’t It a Pity and All Things Must Pass are not profound, moving highlights of the hippie era — Harrison was forever struggling to get them onto Beatles records.

He must have felt his moment had come when All Things Must Pass, his triple album released in November 1970 in the wake of the Beatles falling apart, stamped all over the others’ solo efforts by going straight to No 1. Yet, like an older brother who knows how to twist the knife, Lennon even cut that down. “Every time I put the radio on, it’s ‘Oh my Lord,’” Lennon said of My Sweet Lord. “I’m beginning to think there must be a God.” Lennon appraised Harrison’s signature spiritual singalong with a demeaning “all right”, claiming that Harrison only ever managed to bash out a tune in the first place because “he was working with two f***ing brilliant songwriters and he learned a lot from us”.

Norman has fashioned an authoritative portrait of Harrison that leaves you liking and feeling sympathy for his subject while being fully aware of the tetchiness — quite common among people aiming for a higher state of consciousness, funnily enough — that was never far away.

As Ringo Starr observed, “There was the love-and-beads personality and the bag of anger.” The first really did blossom in India, whether it meant putting in the hours to learn the sitar under the great Ravi Shankar or finding tranquillity in Rishikesh in the company of the Maharishi. The problem with the spiritual pursuit is that it can be mistaken for a quick road to enlightenment, particularly among Westerners discovering Eastern traditions, and Harrison proved to be no more rapidly enlightened than the next would-be yogi. The Beatles’ press officer Derek Taylor recalled a transatlantic flight on which Harrison was chanting his mantra. When a concerned flight attendant asked if everything was all right, he snapped: “F*** off. Can’t you see I’m meditating?”

One person who did understand Harrison was his first wife, Pattie Boyd. She lived with him in a gothic mansion near Henley called Friar Park, filled with Hare Krishnas and rockers, leading her to ask Harrison’s assistant Chris O’Dell, “What’s he got in his hands today, the prayer beads or the cocaine?” Boyd made up a third of the most famous love triangle in rock history, with Eric Clapton not only writing Layla about her, but also consulting the New Orleans musician Dr John, who he suspected of having voodoo powers, about casting a spell to make Boyd fall in love with him. After Harrison caught her canoodling with Clapton in the garden of Robert Stigwood’s house, Clapton announced, in the faux casual argot of the era, “I have to tell you, man, I’m in love with your wife.” Harrison dealt with it the only way an emotionally constipated former Beatle knew how: by challenging Clapton to a guitar duel.

All of this is imparted in an affectionate but detached tone, leading to an impression of a man who, although burdened with an apparent inability to lighten up, generally sought to do the right thing. His 1971 Concert for Bangladesh started the trend for charity rock endeavours and collected together everyone from Bob Dylan to Shankar in what Rolling Stone magazine called “a brief incandescent revival of all that was best in the Sixties”. He funded Monty Python’s Life of Brian by actually betting the house on it, negotiating a bank loan secured against Friar Park.

By the time he settled down with his second wife, Olivia, and their son, Dhani, he seemed to have arrived at some kind of actual peace rather than just the prayer bead-wearing sort. He reconciled with McCartney while working on the enormous Beatles Anthology project in the mid-Nineties and rediscovered his sense of humour too. In 1999, after a mentally ill intruder at Friar Park stabbed him repeatedly, Harrison announced that the intruder “certainly wasn’t auditioning for the Traveling Wilburys”.

Norman is something of a one-man Beatles industry. In 1981 he published the million-selling Shout! The True Story of the Beatles before continuing with biographies of Lennon and McCartney, but hopes of writing one on Harrison were dashed in November 2001 after a mean-spirited obituary he wrote ensured he would receive no cooperation from Olivia or Dhani.

In the event it doesn’t seem to have mattered too much, with Boyd in particular helping to fill out the story of a sensitive man and the part he played in late 20th-century life. Harrison doesn’t come across as a reluctant Beatle as such, more a normal guy who found himself in extraordinary circumstances and, lacking McCartney’s professionalism or Lennon’s cynicism, didn’t know how to handle it. The quiet Beatle, only 58 when he died, was simply trying to work it all out, just like the rest of us.

(source)

[crushpunky]

college!obx au thoughts !!!

reader met kiara and sarah as her randomly assigned roommates freshman year. the trio clicked immediately, the three of them spending countless late nights watching gossip girl, talking shit, and complaining about their classes

pope, jj, and john b lived next door in an obnoxiously loud and messy dorm (much to pope’s dismay). regardless of the room’s rather spacious nature, the three boys had elected to put their beds on top of each other in a sort of triple-bunk-corner-loft that allowed for them to set up a shitty tv and even shittier couch for their video games (which they made sure to play very loudly)

after weeks of passive aggressive comments regarding quiet hours, reader eventually chewed the boys out at 1 am in her disney pajamas. the next morning they were surprised with the apologizes from the seemingly traumatized boys who promised to keep it down… if they agreed to go out with them that night

from that night, the two dorms were inseparable, always having their doors open, weekly movie nights, and occasionally study sessions (ran by pope and reader ofc)

reader met rafe when they bumped into him at a bar, greeting sarah with a cheesy “hello sis” and a ruffle of her hair. as far as reader knew, sarah had an older brother, but she failed to mention he also attended the school and that he was so… hot? stereotypical frat boy finance major of course, but charming regardless

shortly after, kelce and topper stumbled over, topper introducing himself as rafe’s friend with a smile towards sarah, which she clarified was the result of a crush he had had on her since she visited rafe during his freshman year

after months of begging, sarah eventually relented and went out on a date with topper, which wasn’t half bad, but only further cemented for both of them that it was never going to work out… especially after the stern talking-to rafe gave topper before he walked over to pick sarah up, scared shitless

during their second year the pogues got a house— a stereotypical college home littered with photos and beer cans and overcrowded with the six college students. they couldn’t complain too much though, it was right off campus and they had gotten it for a steal since the last kids got expelled for growing weed in the basement.. and it had the “perk” of being right next to rafe, topper, and kelce’s junior year house, the typical location of parties every weekend, termed the “kook kastle”

even though had written into the house constitution (yes, they had a constitution) absolutely no pogue-on-pogue macking, the occasional drunken make out or hook up was bound to happen, john b and sarah being the first

every sunday, following two nights of partying, the pogues would have a backyard fire, often times joined by their kook neighbors. basking in the sun and eating hot dogs, the kids tried their best to sober up before their classes early monday morning

majors !!!

reader - STEM major

pope - engineering

john b - history

jj - undecided (likes business though)

kiara - environmental studies

sarah - communications

rafe - finance

topper - finance

kelce - pre-law

[cybernightart]

Just a really random AU with oni Genji + Hanzo/kiriko with a side of light shipping stuff✨

I'm really thinking about an au right now where Genji, Hanzo, and kiriko are just casually demons, like they're just full-blown only because the shimada clan were. No one knows this because they kept themselves in their human form most of the time, with only when they would have outbursts of anger or other incredibly strong emotions that would reveal the horns, the unnatural skin tones, the markings, and the teeth.

Genji got away with not telling anyone for a really long time, like he didn't end up telling anyone till post recall. mainly because he kind of forgot to mention it. And how he got away without telling anyone for so long was because of his mask. Because even in black watch The mask covers everything where any of his non-human features would be except for his red eyes which no one questioned. Just chalking it up to the cybernetics.

They still would have the dragon spirits/fox spirit, because that's more of a spirituality thing of their family line was blessed by those gods, so they have the ability to summon these dragons and utilize their power completely separate from just the fact they also happen to be oni. Which they don't even think is a big deal 90% of the time because they themselves forget that they're not just human.

Also because I've been wanting to have an au with the ship specifically for a while, I am making this a Genji X mercy X Cassidy AU!

✨Mcgency ✨

Would the new name be gencidy? Colency? The cosplay trio I don't know XD (those three definitely have the most costume like outfits out of the majority of OverWatch considering one of them is a cowboy ,one is an angel and the third is a ninja!!! they sound like three kids going trick or treating dressed in Halloween costumes which is frankly adorable)

Anyways back on topic, the only time Genji realizes that he probably should tell Cassidy and Angela is when they are going to bed (in my head I'm picturing because of the new recruits or how the rooms are laid out, they're having to double or triple bunk rooms because it's not exactly like they can get the legal permits to upgrade the OverWatch base considering the government doesn't even want them operating at all), he's going to take his mask off in the bathroom to get ready for bed and to have the first actual proper sleep since the recall. Since he's gotten so used to not hiding his demonic features at all ,considering he wears a mask all the time, it just suddenly occurs to him that maybe he should say something. Which would lead to one slightly shocking but evidently not that big of reaction of a response from the other two who just kind of went "*shug* thats cool". Which was a very anticlimactic response to what he was expecting but is not upset with.

Cassidy would also be the first to point out the irony of the contrast of Genji and mercy being an angel and a demon. Which they all would giggle at especially considering Cassidy decided to use finger guns when stating that fact.

And once again Genji just kind of forgets to tell anyone else in the OverWatch base, even people he's really really close with, because he just straight up forgets to mention it. Between null sector and talon, there wasn't exactly a prime opportunity to mention "oh hey guys by the way I'm actually a Japanese demon (Oni) just to let you know ,but don't worry I won't eat you<3". So it just never came up until maybe during one of their missions that kind of go wrong, perhaps talon captures them and in an attempt to do a intimidation tactic they remove Genji's mask only to get freaked out by the fact he has glowing red eyes ,red markings on his face, horns not only coming out of his forehead but his jaw ,and gnarly fang like teeth, which none of them have ever noticed before. and then the other captured OverWatch members are just like "so....uhhh.... is this new or?" "Nope, born this way. It's genetic" "Oh. Cool...I guess....." "We're going to be talking about this more later aren't we?" "Definitely"

Lucky enough they're able to escape before Moira starts doing all sorts of experiments on Genji.

Hanzo, you would have no clue he was an oni unless he told you, or more accurately Genji told you, because he basically had it beaten into him as a child to never reveal in front of people that he's an oni. And the only time he is in his true form where he's blue and everything is when he's sleeping or completely by himself.

Kiriko wouldn't try to hide it much, she would hide her horns but since she only has them on her forehead with her new headband she got she doesn't have to use the energy to hide them anymore. And she doesn't even try to hide the red markings and no one questions it, primarily just assuming that the markings are from the kitsune which they partially are, it just so happens that both things resulted in cheek markings which just kind of ended up fusing into the marking she has.

Also when Genji was younger, like still in the shamada clan, he would try and hide it a bit more but nowhere near as much as Hanzo. And primarily because she hated using so much of his energy to hide his horns he started wearing that forehead guard thing, and eventually a scarf so that if need be he could partially cover his face while also just looking incredibly fashionable and keeping him very warm in the winter months.

Also the reason they have the spirits is because they sort of act as a bridge between the spirit realm and the mortal realm with being yokai kind of wander one foot on both.

[slayonehundredninetytwo]

masterlist

thought making a masterlist would be a good idea- enjoy!

☆Percy Jackson and the Olympians☆

Annabeth

too sick for rules

Percy

perfect date

i’ll write for other characters as well :>

~•*Stray Kids*•~

chan

aussie siblings

spicing it up (meant to be a mini, but long enough for the list)

minho

just don’t look down

unnamed first fic

changbin

-

hyunjin

picking scabs

jisung

triple threat (pt.1)

triple threat (pt.2)

felix

triple threat (pt.1)

triple threat (pt.2)

just a stomach ache?

bunk beds

seungmin

triple threat (pt.1)

triple threat (pt.2)

grumpy puppy

occupied

jeongin

unfair

~•*TxT*•~ Soobin

-

Yeonjun

-

Beomgyu

the silent treatment

Taehyun

-

Huening Kai

in the name

~•*NMIXX*•~

coming soon, requests open :>

🫶

[diverbots]

Triple decker beds are indeed a real thing, there are several fucked up variations if you look them up (most of them for small kids)

Oh shit, interesting... I'm actively thinking of ways to create the most fucked up stacked bunk-bed imaginable.

[sergeantsporks]

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 21/?: Months Ago...

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6 , Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17,  Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20

In which none of the previous golden guards or wittebro died, actually, they're all fine and living happily together as one big dysfunctional family

Ao3

Goodbye, Golden Guards.

Belos raised his scythe, but it was Phoenix looking down at a terrified Jason and Hunter, Phoenix who swung downwards at them.

“No!” Phoenix blinked up at a starry sky, blinking. “Hrngh?”

A dull ache throbbed in his arms and ribs, but considering the way the skull had fallen apart, he was surprised it wasn’t worse.

“HEYA!” A blue and yellow face appeared over him with a grin. “You’re awake! Fiiiiinally! You were so boring!”

Phoenix rolled out of… a bed? with a yelp, scrambling backwards away from the Collector. “Stay back!”

Collector laughed, flopping on his stomach in midair and kicking his legs. “Re-lax, I’m not gonna hurt you. Right, King?”

The tiny demon kid from the head waved at him from on top of a spinning blue star, now clothed in starry robes and a matching hat. “Uh. Hey. Yep. Not hurting people is our whole thing! Just… just playing games!”

Phoenix rubbed his eyes. “I’m still dreaming. Right? Wow. The other dream was more realistic than this, this is…” He stood up. “This is… are we on top of a tiny planet?”

All around them was endless space and stars, save for a window of bright light, and the little planet they stood on.

“It’s real,” King assured him, “I, uh, I saw you falling on the day of unity, and…”

“And I SAVED YOU,” the Collector yelled, punching one fist in the air. “BAM. Our first owl house adventure, swooping through on a star to catch you, and WHAM! Now you’re back here with us! This is our room, in the archive house!” He tapped his chin. “Maybe I should make bunk beds… those would be fun, or even a TRIPLE BUNK BED! Might make story time hard, though. We’ll see. Hm.” Collector circled around Phoenix’s head. “That liar Phillip said he destroyed all of his grimwalkers, and I couldn’t play with them, but he was wrong, wrong, wrong! And now you’re here, and we can be friends, like he kept saying maybe one day! Ha, take that, Phillip, your grimwalker is my friend now. Right? We can be friends? I saved you.”

Phoenix glanced at King, who nodded frantically. “…Sure… we can be friends…”

“YES! You can be our Hunter, do you know what he’s like? Yeah, of course you do. I bet you know about lots of adventures we could do, Belos sent you on adventures for him all the time. Hey, are there any more of you? Are all of them alive?!”

So he didn’t get Caleb and the others. Good.

“No. Just me.”

“Awwww, we could have had enough players for any game. Oh, well, I guess there’s always the others.” The Collector sat cross-legged in midair. “Are you hungry? I bet you’re hungry, I think mortals have to eat like every three hours or they die or something. That’s why puppets are easier.”

Puppets?

“…What exactly is it that you want?”

“Huh? What a weird thing to ask. Oh, yeah! I forgot!” Collector snapped his fingers, and a bundle of cloth fell down from out of nowhere into Phoenix’s hands. “That’s for you, new friend! So we can all match! Don’t worry, King and I will leave the room so you can change, no peeking, promise.”

The Collector floated out into the bright light, and King hopped towards Phoenix. “Just… play along with what he says, okay? The alternative is… not great.”

He bounced up into the air and out of the square of light, and Phoenix sat back down on the bed with a whump. At least everyone else had gotten out. The kids to the human realm and… hopefully everyone else had just gone home.  

Phoenix shook out the bundle of cloth. The clothes were silky, a deep blue long-sleeved tunic, and pants in a dark lavender. Stars dotted the hem of the tunic, the collar, and the ends of the sleeves. A golden moon glinted up at him from a belt buckle.

Alright. I’ll play for now.

He changed clothes, checking himself for injuries. He twisted his upper torso, wincing as his ribs protested. Yeah. Those were broken, or at least bruised. Bruises, bruises… Phoenix picked at the edge of the bandages around his arms, but didn’t remove them. He’d have to eventually, he needed to check on those wounds, but with any luck, he’d get out of this… archive house… first.

Phoenix yanked the tunic over his head and retied his ponytail.

“Alright… now how… do I…”

Phoenix jumped, the way he’d seen King do, and he rocketed away from the tiny planet with three beds, soaring through the window of light. Whatever weird gravity was in that room disappeared, and his feet tapped onto solid stone at the top of a staircase. Collector clapped his hands.

“Yay! You look great! Okeydokey, so, we have a couple of adults around, don’t worry about them, they’re here to help! Mamadalia!”

A woman with bright green hair stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the Collector’s call. “Yes… Collector?”

“This is… Uh, Hunter, right?”

“It’s Phoenix.”

“Oh, whew, that’s way cooler. This is Phoenix! He’s been super sleepy and just woke up, so he’s, like, really hungry! Can you get uuuuuuuusssssss… King, quick, what do mortals eat?”

“Uhhhh, food? Fruit… vegetables… pizza bagels…”

“I don’t really need anything,” Phoenix tried, “I’m—"

“Pizza bagels for Phoenix!”

“Why dooon’t I just go with… Mamadalia?” Phoenix suggested, “That way I can make sure there’s enough for everyone?”

“Awww, okay, yeah. Come back soon!”

Phoenix walked down the stairs as quickly as he could without running. “Let’s go.”

“Mamadalia” raised one eyebrow, but turned heel and clicked down a hallway with no further comment. Phoenix chased after, looking behind him to make sure the Collector wasn’t following.

“How long has it been since the day of unity?”

“A day or so. Relax, you haven’t missed anything.”

Phoenix waved a hand at the hallway. “I think I’ve missed quite a bit! Sorry. I’m sorry, what’s your real name?”

“Odalia. Odalia Blight.”

“You’re okay?”

“Do you mean besides the fact that I’m wearing the most ridiculous outfit in the world? But oh, I suppose I’ll survive.”

“Alright.” Phoenix grabbed her wrist and ran towards a window, tugging her behind him. “Don’t worry. We’re getting out of here.”

Odalia yanked her arm away. “What on earth are you talking about? Getting out of here? I may be… Mamadalia, but it’s better than the alternative, thank you! No one is ‘getting out of here’!”

Phoenix yanked open the window.

The Isles fell far, far below them, miles down. The closest any land to the ‘archive house’ was the remaining horn of the titan, and the house was even floating above that.

“We aaaaare… flying.”

“What an astute observation.”

Phoenix brought his head back in and shut the window. “Okay. We’ll find another way.”

Odalia snorted. “There is no other way. You aren’t going anywhere. Try anything, and I’ll call for the Collector.”

Phoenix stared at her, gaping. “Are you serious?!”

“Listen up… whoever you’re supposed to be… I’m not putting my neck on the line for some half-baked escape plan. I perform the role of Mamadalia and get access to one of the most powerful beings in the universe. If I play my cards right, I not only rule this miserable dump heap, but shape it into what I want.”

Phoenix gestured towards the window and the broken skull outside of it. “Do you really think you can control that?!”

“Oh, please. He may be powerful, but he’s a silly child. I know how to handle children.” Her eyes gleamed. “And if I tell him you tried to escape, then that makes me more trustworthy and removes some of the… competition.”

“You know what else would remove competition? Letting me escape. But fine. Fine.” Phoenix stalked down the hallway. “Why don’t you just show me where the kitchen is, and we can leave each other alone?”

Odalia chased after him. “Or… I’m willing to let you in on the spoils if you help me.”

“And what could I, the competition, possibly offer?”

“I haven’t been picked for the role of ‘friend.’ You have. That gives you a closer position to the Collector. And his best friend. If either of us truly has their ears, it will be you.”

Phoenix’s gut roiled. “Can I just—I would like to point out that they’re kids. Kids with insane powers, sure, but kids.”

Odalia sighed. “Oh, please, I already told you, I know how to handle children. I’ll walk you through it, I just need your position. Here.”

She drew a circle in the air, and a purple gem thudded against Phoenix’s collarbone, secured by a black string.

This way, I can talk to you and hear what you’re hearing, Odalia’s voice said in his mind, I can tell you what to say, you simply need say it.

Phoenix halted in his tracks, yanking the necklace off. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t need your voice in my head, and I definitely don’t want you spying on me.”

I’ve dealt with enough omnipresent watchers for one lifetime.

“At least think about it.”

Phoenix opened another window, holding the necklace out. “No.”

“Drop it and I go straight to the Collector,” Odalia snapped.

Phoenix’s jaw clenched, and he slowly dragged the gem back in.

“Put it on. You don’t have to say what I tell you just yet, I’ll give you time to decide.”

“Do I really get a choice?”

“Of course you do. Here, let me show you the other choice.”

Odalia touched the pendant at her throat, and purple light beamed out, forming a picture of the isles, overwhelmed with strange blue plants and sparkles. The view roamed over Bonesborough, empty and silent, and then finally into the Archive House, stopping at a door. Phoenix slowly turned, spotting the same door to his right. Phoenix reached for the handle, slowly pushing it open.

Lifeless, dull eyes stared back at him. People—or, at least, what used to be people—lay collapsed all over the floor, joints bent at awkward angles. Phoenix backed away.

Puppets

That’s what he meant.

“What happened to them?!”

“They didn’t want to play the Collector’s game. So he made them. Those are your options, Phoenix. You can play the Collector’s little game for the rest of your life. You can make a run for it and get stuck a mindless puppet, still playing his game. Or you can play my game, and stand to actually win something. I’m sure you’re a smart man—you haven’t been turned into a puppet yet—but handling children just isn’t your forte, darling.” She patted his shoulder. “Like I said, I’ll give you time. You don’t have to say yes right away. But the clock is ticking on how long you can keep the Collector happy without me. Now, how about that kitchen, hm? Don’t expect me to cook for you, though.”

She strode away, and Phoenix took a deep breath.

Haven’t had to deal with someone like her in a while.

But every coven head had just been another Odalia Blight. Maybe the setting had changed, but competing with a manipulative snake to get in the good graces of a volatile being that had the power to destroy you? He could handle that. Maybe he’d gotten a little rusty with Caleb and the other Grimwalkers, but this was the same game he’d been playing for half of his life.

And that meant there was a way to win.

Xxx

“Does he… even need to eat?” Phoenix whispered, handing King a dragonfruit.

The fruit spurted out a burst of flame, but King didn’t seem to be burned by it. “No idea.”

Collector paced back and forth, waving a squash around in the air like a bat. “Now! Since the real owl lady is… sick… we need a replacement. Phoenix, while you were finding snacks, King and I vetted some possible options, but I want your opinion, too. Did you know the Owl Lady?”

“Only from stories.”

“Hey, me too! Cool, cool, we should both have the same ideas. Candidate one!”

Collector clapped his hands, and a familiar (if older) woman appeared, her eyes darting around and taking in all of her surroundings.

“Terra?!” Phoenix yelped.

She looked him up and down for a moment, then marched over, squinting at the scar that went through his right eyebrow. She gasped. “Rosebud!” Terra reached for his face. “They told us you were dead! But it looks like you haven’t aged a single day.”

Phoenix knocked her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh, looks like this rose grew a few thorns, hmmmm?”

Collector floated between them. “Phoenix? Do you know her?”

Phoenix crossed his arms, turning away from Terra. “Unfortunately. You don’t want her to be your Owl Lady, she’s not very nice.”

Terra gasped. “Rosebud. After everything I’ve done for you?!”

“After…!” Phoenix whirled around again. “You have been trying to poison me since I was thirteen!”

“Oh, please, I never gave you anything in deadly amounts. I was trying to build your poison tolerance, Rosebud! I did it because I cared!” She waved a hand. “I did it for your predecessor all the time. Now there was a man who did whatever it took to win.”

The Collector laughed. “Oh, I remember him! He was really good at statues! Although that miiiiiiight have been because Belos petrified him. Huh.”

Petro. He was the guard before me?

Collector tilted his head at Terra. “You wanna try and find out?”

Her face paled. “No, thank you.”

“You should give it a try,” Phoenix snapped, “See if that builds up your tolerance to petrification.”

“Oh, what is wrong with you? What happened to my sweet little rosebud?”

Phoenix waved a hand. “I don’t know! What did happen to him? Did you ever bother trying to find out?! So much for caring, huh?”

Collector floated between the two of them, holding his arms out. “Neither of you are being very nice,” he said firmly, “You are going into time out!”

The Collector snapped his fingers, and the world around Phoenix blurred into a haze of blue dotted with huge golden stars before settling into an empty void, back on the tiny planet. Phoenix jumped upwards, but the window of light vanished, and he fell back to the planet. He flopped onto the bed with a whump.

“Great.”

Well, that certainly was well-handled, Odalia’s voice said. Phoenix pulled the purple pendant out of his pocket, the gem glowing in the darkness. You need my help more than I thought. Maybe I should rescind my offer before you get us both in trouble.

“Oh, be quiet,” Phoenix grumbled, shoving the necklace under the bed, “You’re the last thing I need right now.”

The window of light opened again, just long enough for King to float down. The little demon clicked a lamp on and sat next to Phoenix, swinging his legs.

“So.”

“So.”

King looked up at the void. “Got kinda heated back there.”

“Even before Belos tried to kill me, I’d started trying to avoid her. Trust me, you and the Collector don’t want to be anywhere near her. Once I started mentoring Darius, I kept him far away from her.”

“Yeah, she seems like a real nice lady.

“She has been through three golden guards,” Phoenix burst out, “She was there when the guy before me was on a bloody conquest in the name of Belos, knew him personally apparently, she was there for half my life, and she was there to see Hunter replace me, and she didn’t once think that something might be wrong?!” Phoenix flopped backwards. “She did notice,” he grumbled, “She just didn’t care. I don’t know why I expected anything better from her, I know what she’s like. Sorry, I know you probably have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, expecting good things from the person who routinely poisoned you as a kid is a little weird,” King agreed, “You doing okay?”

“Are you? I haven’t gotten to talk to you without… him… around.”

“Mm. Yeah. He’s… I’m still trying to figure him out. For now, I think if I go along with him, teach him new games, he’ll leave the people I love alone, and that’s… that’s what’s really important. I can figure out details later.”

“So… you don’t want to be here?”

“I’d rather be home. With Eda. And Luz.” King picked up a stuffed rabbit, squeezing it tightly. “But Luz is in another dimension. And Eda’s in her Owl Beast form until I can figure out a way to get an elixir to her. Lilith might have been able to help, but… she’s a puppet. And so’s Hooty. And…” King’s eyes welled up with tears. “And I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again, or if… if…”

Phoenix reached out, but didn’t touch the little demon. “Uh… permission to touch?”

King nodded, and Phoenix scooped him up, holding him in his lap. “I know we… kind of just only met properly now. But… look, I’ll help you figure out a way to turn your Eda and Hooty and Lilith back to normal. And… I don’t know your Luz, but she’s with my Jason, and I know he’s not going to stop looking for a way back to his family.”

King sniffed. “Luz won’t either.”

“Then between the two of them, I’m sure they’ll get back to us. And in the meantime, the best thing we can do is… try to stay alive. And try to get out of here. With our loved ones.”

“How are you planning to do that?”

“I don’t know yet. But I’m working on it. And when I do figure it out, I’ll take you with me. We’ll get our friends, and we’ll find somewhere to hide where the Collector can’t find us. Promise.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank me after we’re out of here.”

The window of light opened again, and Collector drifted down, tapping his index fingers together. “Phoenix? Are you… mad at me? I won’t make you play with Terra if you don’t want to. And I’m sorry I put you all alone in time out, it’s not nice to be alone.”

King patted Phoenix’s arm. “It’s all okay, Collector, Phoenix and I had a really long talk, and he feels a lot less mad now. He just doesn’t like Terra very much, and he’s still not feeling too good from Belos attacking him.”

“Okay, then maybe we wait until tomorrow to play? So Phoenix can feel better? And no Terra. Building up poison tolerance did sound fun, though…”

“It’s not,” Phoenix said flatly.

“Really? Man. Okay, we’ll stick to owl house. Do you know how to play, Phoenix?”

Phoenix shook his head. “You’re going to have to teach me.”

Collector’s eyes lit up, and he sat cross legged in the air. “Okay, okay, okay, so first of all…”

He started rattling off rules that sounded more like stories, and Phoenix nodded along, acutely aware of the glowing pendant tucked under his bed, and the fact that Terra was out in the archive house somewhere.

Just like the coven.

Figure out the rules of the game.

Play your cards right.

Win before they do.

[nico-di-genova]

Things my siblings have done that I think Benny has as well

Has the ability to fall asleep anywhere, even before enlisting. Will used to catch toddler Benny sleeping in the backseat of their dad’s truck, folded completely over with his head in his lap.

Electrocuted himself when he stuck a metal necklace into an outlet one time just to see what would happen. Will came into the room just as Benny was shot back by a ball of lightning. Apparently he avoided being electrocuted because the current went up and around the necklace before returning to the outlet.

Jumped off the top bunk of his bed when he was a kid, string to the curtain blinds in his mouth because he wanted to see if it would hold him up, instead he crashed into the window and pulled out a tooth.

Jumped off the bed another time because he was playing “wrestler” and slammed into the corner of his glass top dresser, shattering it and cutting himself in the process.

Tried to microwave pizza rolls one time, but instead of putting them in for two minutes he set the timer for two hours and then walked away. Came back to the kitchen about ten minutes later to the microwave smoking and ended up calling the fire department in a panic.

After the smoke cleared he sent a picture of the pizza rolls and the melted through plastic plate they were on to Will with a text that simply read “it wasn’t that bad”.

Will: “IT ABSOLUTELY LOOKS THAT BAD” Benny: “nah. They didn’t even catch on fire. The firemen were hot btw”

Snuck out one night to get high with his friends in a house that was still under construction and consequently stepped on a nail that went through his shoe and into his foot.

Used to collect pocket knives but got them taken away after the time he sliced his hand open playing with them when he was a kid.

Got given an air soft gun for his bday one year and terrorized Will with it. It got to the point that Will was triple checking corners and under blankets just to make sure Benny wasn’t about to jump out and shoot him.

Asked to sleep in Will’s bed until he was about six, which meant Will woke up the next morning with bruises from all the times Benny had kicked him in his sleep.

Drove his 4-wheeler into a barbed wire fence because he wasn’t looking where he was going and ended up in the hospital with a cut up face, arms and a broken nose.