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headspace-hotel · 2 days

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Nature is healing.

I burned the Meadow a couple weeks ago. At first it looked like nothing but charred ashes and dirt, with a few scorched green patches, and I was afraid I'd done something terrible. But then the sprouts emerged. Tender new leaves swarming the soil.

My brother and I were outside after dark the other day, to see if any lightning bugs would emerge yet. We had been working on digging the pond. That old soggy spot in the middle of the yard that we called "poor drainage," that always splattered mud over our legs when we ran across it as children—it isn't a failed lawn, and it never was.

Oh, we tried to fill in the mud puddles, even rented heavy machinery and graded the whole thing out, but the little wetland still remembered. God bless those indomitable puddles and wetlands and weeds, that in spite of our efforts to flatten out the differences that make each square meter of land unique from another, still declare themselves over and over to be what they are.

So we've been digging a hole. A wide, shallow hole, with an island in the middle.

And steadily, I've been transplanting in vegetation. At school there is a soggy field that sadly is mowed like any old field. The only pools where a frog could lay eggs are tire ruts. From this field I dig up big clumps of rushes and sedges, and nobody pays me any mind when I smuggle them home.

I pulled a little stick of shrubby willow from some cracked pavement near a creek, and planted it nearby. From a ditch on the side of the road beside a corn field, I dug up cattail rhizomes. Everywhere, tiny bits of wilderness, holding on.

I gathered up rotting logs small enough to carry and made a log pile beside the pond. At another corner is a rock pile. I planted some old branches upright in the ground to make a good place for birds and dragonflies to perch.

And there are so many birds! Mourning doves, robins, cardinals and grackles come here in much bigger numbers, and many, many finches and sparrows. I always hear woodpeckers, even a Pileated Woodpecker here and there. A pair of bluebirds lives here. There are three tree swallows, a barn swallow also, tons of chickadees, and there's always six or seven blue jays screaming and making a commotion. And the goldfinches! Yesterday I watched three brilliant yellow males frolic among the tall dandelions. They would hover above the grass and then drop down. One landed on a dandelion stem and it flopped over. There are several bright orange birds too. I think a couple of them are orioles, but there's definitely also a Summer Tanager. There's a pair of Canada Geese that always fly by overhead around the same time in the evening. It's like their daily commute.

The other day, as I watched, I saw a Cooper's Hawk swoop down and carry off a robin. This was horrifying news for the robin individually, but great news for the ecosystem. The food chain can support more links now.

There are two garter snakes instead of one, both of them fat from being good at snaking. I wonder if there will be babies?

But the biggest change this year is the bugs. It's too early for the lightning bugs, but all the same the yard is full of life.

It's like remembering something I didn't know I forgot. Oh. This is how it's supposed to be. I can't glance in any direction without seeing the movement of bugs. Fat crickets and earwigs scuttle underneath my rock piles, wasps flit about and visit the pond's shore, an unbelievable variety of flies and bees visit the flowers, millipedes and centipedes hide under the logs. Butterflies, moths, and beetles big and small are everywhere.

I can't even describe it in terms of individual encounters; they're just everywhere, hopping and fluttering away with every step. There are so many kinds of ants. I sometimes stare really closely at the ground to watch the activities of the ants. Sometimes they are in long lines, with two lanes of ants going back and forth, touching antennae whenever two ants traveling in opposite directions meet. Sometimes I see ants fighting each other, as though ant war is happening. Sometimes the ants are carrying the curled-up bodies of dead ants—their fallen comrades?

My neighbor gave me all of their fallen leaves (twelve bags!) and it turns out that piling leaves on top of a rock and log pile in a wet area summons an unbelievable amount of snails.

I always heard of snails as pests, but I have learned better. Snails move calcium through the food chain. Birds eat snails and use the calcium in their shells to make egg shells. In this way, snails lead to baby birds. I never would have known this if I hadn't set out to learn about snails.

In the golden hour of evening, bugs drift across the sky like golden motes of dust, whirling and dancing together in the grand dramas of their tiny lives. I think about how complicated their worlds are. After interacting with bees and wasps so much for so long, I'm amazed by how intelligent and polite they are. Bumble bees will hover in front of me, swaying side to side, or circle slowly around me several times, clearly perceiving some kind of information...but what? It seems like bees and wasps can figure out if you are a threat, or if you are peaceful, and act accordingly.

I came to a realization about wasps: when they dart at your head so you hear them buzzing close by your ears, they're announcing their presence. The proper response is to freeze and duck down a bit. It seems like wasps can recognize if you're being polite; for what it's worth, I've never been stung by a wasp.

As night falls, bats emerge and start looping and darting around in the sky above. If the yard seems full of bugs in the day, it is nothing compared to the night.

I'm aware that what I'm about to describe, to an entomophobe, sounds like a horror movie: when i walk to the back yard, the trees are audibly crackling and whirring with the activity of insects. Beetles hover among the branches of the trees. When we look up at the sky, moths of all sizes are flying hither and thither across it. A large, very striking white moth flies past low to the ground.

Last year, seeing a moth against the darkening sky was only occasional. Now there's so many of them.

I consider it in my mind:

When roads and houses are built and land is turned over to various human uses, potentially hundreds of native plant species are extirpated from that small area. But all of the Eastern USA has been heavily altered and destroyed.

Some plants come back easily, like wild blackberry, daisy fleabane, and common violets. But many of them do not. Some plants need fire to sprout, some need Bison or large birds to spread them, some need humans to harvest and care for them, some live in habitats that are frequently treated with contempt, some cannot bear to be grazed by cattle, some are suffocated beneath invasive Tall Fescue, Kentucky bluegrass, honeysuckle or Bradford pears, and some don't like being mowed or bushhogged.

Look at the landscape...hundreds and hundreds of acres of suburbs, pastures, corn fields, pavement, mowed verges and edges of roads.

Yes, you see milkweed now and then, a few plants on the edge of the road, but when you consider the total area of space covered by milkweed, it is so little it is nearly negligible. Imagine how many milkweed plants could grow in a single acre that was caretaken for their prosperity—enough to equal fifty roadsides put together!

Then I consider how many bugs are specialists, that can only feed upon a particular plant. Every kind of plant has its own bugs. When plant diversity is replaced by Plant Sameness, the bug population decreases dramatically.

Plant sameness has taken over the world, and the insect apocalypse is a result.

But in this one small spot, nature is healing...

#plants #native plants #native plant gardening #proplifting #sorta #save the bees

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theminecraftbee · 3 days

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The moon has fully set over the horizon. The howling over the server has stopped. Four Hermits sit in a circle, staring just slightly away from each other, as to not be caught staring. Joe is miserably trying to wring mud out of his puppet. Stress isn't bothering about the mud at all but is despairing at how shredded her jumper is. Somehow, Zedaph has only lost a shoe, which is more concerning than any of the prior people. Xisuma is deliberately not checking himself. The damning lack of helmet on his head, though, means he can't avoid feeling how he underwent the same terrible transformation as everyone else.

"So," he says, finally.

"I could use pants," Joe says, finally giving up on washing out his puppet, and, ah. Yes. Those are pretty well destroyed, aren't they? Xisuma looks away politely, feeling his face heat up. It heats up more when he realizes everyone can see it, gosh, he's–he's not so sure how he feels about that–

"I think we all need pants. Look at us," Stress says, and if Xisuma can be looking away any harder, he sure is now. Wait, she said 'all', does that include... Oh, oh dear.

"Well I don't know about you, but I still have perfectly serviceable pants," Zedaph says imperiously.

"You know, if anything, that's weirder, given the way we were all giant wolves traipsing around in the night just now. Which is strange itself! However, wolves don't normally wear pants, so really, the fact the only article of clothing you've lost is your shoes is less miraculous and more actively impossible!" Joe responds.

"Well you're actively impossible," mutters Zedaph.

"My god, it was real," Xisuma says.

"Well, I mean, I sort of figured it had to be, what with the four of us being all covered in mud and tired and your helmet being gone and all that," Stress says.

"It was real," Xisuma says.

The four of them sit in silence a little longer. The sun continues its steady march upwards into the sky. It's April; the day is longer than the night, by now, so they aren't wasting but so much time compared to the time the moon was up. The time the moon was up feels a bit more like a dream than anything else, too; distantly, Xisuma wonders if this is what spiders feel like when they become angry during the night, or what drives the undead from the ground. It's a disquieting thought, and he'd literally lived in a skeleton!

"So," Joe says. "So. Which one of us is going to yell at Zedaph for biting us?"

"Rude!" Zedaph says. "Very rude, I'm not the one that bit you! You bit me! Xisuma bit me, actually, you all saw him!"

"What? No, I didn't!" Xisuma says. "Gosh, if I were a werewolf, don't you think you'd know by now?"

"Hm. Suspicious," Zedaph says.

"No?" Xisuma says.

"I mean, I'd try to claim it was my fault, what with being a monster and all, but I'm actually a different sort of beastie normally," Stress says. "Being all doggy is new for me. I should show Iskall. Hey, do you think I should bite Iskall?"

"Yes," Zedaph says.

"No," Xisuma says.

"I'll split the difference and say maybe," Joe says. "Also, since we're arguing about it anyway, I'll say that I think I'd remember if I bit someone, although maybe I wouldn't. It's been a weird night. Maybe I should just go ahead and get everyone apology gifts instead?"

"Please don't," Zedaph says.

"Aww, but I like his gifts," Stress says.

"Honestly, yeah, I was–no, Zedaph is right, it'd be too distracting," Xisuma says, thinking of many of the, er, gifts he's gotten from Joe in the past. "Besides, it's not your fault. But if none of us bit anyone, then why on earth are we all werewolves no–oh no."

"That was ominous?" Joe says.

"Oh. Ohhhhhh," Zedaph says. "Whoops."

"It was supposed to be a joke about investment bankers," Xisuma says.

"Wait, what, do you really think the silly name turned us into werewolves?" Stress says.

"I had other season plans, Xisuma!" Joe says.

"Hey, does that make me a sheep in wolf's clothing that's also a wolf that turns into a sheep that turns into a wolf? If so, neat," Zedaph says.

"Do you know how annoying it will be to get a werewolf puppet?" Joe says.

"Gosh, I absolutely have to bite Iskall now," Stress says.

Xisuma, for a moment, considers putting a stop to it. If it really is the silly name, the collective, the hats and the howls–if it really is the collective weight of story bearing down on all of them–then really, it's still so early that it would be very easy to stop.

Xisuma considers the competition the rest of the shopping district poses, and how easy it will be to move as a collective when they're also a pack.

Also, he hasn't actually been a wolf before. That's one mob he hasn't done!

"You should bite Iskall. I want to know what it does," Xisuma says, deciding that he's quite bored with being responsible and that if someone wants to stop it, it will have to be not him. "But, er, first, in the meantime, do you think he or Doc is better to ask for a helmet that'll grow to fit my muzzle instead of nearly trapping my skull?"

"Hm," Stress says. "Well, Iskall is pretty good at head electronics."

"Yeah, but Doc is a better choice for abominations against nature!" Joe says.

"What about me? I like abominations," Zedaph says.

"It's okay, Zedaph, it's just you don't make many helmets, is all," Xisuma says. "We'll run around being abominations of nature, gosh, most full moons together. Is that good enough?"

"Fine," Zedaph says. "I'm bringing the snacks. I have sheep, and I've always wanted to try cannibalism."

"I guess werewolves wouldn't have to worry about prions," Joe says, nodding.

"Well, if you're going to get Doc, I'm going to go bite Iskall. I know I don't got fangs right now but it'll be very funny either way," Stress says.

"Have fun!" Xisuma says, and even though he's still red, and no one has pants but Zedaph, and he feels vaguely sick without his helmet, he also feels something close to pure delight. Gosh. Werewolves, huh? What a concept, having a little pack. He'll have to make the most of it; they've already seen his face anyway, and not one of them have commented or looked him in the eyes. Clearly, it won't matter so much if Doc takes a while with the helmet.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #xisuma #joe hills #zedaph #stressmonster101 #a bee fic #me vibrating at high speeds: WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES #the fact today is hermit-a-day-may xisuma day is coincidence i'm not doing it (although everyone should!)#but i figure it decent timing anyway

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itsgrimeytime · 2 days

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i know i got him || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn! reader

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter

Summary: Ever since you showed up, you've had an effect on Rick. At least, that's what everyone said. Initially, you hadn't recognized it. But after one too many coincidences, it's starting to become a little impossible to ignore.

TWs: flirting, simp behavior, cursing, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: Was listening to this song nonstop (so good btw) and my brain went... hmm. Rick is terribly down bad in this. Like eager to do things for you, following you around like a puppy dog, the works. Also this gif????? girl... Enjoy :)))) ]]

You had never really thought about how you affected him. Or how they thought you did, anyway.

"You're being ridiculous," you stated -plainly.

Maggie was trying desperately to convince you that you had one Rick Grimes wrapped around your finger. Rick Grimes? Wrapped around your finger? No way.

"Do you remember yesterday? When he went on a run to find you a pair of shoes?"

"That was not why he went out on a run," you laughed a little, mindlessly bouncing Judith against your side, "-we need more as a community than just-"

"Then, why-" she interjected, "-did he only come back with shoes?"

"He didn't," you countered, "-He had some cans of food, I remember."

"Two," she relented, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, "-he went out on a run for two cans of food?"

"Sometimes you can't find much-"

"Oh my god," Maggie rolled her eyes, "-you are unbelievable. Let me just show ya-"

You pursed your lips, as she walked ahead of you -beelining to Rick. She had quite the pep in her step, pregnant and all, "Show me?"

Before you could call out to her, she was at Rick's side. He seemed to be talking to Deanna, actually, and if he was talking to Deanna, it was probably important. He smiled at her, in a Rick sort of way, until she started motioning to you. You had no idea what she was saying, but his eyes flicked to you instinctively.

Now, you'd never thought about if he smiled differently at you, but it was kind of hard to ignore right now.

Eyes dipping over you and Judith, the bright grin on his face was very different than the one for Maggie previously. And it wasn't even like that one wasn't genuine, you could tell it was, this one was just different.

It was crinkly eyes and shining white teeth. It surprised you that it didn't even seem unfamiliar to you; how long had he been smiling at you like this? And you had just normalized it?

You guessed you didn't have a direct comparison but still-

You smiled back (maybe just as bright, you weren't sure) and gently waved.

Watching him laugh a little and shake his head (like he couldn't believe you were waving at him?), your eyes darted to the ever-so-slight pinks of his ears.

Before you could think about it, Maggie said something to grab his attention (eyes stuck to you before snapping to her), and they were both on the way to your side. Something worried in Rick's eyes, you felt some guilt coil into your stomach; what had Maggie said?

You couldn't ask about it before he was already at your side, hands itching to fuss over you -you could tell. He seemed to let them win.

"Maggie said ya got a headache?"

Right, it was a sort of offhand remark to Maggie. And it was hurting, the sun even stung your eyes a bit. But he left that conversation (obviously very important) because you had a headache?

The gears in your head were turning, and Maggie seemed to watch them -eyes stuck to your face. You couldn't believe it yet, there had to be a reason.

"Rick," you started, "-it's fine. It's minor, had it since I woke up this morning, I can-"

His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes gleamed with concern, hands coming to rest on your arm, "Ya had it since 'is mornin'?"

Shit.

"Yeah," you answered, still trying to fight your case, "-but really, Rick, it's nothing. I can manage-"

"Ya should go rest," he interrupted, taking Judith from your arms, "-least til' it gets a lil' better. 'S hurtin' your eyes, I can tell."

How did he know that?

"Rick, seriously-"

"I'll take ya home," he hummed, carefully, "-and I'll come back in an hour to check on ya-"

"Rick," you tried again.

"-Get some medicine from the doc', and bring it to ya myself," he finished, something in him decided.

You pursed your lips, trying a different angle, "Shouldn't you be getting back to Deanna?"

"She can wait," he responded, simply.

"Well," you frowned, "-it has to be important, I don't want to-"

"'S not as important as you."

The words faltered in your throat, and Maggie looked at you in a way that you could hardly grasp. Mouthing 'I told ya so', you thought on it. Maybe he was just concerned, I mean one thing-

And then, his hand came to rest on your lower back, guiding you home, and your brain promptly turned off.

Ever since that conversation, you'd been trying to reason. Keeping watch on your interactions with Rick (he did always smile at you like that, fyi), you were trying to rationalize it. Give it a reason. Other than what Maggie, and others, said, but it started stacking up.

It was a dreaded day, laundry day. And out of the cycle, it was your turn.

Sometimes, the people of Alexandria would just air dry their clothes for conservation reasons, really. And every time, there was someone assigned the duty. A little like how the meals were made, and someone had to help Carol -not that she'd ask for it. She was a little stubborn like that.

That being said, no one, and you mean no one, liked to do laundry. Specifically, because you had to get up early (to make sure you got all the sun power you could), and it took hours. Especially on your own.

You basically crawled out of bed at 4, maybe 5, in the morning. Still in your pajamas, you stalked through the streets of Alexandria -dragging your feet a little, you won't lie. Making your way over to the air drying area, you pulled out all the baskets and placed them along the ground -organized. It was probably the only time you ever really were these days.

Putting your hands on your hips, you let out a big, long sigh.

"Well," you tried to smile, still so asleep that your voice was cracking, "-the sooner I start, the sooner the hell ends."

Before you could even grab a single piece of clothing, a voice interrupted you -low in drawl like maybe he had just woken up.

"Ya need some help?"

Your eyes shot to him and something in your chest fluttered, stirring in your stomach. Rick was still in his pajamas (plaid pants low, and a plain t-shirt), eyes still heavy with sleep like maybe he'd just woken up too, and his hair probably the messiest you'd ever seen. There was a curl hanging in front of his head, you got the urge to fix it.

And maybe it was because you were half awake, but you did. The smile he got on his face after made warmth shoot to your toes -all dopey and sleepy. You kind of just wanted to gather him up in your arms, and maybe fall asleep on his chest (woodsy smell and body warmth). Luckily, that urge didn't come to fruition.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What the hell are you doing up this early?"

Not only was it odd that he was up this early, but like you said no one likes laundry duty. So why was he offering to help at all? If he had duties this early, shouldn't he be going and doing them? Why-

"'Eard it was your turn," he spoke, low and gravelly (you had no idea how to handle that), "- an' wanted to help ya."

You pressed your lips together, mind chiming 'wrapped around your finger'.

No one likes laundry duty.

"Thank you, Rick, but-" you started, "-I can tell you're still tired and I know for a fact you have a lot to do later today, so-"

"Nothin' to do," he hummed, wiping at his eye. Cute.

That had to be a lie.

"Asked Deanna for a break," he clarified, looking at you a certain type of way, "-Needed one anyway, thought I'd help ya."

"You're," you sputtered, a little in disbelief, "-You're taking a break day to help me with laundry? It is so much work-"

"Won't feel like work if I'm wit' ya."

Good god. Was he always this sweet? You couldn't have been that oblivious. Seriously.

"Guess I could use some company," you muttered, a little flattered but you tried to hide it. Rick just smiled at you in a way that made your breath hitch in your chest, you wavered on your feet.

"But, seriously," you added, "-if you need to take a break, on your break day, let me know, I'll-"

"'S long as you're workin'," he smiled, big and bright, "-I'm workin'."

"Is that," you laughed a little, "-Is that your way of making me take a break?"

He smiled differently then, mischievous, "Maybe."

You bit your lip and decidedly turned to the baskets, "Let's get to work then, Grimes, the faster we start, the faster we're done."

He joined your side, close enough to touch, it made your head spin a little. Before speaking, low like maybe a mutter, and maybe even nervous-

"Ya mind if I stick by ya for the day? 'Ve got nothin' else to do, figured I'd just be wit' ya. If 'at's alright?"

Good god.

You swallowed, blinking, but not quite turning to him, "Of course, you... Yeah, of course. I mean, I might have more chores-"

"I don't mind," he hummed, gentle, already hanging up something -not looking at you, "-'s long as it's wit' ya."

You blinked, damp shirt in your hands, just staring at him. Watching as he carefully clipped up the clothes, big hands ever-so-gentle like he didn't just drop probably the sweetest thing you'd ever heard. Genuinely too.

Shit, maybe they're onto something.

You decided to ask around.

"Honest question, Carol," you hummed, thumbing through a few of the ingredients. It was your day to help her, it's probably one of your favorite chores. You really enjoyed her presence, she was a close friend. Long story short, you trusted her judgment.

She hummed, gently grabbing one of the ingredients.

"This may sound so stupid, just know that I'm acknowledging that," you clarified, now looking at her, "-but do you think Rick is into me?"

Carol paused a moment, trying to decide how to react maybe, and you could already see her reaction. She was just a little too polite to say it instantly.

"Shit," you muttered, "-really?"

She pursed her lips, looking at you with a little pity almost, "'Fraid so. It's..."

She fell silent for a second, you just watched -patiently.

"-Everyone knows," she continued, hesitantly (like maybe she didn't want to embarrass you), "-Rick... I think he's been into you since the prison."

"The prison?" you nearly exclaimed, stalling in place. No way, "-what did he-"

"Remember the week 'at you were sick?"

Right, you'd been a little delirious from something. Maybe a little more than a cold? Nothing super serious, you remember Hershel telling you that but you had to rest. He was pretty sturdy on that. Turned out you couldn't have been doing anything, it made you feverish and nearly sleeping all the time-

"Ya ever wondered who took care of you?" she questioned, directly.

"No," you laughed, "-it was Hershel, he was the medic-"

"You sure?" Carol countered, eyes peeking at you -leveling a stare, "-He was feeding you, gettin' ya water? Stayed by your bedside?"

You faltered, something in you twisting, "Carol."

You'd remembered something like Rick feeding you, bites extended forward, and maybe the low timber of his voice. You'd just thought it was you being delirious; you had a thing for him, so you just-

"Carol," you repeated.

"He was there every day," she clarified, turning to the other side of the kitchen, "-as far as I know, he only left to do farmin' and see Carl or Judith. If you seemed to get worse, he got Hershel. But... otherwise..."

"Carol."

"None of us said anythin'," she added, busying her hands, "-because he didn't. 'At was his thing, it wasn't our place."

"For all this time?" you scurried to her side -hanging on to every word she said.

"Well," she sighed, turning to you fully now, "-we kinda figured he'd say something by now."

"God," you groaned, throwing your head into your hands, "-I have to be the dumbest person on the planet."

"To be fair," Carol soothed, "-ya didn't know."

You couldn't look Rick in the eyes for the rest of the day, or maybe you stared at him a lot more. It was all so confusing.

You decided then and there, that you'd try the most trustworthy person. The one who wouldn't lie to you, a little because he respected you too much. It did help that he was most definitely Rick's best friend.

"Hey, Daryl?"

You'd arranged a run with a few newcomers, and frankly made Daryl come because you wanted to have this conversation.

He didn't speak, just sort of grunted. It tracked.

"You're probably the most honest person I know," you cleared your throat, "-and I am pretty desperate at this point for just... honesty."

He turned to you fully then, something like concern in his eyes. The guy was truly a softie at his very core, you probably treasured your friendship the most out of everyone but it was a close call.

"Everythin' alright?"

You pursed your lips, "Yeah, yeah, don't worry. It's a... probably stupid thing actually."

He kept walking forward through the aisles of the store you were in, stashing away some essentials. You were doing the same, well, you were trying to.

"Stupid thin'?" he asked, not looking at you.

"Yes, it's dumb as hell, frankly," you laughed a little, "-but I just... I guess I want to know the extent of it."

Daryl turned to you, eyebrows furrowed together, "What the hell are ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Rick," you answered, and he seemed to take a second at the name, "-Is he really into me? Like everyone seems to believe?"

He didn't answer at first, just simply turned back to the canned foods, "Carol tell ya 'bout the prison? When ya were sick?"

"Yes," you swallowed.

"Ya should know the answer to 'at then," he spoke -gruff and straightforward.

"Well," you tried to argue, "-it's hard to understand it. I just... I don't know."

Daryl said nothing, walking forward through the aisle. You followed him, keeping your eye out for more that he hadn't grabbed. And for a moment, you thought he wasn't going to say anything else.

Suddenly, he spoke up, "He can't focus when you're on runs. Deanna 'ates it."

You opened your mouth to ask just how he knew that, but he interrupted you.

"She complains," he clarified, before asking, "-Ya ever wonder why ya barely get put on runs? When everyone else is goin' in a cycle?"

"I..." you paused, mulling it over. When was the last time you were organically on a run? You'd arranged this one-

"Deanna don't put ya on 'em," Daryl explained, turning to you with some canned food in his hand, "-'cause she kno's Rick'll be useless. He'd be waitin' at the damn gate if he could."

You tried to speak, but he continued.

"He always asks someone ya were out wit' to keep an eye on ya. And 'en, when ya come back, asks 'at same person if ya got hurt at all. Scratches, cuts, if ya tripped probably-"

You didn't say a word.

"-I kno' 'cause I've been 'em," he clarified, and you were wordless.

You took a deep breath in, good god.

"So yea'," he answered finally, "-he's into ya."

And then, he moved forward and didn't say another word. He didn't really have to though.

You'd even watched this time, keeping an eye on Daryl and where he went after coming back from the run. And sure enough, Rick waltzed up to him like it was the most normal thing in the world. You imagined you knew the conversation.

Yeah okay, your mind chimed, he has a thing for me.

The thing was, he might've been hesitant but you sure as hell weren't going to be. You might warm him up a little bit though, maybe just for a little fun.

He was wearing a new shirt. Kind of weird for you to notice, but it was the apocalypse, everyone wore the same thing so often that it melded with them in your mind. You could still vividly picture what Rick looked like at the prison and sure, maybe that was for more reason than just that, but still.

You went a little on autopilot. Call it confirming what you already knew, basically. Or, at least, that's what you'd tell yourself.

Upon closer inspection, you noticed the collar of his (new) flannel was askew -just a little. Bingo.

You waltzed up to him and Deanna with no particular air of anything. Just normal, you wanted to see it for yourself really (the laundry thing was very telling, but you wanted to see the little things). Rick stuttered to a stop, words halting in his throat when you showed up, and your heart flipped in your chest. Stay focused.

"Hey, sorry," you apologized, genuinely (well, kind of), "-I just gotta-"

Carefully, you straightened out his collar.

You felt his eyes on you the whole time (just staring), it made your heartbeat pick up a little bit but, luckily, he couldn't quite see that.

"-There," you cheered, just a tiny one, and you saw a dopey sort of smile spread across his lips (it made you feel warm down to your toes).

You pat his chest once, feeling his body heat thrum against your hand -eyes connecting to his, "Like the new shirt, by the way."

He looked at you in a way that somehow seemed familiar but you'd never really noticed. You'd been noticing a lot more recently, to be fair.

With one last apology (eyes dashing to Deanna, who in retrospect looked a little annoyed), you politely made your exit.

Finding anywhere to go, you spotted Maggie -who was already looking at you.

Shit.

She approached you before you could go anywhere else, and you readied yourself for the onslaught.

"What was that?" she asked, carefully.

You resumed your step, maybe with a little too much pep, "His collar was messed up. I fixed it."

"No, no," she followed your lead, perfectly in time, "-you... you're doin' somethin', what are you doin'?"

"I'm not," you answered -plainly.

Maggie, frankly, didn't believe you (obviously).

You weren't sure what you were waiting for, maybe for him to realize? You knew you could've just told him yourself, and you really were going to... but every time you tried to walk up to him, your throat just clogged up. He would look at you that way (all dopey and sweet and affectionate) and you just-

God, you were useless.

It was late, way too late for you to be up (you should clarify), but you just couldn't sleep. You weren't entirely sure what it was, but at the same time, you knew exactly what it was.

Every day that you didn't tell him was another day wasted. It was the apocalypse. Every day was numbered, and you could be gone at any moment and there was no time to waste. But, you tried and tried and tried. It just wouldn't come out. You weren't sure why.

You groaned, pulling your pillow over your face for a moment. You had things to do tomorrow, couldn't you just have this crisis later-

And then, there was a knock.

Pausing, you waited a moment just to see if it was even real.

Knock.

It was a strong one too, maybe a little desperate, and fear shot through your spine. Before you could think too hard, you scrambled out of your bed -the chill of the night seeping into your skin. Your mind was in one lane, survival. Someone was probably hurt, something was happening-

With shaky hands, you pulled open your door, words on the edge of your tongue-

"Rick?"

He was standing at your door, hair mussed and in his pajamas (still the low-hanging plaid pants, you noted). You let yourself look at him a moment, taking in the domestic view of Rick you'd only seen once before. Seeing him like this almost made you forget your worry, but it still struck a cord in your chest.

You frantically searched over him (looking for wounds or blood), "Shit, are you alright? Did you g-"

"I'm okay, I'm okay-" he moved his hands to your shoulders, and your mouth snapped shut, "-Everythin's fine, darlin', relax."

"God," you let out a breath, centering yourself, "-you scared the shit out of me."

Rick smiled at you a certain type of way then, sleepy and still with that little glint, and let out a low sort of chuckle. Hair all mussed and eyes half closed, it might've been the cutest thing you'd ever seen.

"Sorry," he smiled at you, something twinkling in his eye, "-didn't mean to scare ya."

You waved it off, before falling a little more serious, "If there's nothing wrong, why are you here, Rick?"

He seemed to take a pause. Eyes flickering all over you, a bit in reverence. It made you either what to throw up or faint, you weren't totally sure which one.

"Are you-" you spoke, carefully, "-Are you emotionally okay? Do you need me to-"

"I need ya."

You faltered, barely digesting, "Need me to what? Whatever-"

"No," he clarified, something in his eyes, "-I just need ya."

"What?" you asked -half awake, and unsure if he was saying what you thought he was.

"Y/N," he started, eyeing your now connected hands, "-I want... Shit, I need ya wit' me."

"Rick," you spoke, softly, "-what are you talking about?"

"I'm tired of not bein' wit' ya-" he spoke, like it took everything in his body to say it -a little like he was pleading with you.

It felt like your breath was knocked out of your lungs, and your heart was coughing up your throat. You felt totally and completely numb, all you could do was look at him.

He continued, eyes turning to match yours and grabbing your hands, "-I'm tired of missin' ya like a limb when you're standin' two feet away, I'm tired of always wishin' ya were closer, I'm tired of not tellin' ya 'at I think you are everythin' to me, I'm... I'm tired of it."

"Rick," your eyes were getting foggy.

"Darlin', I-" he let out a long breath, "-I can't do it anymore. I feel like I can't breathe without ya near me-"

"Rick."

"-Ya gotta understand 'at I-" he looked down (a little like the words were stuck in his throat), "-I... I can't function without ya. 'S like you're a piece of me 'at's just constantly missin' and it don't 'ave to be."

"Rick," you tried again.

"Y/N, I've-" he stuttered a second just looking at you, "-I've never felt 'is way 'bout anybody. An' I don't... I'm not even sure what to do 'bout it- I can't even think straight when you're gone, it... it stops everythin'-"

"Rick," you repeated, but there wasn't a lot of will behind it.

"Because 'ow am I supposed to be me without ya?"

You swallowed, heavily, eyes flickering all over him -maybe a little in reverence too. It felt like this was all a dream, and maybe this was exactly what you wanted him to say. Only one thought was rattling through your head, and you couldn't shake it, you're not sure you wanted to-

You spoke, breathless and maybe a little teary, "Rick, I love you."

Rick smiled at you so brightly that your knees felt a little weak, and your heart stuttered in your chest. God-

"You-" you laughed a little then, hands coming up to brush along his face (touching what you had longed to for so long)"-you're unbelievable. I couldn't even wrap my head around the thought that you could be into me-"

He just watched you, something shiny in his eyes (you couldn't tell if it was feelings or tears).

"-God you should've seen me. I asked like everyone in Alexandria," he laughed a little, and you gleamed, "-And... And I found out about so much that you've done for me. And you took a day off to do laundry with me-"

He laughed again, "Guess 'at made it pretty obvious, huh?"

"That, and-" you smiled at him, pushing some of his curls back out of his face, "-caring for me in the prison-"

He pursed his lips at that, maybe expecting you to never know. It didn't seem like he could stop looking at you though.

"-and you know what, not being able to focus when I'm gone on runs is pretty incriminating-"

He leveled the same look, and you could see his ears go pink. Cute.

"-or maybe," you continued, looking at him in a way that you hoped he understood (you were desperate for him to), "-when you dropped an obviously important conversation because I had a headache."

He just smiled at you, all dopey and affectionate. It made warmth bloom through your chest. Love, love, love-

"If it ain't obvious," he started, just staring, "-I love ya too. More than what I kno' what to do wit'."

You grinned at him, teasing, "Really? 'Couldn't tell."

He rolled his eyes at you, but was smiling so bright you couldn't take it seriously, "Ya gonna be like 'is now?"

"Oh, yeah," you answered, "-now I know just what you've done for me, and for how long. You're toast."

"Ya act like 'at's all I 'ave done," he countered, maybe smirking a little.

"It's not?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"No," he laughed, "-I was desperate for ya. For a long time. I did a lot to just be by your side, not countin' what I did for ya."

"Well," you smiled, moving your hands to curl into his hair, "-you'll just have to tell me sometime."

"Maybe," he hummed at the motion, and grinned at you, "-but the list is only bound to get longer. Might take forever."

"You know what, Grimes," you laughed, but you were genuinely, "-I think I can do forever."

"Me too," he grinned even brighter, eyes dashing along your face, "-as long as it's with ya."

Yeah, you thought to yourself (and maybe kissed the life out of him), I can definitely do forever.

#its griming time #rick grimes #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #twd #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes twd #i know i got him

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vettelsvee · 2 days

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MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT REPUTATION'S VERSION ⋆ COMING JUNE 1ST 2024

a formula 1 short stories compilation about my favourite drivers based on each taylor swift song from reputation

taglist: [@celemilii @theseerbetweenus @anniee-mr @stelena-klayley @lozzamez3 @0710khj @afterg1ows @vincentvanshoe @coco-loco-nut @minkyungseokie @lemon-lav @stinkyjax] thanks to all of you who wanted to be tagged! don't forget you can join my taglist by commenting or telling me through dm <3

are you ready for it?

TACK 1 ...READY FOR IT | charles leclerc x reader ⋆ smau Y/N finally decides she's ready to start a relationship with Charles even people just hate her so much for her past dating other F1 drivers.

TRACK 2 END GAME | george russell x reader Y/N, after dating too many guys for fun, is finally ready to settle down her mind by starting dating George, her brother’s best friend.

TRACK 3 I DID SOMETHING BAD | fernando alonso x reader ⋆ smut Fernando has a night one stand with Y/N De la Rosa, his friend Pedro’s daughter. He knows that’s bad, but why the forbidden feels so good?

TRACK 4 DON'T BLAME ME | oscar piastri x reader Y/N is scared to start a relationship with Oscar not only because she’s broken more hearts than she can remember, but also because everyone told her she’s not good enough for the McLaren driver.

TRACK 5 DELICATE | max verstappen x reader Y/N started dating Max and, since the first minute, their relationship has been public. She’s so in love, she’s so happy to be with someone as nice as Verstappen, but she’s also so insecure and vulnerable about what others think about them.

TRACK 6 LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO | lando norris x actress!reader ⋆ smau After breaking up with his boyfriend of three years, Y/N decides to move forward and show people that she wasn’t the villain of her and Lando’s story.

TRACK 7 SO IT GOES... | charles leclerc x reader ⋆ smut After having one of the worst fights of their relationship due to some photos that were leaked and the thoughts of the media and fans of Y/N cheating on Charles, the couple decides to solve problems in a not so talkative way.

TRACK 8 GORGEOUS | sebastian vettel x musician fem oc Sebastian decides to spend a weekend by himself next to Alessia Cavalli, the girl he might be falling in love with after his wife, Hanna, cheated on him. Sebastian is captivated by Alessia, but he can’t just express his feelings: not only the media will become obsessed with them, but also Hanna and the rest of Seb’s family. So, for now, not only Vettel, but also Cavalli, will have to be friends even tough they think about each other they’re gorgeous.

TRACK 9 GETAWAY CAR | george russell x reader After having a relationship with his teammate, Lewis Hamilton, and having broken up with him after many years dating, Y/N just need George as a getaway car.

TRACK 10 KING OF MY HEART | lewis hamilton x reader ⋆ smau Y/N was happy to be single until she met Lewis in one of the Louis Vuitton events.

TRACK 11 DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED | oscar piastri x reader Oscar really wanted to spend the rest of his life with his best friend. Y/N wanted to be honest with Oscar and tell him she was truly, madly, deeply, in love with him. However, things turn out to be different and they decide to hide their feelings because they know things will get worse if they're honest to each other.

TRACK 12 DRESS | sebastian vettel x singer fem!oc ⋆ smut Sebastian asks Diana, the girl who used to be her best friend and girlfriend, to go with him to FIA Prize Giving 2018. Diana, who’s a famous singer, decides to wear a dress only for Seb, the guy she still has feelings for and also the father of her daughter, to take it off. Will Seb still have the same feelings for Diana?

TRACK 13 THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS | mick schumacher x reader After a meal with Mick's family and friends, Y/N finds out that the toxicity she was dealing with in her relationship with Schumacher wasn't just a thought she had but a reality she was living.

TRACK 14 CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT | sebastian vettel x reader After the loss of her mother due to Alzheimer, Y/N meets Sebastian in a therapy group, who seems to be his savior when her life was falling down to pieces.

TRACK 15 NEW YEAR'S DAY | carlos sainz x reader A proposal on New Year's Day is what Carlos' girlfriend wouldn't have expected after dating for almost nine years with the Spanish guy

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mizu0xox0 · 10 hours

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Self aware!Aventurine who gets a little confused when you are gushing about characters from a different game

Self aware!Aventurine who can't help but feel a little curious as to who's this character, why do you like them so much? What's their personality like and what makes you like them so much that he hears you ramble about them

Self aware!Aventurine who learns little bits and pieces of information or lore as you like to call it about the character and even the game itself because of how much he hears you ramble and he has a grasp on what made you like this character specifically out of all the others in the game

Self aware!Aventurine who probably gets bored if you go afk halfway while in battle because you're looking at your other device about a different character so he says his voice line as many times as he can and at this point he's sure you've remembered this specific voice line word for word (Opportunity doesn't knock on its own you know?)

Self aware!Aventurine who would like to meet this character and personally throw some chips at them as they occupied so much of your time that Aventurine has to stand still for awhile while in battle at times

Self aware!Aventurine who actually enjoys hearing you ramble about this character just because he enjoys hearing how happy or excited you are to talk about them even if he feels bitter to this character for stealing your attention

Self aware!Aventurine who wonders if you ever ramble or gush about him while playing other games or even in front of your friends or family

Self aware!Aventurine who will definitely feel very happy is that the word to describe it but he'll feel good and maybe even flustered or embarrassed if he ever heard you ramble about him

Self aware!Aventurine who definitely has mixed feelings if he ever heard you ramble about him because on one hand it's nice to hear someone talk about him so genuinely with no ill intents at all yet you know all his weakness and it makes him feel so vulnerable especially since you know of his past

Self aware!Aventurine who if he ever got the chance to get through you from this screen well he'll gladly listen to you ramble his ear out about any of your interests and one day he hopes this will come true

♡

Note: wrote this because I think if my hsr team was ever self aware they're definitely sick of hearing me ramble about Persona 5 (been talking about it like crazy ever since IDV announced the collab was coming back ) and N25 since bad apple got released I've been playing project sekai more often

#hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x you #hsr hcs #aventurine headcanons #hsr headcanons #sahsrau #self aware hsr

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042502 · 3 days

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Matt, I don't love you // M. Sturniolo x Reader.

SYNOPSIS: After ten years of relationship with Matt, you decide to end it all. You have a talk with him about it.

WARNINGS: Relationship in crisis, separation, broken relationship, broken hearts, use a lot of tissues.

NOTES: My first language is not English, so if you find any grammatical errors you already know why :)

MASTERLIST!!

"I can't throw away 10 years of relationship" Matt looked at you with a face wet with tears, His blue eyes stood out more thanks to the red tone because of how irritated they were. "Can't" He catches his lower lip between his teeth, while moving his head repeatedly to the sides. "It doesn't seem fair to me, no."

You looked at him neutrally, without a hint of pain, There was no trace of a tear on you. That hurt Matt's heart even more.

"We have problems?" Matt asks, then answers himself. "Si, claro que los tenemos" his eyes were fixed on you, I won't leave you out of sight for even a second. "We both did a lot of stupid things." his voice breaks at the end of his hour. "Of course (y/n), We did a lot of stupid things baby. But we can overcome them, we can work, we can solve them, like a lot of couples..." His words get tangled. "who have a problem"

This time he looks down in frustration, the tears didn't stop, They continued to flow from his eyes. He looks up at you again.

"Here the easiest thing is to escape (y/n)"

"It's not escaping" you finally open your mouth to speak, with a cold and dry tone. "It's exactly the opposite."

"No, no, no. It's escaping" Matt repeats as he presses his lips tightly together and shakes his head in denial. "And I didn't escape" take a breath and sigh heavily. "Let's do couples therapy baby, let's fight together" Matt runs his hand over his face and repeats: "let's fight together, We can come out stronger from this, If we get through it... Together"

You had your eyes down, you couldn't look him in the eyes. He begged you.

"The only thing that matters here..." Matt's voice shakes when he speaks.. "It's just that we are a couple, a couple that has problems, yes, a couple that has problems like so many others... but we love each other"

You look him in the eyes, with a firm voice you say: "Matt, I do not love you."

NOTES: Remember to hit the heart and share it with your friends! Thanks for reading^^ I'm sorry if I made you cry, but I cried writing and I won't be the only one crying.

TAGLIST: @luverboychris @l34n @prisciliin @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss @sturnioloxlver @jnkvivi @stvrniolowh0re @adirtylittleheart @ilovechrisssturniolo @melonjollyranche

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littlewigglers · 3 days

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Okay I’ve never asked on tumblr but I just found your page and I’m OBSESSED!!! I want to get/make a Vivarium/bioterrarium for millipedes and isopods and I can’t WAIT!! Please please if you have any advice at all, I’d love to hear it! Where to get supplies, the buggies themselves, how to handle them, what do you do if they get sick, how much space to they need for how many there are, etc? Your buggy babies are so cute!!

First off thank you! I love all my little guys as well <3

I ramble kinda a lot so I'll put this under a read more.

For advice I'm still very much a novice when it comes to keeping but I'll tell you what I can!

For tanks I got my glass ones second hand or ones made my the store I buy used to buy my millipedes from, you'd be surprised how cheap you can get a nice big one! For Acrylic THESE are the ones I've had the best luck with not warping BUT they sometimes have kinda blurry parts on the plastic, but still I'd say good for the price if you can't afford glass. I tape up some of the ventilation holes to keep more moisture in.

For soil that ISN'T bought from a specialist stores(Sometimes I can't afford it) I use Peat free compost, paired with leaves and rot wood I buy off ebay stores that sell bug/reptile products, I mix them together with some water and leave them in a tub for 1 week to soften up the leaves. Some people go out and get their own leaves and wood but I'm not really in an area to do that so I can't give advice on that. It's important to keep it moist BUT NOT WET!

Heat mat! You want one to put on the SIDE of the tank and not under it, just one would be enough. I have a timer plug for mine so they're on a few hours a day on and off all day. If you REALLY wanna spoil them then I've seen a few people use reptile headlamps.

For moss and plants I again just buy it off ebay in sheets and give it a cheap over to make sure there are no hitchhikers on it before I put it in the tank. It needs watered and looked after for a while for it to take to the tank. Carpet moss is mostly for looks while sphagnum moss is used to keep moisture in areas and should be water/sprayed often. I have a little fern plant in my tank rn they seem to leave alone. I know a lot of people use fake plants as well for decor!

You should make a point to put a little temp and humidity monitor in your set-ups as well. The special reptile ones can be expensive so I just but the little ones you put in rooms and have had no issues with them.

Don't forget to give them hides! Cork wood/bark or coconut shells are nice and cheap. You can also use man made items just make sure they can handle the moisture and aren't made of anything toxic to your new friends. Also give them little sticks and things to climb up on. Just make sure the lid is secured so they can't escape.

For food I just use kitchen scraps like carrot peel, cucumber, apples and melon, give them a cuttlefish bone and some dried tiny shrimps in small amounts once a week or so, but you can also use fish flacks instead. But remember! Leaf litter and rot wood is meant to be their main diet for most species.

For the millipedes I would recommend Ivory millipedes as a good starter one, they're lovely in colour and are often up top, hardy as well, and usually you can get them captive bred which I've had much higher survival rates with vs wild caught. For each species you'll have to look up their needs yourself though, there isn't a 100% catch all set up for all species. Woodlice/isopods I'd suggest dairy cows as they're lovely and also very easy to get a hold of. I will say species of Armadillidium(roly poly/pill bugs) are my fave and I'm very biased and want 500 of them.

For handling just be gentle! I wear gloves in a lot of my videos but that because I've incredibly sensitive skin and can't stand soil under my nails. The worse they can do to you is them staining your skin(not all species), or give you a little nibble. Make sure if you're handling to wash your hands off BUT be careful what hand soaps you use! Wash hands after as well some can be toxic to bugs from what I've heard.

For tank size hmm that's hard, usually you want soil as deep as their body but that can be hard, 10-15cm is what I aim for my BIG boys and 7-10cm for my others, deeper is better but sometimes you'll also just never see them again! You'll want a tank at least a few times longer than your pets body or at least big enough for them to filly stretch out in if you get really big millipedes like giants and a 120cm tank is just kinda unrealistic haha.

I do not have a lot of advice for if they get sick sadly, it's kinda of hard to tell honestly and usually when you can it's too late. I would just say don't beat yourself up too much if some pass away sometimes bugs just do that especially if you don't know their history.

Where to get them depends on where you're from and what you want. A ton of reptile/specialist stores will have wild caught which isn't great but they will have the largest range of species and usually also sell all the stuff you need to tank care of them. Ebay is where I've gotten most of my captive bred and I just message people if I've questions about their bugs there.

I think that's everything I can think of,

Again I'm a big novice when it comes to bugs, @onenicebugperday and @crevicedwelling likely know way more than me, though idk if they're open to questions but they likely already have a lot of info on their blogs.

#bug babbles #again! I'm a big novice still so please also do your own research online about this #just googling some things can help find some sites #more sites that sell them will info pages about the species you're buying as well

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luceafarul-de-dimineata · 3 days

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"What will you do once I pass away?" The question came out of the blue, but such strange questions were par for the course at this point. Gamigin was nuzzling to your neck when you spoke, but he wasn't phased.

"I'll revive you. Death won't be permenent in Paradise Lost for as long as I'm around to stop it." You were running a hand through his blue hair, playing with a strand of it.

"But what if you don't revive me? If you can't revive me? What will you do then?" The dragon stopped kissing up your neck and shifted so he would be at eye level with you on the bed. He looked confused and hurt which almost made you ashamed that you asked the question.

"My staff can bring anyone back from the dead."

"Ok, but I age and demons don't what about that? What if I get so old I want to die to end my mysery."

Gamigin looked even more confused by your words. He didn't quite understand why humans aged so fast. He pouted in thought and stared at the ceiling. After a while, with a stern voice he asks "How long do humans usually live for?"

You try to remember your anthropology classes and what the avarage age of death was for your country, but you just can't put your finger on it. "I don't know, 70 or something like that." "70! Only 70 years!?!" He pushed you to the bed and pinned you to it with a shocked expression. His mind was working overtime trying to calculate just how long that timespan felt like.

Finally, he turns to you and holds your hands softly kissing them both. He stares determined in your eyes. "You are going to have the most exciting life ever. I promise you. What do you wish to do before you die?"

You've never seen him so stern, but the question was one that you've many times asked yourself yet never seemed to have an answer to. Gamigin's glare was starting to intimidate you so you gently slap his face.

"Don't look at me like that! You're making me nervous! I don't know what I want to do before I die. I just kind of want to see where life takes me."

Gamigin smiles like he usually does and pins you to the bed with a hug. His staff, which he kept in one hand at all times, jiggled lively as you both collapsed on the cottage bed.

"Well then, I want to cuddle with you and rewatch the 'How to Train Your Dragon' trilogy. And then we can play blackjack and whoever wins has to wash the dishes after dinner!" Gamigin proclaimed before kissing your cheek and nuzzling into it.

"Who tought you blackjack?" It was strange hearing your usually innocent boyfriend putting forth the idea of blackjack of all things.

"My brother Buer. He also thought me the dishes strategy as well. Jokes on him, I won." His giggle was contagious and you two ended up just cuddling and watching movies for the better half of the night.

If your relationship with Gamigin thought you anything, it was that you didn't have to live through bombastic experiences to enjoy life. You were having the time of your life just being close to him.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb gamigin #whb fluff #whb x reader #I'm experimenting with writing formats #to see which ones I like the best #for now I can say that I love writing dialog #but I struggle with narrative and especially serious one #let's hope practice will improve on this issue over time #and you'll get to see it!#did you guys know I'm a published author of non fiction #crazy world out there #if you read all of this through #hi #you're really cool #thank you for caring about my stuff

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politemagic · 3 days

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dabbling in writing a little bit of slasher iii👀 it's not much, but i've had this idea for months and figured it's about time i did something with it. written while listening to deadrose by unprocessed. not necessary but it's currently topping my slasher iii song list

632 words

Time had muddled in their brain, they had no idea how long it had been since he’d disappeared from their sight, but they knew they were running out of time regardless. The rope binding their limbs had been tied with expert hands. As they struggled against their bonds, the rope’s grip only tightened, the fibers rubbing their wrists and ankles raw until it began to turn pink with their blood. Their eyes frantically searched the room for anything that might help them escape, but they found little that could be of assistance.

The room he imprisoned them in was almost entirely bare, save for a pile of discarded, bloody clothing heaped into the corner and the black journal the masked man always carried with him. When he left the room, the journal had fallen from his pocket, haphazardly forgotten by the door.

Their curious nature overtook them as they scooted across the grimy floor, nudging the cover open with their toe. Their blood ran ice cold as a pair of vibrant blue eyes stared back at them from the first page. A photograph of a handsome man was paperclipped to the page, partially obscuring what they knew were the events of the final hours of that man’s life. They felt bile creep up their throat as their eyes scanned across the page.

17:43 He believes crying will help him, that his tears will compel me to release him. It’s pathetic, really. I thought he would be stronger. But the tears make his eyes look so pretty, maybe I’ll keep him a little longer.

The horrors of the first page had done nothing to prepare them for the next, as they found those same vibrant blue eyes staring back at them, cold and devoid of life. They tried not to stare too long at dark red blood oozing from the gaping wound in his throat. The pages that followed were all the same format: a photograph of some poor unfortunate soul accompanied by a horrifically detailed account of their final moments, followed by another photo of their corpse. On some pages, he had even smeared blood across the page in vaguely artistic patterns.

As they flipped the final page, they bit down on their lip to stifle their scream as their own face smiled back from this book of horrors. Despite his poor attempt to crop the image before printing it, they could tell it was a screenshot from their Instagram, a photo they had posted in a moment of self-confidence. A photo that this deranged man would use to remember them by, a juxtaposition for the horrific photo they knew would occupy the next page soon enough.

The door creaked open, and they lifted their gaze from the photo to meet his darkened eyes, crinkled from the grin he hid beneath his mask.

“I see you’ve found my scrapbook,” The smile in his voice told them that he had always intended to drop the journal, that he wanted them to read it, to see what was in store for them.

He crouched before them, plucking the journal off the floor and thumbing through the pages before returning to the image of the blue-eyed man. He stroked the image tenderly with his index finger before turning it around to once again display the image of his lifeless corpse.

“He’s still my favorite, I think. But you… I believe you’ll be a close second,” His other hand gently traced the contours of their jaw. “You’re going to be my masterpiece, darling.”

He stood then, chuckling to himself as he tucked the book underneath his arm and spun on his heels, striding back out the door as they crumpled to the ground, terrified of what other sick games he might be playing with them.

#i can't look at this too long or it will never see the light of day so this is only kind of edited she's straight off the dome #is it a little more serial killer-y than slasher-y? maybe. am i gonna do anything about it? nah #i'm just obsessed with him wanting to remember his victims and be able to relive the things he did to them. idk man. idk.#he said “my therapist thought it would be good for me to start journaling!”#slasher iii you make me positively insane. you are sick and twisted and deranged and i desire you carnally.#anyway i have so many random slasher iii headcanons and i want to write them all but also this is def out of my wheelhouse #really don't know how i feel about it but i'm practicing! and that's good! that's how we learn and improve!#sleep token iii #slasher iii #sleep token fanfiction #em's stcu

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bluemari23 · 1 day

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anything for you

pairing: bf!seungcheol x reader genre: fluff warnings: mentions of lonliness, reader has depression masterlist

"Do you really have to go?" You ask for the third time, looking up through tired eyes to see your boyfriend seungcheol pulling his sweatpants on.

"Yes, baby." He coos, moving around the bed so he could lean down and place a soft kiss on your lips.

He hates having to leave you in the morning, having to leave your arms as you both try to take any extra minute you can to be wrapped in each others arms.

Seungcheol can see the way your eyes lower at his words, how you seem to deflate when he pulls away from you. It's 6 am and all he wants to do is get back into bed with you and kiss you as many times as he would like.

"When will you be back?" You ask, not remembering what his schedule looked like for the day.

"I have a short practice, then i have a meeting about the upcoming tour." He knows his words don't make you feel better, knowing how lonely you can get sometimes when he isn't there. He wonders why he can't bring you with him, that the members would love to see you.

And then he questions what is stopping him from bringing you?

Seungcheol moves quickly back to the closet, picking out a set of clothes for you and bringing them to you.

"Baby girl, get dressed." He cups your cheek, turning you to face him from where you laid against the pillow. He can see the confusion on your face, slowly seeing excitement and happiness come into your expression as you realize what he means.

"Really?!" You ask, voice louder than before as you try to not to get your hopes up.

He watches your entire face light up at the thought of being able to go with him and spend more time with him.

He knows you've been having a tough time lately with him being busy preparing for a comeback and then a tour. Any bit of time, quality or not, he knows means the world to you. So if he has to ignore his manager and bring you with him everywhere today, then he will.

Anything for his baby.

"Ooo!" You scream. "Thank you so much Cheol!" You jump from under the confines of the bed covers and into his arms, pressing kisses to every surface of him you could reach, from his lips to his ears.

You squeeze your arms around his neck and press your lips to his once more before jumping from his arms and changing into the outfit he brought you (not realizing he picked out a matching outfit for you until the boys commented on it later when you got to the pratice room).

"Anything for you, baby."

#scoups x reader #choi seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #svt headcanons #seventeen headcanons #fluff #bluemari23

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orangekittyenergy · 3 days

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A little smutty ficlet (smutlet? Idk)

Gale x Reader (you - no mention of description or pronouns)

NSFW - 18+, blindfolded Gale, teasing, idk how many words I wrote this on my phone in a flurry

(Don't mind me, had to get a brain worm out so I could focus on my longer fic 😅)

Gale moans softly, his body tensing and wriggling beneath you. He reaches, as if by instinct, to the blindfold that covers his eyes. Quick as ever you grab his hands and force them back down to the bed.

"Tsk. Naughty." You say with a smirk down at him. He can't see you but you know he can hear the mirth in your voice; even if it is to chastise him.

He squirms again.

"I want to see you, my love." He breathes out, his chest heaving.

"In due time." You practically whisper, leaning down to let your breath gaze over his lips. He tilts his chin up, pushing out his lips, searching for a kiss but you have already pulled away.

"Can I touch you at least?" He practically whimpers, his hands clutching desperately at the sheets below your bodies. A smile plays at the corner of his lips; he's enjoying this as much as you are.

"In." You start to crawl backwards and place a kiss on his collar bone. "Due." A light flick of your wet tongue over one of his nipples. "Time." You're practically off him fully and place one final kiss at his navel.

He groans again. This time it's a noise of frustration. Most likely mourning the loss of contact of your warm body pressed against his.

Face to face with his groin, his stiff cock throbs beneath the fabric of his underwear. Whisper light, you trail a finger across it, outlining it with the barest of touches.

He gasps hard and you look up to see his jaw fall open. A wicked smile crosses your face. This was finally payback. All his nights insisting on spending hours between your own thighs, overstimulating you, teasing orgasm after orgasm from your body until you could barely move.

Every time, you said you'd pay him back through your chapped lips. But he would just smiled at you, give you a kiss, and the next time you were naked you fell into the same trap of his.

But Finally. Finally. You had caught him first. Pulling him to the bed and practically forcing him to accept the same devotion he gave to you. Mostly devotion... Maybe a little teasing.

One hand trailing around the upper part of his thigh your other goes back to his erection; softly touching it at first with your palm then more firmly as you slowly rub your hand up and down.

He moans loudly again and you look up to see his hands lift and twitch.

"No touching, remember." You remind him, your voice playfully sharp. He's touched you enough; this was your turn.

He sucks in a sharp gasp of air and lets his hands fall back down.

"I remember." His voice shakes as he answers and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

You give him another stroke of his cloth covered cock as a reward. After a moment of teasing, his pulse pounding beneath your careful hands you gently pull down his underwear down a touch and ease his hardness out. The movement alone, your warm palm finally touching his aching flesh, is enough to bring forth another moan from his lips.

You smile again and let out a satisfied breath, letting him feel it, hot against his skin. You feel his whole body shudder, again, at the barest of your teasing touches. You lick your lips, planting careful kisses along his thighs, working your way closer and closer to your main goal.

"Gods, please." He groans out. "Touch me. Anything."

You haven't even started yet and he was practically begging, panting and quivering from the anticipation alone.

"Since you've been good." You breathe out again and slowly give him a long slow lick with your tongue, from base to tip, before pulling away again to wrap your palm around him instead.

You were in no rush. This was going to be a delightfully long night.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale smut #gale x reader #uhh i wrote this in a hot minute so sorry for typos #my writing

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henrioo · 2 days

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°•*⁀➷ MY TYPE: CROCODILE

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Even after years Crocodile could never figure out what was his type of woman. At least with you he could figure out he wasn't even interested in women in general"

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : MALE! reader, MASC! reader (can be trans or not), HOMO RELATIONSHIP, CROCODILE IS GAY HERE, Mihawk is also gay, LIGHT HOMOPHOBIA, LIGHT SEXISM, Crocodile is a old man with old morals (not defending him), Gay club, a little joke with crocodile name, light description about reader clothes but still free for you imagine your own way

꒰ WC ꒱ : 1,8k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : After years I'm posting again, I'm not in my better mood and things have being hard for me, so I'm kinda didn't any of my hobbies, like writing and posting, sorry for that. Hope you guys enjoy it, fem blogs/blank blogs/no pronouns = block

Now imagine Crocodile who refuses to have a lasting relationship regardless of the woman who throws himself at his feet. He takes them to some events, some photos of the most beautiful and chic women in his arms, maybe even some flirting without commitment, but a second date or even something more serious? No way.

He can't explain why he can never stay interested in a woman for more than a few hours. What if he tries? Well the things he would say to try to justify why no woman is good enough would be something like:

The lipstick was too strong, the lipstick was too weak, the dress was too exaggerated, the dress was not flashy enough, the smile was too simple, the smile was too fake. Too tall, too short, too thin, not thin enough, didn't wear high heels, wore high heels, uncultured, knew too many things, too independent, too dependent, etc.

“More it seems like you don't like women” Doflamingo laughed in his face as he drank again, the man in the burgundy suit was already tired of hearing his friend's endless excuses about why he didn't have anyone. “Who likes women likes all types of women, simple as that” what he said was true, reinforcing his point by opening his arms, making the two women who were sitting next to him throw themselves onto his chest.

Crocodile couldn't deny that he also believed that statement, he thought men who wanted to demand crazy things from women were stupid, but he wasn't like that... he just hadn't found the right woman. Of course Doflamingo was very different, in his arms were now two completely different women, style, body, color and height, but he knew very well that the demon would give the two equal love and attention. Although it wouldn't make much difference since he would forget about them both the next day.

“Not all men want easy bitches, that doesn't mean I don't like women” he spat with venom, seeing one of the women become embarrassed and the other look at him with hatred. Of course he just ignored it and continued drinking his wine, becoming even more stressed about the situation.

“Don't be mad now fufufu” Doflamingo laughed seeing how angry the other was.

“What’s wrong with you not liking women?” Mihawk asked with a raised eyebrow and for a moment the other two men forgot he was there due to the silence. Crocodile bit his cheek remembering that his friend was gay and would probably be offended by the conversation.

“None, but I like women, I'm just demanding” Crocodile explained the situation and Mihawk seemed to accept the excuse but he still hadn't given up on the subject.

“If you don't find any woman that pleases you, perhaps you can find a man that satisfies you” was all Dracule said.

God. Crocodile wanted to kill Mihawk, after that damn sentence all he could think about was that. What if he actually liked men? Of course not... he's always been with women his whole life, so he liked them, it didn't make any sense for him to be attracted to men.

He tried to convince himself of this as much as he could, but god it felt like someone had opened Pandora's box. For the next few days he couldn't stop noticing the men in the office, the way they moved, the way their bodies acted, the way they also had their own beauty. Hell! He was sure Daz had caught him looking at a male employee's ass more than once! He couldn't have his reputation ruined like that!

So he forced Mihawk to meet with him again, he had some questions, he just needed some proof that he was completely straight. Once he had reaffirmed his sexuality he would be fine and could stop acting like an old pervert.

“Being with women all your life doesn't mean being straight, we're old, we grew up in a time where that was the only way, the correct way” Mihawk said without much emotion sitting at the bar with his friend while they enjoyed a whiskey “Maybe now you’ve finally gotten tired of pretending and your body is just showing signs that you were never attracted to women.”

“And how do I find out if I like men?” Crocodile asked, almost ashamed of what he was saying, he would definitely kill someone if this was exposed.

“Go out with one.”

And that's where you get into the story. Crocodile locked himself in his office for weeks without knowing what to think or do, how the hell was he supposed to go out with a man if he never even considered it before?! That was until he received an invitation to a nightclub, Circus Royale Club, he thought it was a prank until he received a message from Mihawk explaining what it was.

“The clown has a gay nightclub, completely discreet, if something gets out he already knows that you won't forgive him. He talked to a few people and said there’s someone you might like to meet, I figured you wouldn’t make the first move alone, give it a chance.”

He almost jumped from the top floor of his building but his friend was right, he was too nervous to make a move alone, he didn't even know where to look for it. Regular nightclubs and dating sites were out of the question, but perhaps Buggy's nightclub was an option. He would actually kill the idiot if anything like that got out in the media, so he was confident that his privacy was protected… Now he just didn't trust the clown's taste in finding Crocodile a romantic partner, but it's not like he had any other option.

He tried to dress like he normally would, a simpler suit, nothing vibrant or exaggerated. For a moment he thought it wouldn't suit the location and he was right and wrong.

The nightclub inside was truly another world, it was extremely chic and in shades of red and dark blue, giving a very sensual depth to everything. The problem was the people, the employees all wore white shirts with blue or red vests, too circus-like for Crocodile, in addition to the masks that only covered their eyes to separate them from the customers. And the customers? Heavens… It really looked like a circus, he saw people wearing wigs bigger than their own heads, colorful and extravagant clothes, fantastic makeup, was there someone wearing wings and horns?!

He felt a little… overwhelmed, to say the least. He thought gay people were like Mihawk, extremely discreet, or just a little more cheerful and feminine, not like that... Okay that was a terribly homophobic thought, he needed a drink.

He picked up something strong and sat down on a table, his foot tapping anxiously on the floor but being inaudible due to the music playing. He quickly sent a message to Mihawk asking what the hell that place was and wondering if it was gays or some real circus.

“Don't worry about them, the people at the clown's nightclub are more exotic, not everyone is like that” thank God because Crocodile didn't see himself dating a walking rainbow “I only chose this place because discretion was guaranteed, your partner wouldn't It’s like the ones you see”

He thanked him mentally, not that he judged people for dressing how they wanted, sometimes he did, but being a pink Barbie just didn't suit him! If he was going to have someone, he wanted someone who suited his discreet and formal style more, man or woman, that wasn't a discussion.

He was about to “thank” Mihawk for the terrible place when he saw you walking in. You were stunning. You wore nice dark pants and a lighter shirt with a nice print that suited you perfectly. The outfit wasn't discreet gothic level like Mihawk or vomiting rainbows like the others there, it was just... you. It was an outfit that made you look amazing and you knew it, he could see your confidence, you were beautiful and you knew it. And heavens, Crocodile had to admit that it was the most attractive thing he had ever seen.

You looked around and stopped when you saw Crocodile, your eyebrows arching in surprise as if you didn't believe that Crocodile existed and was really there. You smiled and instead of going to the table where Crocodile was, you went towards the bar, where you stayed for a few minutes, talked to the bartender, got your own drink.

Crocodile had never felt so nervous before, he was used to having all the attention just on him, women threw themselves at his feet for a chance. And here you were, knowing he was the one you were supposed to meet but you were purposely ignoring him. His heart was beating fast and he felt the sweat beneath his thin suit. He had an absurd urge to get up and force you to pay attention to him, to show you that he was the only one who deserves your attention, when he had become so desperate and needy for someone's attention? Even more of a man?

After all that you finally took your glass of drink and went to the table and sat in front of him, you crossed your legs and sipped your drink before leaving it on the table, then you faced him, in complete silence. Hell this was totally different from what he was used to, here you seemed to be staring at him as if to say “prove to me that you are worthy of my attention”. This wasn't what he was used to, he was no longer a hunter, he was prey.

“I thought you didn’t realize I was your date” he said softly, composing himself while drinking his drink.

“Of course I noticed, it's not very difficult to know who I should meet here, just look around and see how you differ from everyone…” you laughed “You're like a fish out of water… in fact you are more to a crocodile in the middle of all the fish” you looked at him sensually biting your lip.

“Hah… And you look like an animal photographer, completely camouflaged in the environment… but if you look closely you know that you are someone superior to any animal” he said with a determined smile and the victory was his by the way you blushed and squirmed in your place.

“Crocodile, right?” You had now abandoned your malicious and even evil manner, now you seemed completely open and genuine to trying to have a date with him “(y/n), it’s a pleasure”

“The pleasure is definitely all mine” he said genuinely. Maybe dating men wouldn't be so bad, maybe being a gay man wouldn't be so bad… Maybe having you as his partner in a serious longterm relationship with you… yeah, it didn't seem so bad.

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dunmeshistash · 7 hours

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Any thoughts on Mickbell and/or Kuro? They're honestly some of my faves and it's hard to find stuff on them T_T

Many thoughts!

They both have had rough backgrounds and suffered a lot so they have this co-depedant relationship that while they pretend like its "Boss and Bodyguard" they cleary care deeply about it each other.

I love how responsible and down to earth Kuro is compared to how we see him in the series. As someone whose first language isn't english I can relate to sounding way less smart when speaking in your second language lmao. Now I'm much better but when I just started I sounded really silly, and even today some people have the "are you stupid" reaction when I don't know a word that should be obvious or misspell things, I understand you Kuro 😔 Honestly a nice reminder that being bad at language is not an indicator for intelligence, wish it was more obvious in the anime/story itself since every time Kuro speaks to Kabru in Kobold is in an extra.

Oh yeah also fun fact Milsiril was the one to teach Kabru how to speak Kobold. Its implied in an extra. While they come from the same continent I doubt Kabru would know kobold just for that.

About Mickbell its very interesting how he's the complete opposite of chilchuck, he LOVES being treated as a kid and doesn't seem to have much of a pride

It's hard to remember how old he is because he's so childish, it's a great choice for a half-foot after we had only met Chilchuck if you ask me. Cause even adults in real life can be childish sometimes, the fact he also LOOKS like a child to us makes it even harder to see him as the adult he is, you can't keep getting away with things by being cute Mickbell <3 (he can).

Also his dream is to buy a house for him and Kuro, I don't think there's any doubt their relationship is based in mutual affection, even if Mickbell pretends he's Kuro's boss (and that he should be more respectfull), they're both the only one the other has when it comes to family.My thoughts

#dungeon meshi #Kuro #Kuro dungeon meshi #mickbell #mickbell tomas #ask #Anonymous #dunmeshi thoughts

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fromgoy2joy · 2 days

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After a tizzy of a freshman year of college as a jew-ish student, I'm packing boxes for uHaul.

My target-bought menorah went into the first box, along with all ten of my hillel sweatshirts. Pictures I had printed out from Purim are taken down, and neatly put into an envelope to be hung up later. My many books on Jewish culture and religion went into the second one. And so on, and so forth. The hamsa I lost three months ago was under my mini fridge.

As I put away each Jewish item, intermingled with my sweater collection and stuffed animals, I remember both the joy and grief of this year. A hostage necklace goes hand in hand with my Magen David in my jewelry box. A newspaper on a local antisemitic hate crime finds it place next to the belated "Hanukkah gift" my friend got for me in April. It's been so much to carry- both the joy of finding home along with the tangible feeling of uncertainty, fear, and pain.

And finally, I am on the fifth box. In the pocket of two separate winter coats, I found posters of two people-

one, the childhood best friend of a man I know, currently a captive in Gaza. I'd been given that picture, personally, by my friend who kept on referring to this hostage in the past tense. Then, he would continually correct himself, looking even more stricken as he made that mistake of letting what he's resigned to slip out. And I can't imagine- I can't. If the boys I played in the summer streams with were currently being tortured by my worst enemies. If I had no idea if the friend that sent me funny texts and assurances after a bad day was alive or not. The other, Hind Rajab, a Palestinian child killed in the crossfires of war. I found that poster blown off from a fence. It was one out of around sixty so I felt comfortable taking it home with me, just to look at her and remember. Her little face would've blended right in with the kids I helped out with every Monday for the last two semesters. Who could've cried on her last day of kindergarten, because she wouldn't see her teachers again, just like how all the six-year-olds clung to me when they realized it was my last day. In that moment, I laughed, pushing their hands off of me gently because I had to leave for Pesach celebrations. But at the same time, I thought of her and how she didn't get to see Eid.

When I come back to campus in September, with those boxes waiting in my new dorm for me, I will open up that box and see their faces. And I'll feel that sorrow as deeply as I feel it now and the moment I first learnt their stories. But I hope my friend's near-brother will be back home. And I hope - I hope to everything- that Palestinian children just like Hind will be able to go back home, get the help they need, and spend the rest of their childhoods crying over their teacher assistants leaving for summer breaks.

And when I see them in September, I'll think "We've done it. I'm sorry it took so long, I'm sorry it took this pain and nothing ever deserved to happen to you. But we did it."

#jumblr #jewish #jewblr #jewish convert #jewish tumblr #jewish conversion #fromgoy2joy thoughts #am israel chai #am yisroel chai #jewishness #jewish stuff #judaism #jew

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visceravalentines · 3 hours

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a different kind of hang-up

Randy's mom calls while they're in the middle of something, again. Benson tries his best to get Randy off the phone.

2.6k words. canon divergence, boys on the run. established relationship. blowjobs. smoking. Benson being a menace lol he can't handle not being the center of Randy's attention. read on ao3 here if that's more your speed.

Benson just can't keep his hands off him, even when his mom calls.

The phone rings for so long, so long, before Randy can get to it. The second it starts up Benson recognizes the ringtone and tightens his grip on Randy's hips, sags on top of him with his full weight. He pushes his tongue into his mouth with intentional fervor because he likes fucking around with fire and Mrs. Bradley is a five-alarm inferno.

Randy makes a panicked sound and tries to wriggle free to no avail. He taps Benson's chest, but Benson takes the hint and throws it away unopened, snags Randy’s wrist and pins it to the bed.

Randy twists his arm out of his grip and gives him a shove, leans his head away. "Benson–please–I gotta get this." He makes a grab for the phone on the nightstand.

"You really don't," Benson murmurs, taking hold of his jaw with one big hand and pulling his lips back into range.

Randy lets out a frustrated grunt that gets lost in Benson's mouth and shoves him again, harder, with both hands and a knee for good measure. Benson relents, topples lazily to the side and gives him this goofy, satisfied smirk that makes Randy’s stomach do a flip and he just can't deal with that right now.

"You're gonna get me in trouble," he complains as he sits up and snatches the phone.

"Aw." Benson stretches like a cat, folds his arms behind his head, all ribs and armpit hair and lean lines of muscle. "Now wouldn't that be a shame."

"Hi Mom," Randy says, hoping he sounds perfectly even-keeled and normal and not like he's been rolling around with another man in a motel bed. He remembers his erection at that moment, the worst possible moment, and blushes so hard he can feel the blood trading places. He grabs a pillow and shoves it over his lap like she can see through the phone.

"Randy, I don't like this." His mom starts every conversation like this these days.

Randy bites back a sigh. "I know, Mom."

"This isn't a normal thing. Friends don't ask friends to help them move across the country last-minute without a plan."

They've been through this so many times he's lost count. At least his story gets more solid every time he repeats it. "I told you, Brian doesn't have a support system. I'm just trying to do a good deed." Brian is Benson, because Benson can't be Benson, because Benson is wanted for murder.

Randy feels the mattress shift behind him and stiffens when calloused fingers brush against his skin. His mother's list of grievances fades in his ears as Benson worries at the waistband of his jeans.

"Randy," Benson sing-songs softly at his hip. "Tell her you're in the middle of something."

Randy waves him away, tries to ignore the scratch of his beard and his lips on his skin and tune back into the conversation at hand. "You’re a kind and responsible boy, honey, people will take advantage of that."

"I understand, Mom, but I'm–"

He feels the pinch of teeth on his waist, jerks and bites back a yelp.

His mother is alarmed. "Randy? Are you okay? What happened?"

Randy scoots down the bed away from Benson, shoots him a dirty look. Benson rolls onto his back, runs a hand through his hair and flashes Randy an upside-down grin.

"I'm fine, Mom. Stubbed my toe."

"Sorry," Benson says innocently. "You look fucking delicious, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Are you walking around barefoot? I raised you better than that, Randy. Where are you even walking, aren't you still driving?"

"Yeah, we just–we stopped to grab some food and…stretch our legs a little bit."

Benson sits up suddenly and Randy flinches in anticipatory distress before he even speaks. "We can stretch something else if you want," Benson offers with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Randy grits his teeth and ignores him, picks frantically at the seam of the pillow in his lap.

"I bet you're eating like absolute garbage. All that fast food isn't good for your long-term health, you know. God knows you had plenty of that at–well. God knows you've had plenty of that."

She clears her throat, recovers from the near-miss of mentioning the incident. The new incident. She’s had years of practice at sidestepping the elephant in the room, but nobody’s perfect, and this is a much bigger elephant. Randy has to admit that it's convenient, not having to dodge questions because they aren't being asked.

"Where are you now?" she says by way of a subject change.

Benson crawls across the mattress on his knees and winds his arms around Randy’s waist, leans heavy against his back and sets his chin on his shoulder. He smells like sweat and nicotine. Randy grips the pillow like a lifeline.

"We're, um…well, I think we're–"

He knows where they are. He knows exactly where they are. Eighteen miles outside of Glasgow, Kentucky. He knows where they're supposed to be, too, according to the fake route he mapped to sate his mother's anxious curiosity. He just can't quite remember what he told her last time, because his brain's still sloshing around in oxytocin and Benson’s kissing his neck, rubbing his chest, thumb catching on his nipple again and again.

"I-I think we're about 40 miles from Benson," he says loudly, as though the volume adds certainty.

"Benson?" his mom repeats, sounding alarmed, and Benson chuckles in his ear.

"Careful," he mutters.

"Branson!" Randy elbows Benson off of him and stands up, stumbles away from the bed. "I meant Branson. Sorry, I fuc–I messed up." He cringes.

Benson laughs, delighted. "Randy Bradley," he says in a mockery of Mrs. Bradley’s disapproving tone.

"Randy Bradley," his mom says like an echo. "Watch your language."

"Sorry. I’m sorry." Randy stalks away, pacing the length of the tiny room, shooting Benson a look of combined irritation and desperation that ultimately reads as pain. "It’s been–I didn’t sleep well last night."

"You gonna tell her why?" Benson asks slyly.

Randy flushes red hot, throws the pillow in his direction and misses by a mile.

Benson winces. "Yikes, babe."

He flops on his stomach and reaches for the cigarettes and lighter on the nightstand. His back is crosshatched with pink scratches, a familiar set of eight nail marks etched into his love handles. Randy feels a detached sense of something like pride in spite of himself.

"We gotta work on your aim. Tone up those arms." Benson makes a jerk-off motion to help paint the picture.

Randy drags a hand across his face. His brain is fraying at the seams. "You can’t smoke in here," he mouths at Benson, who looks him dead in the eye as he lights up and smiles around the cigarette.

His mother is waxing vitriolic about the dangers of sleep aids. Randy heaves a harried sigh. "No, Mom, that’s–I don’t even know where to get benzos."

"I do," Benson says helpfully. Randy shakes his head. Benson apparently takes this as an expression of doubt rather than exasperation. "I do," he insists.

"So how many more days until you get to San Diego, hmm?" his mom says. "You’re not making very good time, honey. Just because you don’t have a job to come back to doesn’t mean you can just roam the countryside like some deadbeat hippie."

"I know, Mom. It–it’s about the journey."

"Fuck yeah it is," Benson agrees.

"Brian’s never been out of Louisiana and neither have I, so we’re…we’re just seeing the sights together."

"And how long will you be seeing the sights?"

Randy leans against the wall, knocks his head back against the plaster. "I guess…I don't know. I’ll keep you posted, but…we’re not really on a schedule."

Benson gets up from the bed and pads over. He invites himself into Randy’s space, boxes him in against the wall, touches his face, touches his ribs. He blows smoke out of the corner of his mouth as he looks him up and down.

Randy can feel his own heart thudding in his throat, suddenly hyper-aware of his body and its proximity to Benson’s. It’s Pavlovian, almost, the way he draws him in like that. Derails his thought process like a punch to the gut.

"So what, this road trip just goes on forever?"

"No, Mom." Benson hooks his fingers into Randy’s waistband. Randy meets his gaze, kind of forgets what he was saying. "Just, uh…just until we get to California, and then…and then back again."

Benson takes another drag and exhales slow, opens his mouth and lets the smoke curl up and out. Randy breathes it in on reflex. His mouth waters.

"Hang up the phone," Benson murmurs. His dark eyes are on fire.

"It–I–I’ll be home before you know it," Randy says.

Benson leans in and sideswipes Randy’s jaw with his chin, worries at his earlobe with teeth and tongue. "Randy." His voice is gravel and satin. The cigarette glows between his fingers in Randy’s periphery. He reaches further into his pants. "Hang up the phone," he whispers.

"I hate to say it, but I just don’t believe you, Randy," his mom says. Her voice drips with disapproval, cold around a core of genuine concern. He knows she’s biting back so much more that she’d like to say, and he loves her for that. For trying to give him an inch even though he’s taking miles and miles.

"I promise I’m okay, Mom," he says, tilting his hips towards Benson, who puts the cigarette between his lips and starts unbuttoning Randy’s jeans. "I would tell you if I wasn’t. I just…this is just something I need to do. Something I–I want to do."

Benson catches his eye, winks at him. "Hang up," he mouths as he sinks to his knees.

"Randy," his mom sighs. He closes his eyes and can picture her shaking her head. "I just worry about you, sweetheart."

Benson’s pushing his shirt up and tugging his pants down and dragging his tongue up the ridge of his hip. Randy can feel the heat on his waist from the cherry between his fingers. In another life, that would scare him so bad it'd make him sick, the chance of getting burned. He feels differently about it now. Knows Benson won't hurt him, not without cause. Knows he could take it if he did. There’s something seductive about that, the power of that. The trust.

Of course, Benson’s hand on his ass and spit on his skin count for something too.

"Randy? Are you there?"

"Yeah…yeah. Sorry. I know that, Mom, I know you worry," he says. "And I’m sorry about that."

It sounds hollow, even to himself, but he means it. He wishes it was different. That he didn’t have to lie. But that’s not an option, not for Benson, and he can’t be without him. They’re a package deal now and he likes it that way. Wants it that way. Wants him.

"Please, baby," Benson mumbles against Randy’s stomach. He sounds as desperate as Randy feels.

He bites his lip, combs his fingers through Benson’s greasy hair. "I gotta go, Mom. I’ll call you at the next stop."

"Promise me."

Benson takes one last drag on his cigarette before he holds it up for Randy to take. He blows soft and slow along the length of Randy’s dick, runs his hand down the back of his leg.

The smoke wafts up to his nose and Randy white-knuckles the phone. He’s so hard he can’t think, can’t possibly wring one more coherent sentence out of his lust-addled brain. "Yeah, I–I promise, Mom. I love you."

"I love you, honey."

Randy ends the call and throws the phone in the direction of the bed. He misses again, dimly registers the thunk as it hits the wall.

"Fuck, Benson," he breathes at the same time Benson says, "Fucking finally," and wraps his mouth around him. Randy groans and slumps against the wall, lets Benson pull his hips closer. He likes being put where he wants him.

"You're gonna get me in trouble," he says again, bringing the cigarette to his lips. He needs it bad after all that. He thinks he can taste Benson’s spit in the filter and he closes his eyes, lets his brain go blank.

Benson comes off his cock with a pop and looks up at him. "But I always get you back out, right?" His tongue slides in circles.

It's miraculous every time he does this, puts his mouth on him like this. Randy's wished for a miracle for a long time. This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but who is he to turn it down, with its long lashes and bad language and hands all over him all the time?

"S-so far so good."

Randy takes another drag, feels the high sweep up and over him. It makes him dizzy, makes him giddy. Erases any guilt about lying to his mother and makes him feel good, better than ever, or maybe that’s the man on his knees in front of him.

Benson tilts his head, takes him in. "You’re hot when you smoke, by the way."

Randy chuckles weakly. "Yeah?" He doesn’t do it, not often, usually can’t let go of the voice in his head screaming cancer. But Benson showed him how and he doesn’t cough anymore and in fact, he likes it more every time he tries it. "My mom would lose her mind."

Benson pulls a wry face. "About the smoking, huh? Just the smoking?"

Randy smiles shyly. "Maybe some other stuff too."

"What can she say, she raised a fucking degenerate. And I, for one, am glad she did."

With that, Benson decides the conversation is over and puts his mouth to better use. Randy gasps and moans as he takes him slow, inch by inch, hot and wet and relentless.

He braces himself against the wall. He can barely stand, legs already shaking. Benson’s always telling him he’s easy, and he can’t tell if that’s supposed to be good or bad, but either way, he likes being the way he is. Benson’s fingers dig into the meat of his ass and hit a bruise, sending a sharp thrum of that off-key pleasure straight to his dick. Benson might be right. He might be a degenerate.

He flicks the cigarette butt into the nearby sink and makes it, which is lucky. Maybe his aim isn't that bad after all. Benson has him down his throat to the hilt, which is also lucky. He knows that someday their luck might run out, like gas, like cigarettes, like his mother’s patience, but it sure doesn’t feel like it, not now.

Randy puts his hands on him carefully, the way he showed him, cups his skull and scrunches his hair gently like he's precious, because he is. Benson makes a sound that strikes at his core and he almost loses it right then, but he doesn’t. Not yet. For a second he thinks about miracles, and then he can’t think about much of anything anymore.

The list of things he can't mention when his mother calls gets a little bit longer.

#stockroom syndrome #the passenger #the passenger 2023 #the passenger fanfiction #benson the passenger #randy bradley #ranson #god i'm posting this at such a weird time but i'm so sick of looking at it lmaosjdofkjwlekf #be free my child #begone from my wips and come back when i've forgotten you

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