#I mean I know you're technically still on holiday but come on

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

So Much To Learn

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: a lot, again; Sub!Spencer and kinda mean dom reader, oral (f receiving), age gap (reader is 21), hand job/teasing, honorifics & pet names, marking a lot, p in v sex, they both talking diiiiirty, minor praise, risky sex, multiple orgasms, edging, squirting- I think I got everything??

Genre: Smut kinda fluff and like minor minor angst if you squint

Summary: You don't react well when you realize someone else is giving your professor boyfriend entirely too much of their attention

A/N: technically this is a continuation of So Much To Teach but order is arbitrary lol

Part 1< >Part 3

***

The weeks after Spencer's confession in his office are- fun to say the least. Meeting in secret, teasing him in class, it's all very exciting. With finals just around the corner now though, you're not sure what it means for the two of you. Will he be interested in establishing anything solid with you once you're out of his class? Will things continue as they are? Will he toss you aside only to replace you with another student from another class next semester? The last possibility bothers you more than you'd like to admit. You'll have to find a good time to bring it up to him soon. Between preparing for final exams or papers and Spencer's near insatiable appetite for time with you there's never a moment you want to risk ruining with what will no doubt be an awkward conversation.

There's a slight knock on the door at the back of the classroom that interrupts Spencer's lecture and your wandering mind. Everyone turns to see another professor walk into the room.

"Oh shoot. I'm so sorry Spence I- I thought your class would be over by now." Professor Greene says. She has the decency to look remorseful although you've noticed her sniffing around Spencer for a little while now so you roll your eyes to yourself.

"Oh don't worry about it Professor Greene we're just wrapping up, come on in." Spencer says kindly. "Alright guys reminder, your finals are online and are due at the end of finals week- that's Friday in two weeks' time. We're not meeting on Thursday but next Tuesday for our final meeting time together I'll be having a review session. It's not mandatory but I'll be here during our class time to answer any last minute study questions you may have. I hope to see you next week but if not good luck on all your finals, if you're graduating congratulations, enjoy your holidays, and have a good day!" Spencer dismisses the class. Usually, you'd linger to drop by his office after class but with Professor Greene about to commandeer his attention, you're not sure if you should. Still, you take your time packing up your things while listening in on their conversation.

"I really am so sorry I interrupted your lecture, Spence. I just wanted to ask about the staff meeting I missed the other day." Professor Greene says.

"Oh don't worry about it, Professor Greene but I can email you my notes from the meeting real quick." Spencer says walking over to his computer.

"I've told you a thousand times Spencer call me Ellie." She says patting his shoulder. Spencer mutters something you can barely hear as you exit the classroom. You don't catch the way his eyes trail after you for a moment before he focuses back on sending this email.

"Y/n!" Matt calls pretty much as soon as you make it out of the classroom.

"Oh, hey Lewis. What's up?"

"Was wondering if you were free to meet up sometime to do some studying for the final? Ya know that way we can help each other with things that are confusing and anything we can't figure out together- we can bring up next week during the review session."

"Ya know what that's a great idea Matt. Why don't we do Thursday- since we don't have class we can just hit the library during that time." You suggest.

"Perfect. I'll meet you at the library on Thursday then." Matt smiles, rushing ahead to catch up with some friends. You make your way to Spencer's office like you do after every class although usually you walk together. Today you sit on the bench that's a few feet from his office and wait for him while reading a book.

"Sweetheart. I was wondering where you ran off to." Spencer says when he reaches his office.

"Didn't want to interrupt. She likes you, you know."

"What?" He frowns over his shoulder at you as he unlocks his office door.

"Professor Greene. She was totally flirting with you when she came in during class." You stand up and follow him into his office.

"Was she?" He hums.

"You're telling me you didn't notice?" You scoff.

"Do you want me to notice other women flirting with me?"

"I don't care, Spencer, you're not my boyfriend-"

"Hey, that's not fair." He frowns. You know it's not, Spencer told you early on the only thing stopping him from labeling your relationship was because of how risky it is to date your professor, but you're apparently facing jealousy and it's making you mean.

"I was only saying she's being really obvious. Whether you're interested or not though, is your business. I have some studying to do so I can't stick around today but I didn't want to disappear without letting you know." You say dismissively.

"Y/n," Spencer says softly.

"I'll see you next week." You tell him, turning on your heel. You need to get your feelings under control and quickly.

"I'm not interested in her. You have to know you're the only one on my mind." Spencer says before you make it out the door. You're not even sure what to say back, so you leave without a word.

You've never considered yourself a jealous or insecure person but for some reason, Professor Greene really gets under your skin when it comes to Spencer. Maybe it's because you know it would be easier for him to date her, she's close to his age and there's no taboo surrounding that pairing. That doesn't make feeling this way any less annoying. I mean- you've been ignoring her attempts at making advances at him for the past couple of months but you think the stress of exams and final papers is exacerbating a feeling you normally wouldn't even notice. Honestly, you have entirely too much else going on to be wasting time focused on staking your claim over a man that's only yours in locked offices, empty halls, and dark rooms. You don't fight over men, if Professor Greene can 'take him from you' she can absolutely have him.

By Thursday when you meet up with Matt, you've managed to knock those ugly thoughts of Spencer and Professor Greene to the back of your head, drowning yourself in studying and paper writing. You have no problems in Spencer's class, even before you were fucking him you had an A average so his final is the least of your worries but you know a review can't hurt. You spend way longer than the length of a class studying with Matt, he's a good student which appears to come with great effort on his part. He goes over things in such depth you're actually a little impressed and for a moment there you wonder what it would be like to pick the easy lover. Matt's kind, and attractive, and it would be much less complicated, no sneaking around- well maybe a bit but it would be for fun, not out of necessity. He'd walk you to class holding your hand, and kiss you on the quad, you'd probably adopt his whole friend group, they're athletes whose girlfriends always seem to be adored by all of them. It would be nice, it would be sweet. If things with Spencer do end at the end of the term you'll seriously consider falling for Matt. The version of reality where you end up with him sounds good. If only you'd realized it before Spencer caught your eye so severely. Would things be different? Would you be holding Matt's hand across the table right now? Sitting next to each other in class? Having him over to study late into the night until you'd have him just stay over because you don't want him to leave so late? It seems silly to spend so much time dwelling on a world that you gave up months ago. You blame it on the stress of the end of a semester.

When Tuesday rolls around you go to the review session knowing you don't actually have any questions but maybe someone will ask one you didn't think of that will come in handy. There are not that many people here for the review, some kids from other sections for sure, but still only maybe 20 of you in total. Spencer tries a number of times to catch your attention while he answers questions to gauge how you're feeling but you don't give anything away on your face. That is until Professor Greene walks in about halfway through the review session.

"Hi Spence! Sorry to interrupt, I know you're reviewing for finals and stuff but I ordered a sandwich for lunch and they gave me 2? I just thought I'd offer you one." She smiles as she scurries to the front of the room. Spencer catches the wry smile that just barely cracks your poker face for a moment and he's almost nervous to address Professor Greene.

"Oh- I appreciate it Professor Greene but I brought lunch, I always do. Perhaps Mike would like it if he's on campus? I know he usually buys food at the student center for lunch." He offers. Graceful rejection. Hopefully enough to keep you happy and put off his coworker at the same time. You make a point to not react outwardly but you do notice his choice to call her Professor Greene while calling another professor in the building Mike despite her giggling request last week to call her by her first name.

"Mike?" She blinks at him.

"Yeah he's- probably doing some grading in his office upstairs." Spencer smiles. "Anyone have any other questions for me?" He turns his attention back to the small group of students who mostly seem ready to leave after watching the exchange.

"The exam is a combination of multiple choice and short answer right?" A woman asks.

"Correct, just like your exams in class." He nods. "It- seems like we've covered all your questions guys so, I think it's okay for us to wrap this up a bit early yes?" Spencer asks. Professor Greene is still in the room but Spencer avoids her gaze diligently as the class murmurs affirmatives.

"Spence before you head off can I speak to you for a moment?" Professor Greene asks quietly while the rest of the room is busy packing up their things.

"Of course." He answers reluctantly. "Miss y/n, don't go far I have an assignment of yours I'd like to discuss in my office." Spencer tells you before you can even stand up.

"Sure prof." You drawl resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"Look Spencer the sandwich was- a decoy. I mean they did give me an extra that I wanted to offer you but it was really an excuse to ask you something else." Professor Greene's tone is hushed as you and a few others are still milling about the room.

"Oh- well what is it?" Spencer asks though his gaze shifts to you every so often. You who sits so seemingly unbothered waiting for him, chewing gum, tapping away on your phone, not even looking their way although your ears are definitely paying attention.

"I'm having a little faculty get-together and I wanted to invite you personally."

"What, like going out for drinks?"

"Yeah exactly! Will you be there?"

"Uh- email me the details and I'll let you know."

"Awesome! I really hope to see you there Spence." She places her hand on his arm and he quickly walks over to his satchel to escape the touch.

"I'll- see what I can do." He mutters. "Is that all? I don't want to keep y/n waiting all afternoon."

"Y/n?" She frowns.

"My student? The only person in the room. Who I asked to wait up when I dismissed everyone?" Spencer frowns at her.

"Right! I guess I forgot. One track mind sometimes." She waves off with a giggle. How unnecessarily dismissive.

"Y/n. My office. Ready to go?" He turns his attention to you without even addressing her comment.

"Whenever you're done." You shrug.

"That would be now."

"Alright. Let's go." You stand up and exit the class before him.

"I'll see you at the gathering Spencer." Professor Greene says as he follows you out. You don't say anything as you walk down the halls with Spencer trailing behind. He thinks he handled that well but he can't tell. It's like you're being hard to read on purpose. He unlocks his office door and lets you inside before him, shutting it behind him.

"Look I-"

"I think you should go." You tell him first.

"What?"

"To her little get together. I think you should go." You shrug.

"You do?" He frowns which deepens when you nod. "Why?" He asks.

"It's good for you to socialize with your coworkers." You offer noncommittally.

"You're in a better mood about her today than you were last week." He says carefully.

"Is the door locked?" You ask him.

"What?"

"To your office. Did you lock the door?"

"Oh- yes. I always lock-"

"Yes is sufficient." You say sitting in his office chair.

"Sweetheart, talk to me, what's-" He stops when you hold up one of your hands.

"Spencer, drop to your knees." You say.

"What?" He blinks at you.

"It's a very simple instruction, I would expect a man with as many degrees as you hold would be able to understand a 4-word command."

"I understood it fine I just-"

"Then why are you still standing? If you understood it Spencer do it. I want you on your knees. Now." You cross your arms. Spencer slowly, unsurely, lowers himself to his knees, still by the door to his office. "That's better. Come over to me. And just so we're clear you'll have to crawl." Spencer bends and shuffles over to you on his hands and knees, gaze pointed at the carpet in his office. You've discussed the possibility of him giving up control a number of times but this is not how he expected today to go. When he's by your side you lift his chin up to force his eyes to yours. "Finals week starts in two days Spence, I've got three papers and two exams to think about. I don't have time to worry about if you're going to behave or not." You tell him.

"I-"

"Choose your next words very carefully baby they might just ruin your day." You warn him.

"I would never misbehave darling. My loyalties are to you." He says softly.

"Are you willing to prove that?" You ask.

"However you ask me to." He says immediately.

"I like that answer." You hum. You tug your dress over your head and drop it on his desk. "You can start by removing my panties with your teeth." You tell him. "Just your teeth. I want your hands behind your back." You add. Spencer shuffles forward and tugs at your underwear with his teeth. You move only when absolutely necessary to help but he gets them off after a few moments and holds them between his lips, looking at you for further instructions. "Good boy professor." You pull them from his mouth and drop them on the desk beside your dress. "You'll need your mouth free for this next bit." You say threading your fingers into his hair. "Your loyalties are with me you said?"

"Of course princess." Spencer's reply is breathy.

"Hm- no, not princess. Today you can call me mistress or your queen. I'll let you choose but only between those two. Anything else will get you in trouble and- today is not the day to get in trouble."

"O-okay, My Queen."

"Good. And as for proving your loyalties, you can begin with your head between my thighs, let's see how loyal you are." You spread your legs and tug at his hair still in your hand hard enough to shove his face directly into your center. Spencer is quick to react, his tongue laps up your juices as eagerly as you'd expect. He will regularly spend ages between your legs when he can just because he enjoys tasting you so much. Your back arches as he thrusts his tongue into your pussy feverishly. "Yeah, oh fuck, keep going. Show me- show me your devotion." You moan out as you grind against his mouth. Spencer groans into you as you pull at his hair. His tongue curls inside you just barely brushing against that spongy patch and you have to bite your lip to keep from squealing when he does. Spencer's nose nudges at your clit as he focuses his tongue on your inner walls until your legs stiffen around his ears. When that happens he drags his tongue up to your clit and focuses his attention there, wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucking on it while his tongue lashes it with figure 8s. You almost scream when your orgasm crashes into you, fingers tightening in his hair and your back coming off the chair as you ride the waves of your release. "Don't- don't stop Spence. Fuck- keep sucking my clit." You pant out. Your eyes squeeze shut at the almost painful stimulation, but you want a second orgasm from him before you let him up for air and you plan to get it. You swallow your whines from those first few moments of post-orgasmic overstimulation and force Spencer further into your heat, practically smooshing his face against you. Your moan when overstimulation gives way to pure pleasure again is enough to have Spencer clenching his fists as more blood rushes to his already painfully hard dick. It fills him with a new level of determination as he sharpens the movements of his tongue against you. Your second orgasm builds quickly, and within a few minutes, you're shaking again, this orgasm covering Spencer's face and even squirting onto his shirt. You pull his hair harshly enough to move him away from you as you take a few deep breaths. Spencer sits panting, covered in your juices, pupils blown so wide there's no trace of his hazel-colored irises. "Look at what a mess you are." You hum. "You look pretty like this."

"Thank you- mistress." His voice is hoarse.

"Strip and sit on the couch. You can walk this time." You tell him. He stands, though a little unsteadily, and walks over to the loveseat, taking off his shirt and then his pants before sitting down with his gaze trained on you. You take your time standing from his chair and walking over to him, detouring to grab your jacket that you'd tossed over your backpack upon entry. You won't put the dress back on for now, having totally soaked your lover you have no interest in walking out of here in a damp dress, but your leather jacket will be fine. Spencer watches you with rapt attention as you finally approach him, his dick is an angry looking red flopped against his stomach and his whole body is tense. You drag a finger across his thigh and then up the length of his dick, slowly, reveling in the way he jolts at the contact.

"P-please." He gasps out.

"Please what Spencer?" You tilt your head at him.

"I- I need you to do something my queen I can't- it hurts."

"Do something? I'm already touching you. You need more?"

"Yes mistress, please." Spencer's head is tossed back against the couch as you trace the veins along his dick lazily.

"You're a greedy thing." You hum.

"Please mistress- please my queen I need- god please sit on my dick. Need it so bad- need you. I can't- can't help it." Spencer grips the cushions beneath him tightly, desperately trying not to squirm under your touch.

"Only because you beg very cutely." You tell him swinging your leg over to straddle him. You grip the base of his dick in your hand and lower yourself onto him with a satisfied hum while he lets out a guttural sound that makes your walls clench around him.

"Oh god thank you, my queen. thank you, thank you. You feel so good." Spencer pants out. You brace yourself using his shoulders and set your rhythm, bouncing on his dick quickly.

"Spencer, you're not allowed to cum until I say so." You tell him, grabbing his face to make sure he's listening.

"O-okay mistress. Of course mistress." He nods frantically.

"Fuck Spence this is what you're good for, this is where you belong. Filling me with your pretty little cock, covered in my squirt, you're mine aren't you baby?" You huff as you ride him furiously.

"Yes my queen yes. I'm yours. Just yours. Only you get to use me, touch me, take me. Only you make me feel so good." Spencer groans. You feel his body tense up under you and slow your pace almost to a stop.

"Not yet Spence." You mutter sweetly kissing his neck. You stay there for a few moments, grinding against him as you take some time to litter his throat with hickeys of various sizes some of which are quite dark as well. Dark enough that you're sure he'll have them through finals week. When you're satisfied with the marks covering him you pick up your pace again and his small whimpers from your lips against his skin turn to full-blown moans again. "This time Spencer you can cum, but you ask first." You tell him. He nods at your instruction and while you should scold him for not using his words you'll let it slide considering how close you know he is. He barely manages a few minutes before he's stuttering out his request.

"C-can I mistress please can I cum?" He pants out frantically.

"Good boy. Yes you can." You chuckle airily at the relief on his face when you give him permission. You keep pace until heat spills into you at which point your hips slam down harder against him even when he begins hissing from overstimulation.

"M-my queen I- too sensitive w-wait."

"I said you could cum baby but I didn't say I'd be done with you. Today you're my toy and I'll use you as long as I want. So be good and let me play." You say, letting yourself relish in the feeling of filling yourself over and over, even as his release leaks out of you and makes his thighs sticky. You moan in surprise when Spencer's dick hardens again inside you. "Oh- fuck. Well aren't you just the perfect plaything- eager to keep your queen happy."

"I- I- yes mistress." He whines. You ride him for a while longer, taking all he has to give and then some. He fills you two more times before you're satisfied and you make sure you have a couple more releases of your own by the time you're climbing off of his completely spent dick. You walk carefully over to his desk and grab his pack of wet wipes before walking back over to him, cleaning up the utter mess around his thighs. If he didn't look so exhausted you'd have him clean the mess on your thighs with his tongue, but right now you think if you asked Spencer to do anything else he'd simply collapse, so you take a few wipes to clean up yourself once you're done with him.

"You were very good today Spencer. I'd say you more than proved your devotion." You tell him with a gentle kiss.

"You're mean when you're jealous." He chuckles breathlessly.

"So are you professor." You tap his nose and stand to dress yourself. You pick his clothes up from the floor and lay them on the arm of the chair for whenever he gets the energy to stand and dress himself. You find his lunch and set it out for him on the table as well while you're at it.

"Are you leaving?" He asks, barely able to focus.

"Well- I do have some studying to do. Will you be okay? Do you want me to stay?" You ask. You won't leave him if he's going to drop but you've set up food, cleaned him up, and made sure he knows he did well.

"I- I don't want Professor Greene you know." He mumbles.

"I know, that's why I think you should go to her gathering. With all those pretty marks on your neck, she'll surely get the hint." You say. You bend over and gently brush some hair from his eyes. "You make me feel so territorial." You mutter.

"I'm sorry." He pouts.

"It's not your fault, it's unavoidable but- I don't like hiding you." You say.

"I don't like hiding you either." Spencer takes your hand in his. You pause for a moment and sigh.

"Do you want me to stay with you, Spence?" You ask brushing your thumb against the back of his hand.

"Can you spare the time?" He asks.

"Sure. But at some point, we should talk about what the end of the semester means for us." You say. Spencer sits up and you sit on the couch letting him rest his head in your lap.

"When you finish all your finals I have a question for you." He slurs a bit through his declaration.

"Why not just ask me now?"

"I want your head clear." You can barely make it out, he's obviously falling asleep, your fingers against his scalp lulling him too quickly. You're still high off adrenaline now, not quite ready to sleep but you know you'll feel the effects of this later. Good thing tomorrow is study day and you can get away with not leaving your apartment.

***

A/N: I was gonna post this on Friday but I’m posting it early as a thank you for all the love on part 1 already 🖤

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid

[www-jungwon]

in which jake has no idea what to get his little sister ( he left it last minute ) and you're the sephora worker who got stuck with the last shift before the holidays ୨୧

tw. swearing, stranger!jake has a younger sister au, christmas mentions, yn is sooo embarrasing wc. 958

out of all the ways you’d planned to spend your friday evening before the holidays, working was not one of them. but eunchae had begged you to cover for her, and she covered your shift before thanksgiving.

you glance at your watch. only 30 minutes before closing, which means you should be able to just scroll on your phone in the back. no customers ever come in–

the click of the glass door interrupts your relief.

your first thought, of course, is fuck. who goes to a sephora 30 minutes before it closes? do they have any human decency? and your second thought is, fuck.

the guy who walks into the store looks to be in his 20s, with soft brown hair that frames his face, adorable eyes, and pink pouty lips.

he looks around, sweeping his hand through his hair–his hand is so hot–before his eyes land on you.

you’re too busy contemplating whether or not you just felt attraction to a stranger’s hand to answer him the first time, only snapping out of your thoughts when he walks closer.

“oh, um, sorry, welcome to sephora, what- i was- your hand- i mean, what were you saying?”

his eyebrows cinch briefly in confusion, but he shakes it off (thank god), “hi.” he has the most attractive australian accent you’ve ever heard. “um, i was, like, wondering if you could recommend me a gift for my little sister? i- well,” he laughs sheepishly, and you almost fall onto the ground, “i haven’t gotten her a gift yet,”

“oh! um,” you pause, still trying to focus, but he must take your silence as a bad thing.

“yeah, i feel awful, but i’m just really busy- you must think i’m a horrible brother, i mean- sorry, you don’t care.”

“no, nonono, i do c- i mean, um, yeah, i can- uh, help you..find..a gift.” your voice trails off into silence at the end of your sentence.

he either doesn’t notice the weirdness or chooses to ignore it, his eyes lighting up. “that’s so great! thank you, so much.”

“ok, um,” you start trying to think of a gift for his younger sister and then realize you’re an idiot. “oh, i kind of- uh, sorry, how old is she?” it took you 20 seconds to ask how old the person you’re recommending a gift for is.

“oh!” he laughs, “sorry,”

“no problem,” you’ve never answered anyone so fast in your entire life.

“she’s 16.”

you blink, because that seems really young for how he looks and is he younger than 20 what the fuck, but then he sees your expression.

“5 years apart.”

“oh, no, i didn’t- you didn’t have to- sorry, um, what kinds of things are you looking for, for her? like, makeup, or perfume, or ma- something else?” you literally almost said makeup twice.

“um,” he laughs, “i’m not really sure. i just know that whenever she comes back from the mall she has a sephora bag every time, so i came here in a panic.”

“ok, well is there anything specific you’d like to get her?”

he hesitates again, “sorry…is there anything you’d, like, recommend? what you’re wearing is kind of pretty- i mean, sorry, i didn’t- mean to say that-”

you breathe out a shocked laugh. “well, i’m not sure if a 16 year old would like any of the things i’m wearing, but maybe the glitter eyeshadow, or, like, the lip gloss.”

“um,” he trails off, “sure.”

“ok! do you want to come look at them, or should i just get the same ones?” your only reflex now is to ramble, in fear of him realizing how flustered he’s made you (although you’re sure he already has).

“just the same ones is fine,”

“ok, wait right here then.”

your heart is beating out of your chest as you grab the items, he called you pretty–him, the prettiest person you’ve ever seen in your life–well, technically he called what you’re wearing pretty, and he only said ‘kind of,’ and you should really calm down. except your heart doesn’t seem to agree.

you arrive back at the desk, pulling a sephora bag from underneath the counter.

“oh, sorry, do you want me to wrap this for you?”

“no, that’s fine, i usually wrap things myself, like, as a tradit-i mean, sorry, you don’t care.” that’s the cutest thing ever.

he laughs, “really?”

you almost trip over the desk because there’s no fucking way you just said that out loud.

“um,” you look away, the pitch of your voice raising, “your total is 2700 dollars.”

he blinks. “two- two thousand-”

“i mean! i’m so sorry, i meant, 27 dollars…and 95 cents…” you turn away in embarrassment, and he laughs.

his laugh. his laugh is the prettiest sound, lighting up your heart even though you’re so ashamed you can’t even look over.

“sorry, i’m not- i’m not laughing at you.”

you turn back to glare at him. “yes you are.”

he grins, and you almost fall backwards again at how pretty he is.

he pulls out his wallet, and is that a black card?

“ok,” you hand him the bag, “thanks for shopping with sephora, and i hope you enjoy your holidays.”

he grabs the handle, his fingertips brushing your wrist, and you drop the bag, his hand jerking to catch it.

“s-sorry.”

“no problem,” he looks at your nametag, “y/n.”

he looks back up at you, grinning, “my sister will love these.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. i’ll tell her all about the pretty girl who chose them for me, who thinks i’m cute.”

you glitch, you actually glitch for a second, can’t move or think or anything, and then he’s gone, the door shutting.

your phone chimes with a text from eunchae.

thanks sosososso much for covering my shift im rlly sry, merry christmas

merry fucking christmas indeed.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

part of winters of us, an advent calendar : day 006

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist !

enhypen tl @cutesiepatootsie @sammm5225

#❄️ — winters of us. #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #jake x reader #jake x you #jake sim #jake imagines #enhypen jake #jake sim x you #jake sim fluff #jake sim x reader #jake sim imagines #jake fluff #sim jake x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff

[accio-victuuri]

8/13/2023 : LRLG Contribution 🍓🥝

well… i didn’t expect this release today but i’m taking it and i’m happy that we have them back with us! and released on the 13th too. what a good number! 🫶🏼

you all know how this works, let’s play a game and guess what the “scenes” are referring too 😂😂😂

everything is fake. fanfiction. i don’t have the permission to transfer the whole content. so some parts will be incomplete and others i will just explain what’s happening.

It starts with WYB talking to someone, and it’s obviously XZ.

WYB: 👀

WYB: "nice"

WYB: "Will not guard XZ's freedom to dress” ( I think this means Web won’t get in the way of whatever XZ wants to wear. )

WYB: it's beautiful

WYB: “Really nice”

WYB: I haven't changed yet, don't worry

WYB: come in a while

WYB: "oh"

WYB: "good"

WYB: Just take a picture and wear it. I'll be there later.

So this is 99.9% an event where they both attended and that’s two so far, Weibo Night and that gala in HK. My money is on Weibo Night tho, because WYB said he will come later. In the HK gala, WYB was visible very early in the venue even if technically XZ flew to HK before him.

The wedding clothes 💌

and XZ can wear anything and WYB will probably go— “wow xiao laoshi!” 😍😍😍😍 some are also interpreting WYB’s words ( freedom to dress ) as a sort of comfort to XZ. He was probably hesitant to wear what he did and thought it would be better to play safe. But has a very supportive s/o ( WYB ) who knows what to say to boost XZ’s confidence.

The next part is, still not sure if this is a continuation of WB night. But a girl is saying XZ is beautiful and WYB is there with this expression on 🥹

XZ: "I told you I can not come"

WYB: “Um?"

XZ: “Just kidding, kidding"

XZ: "Do you want to shoot when you go back tonight?"

and then the girls, most likely staff told XZ they can continue and that he (XZ) should coax the child (WYB)

NEXT UP IS A RANDOM EXCHANGE, but cpfs think they are playing a game:

WYB: "Why don't I have a mask"

XZ: "Because you don't have an eyeshadow palette..”

WYB: "What to use"

XZ: "Small eyeshadow combined with big eyeshadow"

WYB: “boring”

XZ: “Don't play when you're bored"

WYB: "Who shared it with me"

XZ: "Don't order it"

(….)

XZ: "There are a lot of materials that you can't sell, but you can use them later.

WYB: "Kids don't play this.”

XZ: "Yeah, adults are playing"

WYB: “….”

Some are guessing it might be this — Dream Detective. I understand cause games like this are relaxing, you won’t be so stressed about it. Plus when I read the reviews, they said the graphics are good so maybe that’s why XZ likes it. So cute tho how WYB will try everything XZ recommends — he will also play with him even if it’s not his type of game. There are other guesses on what they’re playing but this is the one i’m going with.

Then we have another block of text from WYB.

WYB: "When will there be a holiday for you?”

WYB: "Come and see me, come and see me if you're not tired"

WYB: "So are you coming or not"

WYB: "There is nothing missing, and you can buy it here"

WYB: "You and I can't buy it"

OMG MY HEART. Come and see me, come and see me if you're not tired. He’s just so 🥹🥹🥹🥹. How can you say no to that huh XZ? and WYB knows it’s inconvenient to meet but maybe there are days that he really needs company and XZ will grant him that. I’m just so happy they have each other.

"There is nothing missing, and you can buy it here" >> CPFs also interpret this part as, we don’t need anything. You’re all i need, you are something money can’t buy. Anything else we can buy and replace.

I don’t fully understand the next exchange but it’s WYB talking to some people. Not sure if staff or cast. I can’t figure out of the context and looks like it’s not cpn-y. I could be wrong, again, some things on here are hard to connect. But what stood out is this exchange :

WYB: "You can't see both sides, right? You know whether he's skinny or fat."

👧: “Let's just say I've never paid attention to this issue"

👩‍🦳"Besides, you can see it in the video, you have to touch it to know."

So this is like Web who cares if XZ eats enough and he will know that by how XZ looks. If he’s grown too skinny or what. Years later, he’s still so attentive about XZ’s health! 😌😌😌

Then back to WYB again who is obviously talking about The Longest Promise / Yuguyao

WYB: “Didn’t eat, not very hungry”

WYB: "Will you be sad if I don't eat?

WYB: "( laughs ) they're all talking"

WYB: "they said you're good at acting, you're immortal

WYB: "If you don't believe me, ask them yourself"

WYB: “Rave reviews”

Awww. He’s such a supportive boyfriend! I’m cackling tho at how he used that iconic line. In the drama it should be will you be sad if I die?

Kidding aside, yes Yibo. XZ will be sad ( and most likely angry at you ) if you don’t eat!!!

XZ: "Don't listen to this"

WYB: "Your hair can be braided.”

WYB: "Is it hot for you to wear a wig?"

XZ: "nothing to eat"

WYB: "Brother X went to buy it, it was delicious"

Then Web tells him to lie down for a while, an assistant said she will get a pillow and then WYB said he will go out and make a call ( so XZ can rest ).

THE HAIR! XZ’S LONG HAIR!!!!! This? In braids??? WYB i hate you for putting thoughts in my head!

THEN THIS. Everyone’s favorite Chongqing pepper strikes again 🌶️🌶️🌶️

WYB: "Didn't I say come back when you're not tired?"

XZ: "I'm not tired on the road, I'm tired when I arrive"

WYB: "Thank you for coming all this way"

XZ: "I came all the way here and you still go out with your phone"

WYB: "I didn't call. I remember there was a massager, but I couldn't find it.

XZ: “neck pain”

WYB: “i’ll give you a massage”

OMG GG. 😂😂😂😂

Don’t worry, i’m sure WYB loves your more than his phone or whatever! LOL. and you have WYB who is good at coaxing and will massage XZ. God. They are so sweet. I hate them. 💀💀💀💀

There’s also a part of this, they are talking about food and ordering and XZ said he wants an egg custard tonight, so of course WYB made it happen.

There is an exchange where WYB said “"You scared them so much that they dare not eat!” I wanna know. Who was the group or person who sensed XZ’s hangry energy / face that it scared them 😂😂😂

That’s all!!!!

I enjoyed this LRLG and there is also some feeling of relief cause we thought they would be gone for good. Or they will return but not this early. I like reading about their simple life and interactions. Some turtles are also commenting about the two sides of Xiao Zhan and how WYB is the only one who gets to see this side of him.

SO TRUE. 💯

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #peak clowning behavior 😂😂😂😂 #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

[inthememetime]

Uncle Vlad AU

AU where Vlad actually gets along with the adults in the Fenton household pretty well. The Problem is the Teachers. (And ghosts. But mostly the teachers).

Maddie:

He and Maddie have been flirting awkwardly since they were 10 years old because it was funny when adults did it, and never stopped. Neither means anything by it.

Yes, Mr. Lancer, Jack does know that.

No, we do not need you to send Danny home with the Scarlet Letter. There is no affair. You know what, if you spent this much time protecting my kids from bullies, we-

Good mom, ok? She is! Sure, she gets distracted by work a lot, but she's not intentionally negligent, and she does her best. She just isn't able to connect with Danny the way she can with Jazz.

Jack:

Thinks the awkward flirting is hilarious. Regularly eggs on both his wife and BFF. Hides out at Vlad's to watch football games.

ADHD solidarity with Vlad. Two bros chillin' on a Packers couch, oi, asshole, did you just fumble in the first kickoff! Yeah, he did, which reminds me,did you want to come by for-

Jack was supposed to be there to ask Vlad for help on the portal. They have watched the Bears beat the Vikings, made plans for the weekend, managed to cook an entire meal, and it's not until 2 days later that Jack remembers. (Am I projecting my ADHD? You better bet )

Like Maddie, he isn't intentionally negligent, he just gets distracted super easily. He does his best, but often fails. A true himbo: strong of body, giant of heart, dumb of ass.

Vlad:

Died 20 years ago, but also recognizes that putting his face into a portal to another dimension wasn't a great idea.

Reiterates lab safety constantly despite consistently breaking the rules.

"Remember, children, do not eat or drink in the lab."

"Um. You're drinking ectoplasm right now, though."

"And I'm dead! I can get away with it!"

Despite this, neither Jack or Maddie know he's dead. Plasmius? "Cool costume!" Loses a hand that grows back in a day? "How'd you get that illusion to work?" Jokes about being dead? "Ha ha, yes, we get it. You're dead inside and like grim humor."

Neither Danny or Jazz- who do know- are allowed to tell their parents, because, "come on, guys, don't ruin a 20 year experiment for me! I wanna know how long it takes!"

Vlad is "independently wealthy". As in, he robbed a bunch of billionaires, and has blackmail on twice as many.

So as not to draw too much suspicion, he's a writer. Mostly trashy romance novels or technical manuals. There is no in-between.

Danny:

Dies. Immediately joins Vlad in death jokes. Jazz: You NEED TO talk about it! Danny: IDK, Jazz, I'm still pretty shocked. Get it?

Vlad: Hey, I gotta go visit dead family for the holidays, wanna come with?

Danny: Is that where you go every year? What do you do?

Jazz: Please don't make a ghost joke, please don't make a-

Vlad: Yeah, well, we go haunting, play games, decorate the cemetery, you know. Just get into the holiday spirit, and have a damned good time.

Jazz: I'm calling the Ghostbusters.

Starts learning how to fight ghosts- Uncle Vlad helps, of course, and- DANIEL PHANTOM, WHY are you HERE, and not in math class?! GO.

Nobody knows why Vlad's so chill about the death thing until his family comes to visit- turns out, his mother's maiden name was Addams. Yes, those Addams'.

#danny phantom #inthememetime #vlad masters #danny phantom au #redeemed vlad masters #jazz is so tired

[antimony-medusa]

*new yorker accent* hey what’re yous thoughts on uhhh them queer platonic romances? new york numbah one da big apple babey!!!

Oh I love QPRs, I love relationship anarchy. I love the diverse ways that people can define a relationship that works for them, with whatever they need in it, and it can have sex or no sex, kissing or no kissing, sleeping together or sleeping apart, raising children together, buying a house, marriage, pet names, holidays with family— any sort of thing we put into a relationship, and we can pull that apart and reassemble it in a way that works for us, and it can be romantic or not, or sexual or not, but boy howdy it sure is queer.

Okay I have been assuming that this is in a fandom writing context, but the above all applies to them in real life. In FANDOM—

Okay I may be on the outside with this, but I think a QPR can definitely come up to the line of being ship, depending on the QPR, so I don't necessarily agree with the way this fandom has fallen into QPR = not!shipping that's safe to publically do to cubitos whose creators don't want ship.

Cause like, we have clips from streamers saying they're not comfortable with ship, or not comfortable with things being "weird", but they usually don't specify beyond that. In a lot of cases, they haven't specified if there's a distinction between character shipping or IRL shipping, so like in no cases have they specified if the issue with shipping is sex (cause you can have an ace romantic marriage with no sex— does that count as "ship"?) or romance (cause by definition QPRs would not apply) or strong emotional dwelled on bonds that tie them to another player in a tight way (cause like, this is what a fair number of people writing QPRs fall into, cause from the outside if you're not aro some of the QPRs look pretty close to romantic relationship on the surface! I know it's not romance, and you know it's not romance, but is a streamer just scrolling twitter going to see that at a first glance if they come across a snippet of someone calling each other a life partner and going to bed together?) Cause like, trying to put myself in the shoes of the streamer, I could see the problem being sex (makes sense) OR romance (makes sense) or any really tight emotionally-dwelled on life-bond relationship (some of this I don't know if the streamers might still think it's weird to see done to their characters, even if it's technically by definition platonic). So some of this I still don't know if QPRs are something that every creator is going to feel comfortable seeing?

And I don't tend to love the implications of some of the stuff twitter does where it's like "oh, i can't ship, only QPR", like QPRs are automatically like santitized "safe" shipping, instead of their own category of thing that could mean almost anything. Like in real life if you know someone is in a QPR you know they're in a QPR, you still have no idea if that means they're married, or have sex, or make out on the regular, or call each other lovey dovey things, or sleep together, you just know they have a life bond. This fandom treats QPR like it's only one thing, and like it's a lesser, training wheels type of relationship, and that really grinds my gears.

So for me QPRs fall into a category where I'm like, awesome, pog to do, I know we love to take interactions between cubitos and expand them out and it makes perfect sense to take some of these in a QPR way. Go on with your bad self. But unless a creator has explicitly allowed it/canonized it, honestly I'd treat it the same way as I would some of the more hot-button trigger tagged fics (abuse, cannibalism, whump, mind control, addictions issues, torture) or like "instincts driven" family dynamic stuff or extremely aged down family dynamic stuff, where I'm like yes, technically this is fine, but let's just be safe and keep that where the streamer only finds it if they go looking for it. Please keep it out of TTS. This is something for the fandom, not for the streamers.

Just tag your shit and keep it away from the streamers and you're good.

#ask #anon #fandom meta #discourse

[tinytinybumblebee]

Cans we get Toki Wartooth agere hcs? :3

Heck yes!!!!!

- just a little guuuy!! Mostly regresses anywhere between 1 to 4 years old♡

- still has a huge obsession with building model planes or anything that lets him use his hands and be creative! This is truly the easiest way to keep Toki from toddling around, hand him one of these bad boys

And you'll have the most still Toki. Though, make sure he doesn't have to leave his building unfinished, he will pout and fuss!

- Has the cutest covers for his insulin pump/dexcom (it has lil clowns and fishies!) It helps him feel less scared of having to do level checks (big Toki can do it like a champ! But, tiny Toki has a biiit of hesitancy)

- Will sleep in someone else's bed. It's that, or he'll be crying until Pickles or Skwis sleepily comes to him and falls asleep with him in Toki's bed xD The lil guy just really doesn't like sleeping alone, even with nightlights, white noise machine, he needs to know he's safe in someone else's arms ;w;

- Murderface tries to be the uber cool big brother who knows alllll the neat stories and tells Toki all his hairscheme ideas. Toki of course is just a lil guy and latches onto what Murderface says (of course, Nathan and Pickles have to step in like "Hooo-kay we are not letting Toki try out your latest invention, Murderface" xD)

- Toki, is definitely that baby brother who follows Skwis everywhere! Always wanting to join Skwis, very much a monkey see, monkey do. It annoys Skwis soooo much because he's got the baby chewing on his guitars and fancy blankets!! Pickles is just like, "Awe, he just likes ya Skwis, probably thinks you're real cool." (Which, flatters Skwis. So he guessssses he can stand this xD)

- Loooves to tell stories through his plushies (sometimes they're,,, incredibly graphic and gore filled, but hey, kid is very traumatized and is a death metal guitarist, what can you expect?)

- Definitely still believes in Santa, Easter Bunny, and all those folklore/holiday characters (if anyone tells him they're not real, he'll just pout and say "Proves it!!" Which, I mean, technically, you can't prove it either way, so, just let him have his fun)

- Wants to be held like 9/10 times, Nathan is the strongest, so you'll routinely see him just working on lyrics while Toki is hooked around him like a little kola on his mama ;w;

- Monster High dolls. He loves 'em and definitely would have a big collection of them!

#agere #age regression #sfw #fandom agere #mailbox #toki wartooth #metalocalypse

[punsmaster69]

3/DEC/20XX

"I've always said that filling a glass to the brim is the most efficient method..."

flowey turned to me with the most shit-eating grin i think i've seen from him yet.

"But wow. I mean, really, 𝘞𝘖𝘞.

You reeaally took that to heart."

"soul, technically."

"Whatever. Point is, you've messed yourself up baadd."

"You can barely 𝘀𝗲𝗲!"

"noticed that. not why we're here though, petals."

"I- PETALS?!"

"Do NOT call me that!"

i considered saying something like, "ok, whatever you say, petals." but didn't.

flowey's not gonna actually help me if i piss him off too bad.

well.

helping is what i 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 him to do...

instead he's taken the opportunity to get out all the snide remarks he's got about my whole overflow thing going on.

pretty sure he's been biting these back real hard while the others were around.

——

he's still going.

what a butthead.

hm.

know he likes...

dinosaurs.

dragons.

video games.

'specially that one character. a dino of some kind.

the color green.

drawing. (with frisk, usually.)

puzzles.

candy. loves candy.

loves anything sweet, really.

ok. any of those sound like gift ideas?

whatever. guess i'll figure it out later.

...

wow, he's still talking.

"......."

nevermind, he stopped.

"Why do you keep looking at me, then at the page?"

"Are you really writing ALL of this down?"

"nah."

"What ARE you writing, then?"

"just random thoughts."

"Ew. Nevermind. I don't wanna hear about whatever goes on in that probably-hollow skull of yours."

"k."

"got any ideas for frisk's, yet?"

flowey's face tells me he's forgotten that's why he was here to begin with.

"........."

and his silence tells me that he really doesn't have any.

"...ok."

"let's come back to this."

"got ideas for tori?"

"NO."

"what? can't get her gifts now?"

"You're gonna be all gross about it!"

"gross?"

"Romatical!"

"...romantic..al?"

"That's the word."

"romantic?"

"no 'a', no 'l'."

"You get what I mean!"

"not gonna be, 'romantical' about it."

"pure-intentioned holiday gifts."

"𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘺?"

"not sure what to call it anymore."

"Obviously-"

"Obviously..."

his face shifted as he thought about it.

"...Christmas."

"or gyftmas?"

"Have you just been calling it 'holiday' this whole time?"

"been switching between the three."

"so, no ideas?"

"........."

"ok. welp. since you've apparently only agreed to come here so you could berate me.."

"i'm kicking you out."

"....."

"Fine! Good! I don't wanna be in your terrible room anymore."

so i carried him to papyrus' room.

paps looked up from his book.

"HELLO SANS! AND HELLO, FLOWERY."

"Howdy."

with having set flowey on the end of paps' bed, that kid's decidedly no longer my problem.

"bug him for a while. i'm outta here."

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"

"back to bed."

"What??"

"gonna write the rest of the journal first, but yep."

"What time is it?"

"IT'S ABOUT NINE, I BELIEVE."

"...I spent three hours talking to YOU?!"

"OH! I SUPPOSE YOU SHOULD BE GETTING HOME, FLOWERY."

he closed his book and hopped up.

"AWAY WE GO!"

flowey was being carried out the door before he could even start to say anything about it.

——

still blank on the present-idea front, but there's plenty of december left to think it over.

maybe i'll ask tori about frisk's.

#undertale #journal #sans #flowey #papyrus #sans and flowey

[fakakta-art]

I have this Jewish Dick Grayson headcanon but I'm not Jewish so I was wondering if you'd give me feedback or something like that if it's not too much trouble. I imagine he'd be raised secular by his parents and when he starts living with Bruce he participates in Jewish traditions/holidays because Bruce uses his own family experiences to try and connect with his new kid. so Dick decides to fully lean into it and convert to Judaism. I think he'd have a Bar Mitzvah to formally show that, but Bruce didn't have any formal event for his because without his parents it's difficult. so when Dick gets to really celebrate his Bar Mitzvah it's a special moment of connection for them and Bruce is very proud. Dick becoming Jewish helped him reconnect with his mom after her death and it's all very sentimental. once again I'm not Jewish so I don't know if that makes sense

I'm always happy to talk Jewish batfam and i absolutely love when people share their HCs with me! :D I'm so flattered you reached out! If you mean you HC Dick as having a Jewish parent/parents, but just not being raised religiously Jewish, he wouldn't actually need to "convert". Judaism is an Ethnoreligion, aka: an ethnicity AND a religion, so you can be ethnically Jewish and not religiously, and vice-versa. It is enough to simply be born to Jewish parents (Mother if you're traditional, either if you're more reform). Conversion in Judaism is quite different from a lot of other religions, since Judaism is considered a "closed" religion. Gentiles (non-Jews) can convert, but the process is arduous and involves lots of study and communications with rabbis, etc.

If you mean raised secular in that John and Mary are both gentiles, but Dick ends up adopted as a kid by Bruce (a Jewish man), then he could be raised culturally Jewish, and might even be accepted as such in some Jewish communities depending on the denomination and such, but he would technically still need to convert to be "officially" Jewish.

A Bar Mitzvah does not count as a conversion, it's a separate, but very important coming-of-age ceremony that considers you a Jewish adult when a boy turns 13. It comes with responsibilities and practices, definitely something I love imagining Dick having, being supported by Bruce though, and reconciling with his past and such.

For the sake of not making the worlds longest post, I'm putting the rest under the cut!

I'm totally a sucker for HCs of someone reconnecting to their religion, I'm also totally a sucker for Jewish HCs so you're totally in my wheelhouse! I absolutely invite you anytime to message me or anything cause I could go for days on this.

I wont dump my entire hoard of HCs on you, but yours are actually quite similar to some of mine!! I figured I'd share some ehe, no obligation to read it or nothin'

Bruce I HC to be Ashkenazi Jewish, on both Martha and Thomas's side. I imagine they were somewhat conservative (Masorti) Jewish, but Martha's extended family was Orthodox. I HC Bruce was raised pretty Jewishly until his parents were killed, and from then on Alfred, who is not Jewish, did his best to uphold the values and religion that Bruce's parents had left behind with him. Also, bc I always establish a latke Opinion for every Jewish HC I Have...Bruce would totally be a cream cheese and lox latke guy, bougie ass. As for a Bar Mitzvah for Bruce...I usually waffle between HCs of either

A) Bruce not doing a bar mitzvah celebration since there's many practices associated w the parents that he knew would be too painful, but as an adult he regrets not having one or might even do a belated one as an adult at some point with prodding from his kids

Or B) Alfred, knowing the importance of it, pushes Bruce to actually do it and tries his best to do the parental duties. It's sweet small and all that but still nice

As for Dick, I usually HC that his father John was Romani and his mother Mary was Jewish, born Miryam (Jewish name) but changed it to Mary to pass as gentile cause of the Antisemeitism. I HC her, and by extension Dick, as Sephardic rather than Ashkenazi (regionally different flavors of Judaism due to diaspora, very interesting to look up if you have time). Anyways, Bruce and Dick def had a "similar but different" motif about it but very wholesome. I think Dick still knew stuff and had a connection to it, but didn't like, attend services or anything pre-Bruce. He probably loved Purim, though. I imagine when Dick was young, he and Bruce would celebrate Shabbat together and light the candles every week. As for Latke pref...applesauce and sour cream at the same time on the same latke.

For Jason, I actually HC him as mixed race (afrolatino, white, etc) and raised Catholic, so pre-Bruce he didn't know anything about Judaism at all. I don't think he'd have crazy strong connections to religion of any sort, but he'd still have some adjusting to do. I think he'd participate culturally with the fam, doing Passover seders, playing dreidel, etc, but I don't think he'd be doing much praying or anything. Sour cream on Latkes truther, but he'll add pico de gallo sometimes if he's got it.

Now for Tim, I also HC as Jewish, but whereas Martha and Thomas were very outwardly Jewish, I imagine Tim's parents were not. In my hcs, Janet was raised conservative but sorta dropped it. Jack was raised reform and didn't really practice anything. I imagine they didn't want to broadcast a lot of their Jewishness out of fear it would impact their business, which they cared about more. Most of Tim's participation started and ended with the High Holy Days, or the occasional moment his parents ever rarely felt religiously inclined. Maybe some brief Hanukkah stuff, cause of the capitalism and whatnot. I think he would do a lot of his own research, though, and know enough to get by. I think he would also eat his Latkes with ketchup, bc he's bonkers.

Now for Damian, obviously he's half Jewish cause Bruce is his father, but Talia I HC as Muslim (can't remember how canon it is) and raising him practicing Islam I think makes him lean more towards that religiously even if he is ethnically both. He's interested in Bruce's culture, bc thats his dad! but not like, with spiritual intent at his age. I think the whole fam though is happy to celebrate Eid with him, support him fasting during Ramadan, etc, though! When Alfred makes Latkes though he prefers applesauce or plain, as most kids in my experience prefer.

ANYWAYS sorry this got WAY longer than I thought it would. I have more for the rest of the batfam and stuff but i'll stop here. Biggest HC dump EVER huh..anyways if you actually got to the end thanks for reading it! feel free to message me any questions or send another ask, clearly, I usually have something to say about it LOL

#WOW this got long #also keep in mind many other jews have different experiences with this stuff. theres a lot of different communities and experirences #so what I feel and have seen def will be different than what someone else's take might be #ask #my art #dick grayson #bruce wayne #i wont tag the rest cause its not even in da art...anyways sorry for so much reading haha #thanks for the ask!

[onsunnyside]

Ari making sure all your holes get fucked and filled with cum before pounding your greedy little pussy again

Ari making you ride him because he loves how desperate you get and it's funny to watch how hard you try to fuck yourself on him because of course it doesn't feel as good as him pounding into you

When you stay at your room in your parents' house, ari tells you to be quiet and let him breed you like a good little slut and "shhh baby you've gotta be quiet"

Hmm ari fingering you when you're all dumb and floaty and it feels so good but you need him in your mouth

When you're so desperate and his dick slips out because your pussy is so fucking sloppy and you keep grinding on his cock and whine when he stops your hips to slip is dick back in

And a little bit of cherry and curtis cause I love them

Curtis fucking her in the ass as a technicality because his dick hasn't been in her pussy so she's still pure

And Curtis playing with cherry's little pussy

- 🥴

hehe i missed you bestie !! let's set all the ari ones in my sleazy rockstar!ari au:

this is after one of his shows when he's full of adrenaline, he takes out the plug he put in you earlier in the night and fucks you in his hotel room, making you scream so loudly that someone calls it in to the front desk. you two make headlines the next day bc of it, the interview where Ari spoke about 'deflowering' you is constantly reposted on social media.

when he's feeling particularly mean, he'll just lie there as you whine and cry about wanting more 😖 "dumb little baby, you can't even fuck yourself on my cock? are you that cockdrunk already?" "pathetic crybaby—I gave you the chance to make yourself come, but you didn't. Now you're just gonna come as many times as I want."

ugh !! ofc couples go home for the holidays and ari comes to meet your parents, and obviously, get papped at the airport. i bet he gags you with one of your stuffed animals, the same one he made you ride on the private jet.

he's a musician, after all, so ofc he's good with his hands 😳😳 he fingers you until you squirt just before he goes on stage bc it's his preshow ritual

he's soft dark so uhm... yes he introduces you to drugs and a wild life, and this is one of those times he gave you something 'to make you happy' and you ended up getting so desperate for him that he had to leave the party early. he's never given you one like this before so you're clueless and helpless, begging him to make the aching go away 😣

how you stole this exact thot from my notes, i don't know 🫣 but he definitely uses that excuse, then comes all over your cunt bc he still wanted to mark you somehow

he calls you over to study and you actually believe him. but you just end up making a dumb mess in your panties and going home bare bc he kept them ofc 😖

#tw nsft link #spicy videos #wips ask #sleazy rockstar ari #sos: spicy #sos: thots #hc ask #sos ask #🥴 anon #sos drabble #hc drabble

[blood-mocha-latte]

happy holidays part two to the wonderful @ep6bastogne, truly the mvp. i know you're traveling most of the day, bel, so have a safe flight and i hope you enjoy when you eventually get around to reading this <3 <3

find part one HERE (v important to read first lmao)

read on ao3 here (recommended for formatting) or below the cut :)

ii.  everything melted in less than a week watching you felt like forever the lights started dimming and then they went out heaven came down like a blanket

9 December

“People usually use poached redfish,” Gene says. “I can’t believe you got catfish.”

Babe shrugs and shovels another spoonful of courtbouillon into his mouth. It’s hot, and he opens his mouth around it, nearly coughing. Gene, thank Christ, doesn’t seem to notice, busy stirring his own soup. “Dunno.” He near-splutters, waving his hand across his face. “Thank Google.” 

That’s sort of a lie; Babe had remembered what Gene said about catfish, running his fingers absently through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, Babe resting his cheek on his bare shoulder, the sheets pooled around their waists (before November). He’d hoped that catfish could work the recipe he’d found, and found the rest of the ingredients with Liebgott after they’d found a shabby copy of Dracula by Bram Stoker for Web.

“Still.” Gene says, and takes another careful sip of the soup. “It… it’s a thoughtful gesture, s’all. I wish…” He trails off, blowing absently on his bowl. Babe watches him before hesitantly trying another spoonful of his own. 

“What’d your boss say?” He asks, and isn’t sure why. “About goin’ back to Louisiana, I mean.”

Gene shrugs, absently fiddling with the handle of his spoon. His other arm is propped up on the table, his cheek resting on the heel of his hand. He looks almost half asleep. Babe feels a spark of fondness dart through him.

“That I could.” Gene says. His accent seems almost thicker, more drawn out. “Dunno if I will, though.” Babe blinks at him. 

“Why wouldn’t you?” He asks. “I—I mean you clearly miss home.” 

“Yeah.” Gene agrees, absent. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, colouring it red. “I just… I don’t know. It’s hard, to leave what I have here.”

What Gene has here, it seems to Babe, is a depressing job and a fucked up fuckbuddy. Babe doesn’t say that.

“What about your aunts and uncles, and stuff?” He asks, taking another try at the soup. It’s really quite good, just. Spicy. “Cousins, and whatnot.”

He’ll go back home on the day of Christmas, see his sisters and his ma and let himself get dragged to Mass, but until then, Babe’s not too worried. He could technically get to his ma’s house in under fifteen minutes, if he wanted to, it’s not like with Eugene’s family, all the way down in the South. Gene just shrugs.

“Yeah.” He says, voice soft. He seems somewhere far away, and Babe feels like an asshole. He’s just Gene’s friend, he shouldn’t be telling him what to do. He opens his mouth, maybe to apologise, but Gene continues before he can. “Are you stayin’ over?” He asks. It’s Babe’s turn to shrug.

“Aren’t you pretty tired?” He asks, and runs a hand down his face. “I mean, Genie, you just worked, like. Twenty-four hours. Don’t you want to sleep?” Gene shrugs. He doesn’t seem to catch Babe’s nickname slip-up, which is good, because Babe’s ears are starting to burn.

When Gene looks up at Babe, he looks up through his eyelashes. Babe nearly huffs a laugh. Eugene knows how to play coy, but he isn’t exactly subtle about it.

“Could use some help, getting to bed,” Gene offers, like he couldn’t fall asleep in five minutes on the floor of a concert. “‘Course, I gotta shower first.” Babe shrugs. 

“Guess I have no choice, then.” He says, like he’d ever want to leave. “To stay, for a while.”

Gene smiles at him over his courtbullion. It’s gentle, and his nose is red.

–

Gene jerks him off in the shower, because Babe’s incapable of refusing him anything but Gene gives as good as he gets, and he comes so hard he almost topples right through its glass pane. 

Gene catches him by the waist, exhaling a surprised huff into his soapy hair. 

Babe returns the favour by dropping down onto his knees, and ignores the sharp pains that shoot up into his side.

Gene doesn’t kiss him, afterwards.

Babe wonders if he tastes like the courtbouillon.

–

Babe doesn’t stay the night.

He leaves just before dawn.

–

“Why’s your face doing that?” George Luz asks him when Babe gets back to his own place, the door, as always, unlocked.

“You don’t live here.” He informs Luz as he toes off his shoes inside the entryway. Luz just shrugs, stretched out on the couch, an elbow propped on the zonked out Joe Toye underneath him, his cast propped neatly and carefully on an ottoman shoved up next to the couch.

He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth — the bowl precariously perched on Toye’s hip — at the same time that he says, “I get entrance privileges. Of the fucking assortment.”

Babe doesn’t justify that with a response.

He wanders into the kitchen and opens the fridge. There’s a styrofoam carton of takeout shoved precariously on the lip of the plastic shelf, and as if sensing his train of thought from the living room, Luz shouts, “Picked up Buffalo Wild Wings, because I’m basically God. Don’t touch it.” 

Babe sighs and closes the fridge.

“How is he still asleep?” He asks Luz, wandering back out of the kitchen. His bare feet make soft sounds against the hardwood. The recliner is in a jumble on the floor, screws and metal strewn everywhere. “You’re louder than a fuckin’ foghorn.”

Toye has an arm thrown across his eyes, mouth slightly open. His chest is rising and falling steadily and he doesn’t move at all; entirely oblivious to the blaring TV (Babe’s pretty sure Luz is watching The Princess Bride), the man on top of him, or the loud jabber that Babe and Luz have adopted since Babe walked through the door.

“New pain meds.” Luz says, grabbing another handful of popcorn. “Supposed to help with tendon pain, or something. All I know is that they make him sleep like a fuckin’ rock. Christ, I thought he’d died last night, when I got up to take a piss.”

As if subconsciously, Luz shifts closer to Toye’s chest, hand going flat against his collarbone like he’s trying to feel for his heartbeat. Babe just grunts and makes his way over to the sofa chair opposite the torn apart one. This one doesn’t recline, but Babe tucks his feet up under him, anyways, so it doesn’t matter.

“Has Robin Hood killed Andre the Giant, yet?” He asks, getting comfortable as the all-familiar spring digs into his back. Luz huffs, affronted.

“You’re an abomination to popular culture.” He informs him. “And don’t think you’re off the hook. I wanna know why your face is doin’ that.” Babe turns to frown at him.

“My face isn’t doin’ anything.” He says, and Luz gestures to his own face, as if to make his point.

“It’s making this strange, stretching motion. By God, I don’t think I’ve ever really seen it on you before. I think it’s called a smile?” Babe almost laughs.

“Oh, fuck you.” He says. Luz throws both hands up, careful not to elbow Toye.

“Hey, I’m just sayin’.” He says, settling further into the couch. “You’ve been a real gloomy goddamn gus, lately. I’d say it’s dragging everyone down, but everyone’s been down, anyways. An accumulation of seasonal depression and… well. Other things.”

Luz falters at the end of his statement, and Babe shifts subconsciously in his chair, clearing his throat.

George Luz is sometimes one of the people that Babe thinks about, at night. When he stares at the pile of his blankets in the corner of his bedroom as he freezes his ass off, and thinks about the people he’s luckier than. It’s not helpful, and it just makes him feel like an asshole, but… it’s something to do. Whatever. Babe never said he was a fuckin’ role model.

But of all of the people, Luz is up there. 

He and Gene might not be dating, but if Babe had to walk in and see Gene like how Luz had seen—

Well, if Gene had been in the fire at the auto shop, it would have fucked with Babe’s mind, is all. He doesn’t think he could handle it, and he doesn’t handle anything, anyways, anymore.

“What’re you getting Toye for Christmas?” Babe asks, before he can think about asking anything. If he’s surprised by the veer in subjects, Luz doesn’t show it.

“Why?” He asks, sounding both satirically and truly suspicious in one go. Babe just shrugs. On the TV screen, an ad about air freshener plays. 

“Dunno.” He mutters, picking at the sofa chair armrest. “Just… went shopping with Liebgott, the other day. For Web. And am thinking about getting something for Gene. Guess it’s just on my brain.” He can feel Luz’s eyes on the side of his face.

“Liebgott’s getting Webster a Christmas present?” 

“I said it was stupid, too.”

“Okay. And I thought you weren’t dating Gene?”

“I’m not, but. He’s my friend.”

“Are you getting your other friends presents?”

Babe wrinkles his nose. He hadn’t really thought about that. He doesn’t really get anyone anything, but then again, none of them do. Sort of an unspoken agreement among their group of friends. Luz keeps talking. 

“Besides, is Eugene getting you anything?”

Oh. Babe doesn’t know about that, either. 

Luz must read that on his face, because he raises an open palm to him, as if to say, there you go. Babe sighs and leans further back into the sofa chair. Toye shifts on the couch, muttering something vaguely menacing, and Luz catches one of his hands in both of his to get him to stop moving, pressing them to his mouth. Toye falls back asleep in under five seconds.

They get through three more ad breaks before Babe pauses.

“Wait,” He says. “What are you getting Toye for Christmas?”

Luz smiles, and it looks almost impish. He drops a second kiss onto Toye’s scarred up knuckles and says against his skin, eyebrows raised, “let's hope you never find out.”

Babe mimes gagging, and Luz laughs so hard that he almost wakes up Toye.

–

10 November

Babe leans slightly against Gene, who’s both freezing to the touch and the warmest thing he’s ever felt. He remembers when he was a kid and touched his ma’s iron, and how it had been cold, at first. He wonders if Gene’s just like that. So scalding he’s arctic.

The weather is already biting, but there isn’t any snow on the ground, yet, and the buzz of Thanksgiving makes Christmas seem like a thousand years away. Eugene has his nose tucked into the collar of his coat, but Babe can still see the red of it.

They walk to Babe’s place in silence, and even though Gene’s only been to Babe’s apartment maybe three times, he has no trouble finding it again. Babe’s eyes fall on the metal stairway that leads up to the apartment building, and thinks absently about the lights that go up at Gene’s place. He wonders if they’ve been put up yet, this year.

The door to his apartment is unlocked, and Gene lets out a little sound through his nose, at that. Babe ignores him, and trods almost absently to his bedroom.

The apartment is silent, and he doesn’t think about that. It’s never silent. He tugs off his shirt — which is still covered in grease and oil and whatever else, because even though they’d made him take off the filthy clothes at the hospital, he’d been allowed to leave with them — by the collar, and throws it absently somewhere in the hall. He hopes that Gene is following him.

He tugs off his jeans in much of the same fashion, and collapses face first onto his bed. The comforter is soft against his cheek. He hears Gene’s footsteps pad gently against the carpeted bedroom floor, and feels a rush of relief. 

“Do you have a laundry hamper in your room?” Gene asks gently, and Babe just groans. 

He listens to soft footsteps, for a while; muffled clattering and other noises, and is half asleep when Gene’s hand rests lightly at his bare back, fingers pressing carefully into the nape of his neck. His other hand — just as cold — curls around Babe’s bicep, tugging him upright.

“C’mon,” Gene murmurs, hands gentle but insistent. “You need to shower again.” 

Babe presses his face to the comforter, but lets Gene pull him up, anyway. 

“Gene,” He mutters, and doesn’t know why. His hand finds Gene, the waistband of his scrubs, and he hooks his fingers over the elastic just to feel him; just to make sure he’s actually there.

“I know.” Gene says back. 

–

9 December

The thing, it seems, is that Gene is too good to even be Babe’s friend.

Babe’s thinking about Eugene, later that night, after The Princess Bride ended and Toye woke up, and Bill dragged himself out of his room, where he’d apparently gone down for a nap.

They eat an amalgamation of Buffalo Wild Wings leftovers and whatever else is dredged up from the fridge, and Toye and Luz sit on the couch (they haven't moved from their position taken up in earlier hours, and Babe’s beginning to wonder if Toye’s just gone completely numb) while Bill takes up occupation in the sofa chair. Babe sits next to the torn apart recliner and stares at it forlornly. 

“Are you ever planning to put this back together?” He asks, and shoves another forkful of slightly–rotting salad into his mouth. Bill, who’s been staring at Luz eat a plate of chicken wings with his fingers over Toye with a look of abject horror, waves a hand at the recliner absently.

“It’s a lost cause, Babe.” He says. “You’ll have to take it down to the dump sometime.” Babe groans. A piece of lettuce falls onto his jeans.

“Why do I have to take it down to the dump?” He complains, and wonders where in the hell the dump even is. Toye grunts and reaches up to grab a chicken wing.

“I’m stuck on the couch, Bill’s a lazy bastard, and George doesn’t live here, and is also stuck on the couch. So. Process of elimination.” He says, counting off on his fingers. Babe sighs. Bill laughs.

“Fine.” He says, and pokes through the salad. He has a burn on the roof of his mouth, it makes everything taste off. “But once you guys get better you’re going shopping.”

As expected, Bill and Toye dissolve into an argument at that, Luz chiming in both helpfully and randomly, and Babe looks down at his salad and thinks about Gene. He’s been racking his brain since last night, trying to remember what other foods Gene has mentioned at some point or the other. He’s not really sure why. 

He’d left Gene’s place around noon; Spina worked more reasonable hours than Gene and so was gone for the majority of the day. They’d slept almost the entire time, and Babe doesn’t know how to feel about that. About laying on top of Gene’s blankets; soft and warm and heavy, heavy, heavy while Gene lay under them, sleeping on his stomach with a hand curled close to his face, dead asleep. 

Babe’s been having trouble, staying asleep consistently since the fire and the car, so he’d wake up sporadically and just… watch Gene. 

Gene, who’s always so deathly pale but always has some sort of colour keeping his face vibrant; Gene, who has slightly chapped lips; Gene, who hates the word fuckbuddy and sleeps shirtless under four thousand pounds of blankets and has the coldest hands that Babe’s ever felt.

He blinks back to the present when Bill throws a napkin at him, and tries to stop thinking about Gene.

“You staying tonight?” Toye is asking Luz, voice gravelly around a bite of chicken. His thumb is rubbing absent circles into Luz’s bare bicep, where his t-shirt has ridden up, and Luz stretches against him, both feet dangling off the side of the couch as he cranes his head up to kiss absently at Toye’s throat.

“Uh-huh.” He says, tracing absent fingertips up and down the curve of Toye’s jaw. “No work until noon. Unless you want me to go?” He asks, voice quirking up at the end of his words and lips twisting into a smile, and Toye huffs, knocking his nose against Luz’s gently and running a hand down the length of his spine.

“Nah,” He says, voice soft and quiet, almost playful. “I think you should stay.”

“I think I’m gonna kill myself.” Babe inputs helpfully, and Bill cackles his agreement. Luz flips Babe off and kisses the tip of Toye’s nose at the same time before clambering off of him, swearing and tilting to the side slightly when his back pops. Babe stands up, too. It makes his knees twinge.

“We gonna watch something tonight?” Bill is asking, spooning another forkful of cold spaghetti into his mouth. He nods at the TV absently. “Lord of the Rings, maybe. It sure as hell takes up time.”

Babe hums. He wonders if Gene’s seen The Lord of the Rings. “Nah,” He says. “I’m gonna go on a walk. See all the Christmas decorations.”

Bill flashes him a look that sails right over vaguely interested in Babe’s activities and right into highly suspicious that Babe’s about to do, go through, or see something stupid. Luckily, he’s spared whatever Bill’s planning on saying when Toye says, “if I stay on this couch even a second longer, I’m going to burst into flames and take the whole damn apartment with me.”

The bickering starts up again, and Babe lets it fade to white noise as he picks up the plastic container that his salad resides in and carries it absently into the kitchen. His phone is resting face down on the counter next to the sink where he’d last left it, and when he picks it up, he has a message from Gene.

It’s a recipe link to something called maque-choux.

Babe smiles so hard his cheeks kind of hurt.

–

His ‘walk’ consists of wandering a block and a half away from his apartment until he finds a produce shop that’s still open. 

“Hello,” He greets the woman behind the counter, hands going to his pockets out of habit. “Uh. Do you have chicken stock?”

–

10 November

Gene’s hair is wet, and it sticks to the back of his neck. Babe falls back into his mattress, now cold and wet on top of exhausted.

The comforter is soft, and he runs his fingers over the quilted top of it. The stitching at the hem of the blanket is slightly loose, and Babe picks at it absently.

His eyes are slightly blurry, still, but he doesn’t tell Gene as the bed dips with his weight. “What if something happens at the hospital?” Babe asks, voice rough. He doesn’t know why he asks it, doesn’t know why it’s all he can think about when he trusts Gene when the other says that everyone will be okay.

At the very least, Gene seems to understand Babe when Babe doesn’t, and his fingers are cool where they lace through Babe’s limp ones. Babe turns his hand over, if only to grip Gene more firmly. 

“I’ll text you when Toye and Penkala are out of surgery,” Gene tells him, fiddling with his fingers. His voice is even, if not tired. “And I’ll keep you updated on everything else.” 

Babe rolls over onto his back. He’d only bothered to tug on boxer shorts after the shower, which was all awkward silences and too-hot water, and now that same water cools in a thin film of ice against his skin, prickling it with goosebumps. He stares at the ceiling, and finds the shapes of clouds and animals and mountains in the plaster.

“I thought I was gonna die,” He murmurs, like he’s twelve years old and back in absolution, sitting on his hands and squeezing his eyes shut tight. He keeps his eyes open, now, and the bed dips even further as Gene shifts all the way onto the mattress, moving his legs up to press against Babe’s. “I thought the car was gonna fall on top of me.”

“It didn’t.” Gene says. He doesn’t say anything else. Babe swallows, it makes his throat hurt.

“I couldn’t see anything afterwards.” He says, which Gene already knows. 

Gene’s hands are cold against his pulse point, fingertips rubbing absent circles against the thin skin there. He seems to be gathering his words, trying to find the right ones. Babe doesn’t tell him that he thinks everything Gene ever says is the right thing to say.

“I’ll be right back,” Is what Gene lands on, and Babe would protest if he could tear his eyes away from the ceiling. As it is, he lets the bed bounce back as Gene stands up and pads quietly out of his room.

Gene comes back just as quickly as he left, with what Babe recognizes as his black hospital bag over his shoulder. He must have left it out in the front room. Gene sets it carefully on the bed, next to Babe’s calf, and roots through it for a moment before finding whatever it is he’s looking for and setting it at the foot of the bed.

The bed dips again, Gene’s hand finds Babe’s for a second time. He tugs on Babe’s wrist, so Babe turns away from the ceiling to look at him. The corner of Gene’s mouth is turned up, like a smile that Babe doesn’t understand. His eyes are tired.

“Got you.” He says softly, and when Babe furrows his brow, Gene shifts again, ripping open a wrapper and holding up a square of a hershey’s bar to Babe. “Here.” 

Babe — who knows firsthand that if Gene wants him to have the chocolate, he better goddamn well take the chocolate — takes the chocolate. Gene nods, satisfied, and shifts against the comforter, wrinkling it.

“Gene.” Babe says, again. Eugene’s fingers tighten carefully around his. 

“I know.” He says. His accent is thicker, than it was before. Babe blinks at him, tracking his face; from his brow, to his eyes, to his cheekbones and nose and lips and chin.

He looks exhausted, halfway because it's Eugene, halfway just because. Babe wants to reach out and touch him, but doesn't want to sacrifice not moving.

“What if I still couldn't see?” He asks, when there isn't anything else to say. When the silence stretches thick and long between them. “What if I couldn't see anymore?”

Gene blinks, and Babe watches him like it's what he was born to do. He shifts closer, close enough that Babe’s eyes blur slightly. “Then I'd make sure you couldn't get lost in the dark.” Gene says, after a moment, like an afterthought.

Babe watches him for another long second before reaching out a hand, stretching his fingers out to graze them along Gene’s jaw. The skin there is slightly rough with stubble, and he rests his fingertips along his pulse point.

“Alright.” He murmurs. “Okay.” Gene’s eyes dart across his face, dark and bright and blue. 

“Babe,” He says, and he never says Babe’s name, so Babe just watches him, watches his lips and his eyes and his pink nose and thinks about memorising the way Gene’s accent twists the word, the way his mouth moves. “I'd make sure you couldn't get lost, okay?”

And the way that Gene says it, the way that he leans into Babe’s touch, the way that his eyes burn bright and blue fire makes Babe think about them: think about the past year and a half they've been friends and friends who sleep together and friends that know more about one another than is typical and friends who walk one another to their apartments and stare at each other in the bed that Babe suddenly feels achingly, achingly exhausted in.

When Gene kisses him it's no great surprise; soft and cold and chaste and chapped lips. It's careful and tentative, and Babe pulls back first to rest his forehead against Gene’s, his fingertips still pressed to his jaw. 

He exhales once, careful and shaky, and it tastes like gasoline. Gene stays still under his fingertips, soft and gentle against his skin.

Babe has just enough forewithal to recognize the adrenaline rush cessation as it hits him, all at once. Not like a truck or a bat, but a realisation. Of exhaustion, of heavy-limbed anxiety. Like when a child realises that they’re too big to dance on their mothers shoes anymore. 

When he closes his eyes they're too impossibly heavy to open again, and so he focuses on where Gene is, on his hands and his lips and his jaw and the dip in the mattress that he creates.

“Won’t let me get lost, right?” He asks, maybe in his head, and the phantom press of chapped lips to his forehead pulls him under a wave of black.

–

His dreams are strange, and convoluted, and they wind through his head like a smoke haze exhaled through a cigarette filter. 

They all have the same theme. 

Conscience ebbs to and from him like ocean waves, and the white caps are Eugene Roe.

–

Sometimes, Babe wonders if when people die in their sleep,  they're in the midst of a nightmare.

–

When he wakes up, his first coherent thought is heat, then panic, then he’s kicking out as hard as he can, like it will flip the car off of him, like it will help him breathe.

It doesn’t, but the comforter gets tangled up in his legs, and it shoots bright lights of alarm through his head, sparks of pain through his eyes. He twists at the waist, trying to get the comforter off—

He twists too far, rolling over, and right off the bed.

He hits the ground flat on his back, knocking the wind right out of him, shocking him out of  movement. Babe stares up at the ceiling, and it swims across his vision sluggishly. His ears are ringing, and he can’t hear anything else.

It’s still dark, maybe around midnight, and Babe can’t breathe, panic settling into his throat in a bitter layer, still tangled in the comforter that’s trying to strangle him to death.

He blinks up at the ceiling for a few moments, unable to do anything else, and by the time he’s able to breathe properly again, he’s calmed down enough to realise that he’s alone. 

Gene left.

–

It takes him a moment to drag himself up to his knees and then feet, exhaustion and pain parrying across his joints like fire across water, and when he does, he grips the side of the mattress to pull himself up. He nearly trips over the comforter, so he bunches it up under his arm, dragging the sheet off the bed with his other hand. 

Babe tosses them into the corner of the room, limping slightly, and in the dark of night he can almost pretend that he’s blind.

He falls face first onto the bed, and carefully doesn’t feel anything. He can do that later.

The bedroom is freezing.

–

11 December

The cold bites into the softness of his cheeks and nose relentlessly, so Babe tucks his chin into the collar of his jacket, ducking his head against the wind.

He'd finally caved in and excavated his coat from the closet, coughing up an assortment of mothballs and dust, after he’d tried to go out about half an hour earlier and nearly froze to death. The coat smells like his grandmother's closet, and the weight of it makes his entire person seem on fire.

Gene’s at work, is the thing, so Babe has fuck all to do, because somewhere along the way, Babe started measuring himself by Gene. 

That doesn’t matter much, anyways, because his only other options are watch movies with his roommates and take the broken recliner to the dump, so he feels it both an equal and understandable trade to trace his steps carefully down the half-icy pavement to whatever corner shop strikes up his fancy.

As Christmas draws closer — slowly, lurchingly, like a treacherous slug, spreading tidings of Christmass cheer and commercialism — it seems to drag Philly with it, and Babe wonders absently, after seeing the third apartment building with lights strung all over it, how Gene celebrates Christmas. He still isn’t sure if Gene’s gonna be able to get time off to go down to Louisiana. Babe wonders what he’ll do if he does.

The problem with going out in the name of shopping is that Babe hates shopping, and since he went out the other day and got the recipes for the maque-choux Gene sent him, the variety of corn, chicken stock, and spices stowed deep in either the fridge or the cupboard, Babe really has no reason to shop at all. 

So he walks until he can’t feel his toes, and he wants to pull off the coat and shove it back in the closet before turning on his heel and heading back to the apartment.

He’s not sure the meaning nor importance of the walk, but he feels good enough after getting back from it, skipping up the steps of his apartment, to wonder if he should excavate his phone from wherever it is in the coat to text Gene. About what, he’s not sure, but. 

Well. Friends text each other.

The door to their apartment is unlocked, because it always is, so Babe just opens the door, turning slightly to shrug off his coat.

“Hey.” He says absently, a vague greeting to whoever’s in the living room, and doesn’t get a reply, which is odd in and of itself. He huffs, and his cheeks still sting from the cold. “Gave up on shopping, it’s too fucking cold. What’s—”

He turns on his heel and cuts himself off with some sort of strangled cough, surprise darting through him almost as harshly as the cold. “Gene.” He says, because, well. Gene.

Eugene Roe’s sitting in what’s usually his chair, hands clasped in his lap, eyes dark. “Hey.” He says, and Babe blinks at him again.

“Hi.” He says back, and manages to move his feet away from the door in a stumbling, dragging step that nearly topples him right over. “You’re at work.” He says, which makes no sense, because Gene’s in his living room.

“Yeah,” Gene agrees, anyways. The circles under his eyes are bruised purple, posture slumped. He’s still wearing his coat, black and quilted, over his scrubs, and everything from the shells of his ears and the tip of his nose to the jut of his knuckles are dyed a careful red. His eyes, dark as they ever are, are almost somewhere else. It lights the inside of Babe’s head up with warning lights.

Bill, Babe realises for the first time since walking inside, is on the opposite couch, slumped over his knees, jaw jutted forward. Babe wonders if he’s ever seen him look so uncomfortable. “Do you, uh,” Babe starts to say, and looks back to Gene. “Do you want to go back, to…” He trails off, waving vaguely towards the hall.

This is weird. This is really, really weird, because Babe can count on one hand with three fingers the amount of times that Gene’s been over at his apartment. Babe can count on even less fingers the amount of times that Gene’s stayed for more than ten minutes (November never counts). It’s a bit like seeing a ghost, and before Babe can speak again, Gene does.

“Yeah,” He says, again, moving noiselessly from the chair to the hall. He gestures, vague, down the hall. “I’m just…” He trails off, expression smoothed out in a combination of something both blank and too expressive. “I’ll be in your room.”

“Okay,” Babe agrees, too dumbfounded to think of anything else. “I’ll follow you.”

He watches Gene’s back, for a moment, before turning back to Bill, surprise still making everything tinged with paling saturation. He doesn’t say anything, but he must look bewildered enough, because Bill shrugs from his place on the couch, leaning back against the cushions.

“He just fucking… knocked on the door.” Bill says, all in a hushed, frantic rush, like Gene will overhear him. “In the fucking — in the fucking doctor clothes, and everything, he asked for you, I don’t even goddamn know—”

“I got it, I got it.” Babe interrupts him, picking up Bill’s hushed, frantic whisper almost subconsciously. “I got it, it’s fine.”

It’s not fine, because if it was fine, Gene would be at work. And if it was actually fine, so would Babe. But Eugene’s not at work, and neither is Babe, and so Babe just leaves Bill on the couch and turns on his heel, making his own way down the hall. The floorboards creak under the soles of his shoes.

“Babe—” Bill says, and Babe pauses just long enough to look over his shoulder. Bill’s lips are pressed together, shoulders hunched. “There… there was a car pile-up this morning, I think.”

Babe blinks. The pin drops so far away he can’t even hear the echo.

Gene left the door to his bedroom open, and he sits on the corner of Babe’s bed, looking somewhere between being somewhere else and painfully, numbly in the moment. He doesn’t look up when Babe walks into the room and closes the door behind him, but his gaze drops, almost robotically, to the floor as he reaches down, tugging at the laces of his shoes.

Babe spares a glance at him before walking around the bed, kicking absently at his sheets and comforter on the floor before dropping down to sit on the opposite side of the bed. The mattress bounces slightly. Gene gets both of his shoes off and, holding them in one hand, looks blankly around like he’s trying to find where to put them before just dropping them down next to him.

“Gene.” Babe says, after a moment, Gene huffs, eyes on the corner of Babe’s room, on his sheets. “You were at work?” 

He means it to be prompting, but Gene hardly reacts. Babe watches his profile, watches the curve of his jaw and the wedge of his nose and how dark his eyes are against the white paint of Babe’s bedroom walls and his stripped bed.

“Eugene?” Babe asks, reaching out. He doesn’t touch Gene, but just by a millimetre. Gene had shrugged off his coat, and Babe’s fingertips brush against the sleeve of his scrubs. He hesitantly pulls his hand back, and drops down to the foot of mattress between them. Gene keeps his eyes on Babe’s wall, Babe keeps his eyes on Gene.

“This job is gonna kill me, and I’m gonna let it.” Gene says, after a moment. He doesn’t meet Babe’s eyes. “It’s, I’m — I’m carrying every single goddamn kid on my back, and their blood is running into my eyes, and I can’t fucking—” He cuts himself off, voice strained. Babe’s chest hurts.

“Gene.” He says softly. Gene doesn’t move. “You…” He trails off. 

He doesn’t know what to say, is the thing, because if he did, he would have said it already. 

He thinks about November. Gene’s nose and ears are still red, so are his knuckles. 

“Okay,” He says, and plants his hands on his knees, pushing himself up and off of the bed.

Babe lucked out to high hell and back, when they’d moved into the building, because through an elaborate play at cards and a bet on a hockey game, he’d gotten the connected bathroom of the two in the apartment. (It was near mutiny, as he’s the only single member of their argumentative trio, and Babe doesn’t think he’ll ever stop lording it over Toye and Bill.)

Now, he pushes into the bathroom, batting back the tub shower curtain impatiently and turning on the water. He turns, and his sneakers squeak against the linoleum of the bathroom floor. He shuffles out of them as he moves back into his room, tossing them down next to Gene’s and peeling off his socks. 

“C’mon,” He mutters, palm going to hesitantly pat at Gene’s bicep. “You, you need to warm up. C’mon, Gene.”

Gene looks up at him, eyes exhausted, face smooth of any emotion. “I only had an hour left on my shift.” He says, and Babe’s chest hurts. “I — I should have…” He trails off, and Babe pulls him to his feet.

Babe’s kind of freaking out, is the thing, because he’s never, not once, seen Gene like this. Even last Christmas, when Gene had been working the same exact job, doing the same exact thing, he hadn’t been like this. Just… quiet. Prone to more silent anger, maybe. Face cold, lips pursed.

There’s none of that, now. Gene’s just… blank.

“C’mon, Gene.” Babe says again, when Gene only barely looks up at him “C’mon, twenty-three hours is enough. Let's go.”

“Okay.” Gene says, barely even a murmur, not moving. Babe wraps his fingers around the crux of Gene’s elbow, tugs again. Gene shifts, like he’s going to move, but just drops down to the mattress again. “Okay.” He says again, and Babe blinks down at him, surprise beginning to match the apprehension that's building up in the base of his stomach.

“Okay, get up.” He says. “Not okay, lay down. Okay, get up, right?” Gene blinks at him, like he's snapping out of it, slightly, so Babe tugs on his arm again and Gene lets him pull him up willingly, this time.

“Okay.” Gene mutters again, and his eyes look almost brighter, at least. He looks somewhere over Babe’s shoulder, face almost unreadable. “Showering?” He says, and Babe hums.

“Yeah.” He says. “You need to warm up. You’re all… you’re all red, Genie, c’mon.” 

–

Gene’s hair is wet, and it sticks to the back of his neck, and he seems more aware than he was even fifteen minutes before so Babe just awkwardly hands him a towel and goes to root through his dresser for sweatpants.

“Thanks,” Gene mutters, eyes somewhere between the tub and bathroom linoleum.

Babe, who’s own hair is wet as he scrubs at it with a towel, just hums. “Yeah.” He says back. It’s quiet, for a moment after that, and Babe wonders if there’s anything else he could say.

“‘M getting Christmas off, I think.” Gene says, after a moment, shifting into Babe’s sweatpants. They’re low slung, and he doesn’t bother putting on a shirt. “Go down to Louisiana, for a day or two.” 

Babe’s chest hurts. “That’s good.” He says, and Gene huffs. “I — I mean, it seems like you need to get away.”

Gene sits at the edge of his bed again, and his bare feet skim across the top of Babe’s carpet absently. “‘M sorry I came over here.” He says as Babe searches for another pair of sweatpants, coming up empty. He shrugs into boxers, instead. “I — I don’t think I was thinking, right.”

“You scared the shit out of Bill,” Babe offers, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “He must think you’re truly cracked up, or something.” Gene huffs, but the smile that curls up at the corner of his mouth is wry. 

“Think I did a while ago.” He says drily, and Babe leans against the doorway to the bathroom to watch him.

“Gene.” He says again, and Gene watches him, eyes bright. The swell of relief that seems to build up in Babe’s throat at that — at the way that Gene’s not so out of it as he was earlier — could knock him right over. “Bill said something about a pile-up…?”

Babe trails off, because he doesn’t know if Gene wants to talk about it or if he should even be asking about it, but Eugene just shrugs, eyes going once more to the sheets in the corner of the room.

“Minivan collides with a Honda Civic collides with a Chevy, so on an’ so forth.” He says dryly. His lips seem to twist around the words, as if chewing on them, and Babe watches as he loops his hands under his knees, shrugging slightly. He looks cold. “Could have been worse, could have been better. There was this kid…” Gene trails off, more than his voice breaks, but he sounds strained either way.

Babe finally follows Gene’s gaze, stares at the sheets and the comforter and thinks. 

“You’re helping people, you know?” He says, and his chest hurts. “You’re… you don’t owe anybody anything too much because you’re…”

He pauses, doesn’t know the word. Gene just hums, like he doesn’t believe him.

“Couldn’t help that little girl.” He says, voice rough. “Couldn’t help the woman who OD’d a week ago. Couldn’t help the construction worker who caught a support beam to the face. Couldn’t help—”

“You helped me.” Babe says, almost indignant. He crosses his arms over his sternum, almost as if to defend himself, scuffs at the carpet of his room with his heel. “You… you got me back here, and you made me shower, and you made me eat, and you got me to sleep. You helped me, Gene, and that meant a hell of a lot, so don’t think it doesn’t.” 

Eugene watches him, while Babe talks, and Babe has to look away before he starts doing something stupid, like cry. His chest is tight, like his ribs are closing in around his heart. 

“You just… you help all sorts of fucking people, okay, and if it ain’t me it’s Bill, or Toye, or Muck, or Penkala—” He sees Gene start to open his mouth so he starts talking louder, faster, “and I don’t care if you didn’t operate on ‘em or didn’t diagnose ‘em or whatever the hell you do wit’ ‘em, because you cared enough to keep track of them and tell me about them, and you care about me, and you care about Bill and Toye and Muck and Penkala and Luz and Spina and whoever the hell else you’ve ever even shaken hands wit’, and it don’t… it don’t define you as a bad person if you lose others. That’s just… that’s just life. That’s how it works. It’s shitty, and it sucks, and that’s how it works.”

His ears ring, slightly, and Babe coughs, gaze dropping back down to the carpet. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, and now he’s regretting it. It’s kind of cold. Babe drags a hand down his face, exhales harshly through his nose. “Fuck.” He mutters.

He can feel Gene’s eyes on him, as substantial as a handprint. “Yeah.” He says, voice low. “How… mad would you be if I told you that I missed most of the end of your sentence, there? You weren’t even speakin’ English.” 

Babe snorts a laugh, and it hurts his throat. “Fuck, I speak the Queen’s fuckin’ English, it’s not my fault you’re from the town of slow-talkers and French bastards.” 

The corner of Gene’s mouth quirks up, wry, and Babe finally tilts forward from the bathroom doorway, reaching to grab a sheet from the corner of his room with his fingertips.

He bunches it up in between his hands and tosses it over Gene’s shoulders before he can begin to think too much, gets a knee up on the bed while Gene huffs again, leaning back as Babe shoves the sheet under him. 

“Boil you alive like a damn lobster and you’re still cold,” Babe murmurs, even though he’s kind of cold, too.

Gene just leans back further, manages to pull his hand out from where Babe had trapped it at his side with the sheet to push gently at the ball of Babe’s shoulder, moving him back. 

“Babe.” He says, tilting his face up, and Babe would make fun of him, for saying his actual goddamn name for once, except for at some point he’d hiked his knee up on the mattress, and Gene’s wearing his sweatpants, in his room, on his bed, and Babe’s so goddamn exhausted that he thinks that he’s never been more awake.

“Yeah,” He says, and when Gene’s other hand comes up, cold and calloused and careful against the side of his neck, Babe gives up on the sheet entirely to drop his hands down to the mattress in between Gene. “Yeah.” He says again, and dips down to kiss him.

Gene arches into the kiss, like he always does, lips chapped and skin cool against Babe, and he lets Babe push him further into the mattress, lets Babe land a hand in his damp hair and tug through it carefully, mouth warm and welcoming under Babe’s, lips parting easily.

Babe pulls back after a moment, one knee on the bed, one foot braced on the floor, bent over Gene awkwardly, and sees his own dilated eyes reflected back at him in Eugene’s face.

Christ, it’s fucking freezing.

Babe drops down to kiss him again, and one of Gene’s hands moves from his arm to his hips, fingers tugging at the elastic of his boxers in a silent query that’s Babe’s happy to oblige, pushing himself all the way up onto the mattress to bracket his knees at Gene’s own on the bed, tilting his head to kiss Gene better, to be warmer—

The fingertips of the hand that Gene doesn’t have at Babe’s jaw tap a senseless rythm against Babe’s bare waist, and when he flattens the palm of his hand against his stomach, pushing him back slightly, Babe’s happy enough to oblige, turning over and letting Gene switch their positions, letting his back hit the mattress.

Babe pushes back on his elbows, sitting up enough to kiss Gene again, biting at his lip absently as he does.

“Is—” Gene starts to say and cuts himself off as Babe drops down onto one elbow, using his other hand to tug Gene closer, tangling their fingers impatiently together.

“Yeah,” He says, because he knows what Gene wants to say, anyways, because Eugene’s heavy on top of him and the sheet’s tangled between their legs, but Babe doesn’t care, couldn’t give a shit less about not sleeping with blankets and having nightmares and not going back to work because Gene’s freezing and the warmest thing he’s ever touched, because Gene’s eyes are dark, dark blue, so dark they’re black, swallowed by his pupils, hips shifting against Babe’s as he breathes sharply through his nose as he moves back to kiss clumsily at Babe’s cheek, his jaw. “Yeah, fuck, yes, c’mere—”

Gene puts more of his weight on top of him, moving back up absently to kiss Babe again before dropping down to his neck, his collarbone, and Babe arches into his touch, his own hands going absently to the waistband of his sweatpants, that Gene is wearing, tugging at the elastic of them, and Gene hums, pulling back just enough for Babe to see his face.

His eyes are bright, dilated, hands pressed flat to the mattress against either side of Babe’s head, hair sticking up in all directions and the closest thing to fucking radiant that Babe thinks he’s ever seen. 

In a move that Babe thinks impresses himself more than it does Gene, Babe hikes one leg over the back of Gene’s knees and pushes a hand through his hair at the same time, pulling him back down, kissing him again. “Yeah.” He says again, against Gene’s lips, in between kisses. 

–

12 December

He wakes up before Gene does, but not so much because of a nightmare but because Gene’s heavy against him, an arm thrown over the small of his back, where Babe lays on his stomach next to him. The sheet that Babe had grabbed earlier is tucked in around him, his face buried in the crook of the arm not around Babe, so Babe just turns his cheek against the mattress of the bed to watch him, blinking blearily.

The tip of Gene’s nose and the shell of his ears are red, because of course they are, and from where he lays on his stomach, the sheet dips down around a pale, goosebump-covered shoulder. 

Babe just… watches him, for a moment, tracing his eyes and nose and lips, how deep his breaths are, the weight of his arm against his back. When Babe shifts against the mattress again, looking for his phone, he finds it on the floor next to the bed and reaches down to pick it up, dislodging Gene’s arm as the other pulls it back with a huff, rolling on top of it, still asleep.

The time reads at a quarter after six, which surprises Babe, mainly because he can’t remember the last time he slept past 5:45. But he gets up, anyways, careful not to move the bed too much, and pads around the mattress to pull the comforter out of its corner, almost tripping over it as he tosses it onto the bed and up and over Gene, who still doesn’t wake up. 

He finds the sweatpants on the floor next to their shoes and finds a tourist shirt that, accompanied by a green, warty witch and a schlocky black cat, announces its birthplace as Salem, Massachusetts.

Out of season, but it works.

He shrugs the shirt over his head and nearly brains himself on the corner of his dresser tugging on the sweatpants, but manages to get up and out of his room, closing the door behind him, without waking up Eugene.

No one’s awake, when he makes his way into the kitchen, wondering vaguely how long Gene will stay and if they’ll make the maque-choux.

It's almost 6:15 by the time he manages to find the cereal box (in the microwave, for some reason) and milk and get a bowl out, and Gene comes out of his room just as Babe sticks a spoon in the cereal and calls it good enough.

“Hey.” He says, voice rough with sleep. He's wearing boxers and Babe’s Philly Eagles shirt, hair stuck up in all directions. 

“Hi,” Babe greets back, and, in afterthought, picks up the cereal box and shakes it. “You want, uh…?”

“I'm okay.” Gene says, and presses his lips together in a smile. It's awkward. Babe’s starting to remember why, when they do this, one of them tends to leave whilst the other’s still incoherent.

He puts the box back in the microwave and turns on his heel, gesturing vaguely to the fridge. “There’s, uh, stuff in there.” He says, picking up the bowl and moving carefully around Gene to the living room, almost settling in the sofa chair before thinking better of it, in case Gene wants to sit there, and settles on the couch, instead. “If you’re hungry.”

Gene follows him into the living room and sits in the sofa chair, left hand moving to hook under his knee in an absent gesture. He’s holding his phone in his other hand, Babe realises belatedly, and Babe works his way through the Lucky Charms whilst Gene contacts whoever about whatever. (He’d guess his boss about work, or maybe Renèe Lemaire.)

 It’s quiet, for a while, but Babe feels like he might be drowning in it. Before he can break the silence Gene does, clearing his throat and dropping his phone down to the couch cushion next to him.

“Think I’ll be flying out on the twenty-second.” He says, scratching absently at the back of his neck. “You know, stay for Christmas. Come back right before New Years.” He sounds… off, slightly, and it reminds Babe of earlier in the week, when they’d made courtbullion. 

I just… I don’t know. It’s hard, to leave what I have here.

Babe kind of wonders what Gene has here.

“That’d be nice.” He says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Gene hums. His eyes are on the black screen of the TV on the opposite wall of the living room, like he’s thinking. Babe leaves him to it, finishing off the cereal and getting up to put the bowl and spoon in the sink.

“Could take off longer, too.” Gene says, as Babe turns on the sink to fill the bowl with water. “If I wanted to.”

Babe drops the spoon in the bowl and turns off the faucet, wiping his hands off on the sweatpants. “Well, I’d take off longer.” He says, because who wouldn’t? “Seems like a good deal. You deserve it, too, ya’know.”

Eugene makes a noise at the back of his throat, at that, neither confirmation nor denial. “Yeah, well.” He says. Babe doesn’t go back to the couch, feeling too restless, so he leans against the kitchen counter, the corner of it digging into the small of his back. “I’d have to come back to Philadelphia, anyway, so I might as well work. Unless there was — something else, I guess. A — a reason.”

He’s still not looking at Babe, so Babe leans further against the counter, bracing himself on his palms. He tries to think of what he’s been doing, lately, because he sure as hell hasn’t been to work and life has been… okay.

“You could make more stuff.” He offers. “You know, branch out. Try Italian food.” The corner of Gene’s mouth twists up, like he’s thinking, and it makes Babe’s chest hurt. “Uh, cable’s got some interesting day channels, now. We watched The Princess Bride, the other day.” Gene hums.

“Yeah.” He says, eyes still doing that thing. “What about your work?”

For a split second, Babe thinks that Gene’s asking if he’d want to work at the autoshop, and only barely holds himself back from telling Gene that he’s overqualified.

“I think I’ll go back after the New Year.” He tells Gene. “Winters gave me the rest of the year off, anyways, so. Might as well take advantage of that.” Gene hums.

“That’s nice of him.” He says. He shifts on the couch, moving up to cross his legs under him. 

“Yeah.” Babe agrees. “With pay, too, so.”

Everything lapses into quiet, again. Babe wonders what Gene’ll do in Louisiana, about his family. He knows that Gene has a ma, at least, and a brother, but that’s about it. He wonders if Gene’ll tell his family about him. Probably not. That would be weird.

“I should get—”

“In the fridge there’s—”

They speak at the same time, and Babe blinks when Gene does before holding his hand out, palm open. “You first.” He says, and Gene clears his throat, pushing back against the couch to get back up.

“I should get going.” Gene says again, before blinking and looking back towards the hall. “Uh. After I get my stuff. I need to…”

He trails off, so Babe doesn’t actually know what Gene needs to do, but he decides to just nod anyways. Gene’s his friend, he probably shouldn’t stay for too long.

“I — yeah.” He says. “That’s what I was gonna say. Do you want me to—?” 

“No, it’s fine.” Gene says, already turning around. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be out of your hair in a mo’.” 

“Alright.” Babe agrees, still against the counter, watching him pad back to Babe’s room.

He likes seeing Eugene in his boxers. 

Surely that is a normal part of the friendship experience.

–

The sleeves of Gene’s coat brush against his knuckles, which is something that Babe hadn’t noticed before but now can’t keep staring at. Gene’s back in his scrubs, the coat and his boots his only winter wear, and in a blank moment of confusion Babe dashes off to the closet that holds his coat and grabs a scarf. 

He’s not sure whose it is, but he knows that it’s one that his ma made, so he thinks that gives him the authority to give it away.

“Here.” He offers the scarf to Gene awkwardly. It’s an ugly yellow, and it clashes so terribly with Babe’s hair he thinks that his mother either made it for one of his roommates or actually secretly hates him. Gene takes it carefully, like he’s surprised. “You need more than just a coat, y’know? So…” Babe gestures vaguely at the scarf until Gene hesitantly drapes it over his neck.

“Thanks.” He says. “I’ll — yeah. Thanks.” Babe nods. The yellow doesn’t really match Gene, either, but it doesn’t affront him like it does Babe. He looks nice, where he stands in the doorway. He’s still somewhat pink. 

“You — yeah.” Babe says, not sure what he was going to say. He’s still wearing sweatpants, and he absently tucks his thumbs into the waistband. “Be careful, right?” Gene nods. His gaze drops to somewhere around Babe’s knees. 

“Yeah.” He says back, and his eyes jump back up to Babe’s face. “I’ll see you. Maybe – maybe you could come down to Louisiana, next year.”

And that’s out of pocket, if Babe’s ever heard it, and he blinks, surprised.

“Uh.” He says. “Yeah, that would be fun. You know, me an’ Bill and the rest mostly just stay here, we could all go down to Louisiana, that would be fun. ‘Cept maybe Joe. I’m thinking he wants to go up to Rhode Island with Luz, next year. But that’s on him.”

He’s rambling, Babe realises, but he can’t stop himself, because just for a moment, in a split second of time, just long enough for his heart to thud in his chest, he thought that maybe ‘down to Louisiana’ meant Gene-and-Babe in Louisiana. But that’s ridiculous, because Gene’s his friend, and Babe thinks he may have paused for too long and is now making up for it.

“Anyways,” He says, feeling himself flush. He waves a hand around absently. “Yeah. That would be nice. A — a friend trip down to Louisiana.”

Gene doesn’t seem to have caught his slip up. He nods, expression almost unreadable. He looks somewhat… unsurprised. Like he was expecting something. 

“Yeah.” He agrees. “Friends. That – that would be good.” He watches Babe, for another two seconds, and Babe can’t understand his gaze. Gene nods, just once, and turns on his heel. “Bye, Edward.” He says, absent. Babe waves at his back, futile.

As soon as he shuts the door to the apartment he turns against it, letting his back thunk against the wood. 

He thinks he may have fucked up.

#rie writes #hbowarsanta23 #band of brothers #babe heffron #eugene roe #doc roe #baberoe #hbo war #rie does secret santa stuff

[thatincorrectquotegeneratorguy]

2K Quotes & 2Mil Views 2 Week Celebration!

I've decided to run this celebration by birthday candle rules, and by that I mean y'all are getting two different sharing challenges and a QnA to grow on.

THE CELEBRATION IS UNDERWAY! Askbox is open for QnA until January 21st-ish and I'll be reblogging shit like mad. Go wild, my friends.

Now, if you saw my previous post about this, you probably know that I've got finals approaching (also holiday plans), so I've decided to postpone my engagement with the celebration until January 7th-ish. Technically, that means the 7th will be the "official" start of the challenges and such, but nothing is stopping you from starting "early" or "late" if that's your vibe. After the "official" start, it'll be 2 straight weeks of me violently reblogging challenge posts and answering QnA questions. The ask box, however, will only be open during that 2-week period, and after that it'll be back to our regularly scheduled non-submission period for inbox clearing.

So, without further ado, here's the plan:

IQG Inspo Challenge!

Inspiration has always been at the heart of the IQG. Originally, I made it to help prompt some funny scenes between OCs of mine and my friends, and, now that it's gotten more popular, I've always loved seeing what comics, fanfics, videos, and other artistic endeavours it's inspired in other people.

To participate in the IQG Inspo Challenge, try to find a new quote you like in the generator every day for 2 weeks and make something creative out of it. Make it big or small, make it in any medium, "miss" however many days you like: as long as you enjoy it, you're carrying the spirit of the challenge.

If you share your IQG Inspo creations, tag them #IQG Inspo! I'll be browsing the tag on tumblr and reblogging what I can during the challenge (and even if your post doesn't get reblogged, it'll still be cool to see a gallery of all the neat stuff people have made).

If you want to share it but don't want me to reblog it, that's alright. Simply tag your post #do not quote.

Program and Play Challenge!

To join the Program and Play challenge, all you have to do is share a project you've programmed under the tag #Program and Play. It doesn't matter if it's a WIP or had long since been finished, it doesn't matter if you're new to programming or a professional in the field. As long as it's an original project you've programmed and enjoyed, it's perfect for the challenge.

Now, you might be asking "what does this have to do with the IQG" and the answer is not much, really. Programming is just something I really enjoy and I want to encourage others interested in it by boosting their projects up. I'll be browsing this challenge's tag and reblogging what I can (as with the IQG Inspo challenge, anything you don't want me to reblog can be tagged #do not quote).

If you're new to programming and don't know where to start, then there's lots of programming sites out there with support for beginners such as Scratch, Neocities, and, of course, Perchance. The best way to learn programming is just to dive into it. Don't be afraid to ask questions, google answers, and try new things (worst comes to worst, Stack Overflow hasn't failed me yet).

Remember, very few people enter hobbies with a talent for them. It's those who spend time learning and exploring skills that are the most masterful of them.

And, last but not least, QnA!

As I said, the askbox opens on January 7th and closes after two weeks (January 21st) with anon questions active. You might notice I didn't put any specific timezones on this. That's because it's gonna be a bit wibbly wobbly as far as timing goes, but I'll be giving y'all an announcement post once I open it, and a last minute call an hour or so before I close it.

During this period, the askbox will only by open for questions and non-management related things. Any bug reports or submissions sent at this time will not be acknowledged since I'm still clearing out the current 1,964 items in the inbox.

In honor of Tumblr's long history of ridiculous asks, I'm not gonna put any limits onto the questions y'all can ask unless I have to. You can ask about the code, you can ask about me, you can ask about completely unrelated bullshit that you find funny, I don't really mind. However, know that this is all up to my own discretion. I might not take your question seriously. I might not answer it at all. It's (probably) nothing personal (unless you actively tried to send hate speech or something of the like).

I think it's important for people to feel heard and recieve explanations for why certain decisions are made, so I will answer most questions about the chat deletion if you ask them, but they will be tagged under #IQG chat so people who want to stick to the more cheery bits of the QnA can filter it out. I would prefer if IQG chat discussion is kept to the original post about it, but I understand that a lot of the chatters didn't have a tumblr, so this will likely be the only way many of you can voice your concerns. Keep in mind that all of the things I've said about the questions up until now still applies. I will still be answering them at my own discrection. You have all been very respectful so far and I appreciate that, but, to anyone who might consider sending in harrassment or something of the like over this, know that it won't bring the chat back.

[safetycar-restart]

The marc reply is still making me so happy, it was fabulous!!!!!!

So trying to recreate my Fabio ask.

That bike sucked. That season was no fun.

So in a ds au Fabio would probably have needed to chill a bit (I mean hes already started training for next season full on), but that man who runs a lot and very fast probably needs to be very very exhausted to chill.

So how would his dom exhaust him? Not sure your limit but think Fabio would probably enjoy some pain. Not bondage when hes this jittery, that comes later.

But like edging, perhaps remote controlled vibe, perhaps sensation play? Spanking or flogging? And then all the orgams until Fabio is dried out and relaxed, perhaps a bubble bath and can then be bundled into his favorite hoddie and be all cuddly with his dom.

Also ds au with Marc and Fabio together or with a dom were you interested in that? Cannot remember or find.

Hope all is well on your end <3

Cheers 🏍 anon

oh my god yes. Firstly, I'm so glad you liked my sub!Marc!! I absolutely adore writing for motogp (lads if you like motogp... send me some thoughts and I will answer them embarrassingly quickly I am so gone for the two wheeled vroom vroom). And I love these thoughts so much!!

So firstly, yeah poor fabio is so pent up after the season!! My immediate thought was maybe that after the season ends, you planned to spend a few weeks away from each other just enjoying some downtime. Because you're still just his team dom by this point, so all your time with him is technically working, and you deserve some time off from managing fabio.

Except.. except fabio only manages three days before he's calling you in tears because he can't relax!! He thought being at home with his close friends and getting to have some fun and sleep in and just enjoy himself would work but it didnt. He's still just as tired and stressed and worked up as he was when the season ended AND now on top of that he also misses his dom!!

Just poor fabio crying on the phone with you because it turns out that no, he can't go a few weeks without you. He knows you deserve time off, but your relationship hasn't been strictly professional for months now, so you can't expect him to suddenly stop viewing you as more than just a team dom.

Needless to say, you leave your holidays to go to him, promising your friends and family that you'll be back soon (and realistically that you'll be back with fabio because you're almost certain he won't be leaving your side again).

So you get to Andorra and it becomes very clear that he just desperately needs you to completely drain him, making sure he's absolutely exhausted and then he'll be able to curl up with you and actually relax.

I think the best way to start this is actually tasks? Fabio is, of course, a very very good boy and also a very horny boy, but he's also often almost skittish? If you go straight into a sexual scene there's a high chance he'll feel exposed and scared, especially with him so wound up. You have to ease him into it.

So, after you've been attack hugged at the airport and clung to on the drive back (fabio brings tom with him just so that tom can drive and he can attempt to melt into your chest in the backseat), you start him off with simple, easy to accomplish tasks. First, you have him unpack your suitcase for you, and then you praise him when he's done, kissing his cheek and calling him the best boy. He starts to get all giggly and soft, beginning to fall back into that soft, subby headspace where you can properly wreck him.

Then, you have him a run bath for you and while you bath, he's in charge of making lunch (something very simple that he couldnt possibly mess up, to ensure you'll be able to praise him after). And then, of course, you hand feed him lunch while he kneels for you.

By the time lunch is finished, you've got him right where you want him, all soft and subby and half hard because he hasn't been taken care of in a while.

It's so so easy to let him curl up in your arms and push his sweats down enough free his cock. That's how he gets his first orgasm, spilling over your hand and whining against your neck, shaking in your arms because it's so overwhelmingly good and he hasn't felt so safe and so good since the season ended.

You take him back to the bedroom after that, and that's where the real fun begins. He needed to cum at least once first or else he wouldn't even be able to calm down enough for you to wreck him.

He's so smiley when you get him on the bed, immediately getting on his hands and knees so you can stretch him out properly. You decide to tease another orgasm out of him then, listening to how he whines and cries and how his cum drips down onto the bedsheets. His arms shake but he manages to stay on his hands and knees, because he's a very good boy and he listens very closely to all his instructions.

That's when you start spanking him, giving him a pillow to hold onto and then making sure his ass is nice and red. You spank him until he's sobbing in the pillow, his body shaking as he cries into the pillow because it hurts so much but feels so good and he's so deep in subspace and this is exactly what he's been needing.

You push him as far as you can, until he's about to collapse and then stop spanking him. The moment you tell him the spanking is over, he falls face down into the bed, completely spent.

Then, you settle down against the headboard and gather him into your arms, ignoring how he hisses in pain when his ass brushes against the bed until he's once again sideways on your lap. Then he gets one more soft hand job, this time you praise him the entire time, encouraging him to cry as much as he needs to. He sobs into your neck, feeling so good and so safe and also so overwhelmed. All his pent up anger and frustration dissipates entirely.

He's in subspace for two days after that, just a happy subby thing curled up with you and finally getting the rest he needs.

(Sidenote: I would love to do poly!Marc/fabio in the d/s au and I have a couple thoughts, especially around the idea that fabio introduces Marc to his dom because he can see how much Marc needs a kind caring dom to lean on)

#sub!fabio #fq #nsfw. #gn!reader #soft soft vibes #d/s au #🏍

[stargazer-sims]

First Date (part two)

Haru: Wait, wait! Don’t do anything crazy just to impress me. I’d feel awful if you hurt yourself.

Eden: Relax, Haru. I’m a professional, and this is the easiest thing. Let me show off a little for you.

Haru: Okay... but just to warn you, I have no idea what to do if you get hurt.

Eden: I won't get hurt. It'll be fine. Watch.

Haru: Okay.

Eden: I'll show you a jump. Just a small one, though. Don't worry.

Haru: You're gonna jump? You mean, with skates on?

Eden: You said you've watched videos of me, so you know that's exactly what I mean.

Haru: But that was like, at a rink.

Eden: *laughing* What did I tell you? Ice is ice.

Haru: Wow! That's way more impressive in person than on video! That’s a small jump?

Eden: if you’re here during the Winterfest holidays, come see me in the competition in Kyoto. Then you can see the big jumps.

Haru: I don’t know if we’ll even be in the country for Winterfest. The tour, you know? If we’re in the country then, I’ll be going to Tokyo, to my grandparents.

Eden: Oh. Well, maybe you can come watch me at practice some day.

Haru: Yeah. I’d like to do that. Would your coach mind?

Eden: I’ll ask, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Practices are technically public. It’s just that people don’t tend to show up to watch every day.

Haru: We'll have to coordinate our schedules. When do you usually practice?

Eden: My ice time is in the afternoon for the time being. I usually start at one o'clock.

Haru: Okay. I'll check with Sarah, to see if I can have a free afternoon before we leave. I'm not sure exactly when we're going, but I'm pretty sure the tour dates are already finalized, and we’ll be getting the official travel schedule any day now.

Eden: When exactly will you know?

Haru: Not sure. I'll tell you when I find out, but you might know before I get the chance to tell you. Your brother will get the travel information too.

Eden: When do you think you’ll be leaving?

Haru: In a couple of weeks, or maybe three at most.

Eden: That doesn’t give us much time.

Haru: I know, but we’ll just have to make the most of the time we’ve got before I go.

Eden: You'll call and text me when you're on the road, right?

Haru: Of course. I'm not very good at texting, but we can talk on the phone. Or video chat. I like video chats.

Eden: Me too.

Haru: Can we do shirtless ones?

Eden: Mmm... definitely.

Haru: You're awesome, you know.

Eden: Ready? Here comes the big finish. You’ve always got to end with dramatic flair.

Haru: *to himself* He's amazing! How can any person be this talented and beautiful?

Eden: Come on! Want to race?

Haru: What? No! What happened to you holding onto me?

Eden: You said you could skate. You can—

Haru: Eden! Oh, crap… I’m gonna—

Haru: Oowww...

Eden: *gasps* Haru!

Haru: I think I broke my face.

Eden: I’m sorry! I should’ve kept holding onto you. Let me see your face.

Haru: Is it bad?

Eden: No. I don’t see any marks or anything. Where does it hurt?

Haru: My nose, and my forehead a little bit.

Eden: Anywhere else?

Haru: Mostly my knees.

Eden: Do you think you can get up? I’ll help you.

Haru: Yeah, I think so, but just give me a minute.

Eden: Should we call it a day? I can take you home, if you want.

Haru: But, we were going for ramen, weren’t we?

Eden: We still can, if you want to.

Haru: Of course I want to. You might have to stay really close to me, though. You know, ‘cause I might be limping and I might need help.

Eden: Why don’t we go to my place instead of a restaurant? You can rest on the sofa, and we can get some food delivered.

Haru: What about your roommates?

Eden: They can get their own dinner.

Haru: That’s not what I meant.

Eden: Oh. Well, obviously I’m still going to cuddle with you, regardless of who’s there. Maybe put some ice on your knees, so you don’t bruise too much, and give some special attention to your poor face.

Haru: I have some ideas about the kind of attention my face needs.

Eden: Do you?

Haru: Mm-hmm. Maybe you could start with my mouth.

Eden: *leans in* Like this?

Haru: Exactly like that.

Haru: You taste like peppermints.

Eden: I have some in my pocket. Do you want one?

Haru: I, uh… I already have one, thanks.

Eden: Oops. Sorry. That’s never happened before. I didn’t even realize it was gone.

Haru: Want it back?

Eden: *laughing* No, you finish it. But, I think I will kiss you again.

Haru: How about in the car? I’m getting cold.

Eden: Sure. Let’s get out skates off, and then we can head back. I’ve got a blanket in the car, and I can turn the heater on.

Haru: Yes, please. That'll do till we get to your place. I’m looking forward to cuddles on the sofa when we get there, and maybe some dry clothes too.

Eden: You’re about Charlie’s size, so if you ask nicely, you can probably borrow something from him while we put your stuff in the dryer. If not... well, I'll just have to wrap you in a blanket and cuddle you like that.

Haru: I wouldn't complain.

Eden: Honestly, I can't wait to curl up under a big blanket, not to mention how nice it'll be to have some hot food. That ramen is gonna taste so good after this.

Haru: Hmm… but not as good as peppermints.

#ts4 #sims 4 #eagames #snowy escape #sugar valentine #Eden Seong #Sakuharu Abe #fake boy band #wearesugarvalentine #stargazersims

[calamitys-child]

*raises tea mug at u* ok Aidan tell us the tale of the pettiest thing you've ever done (that's you're willing to share on tungle.hell, ofc)

Oooooooooooooh good QUESTION omg. I actually don't have a ton I think are worth sharing? Growing up, despite being not infrequently bullied or faced with unfair situations, including by teachers, I tended not to have big fights with folk in interesting ways. Now as an adult I simply try not to be petty I think you should either commit to Negotiating or Mean. That said! I am a little cunt who does not want to deal with bullshit so sometimes petty bitching is the shortest route to a resolution, yken?

I have a couple that stick in my head but the funniest one is probably one that happened when I was a wean, like 9-10 years old.

When I was in primary school my year was split across 2 classes, and we swapped between classes so we could split groups like maths and English into groups based on what level they're studying at. In p7 (oldest primary school age, approx age 10) the Other class was run by a guy called Mr C who FUCKING SUCKED. FUCK that guy. The absolute epitome of "cringe of you, an adult, to have beef with a 9 year old". But unfortunately, I was put in his group a Lot.

He once yanked my chair out from under me so I fell over for no fucking reason. He once yelled at me for knowing the difference between a summary and a synopsis. He sent me to the head teacher's office for being at a dentist appointment which he was informed of a week in advance. He forced me to go out publicly and perform in a dress despite me begging for any other role or costume. I got thrown down two flights of stairs by a bully and he yelled at me for damaging school property because i was holding a laptop (the laptop was fine, i limped for a week). He had an affair with another teacher at the school which was a VERY POORLY KEPT secret and BOTH OF THEM had kids at the school and I take some comfort still in knowing their whole family are never going to live any of that down and everyone knows how embarrassing they are. He's a prick who thinks he's better than everyone and he sucks.

Growing up, my dad worked multiple jobs to keep money coming in. One job was bar manager at a fairly well known local theatre, another was like. Keeping practice areas clear and well maintained and helping out in training exercises for a local sports arena. He worked really hard, I basically never saw him in summer cause he took so much holiday overtime to keep money coming in. We were comfortable enough, but never more than securely working class, we never took holidays or anything.

When my school year wanted to put on our p7 play, we took sponsorships from local businesses to help fund props, script licensing, etc. My dad offered a raffle prize - two ticket vouchers from his theatre job. Mr C did not believe these were from his job, but had to accept it eventually.

A couple weeks later I was talking to my friend as we came back inside from break about something that happened at my dad's sports arena job the day before. Mr C overheard and, like any adult who is secure in themself (deeply sarcastic), dragged me up in front of the class to yell at me for lying. I distinctly remember something like "next you'll be trying to tell people your dad owns Nintendo and plays fitba for Scotland. You're not special. Grow up". Reduced me to tears to make himself feel better for no reason.

Parents evening was the next week. My dad and I schemed together a bit and he showed up in full sports arena uniform with name tag, wearing his theatre keys and ID badge around his neck. He wore that again to our show performance. And my graduation.

Technically my dad's pettiness at least as much as mine, but it sticks in my mind as the first time I ever got so mad at someone and decided to stick up for myself in a way other than just punching the cunt in the face in righteous 8yo fury

[aevyk-ing]

Finally watched Wish...

And yes, it's bad. So here we go! (pun intended)

-I really don't get all that about wishes being easily crushed. I mean, yeah, it's foreshadowing, but I know a thing or two about wishes that didn't come true (most of us do) and there are different kinds of wishes and most of them aren't crushed in our very eyes (except if you're surrounded by awful people).

-Giving Magnífico that backstory doesn't mean anything in the end. We don't have enough information and he's not even redeemed.

-Search for "Mediterranean islands" in Google. Do they look like that? No? Okay, move on.

-The abuelo looks way too good for being 100. Search for "100 years people".

-Valentino is not talking yet and I already want him to shut up.

-Sakina doesn't know anything about her daughter's life. Come on, apparently she has a job. Wait, she has a job?

-There's been too much exposition in this few minutes my head hurts. First narration, then talking, now a song... She doesn't even need to be a tour guide... for five people.

-Somebody get this girl some camomile tea.

-Again with that wish stuff. I mean, some wishes you can pursue yourself, others would need a miracle. It makes no sense to wish for your purpose to come true (like Simon, we'll get to that later) when you can just do it! It's like daydreaming for your life to change while you do nothing! Yeah, I'm with Tiana here. You need to work hard to make your wish come true.

-The music sounds Andalusian. But just in this one song. And it doesn't match the background. BTW, I only liked the What I know now, even though it's too long.

-I like Dahlia way more than Asha. She's smart, calm and we know more about her. But still, she doesn't warn her friend with allergies that he can't eat the cookies... or smell them.

-And every apprentice has their wish and their family's wishes granted? Why? Also, what happened to the last one?

-I quite like Bazeema. Grumpy is just realistic. And that Dopey is just Fred from Big Hero 6. And Simon... he's there moping so we feel sad for him, but then he betrays Asha for no reason (yeah, they try to explain but it makes no sense).

-Asha has an actual, modern interview and the Queen herself fetches her because she has nothing else to do (like ruling a kingdom) and there are no servants in this castle.

-Magnífico has his bathroom break just before Asha's interview so he can make a grand... I mean, an entrance.

-Also, everything has been exposition (even that notebook) so far.

-Sharing your sad backstory so you'll be hired. "Oh, you have a sad backstory too, you're hired!" No, wait, they're singing. Why are they singing?

-Magnífico plays Ariel as Asha is more focused on finding Sabino's wish so she can trick Magnífico into granting it because they're bonding.

-So yeah, Asha looks desperate and Magnífico gets angry and dumps even more exposition over her. But because what he was saying made sense and Asha was looking like she only wanted that job to make her abuelo's wish come true, they made Magnífico angry so he looks like the bad one.

-Magnífico is so thin-skinned he gets angry easily and forgets to keep up appearances.... too soon.

-"Sania". Don't you mean "Sonia"? Oh, yeah, this is not Spain. Also, the person who wants to make the most beautiful dresses has the plainest, greyest clothing ever.

-Asha just tells her abuelo his wish would never be granted. Don't do that! Never do that! Don't break his heart!

-They talk about Magnífico not owning the wishes but... hear me out: the people gave them to him willingly so he can make them come true. And they even forget them! So... they're technically his.

-This Wish is the worst song. The lyrics are bad, the rythm is all over the place and it's too much for just climbing a tree.

-I haven't talked about the animation yet but she looks like plasticine clay. Everything is unfinished and the watercolor effect only pops up from time to time.

-Magnífico thinks a beam of light threatened him. He needs a holiday.

-Everybody is adorkable. The star is also adorkable. It doesn't matter it's creepy, stupid and just stole and destroyed someone's underwear.

-And apparently, it only can make animals (and funghi) talk but it also gives Asha a magic wand. BTW, those mushrooms are creepy (give me the Fantasia ones! (or at least make them look similar)) and I wasn't expecting the squirrel from The Sword in the Stone to talk like that.

-Valentino has no reason to be able to talk. He's insufferable and even makes the Dreamworks face when saying "his voice is so low" (wink-wink). So is this for kids or not?

-Yeah, it is for kids because they had to make the shape of a star (Star looks like a balloon) and they hammer you with the message that everybody is a star like 30 times. "A really simple answer." You've gone crazy, King Magnífico has gone crazy, we're all mad here!

-Also this is like the lesson that should be learnt at the end. But anyway...

-The King and Queen have no chemistry at all. I don't believe they love each other.

-Magnífico just has a tempting book there. I don't think he has never used it. Why does he even have it? Lock it in the dungeons.

-Why is everybody so thin-skinned? Safi acts as if Asha doesn't care about his most precious feelings. She's talking about chickens! Chickens!

-"I made a wish..." "You wished for a chicken musical?" And yes, this is the scene that made me decide I wasn't going to pay for watching this movie. Thank you, I hate it.

-Magnífico is stupid too. Like everybody knows you shouldn't alarm anyone when you don't even know all about the danger. Yes, he wants to look like a hero, but still... them doubting is on you, bud.

-Dahlia waits until she's called a genius to use long words.

-So everybody starts questioning everything, as you do, and Magnífico decides he'll be a tyrant then. He sings a song about his parents being aliens (I got these genes from outer space), song gets interrupted because we don't deserve a villain song and I keep on thinking how Ludmila's song from Bartok the Magnificent did the same thing but better.

-"My heart knows this feeling." Who talks like that? Also, is she dying? Why are they leaving? Asha should tell the Queen the King has gone crazy! You're putting everyone in danger! But it doesn't matter, she leaves Sakina and Sabino there so the strongest 100-year-old on Earth can row their way back... 10 minutes later.

-Why does Magnífico need a staff? He's been doing magic just fine.

-"Asha did this!" "Asha who?" Oh, yeah, they are only like 40 people in this kingdom. And none of them are kids or babies. Now.

-Let me get this straight: you have narcolepsy (or are just tired all the time) and you wish to become a knight? Yeah, I'm sure they'd trust you. So he should wish to have more energy and work his way to become a knight. But hey, doesn't matter because even though Simon is depressing and sad, he's attacked by bunnies! And that's funny! We don't care about the saddest character of all!

-Bazeema has a whole basement for herself because "introverts deserve some space" instead of saying she discovered it because she's an introvert and sometimes needs lonely time. But of course, this is only here so her "friends" can scold her.

-Asha doesn't try to convince anyone else via song because... reasons.

-"It's a lie, lie, lie..." Yeah, we get it.

-Magnífico thinks it's okay to wake up everybody to show them he's angry.

-Giving the clumsiest character the power of magic. Give it to Amaya! She's capable!

-Asha forgets Simon is her friend. Everybody forgets Simon is their friend. Nobody cares about Simon. Cough, cough... Simón.

-"Good evening, Rosas!" "What?" "We can't hear you!"

-Okay, what's Magnífico's plan? Killing them? BTW, he's the most pathetic villain since... nope, he's the most pathetic.

-So first we have a song saying you're a "star", then this. I think this is another tale about female empowerment and how men are bad. Don't believe me? Tell me one male character that shows to be intelligent, caring and that carries the plot. Yeah, Starboy, we needed you.

-Magnífico is hinted to be Queen Grimhilde's mirror when he's stuck in a gem. And he pleads so Amaya would free him when she has no magic... yet. I think.

-Valentino wishes for a mammal utopia when he's been living between humans his whole life and doesn't even have another animal as his friend. BTW, humans are mammals!

-Why do they need a fairy godmother? Why?

-"I know you too well." No, you don't. Asha and Star don't have any relationship. The Star has just been there to be cute and do cute things while Asha was clumsy and did clumsy things.

Overall? Bad. A few interesting things but none of the main characters are likable (Amaya, Dahlia, Bazeema and Simon had some potential), the songs were meh and the style looked unfinished. It's so sad to think this is the 100th anniversary movie but after seeing how lazy Disney has been lately (in movies, I loved the Once upon a studio short), it doesn't surprise me either. Anyway, you can check out my Wish rewrite here and, if you've come this far, thanks for reading and have a good day!

#wish #disney wish #ramblings #writer life #me #disney

[leam1983]

The Only War we Shouldn't Care About

You know what time it is. December's a few short weeks away, most stores are starting to freak about Christmas, I've already covered my shopping for Walt and Sarah - all that's left is for the seasonal classics to settle in. There's just one classic I don't want to deal with.

Up here in Montreal, the War on Christmas is this absurd Conservative bugaboo we look at derisively, as we tend to wish one another Happy Holidays. Legally, whether you celebrate or not, no matter if you're Jewish, Muslim, Sikh or Buddhist, you'll get a certain amount of time off from your employer, between mid-December and early January. That's all it is to us - time off. If you don't celebrate, your only recourse is to not decorate and, well, maybe show an ounce of patience for TV networks who won't have gotten the message. They obviously won't have; the Western-dominant culture practically demands its yearly re-appropriation of Pagan elements like the effective transformation of a tree into what's effectively a votive symbol, even if you do it from an Atheist perspective. We ask of the right to cling to memories of the last Season of Plenty, as that's what our ornaments are - the brief presentation of an evergreen tree into the affected appearance of a fruit-bearing tree - and I can definitely see how that can be overbearing.

Add to that the more overtly religious aspects - what actually gets the Kirk Camerons of this world crowing about persecution in the most laughable way imaginable; and it's easy to get the sense that for several people, Christmas Season can be, well, too much.

It explains the seasonal blues, the way some workplaces cut the Gordian knot and simply ban seasonal decorations altogether or the way others default to a neutral "Happy Holidays", up here. It's fair of some people to expect the legally-provided time off with no further requirements.

The thing is, some of my remote colleagues are very Christian. Not in the sense you might be familiar with if you're American; they're still a lot more into tolerance and general goodwill than what you might consider the norm for these types - and for them, Christmas isn't quite religious enough, as strange as it might seem. They're not pushing it into Cromwellian excess, but they do get the sense that this is a holiday meant to celebrate renewed hope, spiritually speaking - and I've seen Nicole's WFH office setup start to feature both a Santa Claus figure and a small Nativity diorama. Nicole is the sweetest Compliance Officer you'll ever meet, she's technically retired from the industry but joined us to round out her pension - and she's a hardcore believer, coming from first-generation Sicilian immigrants to Canada.

On the one hand, she's a "good" Theist, in that she isn't overbearing in her spirituality, the same way we avoid discussion topics like war and politics in our workplace-focused Slack channels. On the other, when she says "God bless you", she means it. It's always a bit of a shock, when you're used to everyone and their mother tossing that offhandedly. It makes the less tolerant Theists - usually Evangelicals - that we'll run into while shopping around town, sort of stand out like a sore thumb.

I try and conflate Christmas Season, considering all this, into a time where all of us are allowed to be openly spiritual in the broadest sense possible. If you don't practice anything and are a hardlining Atheist, you could say it's a great time for self-reflection and for preparation. It's a great time to focus on the more holistic aspects of existence, as even Skeptics like me could agree that meeting people can be good for the soul. Putting more time down at the soup kitchen isn't a question of racking up more Redemption Points or whatever, it's about meeting people at a time where my potential assistance will be most useful. Nights are getting cold, warm meals are starting to require some investment of time and resources, and if you have no warm place and no kitchen to work in, you're not going to get that. That's pretty much the extent of my spirituality. Unsurprisingly, it's gotten surprised looks out of some colleagues during our Zoom meetings.

"You're not worried? I mean, you lost people, haven't you? Don't you think you have a soul?"

The fact is I just don't know. Considering, why bother imposing my beliefs on anyone else? Why bother trying to pay lip service to anyone else's belief or lack thereof? We'll decorate the condo because Walt and Sarah love that stuff, but I've been the exact time to forget to pull out the boxes of decorations until December 20th. It'll look pretty for a week or two, then we'll pack it all back in - same as Halloween.

Maybe there is an afterlife, but it's not worth any respect if my accession to it depends on my putting the right little Caucasian Porcelain Baby in my Nativity scene made up of equally whitewashed characters in someone else's distorted story of Middle-Eastern displacement.

So, maybe consider putting your chips down on all the other seasonal symbols, instead: the clean smell of the first few snowfalls, the way cold air always feels cleaner than anything hanging in summertime urban haze, the taste of a good cup of hot cocoa after some exposure to the elements, the return of Sweater Weather, the way the season's blithe consumerism always intersects with your younger relatives getting "the best Christmas ever" every single year as their eyes light up at the sight of the One Thing They Wanted - or the way it all translates to base thoughtfulness between adults.

Kindness. Brotherly love. Friendship. The giving of oneself, really. Things anyone of any culture or religious background could agree on.

That, to me, seems essential. Far, far more than anything related to Christianity.

#thoughts #christmas #holidays #the war on christmas #evangelicals #speaking as an atheist #atheism #spirituality