#Its raisin bran

[scuddle-bubble101]

Me: -done with shower and making breakfast- ?: -new voice suddenly appears and proceeds to judge the brand of cereal I am eating.- Me: Me: You just got here and you will deal with what I e a t.

[maybe-a-dinosaur]

seijoh 4 as summer camp employees

hanamaki takahiro is BUILT for this he has fun hair he’s weird he’s engaging his he’s colorful his water bottle is covered in stickers he has sandals on toes Out he is shameless he’s kinda unhinged it so works. he’s a counselor but almost never has a cabin to himself he’s more like a sub if someone else has gets sick or whatever but when he shows up it’s like a celebrity sighting a monumentous occasion. if he’s not needed anywhere else he’s helping out with arts and crafts his favorite artworks are the ones where you can’t tell what the fuck it’s supposed to be. he has lots of string friendship bracelets he knows how to make them but lies whenever someone asks he just gives them one he gatekeeps cuz he thinks it’s funny and teaching is too much work. he tells the most Outrageous ghost stories and is the reason only half of the kids will go in the lake he talks about bigfoot and campers who went missing and the town’s curse he is carrying on legacies he is SO fun.

iwaizumi hajime is the Coolest fucking counselor ever. bandana around his head sleeves cut off of the uniform tshirt (muscle tee now) he has friendship bracelets a beat up watch one anklet his water bottle is on its last leg he has a dinosaur keychain on his backpack he like epitomizes cool guy the kids idolize him. his cabin wins every single camp-wide competition every time like he’s peak athleticism and he’s just like so awesome or whatever it’s contagious. he picks kids up and throws them in the lake and pool if a frisbee gets stuck in a tree he gets it every time he caught a snake once and took it back to the woods everyone wants to sit next to him in the mess hall he can’t build a fire and is mad about it he sleeps like a fucking Rock and snores like a lawnmower and eats enough for 3 people at every meal.

oikawa tooru is a lifeguard. at the pool at the lake he’s always around the water somehow and Everyone has a crush on him. up on his lifeguard chair sunglasses on his skin is all golden whistle around his neck or spinning on his finger his hair somehow always looks good he wears a headband one day and someone literally faints. he teaches swimming and canoeing lessons and is really good at it he almost Never has to save anyone for someone who works by the water you’d think they’d swim a little more. he’s pretty quiet when he’s on duty he takes the job seriously but he’s a fucking motormouth when he’s off that chair he will Not shut up. he sits w the boys at meals running that fucking mouth pisses them off So Bad he blatantly flirts/fights with iwaizumi when the kids aren’t around and Refuses to get into a canoe with him bc it always ends up getting flipped. he’s really good with the younger kids they’re his favorite to work with but he is generally well liked throughout the camp he’s like everyone’s counselor crush and he always eats raisin bran for breakfast.

matsukawa issei is the camp cryptid he works with the older kids who like go backpacking and spend all their time in the woods he emerges looking like he’s been there all his life. he kinda just appears sometimes doing odd jobs taking things to the lost and found feeding the chickens fishing things out of the lake general camp maintenance he materializes out of the trees with a fire extinguisher a neon yellow backpack and a missing camper. he’s often accompanied by the camp dog so there are theories (encouraged by takahiro) that he’s actually a werewolf and that’s why he’s everywhere some people think he is the camp dog issei thinks this is very funny. the only place he’s consistently found is the mess hall at meals otherwise when not wandering or in the forest he can be found hanging out with hiro coming up with new ghost stories playing some sort of sport with hajime or pouring water on tooru’s head wherever he happens to be. issei is the best campfire builder on the property and some of the kids are scared of him he never has his phone can only be contacted by walkie-talkie he is the jack of all trades.

[writingchalamet]

Angels Like You III

Angels Like You

Angles Like you II

A/N: The slow burn is burning, thank you guys so much for all the love on this story so far I promise things will only get better from here!

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, mentions of abuse, fluffy Bucky

Chapter III

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, painting golden beams across the room, warming Bucky's cheeks as he woke. His ears twinged with the faint sound of pans clattering downstairs, further drawing him out of slumber. Trailing down the stairs Bucky found you bobbing along to some music softly playing from your kitchen speakers while you cooked, Forrest sitting in his high chair eating fruit swaying his head to the music.

The smile that adorned his face while he watched the pair of you was filled with adoration, his chest feeling full and warm as if he belonged. You turned around to place slice of toast on Forrest's high chair jumping as you noticed Bucky standing in the doorway. You clutched your chest, laughing as you approached him. "You made me jump" His hand reached to rest on your on the mid section of your back, rubbing up and down. “Sorry doll wasn’t my intention, what you got cooking over there” His hand stayed in place, tingles shooting through your spine at the feeling. His head nodded over to the cooker where, the longer you stood here and stared into the blues of his eyes, the more likely it was for the food to burn.

“Oh, I was just making some breakfast for us, to say thank you for everything… Uh there’s bacon and eggs, sausage, pancakes and a bunch of other stuff, thought it would be different from your usual raisin bran” You joked with him, unintentionally getting closer and closer with each sentence. “Well, it all smells amazing.” Bucky lowered his face towards yours, noses nearly touching. Your, breathe caught in your throat as you starred up into his eyes, losing yourself for a moment, you felt Bucky tug you closer, barely a centimetre, nose brushing against the side of yours. “Mama!” You’re pulled from the moment and dragged swiftly into reality by the voice of Forrest, throwing his toast on the floor. Clearing your throat, you stepped away from Bucky, heat rising painfully to your cheeks.

“You all done baby?” you ask the rhetorical question, turning fully to face your son, he nods, raising his arms to be taken out of his highchair. You pull him out and walk him into the living, placing him down in his play creche. You come back to the kitchen to find Bucky serving up the breakfast from the stove. You walk to stand next to him, bumping your hip against his as you reach him, “I’m supposed to be doing that” Bucky turns his head to look at you, smirking as he placed bacon on the plates. “You do it every day, let me take care of it, go and sit down” eyes widening at the order, but you followed non the less. Bucky smiled as he placed your breakfast down in front of you, Buck deciding to take the seat just next to you. You spoke back and forth as you ate, passing stolen looks between one another.

Yourself, and Sarah watched as Sam and Bucky chased the boys around the front garden along with other kids from the street, all clambering over the men for their attention. You sipped your drink coquettishly as you eyed Bucky. His eyes meeting yours every now and again, lips turning up into a smirk. Sarah laughed as she looked between the two of you. “Damn, you really letting that man do a number on you huh?” Sarah shook her head as she spoke. You tutted slapping your hand against her arm. “I don’t know, it’s just nice for Forrest to have a male figure around I guess.” Your eyes continue to follow Bucky as you speak, watching how he plays with Forrest, taking him in his arms, tickling his belly. Sarah watches the small smile that etches its way onto your face when you look at the pair. “Has something happened between the two of you?” Her wide-eyed gaze makes you feel as if you were under a magnifying glass, she could always see straight through you. “Not exactly…” Your stare remains forwards on Bucky, and that’s telling enough for Sarah, as if you were under some sort of spell drawn to him, she laughed quietly, sipping her drink.

Forrest giggled while Bucky chased him around with the other kids. His laugh ringing in the super soldiers’ ears sounding like a sweet symphony. He sat with the toddler in his lap while the bigger kids still played, the little boy relaxing into his frame, Sam sat next to him drinking his beer, across the lawn he could see Y/n’s tender gaze following her son. Their eyes meet and they share a knowing nod. “So, you gonna tell me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?” Bucky ignores Sam’s comment, opting to play with Forrest’s curls instead. “Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be huh?” Bucky licks his teeth in annoyance turning his head to the side to face Sam. “Just leave it alone, she’s been through a lot, she doesn’t need men boggling all over her” he scoffs shaking his head. “So, you admit it, you have been looking” Sam nudges Bucky just to wind him up all the more. “Sam.” He warns. “Bucky” Sam jokes. “Mama” Forrest points over to his mum with both hands, the men now discovering that Sarah and Y/n were walking towards them. Bucky let go of Forrest and watched as he toddled over to her, Y/n already crouched down on the ground arms open ready to receive him.

“Hey” You smiled as you stood to your full height, Bucky now standing, coming to position himself beside you, holding Forrest between the two of you. His flesh hand tickling Forrest once more, then sliding down grazing your hand. The moment not going unnoticed by Sarah and Sam, who shared a look smirking at each other. “So, guys Sam and I were thinking, we could take care of Forrest tonight and you guys could hang out” Sarah gave Sam a nudge as he uttered out a ‘huh?’ under his breath. “Oh yeah, we’d love to hang out with the little guy and-” “Are you two trying to parent trap us?” you cut off Sams babbling and eyeball the pair of them accusingly. “What’s a parent trap?” Bucky asks confused. “Oh, come on!-” “only one of the best films ever made-” “How have you never seen the parent trap!” you all spoke over each other, Bucky raising both his hands jumping to his own defence. “Jeez sorry, forget I asked.”

 Forrest lifted his arms towards Bucky and started mumbling “bu…bububub” You all go wide eyed, and you have to practically pick your jaw off the floor. You hand Forrest over to Bucky and observe the way he nestles his head into his chest, something he seems to love doing. “Seriously, I’ve known you since birth and you can’t be bothered to learn my name!” Sarah jokingly scolds your son. “Come on now, Bub is easier for him to say than Sarah” you sass back. “Aw, have you been calling him Bub around the house?” Sam reaches up to pinch Buckys’ cheek, earning a harsh glare from the pair of you. “No” you both say in unison. Sarah changes the subject. “Okay, so I’ll take Forrest for the night and you two can go out for dinner or something”

“I can’t believe you talked me into this, I’m gonna kill you” you chided Sarah through your ensuite door. “You’ll have a good time” she shouted back. You come out having done your makeup and hair, Sarah was flicking through your wardrobe finding something when she turned to look at you. “Wow” “does it look bad?” you panic, tugging your hair, turning to look in a mirror. She comes to stop your fidgeting grasping your hands. “No, you look beautiful, I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing makeup before, you look great.” She nods at you smiling, brushing your hair back into place with her fingers. “I found this dress in the back of your closet, I think it will look nice, one suggestion though?” you nod in acknowledgement, “Please don’t wear your ugly ass maternity bra you always wear, please tell me you have some nice underwear!” you gasp and smack her arm “he’s not gonna see my underwear!” “He might!” you cringe at the thought, feeling your entire body flush. You had never been with anyone apart from Matt, and those wear the most unpleasant experiences imaginable. He had littered your body with scars, reminders that he was in your life permanently.

When you enter the kitchen where Bucky is sat , wearing a black slip dress and heals, he feels although he might have died and gone to heaven, because surely it was an angel that just walked into the room and stole all the breath from his lungs. He forgot all about the troubles that plague him daily and could only focus on you. “You, uh… you look beautiful” he scratched the back of his neck bashfully, looking you up and down. You carry on towards him, until you’re stood just in front of him, taking in the sight of him. He wore dark jeans and a long sleeve button down, that fitted so perfectly over every muscle it was like it was a piece of him. “You look good too” you never wanted to meet his eyes for fear of never being able to look away again, but you willed yourself to, admiring the blue swirls and the way his pupils dilated when you complimented him. “You ready to go?” he held out his hand for you to take, leading you out of the kitchen and out the house. Unknowing that Sam and Sarah were watching from her kitchen window as the pair walked down the driveway closely side by side.

The restaurant was quiet, dimly lit with fairy lights and candles, music playing quietly throughout the room. You and Bucky were tucked away in a corner booth, barely any space between the pair of you, your knees knocked together when either of you shuffled around nervously, but neither of you minded. The waitress approached your table offering another round of drinks which you thankfully accepted. As she walked away again you could feel Bucky’s eyes trailing over, raising that fire to your skin once more. “What are you staring at?” you whisper, eyes locking with his. “You, you’re beautiful” he retorted simple enough, but it still took your breath away. You looked down into your lap, picking at your fingernails, a nervous habit you had picked up through your previous relationship. “Do you not believe me?” his voice was low and assured. “I… Um… I just guess no one has ever really said anything like that to me, other than my parents, and Sarah…” You continue to look down, “I guess after everything, I just don’t feel pretty, he liked to make me feel bad you know… to keep me I guess-”

 Bucky cut you off. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about any of this if you don’t want, we can just have a nice evening” he brushed the hair out of your eyes, unintentionally brushing against your scar, his touch so soft unlike the one that had given it to you. “No, it’s fine, it’s only right I tell you. You’ve spent all this time looking out for me and Forrest and you still know nothing about me.” Your waitress came back with your drinks placing them down on the table with a smile, you both thanked her before she turned away. You took a sip of your drink as Bucky examined the way twitched around anxiously.

 “I met him when I was 22, my nana had left me her café in her will, so I’d been running it for about a year and it was the happiest I had ever been. When we first met it wasn’t so bad, he was semi sweet I guess, would take me out to the movies and stuff, but he was possessive, if a guy even so much as looked at me he would attack them, I guess I should have left then, but I’d never had a boyfriend before, so I didn’t know it wasn’t normal. When I moved in with him that’s when things really got bad.” You stop to breathe for a moment, eyes not moving from the candle flickering on the table, watching how the wax dribbled down the stick. Bucky reached his Vibranium hand into yours, the cool of the metal soothing your flushed skin.

“As soon as I moved in, he treated me like a maid, which I didn’t mind, but if I ever missed something, he would get mad. I remember the first time he hit me like it was yesterday. I had done the washing up but didn’t put it away like he’d asked, I told him he could do it for once, and he slapped me… I can still feel the way it made my cheek burn.” The lump in your throat was hard to swallow as you carried on. “He’d hit me for every little thing I did wrong, to the point I’d be going into work with black eyes telling customers I fell down the stairs, I’d always heard about those women who lie about being hurt by their partners, but I refused to believe it was actually happening to me. The bruising was so bad sometimes I couldn’t go into work, that’s when he suggested selling the shop… To save face… I couldn’t believe what I was hearing but I went along with it anyway, thought it would be easier to do as I’m told then risk the consequences of saying no.” You huffed. You felt the odd tear slip down your face but chose to ignore them.

“The worst was probably when he’d had a party, and I sat next to one of his friends, he didn’t like that, he wouldn’t let me speak to people, he limited who and when I spoke to people, I probable only saw my parents three times in the five years we were together. Anyway, once everyone had left, he went on a rampage, I was kicked into next Christmas, and he threw several glasses at me, a few of them smashed and one piece got stuck in my face” You pointed to the scar by your eyebrow. “I got taken into the ER, and I had a broken collar bone and a few cracked ribs, he told me when I got back that if I ever flirted with his friends again, he'd kill me”

“Why didn’t you leave sooner?” Bucky’s jaw was tensed, the muscles under his shirt tight with anger. “I never had a reason to, I thought I deserved everything that happened to me, then I found out I was pregnant, he instantly assumed it wasn’t his, told me to ‘deal with the problem or he would’ I knew I had to get out of there then, I had a reason. I took his car when he’d left for work, I didn’t know where I was going, I knew I couldn’t go to my parents in Cali, he’d find me, so I just carried on driving until I got here.” Bucky wipes away the stray tears that fall down your face, and holds your cheek in his hand, tugging your chin up so you meet his eyes. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me all that, I know it’s not easy dealing with traumatic bullshit” he nods assuring you he understands, and it’s all you need. “Thank you” you whisper, a small empathic smile gracing your lips. You pull forwards into his embrace and wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your head in the crook of his neck, you take in his scent, he smells like the perfect mix of wood and spice, the fragrance filling your nose. His arms wrap around the small of your waist, hands spreading against the silk of your dress, digging in as if to pull you closer. His lips moved to brush against the shell of your ear. “Wanna get out of here?” his voice low. You only nodded without pulling away.

You soon reached the front door of your house. You couldn’t help as you walked down the driveway but nosily check Sarah’s house, noticing all the lights out in the front of the house, a good indicator everyone was in bed. Before putting the keys in the door, you turned to face him, not knowing if you have a sudden burst of confidence from the alcohol you’d consumed or the way he had listened to you tonight. “I really like you.” You nodded quickly assuring yourself it was the right thing to say. “I like you too.” Bucky agrees with a laugh. “No, I mean I really, like you. And I like the way you are with Forrest, and the way you look after us, while barely knowing us” This time you look into his eyes, finding his usual blues replaced by dilated pupils. He spared a breath, jaw ticking as he looked over your face dictating your next move.

With one strong Vibranium arm around your waist he pulled you into him, planting his lips firmly on yours. A short, sweet peck that lasted no more than a second before he pulled away. Stormy eyes returning, searching yours for a response. Your arms wrap around his neck, drawing him back to you. You pressed your lips against his enjoying the soft feel of his working against yours. The kiss was passionate, unlike anything you had ever experienced before, his tongue glided along your bottom lip, a faint moan falling from the back of your throat as his tongue pushed through, his hands gripped at your waist harder, one gliding along the curvature of your back, down to rest on the top of your bum. Your fingers laced through his hair tugging in appreciation. He took a step forward pressing himself right up against you, needing to feel you closer to him. You let out another louder moan as his tongue swirled against yours, he backed you up to the door, trapping you, not that you minded. His mouth left yours and you chased hi with another kiss, he laughed softly at your eagerness, his lips caressing the side of your face, kissing over your scar, as well as your cheek and jaw. “We should go inside” he teased. Nodding eagerly, you unlocked your door, practically pawing at each other as you stepped into the house.

 Hearing the kitchen light switch on, you pulled apart, just enough to see what was going on, Bucky’s arms still around your waist, yours on his chest, but the smiles on your faces soon turned sour. “Well, isn’t this cosy” Your eyes widened, you felt yourself shrink into yourself, only this time Bucky was there behind you to protect you from the start. “What are you doing here Matt?”

Tag List:

@unaxv @mrsnikstan @ilovetaquitosmmmm @scott-loki-barnes @lilyyxoii @cakesandtom @senjoritanana

[burningcrab]

some warframe resources rated by how good i think they would be to eat

nano spores: described as "fibrous." part of a balanced breakfast. 5/10 probably just raisin bran without the raisins

alloy plate: this is metal. 1/10

salvage: this is metal but it's scrap. you might as well eat the inside of a blender 0/10

rubedo: one of the few resources with canonical data as to whether its good for eating. according to parvos granum this will burn a hole in your stomach and kill you. however we have failed to consider that parvos granum is a dickhead and a capitalist and is therefore probably wrong. 9/10 probably tastes like spicy cherry

plastids: described as "disgusting" and also sounds like plastics. 1/10 texture might be nice but i have enough microplastics in my bones

orokin cell: basically a caffeine pill. gotta ration them though since theyre rare. 7/10

argon crystal: "radioactive" but so is a banana. it looks like it would have the taste and texture of a meringue cookie. 8/10 assuming you like meringue cookies?

kuva: also has canonical data re: consumption. drink the kuva. drink it kiddo. 10/10

neurodes: this is, like, an eyeball? i think? there's probably some cultural dish involving eyeballs. it's fine. the infestation isn't real if your stomach acid is strong enough 6/10

oxium: this is a solid object that is lighter than air. i dont know how that works. it probably tastes like fuckall and makes your voice go squeaky like helium. or maybe you float away forever like that minion from despicable me. 2/10

maprico: this is an apricot 11/10

[visceravalentines]

folger's, eat your heart out

oh my god this got away from me so bad it's wanted in twelve states. but it's done (is anything ever done) and i'm.......i'm quite happy with it. i really hope you like it.

4.3k words. canon divergence, boys on the run. established relationship. character study, lots of introspection. implied sexual content, nothing too explicit. so much kissing. hand job. light s/m. night terrors and vague mention of canon-typical trauma. mostly soft, so soft. benson is so in love and doesn't know it yet <3

read on ao3 here if that's more your speed.

It’s a Tuesday. Benson knows this because his eyes snap open automatically at five in the morning even though he hasn’t set an alarm in weeks. He opens on Tuesdays, been on that schedule for so long he doesn’t even need the alarm anymore anyways. 

Well, he used to open on Tuesdays. 

He wakes up slow. Gets a savage satisfaction out of being somewhere unfamiliar, revels in it. With bleary eyes he traces the outline of the water damage on the ceiling and it’s different than the one back home. Room smells different too, stale sweat and dust and complimentary green tea bar soap. The mattress is too fucking soft, folds around him like dough. His spine is electric with pain. 

Fuck, he’s getting old. Twenty-nine going on fifty. 

He drags a hand over his face and wishes he could fall back asleep. Not going to happen. Not a chance with this marshmallow bed and the sun popping its stupid Raisin Bran fucking face through the blinds. Benson sleeps dark and cold and silent with his back to the wall. Arms locked in front of his chest like armor. Like a corpse on a slab. 

Or he used to, anyway. 

He can’t feel his left arm. He pushes his chin into his throat at an odd angle to look down at Randy, still asleep, curled up on Benson’s chest like a sandy-colored cat. His hands are tucked together, long, knobby fingers folded over each other, resting in the center of Benson’s ribs. The sun takes each strand of his hair and wraps it in gold, even his eyelashes, laying long and pretty on his cheeks. 

Fuck Folger’s. Nothing comes close to this. 

It’s surreal, still. Being here, being anywhere, together. Like, together. Unbelievable the way he fits so neatly under Benson’s arm. He rests his lips against the crown of Randy’s head. He does it because he wants to, because he can. He inhales slow and deep and he smells warm and bright and a little grimey. Like summer. Like sweat and mud and the most beautiful blue sky you’ve ever seen. Fucking perfect, he’s perfect. 

He's peaceful now, which is saying something. Randy’s a terrible sleeper. Sharing a bed with him is punishing. He thrashes in his sleep, digs elbows into Benson’s ribs and jolts him awake in a panic ready to fight, and then Benson has to stare into the abyss and count to a thousand before he can calm the fuck down and drift off again. 

He never talks about his nightmares. Benson knows he has them, but he knows better than to ask about shit like that. On occasion he’ll wake up to Randy tugging on his arm, pulling it around him like a security blanket. He doesn’t mind that in the least, rolls over half asleep and wraps himself around Randy’s sweat-soaked body. He pins his arms to his sides for both their sakes, buries his face against the back of his neck, and that’s that. Problem solved. 

Benson, on the other hand, sleeps like the dead–save for the nights he wakes up screaming and doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Doesn't even know he's awake until he sees Randy’s face floating above him in the dark, wide-eyed like some twig-limbed owl. Until he feels his hands on his face, wiping salt from his cheeks. 

Shit sucks, because then he has to turn all the lights on and pace the room, chewing on a cigarette and cracking his neck ‘til it's sore, trying to walk it off. Randy sits on the bed hugging his knees to his chest and watches him like a hawk. But he doesn't speak, doesn't try to push it, waits patiently until Benson crawls back into bed and lets him decide where he wants to be. 

He can't stand to be touched during and after those episodes, always hated when his ma would try to smother him when he was still young enough to smother, but funny enough, Randy’s okay. Doesn't seem to count. Maybe it's because he lets him set the pace and doesn't get his feelings hurt when Benson curls up on the edge of the mattress with pillows stacked between them. Either way, most times Benson falls back asleep with his head tucked into the hollow of Randy's neck and those skinny arms slung around his shoulders. And the light on.

The night terrors aren’t new, but it’s been a while since they’ve been this bad. It’s like they’ve worked their way to the surface of his brain. Like a splinter finding its way out of the skin. He doesn’t like Randy seeing him that way, but he can’t really help it. He used to sleep on his stomach with his face in the pillow so he wouldn’t wake Ma and have to deal with her on top of everything else, but he had so many nightmares about suffocating he can't do it anymore. 

But Randy never lets Benson apologize in the morning, insists he doesn't mind being woken up. He's told him that again and again, so often that Benson’s starting to believe him. They’re both fucked in the head just enough that it makes it okay. No hard feelings. 

Last night was quiet for both of them, for once. Benson wishes he was still asleep to take advantage of it, but this is nice too. He can feel Randy’s breath on his collarbone and it’s driving him crazy, a little bit. He’s not used to nice things. He’s always scared he’s gonna fuck them up somehow. Sometimes he wants to fuck them up. Track mud across the carpet, break a dish. Say the wrong thing. Bite down too hard. 

He’s learning how to be gentle. He’s trying, like, really trying. Randy doesn’t make it easy, that’s for damn sure. The way he whimpers when Benson’s hands are on him isn’t fucking fair. The way he bares his throat and gasps and begs. And then he shows Benson the marks afterwards like he’s proud of them, like Benson wasn’t there when he got them. 

“You did a number on me,” he said last night with this sheepish grin, almost giddy, leaning over the sink to look at himself in the mirror. Prodding at the bite mark on his shoulder, the hickies on his neck. Never mind all the shit he couldn’t see from that angle, but Benson saw it. The shape of his body all over Randy’s in bruises. 

Made him feel kinda good and kinda bad, sort of guilty, but then Randy looked over at him with those eyes, hair all mussed, bottom lip cherry red and swollen, and said with unmistakable adoration, “You’re an animal, Bence.” 

Un-fucking-fair. 

But he’s trying, he is. Trying to ease up on the reins. Trying to be soft, because Randy needs soft no matter what he asks Benson for in the dark. He can’t fuck this up. Can’t fuck him up; at least, not any more than he already has. On the list of things he’s ever wanted to fuck up in the world, Randy is at the bottom. 

And it’s good too, the lovey-dovey bullshit. It’s good. It’s great. The way Randy falls asleep on his shoulder halfway through the movie, any movie, no matter how good it is or how loud it’s turned up or how much Benson promised him he was gonna like it. The way he bumps his knuckles against Benson’s when they’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder, just because. Just to touch him. He’ll catch him smiling at him for no reason, all the time, just glance over and there he is looking like they’re on their way to Disney World. No one's ever smiled at him like that. He’s not even doing anything to earn it, he’s just living his fucking life. The fact of his existence is apparently an ongoing novelty to Randy. 

Crazy fucking kid. 

Benson feels like he’s body-swapped with someone on better terms with luck and the skin doesn’t fit quite right but fuck, he’s figuring out how to make it work. He doesn’t get handed things like this. Good things with no strings attached. He’s always kind of on edge, always waiting for someone to break down the door and haul him away. For someone to pause the laugh track and punch through the set. For Randy to suffer a moment of clarity and tell him to go fuck himself. 

He’s never had this kind of good, never expected it. Never really thought he deserved it. And Randy sure doesn't deserve this kind of bizarre sideways bullshit that makes up the best that Benson can offer. He deserves better from him. From everyone. From life. Benson keeps trying to tell him that. 

Too bad he can't quite convince him. Too bad Benson’s selfish and couldn't let go of him if he tried. Wouldn't even try. Wouldn't turn out well. 

He runs his thumb across the angle of Randy's cheekbone, feather-light. He wants to let him sleep and he wants him to wake up and he doesn’t know which he wants more. He draws lines across his cheek, from the corner of his mouth, along the edge of his jaw, carefully, carefully, so gentle his hand shakes. He’s probably never been hit in the face. Probably never had a black eye, broken nose. Shy, scared, beautiful thing. 

There’s been a violence in Benson for as long as he can remember. Bone-deep. And it’s a magnet, pulls other violence right to him like wasps to fresh meat. Sometimes he loves it, sometimes he hates it. He always falls back on it, no matter how hard he tries to leave it behind or wrap it up so tight it can’t get out. He fails again and again. But it doesn’t scare Randy anymore. In fact, it’s like Randy gives it justification. Permission. Validates it. Like maybe it’s hung around this whole time just so Benson could learn how to use it, for his sake. To protect him. At least until he figures out how to protect himself. 

And Randy’s learning, he is. Stands up taller, takes up space. Orders his own food at restaurants. But Benson kind of likes playing guard dog. Likes being needed in that way, and others. Likes being needed by Randy in particular. 

Benson’s already killed for him, so it’s like he’s always trying to find a way to top that. That should be hard, right, but Randy makes it easy. Gets excited over nothing, little shit like finding both their names on some dumb souvenir keychains. Or when he brings him a bag of plain fucking potato chips, his favorite. Or when Benson covers his eyes before the money shot in some gore flick because he’s a pussy and also it dredges up some shit for him that neither of them wants to think about. The way he lights up about that stuff, stupid little stuff, makes Benson feel worthwhile in a way he can’t describe. 

For all he goes on about helping Randy become the best version of himself, the version of himself who’s confident and decisive and knows who Trent Reznor is, sometimes Benson gets the feeling like maybe, Randy’s the one making him better. Not changing him, not really, just…making him kind of okay. Making it all kind of okay. There are so many things Benson’s taken for granted, never thought twice about. About himself, about his life, about where both of those things would end up and how they’d get there. Randy makes him reconsider. Makes it worth reconsidering. 

It feels wrong to stop him. Might as well let him try. What’s it gonna hurt?

Sometimes he wants to laugh in disbelief at it all. Who the fuck is he these days? Going soft right and left and glad for it. He feels like he’s on another planet. Hundreds of miles from home, no phone, no way back. Shooting towards the sun with everything he needs inside his shitty little rocket ship of a car. 

Randy’s a spaceman for sure, no question. Ever since they turned west and hit the desert, he hangs out the window when they drive at night through all that nothing, head craned back to look at the sky. 

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Benson asked him the first time, when he rolled down the window and started climbing out like a fucking lunatic. 

“Looking at the stars,” Randy said. “There’s so many, Benson…you should look.” 

“No thanks, I'm driving.” 

“I mean…you could stop first.”

“I’ve seen stars, Randy.” 

Randy was halfway out the window so his reply was almost lost to the wind. “Not like this.” 

Benson reached over and grabbed him by the pocket of his jeans. “If you fall out I’m leaving your ass behind.” 

He let Benson pull him back inside then, and stared right at him in this new way of his. This new, brave Randy who had finally shaken some of that paralyzing fear of confrontation and figured out how to be direct. “No you wouldn’t.” 

Benson had looked at him for as long as he could without drifting into the other lane, and then looked at him a little bit longer and had to course correct. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.” 

He’s right. He wouldn’t. 

Benson lets the memory slide away and finds Randy gazing up at him here and now, eyes crusted with sleep. He feels a twinge in his chest like a guitar string being plucked. The whole room is golden now. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, and even he can hear the velvet in his voice. Feels self-conscious about it for a second until he gets distracted by Randy wrinkling his nose to stave off a yawn. 

“Morning,” he murmurs, peels his cheek off Benson's chest and leaves a pink circle behind that matches the one on his face. He rubs at his eyes and gives him that dumb Disney World smile. “Sleep well?”  

“Slept great.” Benson swipes away a stray eye booger from the inside corner of Randy’s left eye. “Nice to have one single solitary night where I don't have to fight you to the death.”

Randy bites the inside of his cheek, looks bashful. Benson fucking loves it. “Well, I mean…you wore me out pretty good last night.”

Benson smirks, takes hold of the back of Randy’s neck and pulls him back into his shoulder. “Yeah I did. I oughta do that more often.”

Randy worms his arm beneath the covers and around Benson’s waist and it gives him honest-to-god butterflies. He runs his fingers through Randy’s hair. It's getting fucking long, almost falls past his ears. He keeps asking him to cut it and Benson keeps refusing. It's got this little flip at the ends that he thinks is cute. He bets it’ll grow out into gorgeous fucking waves when it hits his shoulders. 

He takes a fistful and squeezes, does that a couple times before he tugs his head up so they’re nose-to-nose. Randy’s eyelids slide half-closed and his lips part on reflex. 

“What you wanna do today?” Benson murmurs. He can feel Randy’s breath on his chin, licks his lips. 

“...just this,” Randy says, almost a whisper. 

“That’s it?”  

“Yeah.”  

“You’re not bored of this?”  

“No.”  

Benson almost smiles. “Me neither.”

He pushes Randy's head back down into the curve of his neck, rides the swell of satisfaction he gets from his frustrated groan. “Don’t worry, babe, we got all day. How about you, how’d you sleep?”  

“Good.”  His thumb moves back and forth along Benson’s hip and it’s electric, feels like he’s got lightning bolts shooting around under his skin, makes his muscles twitch. He’s still not used to that. Gentle shit like that. “Had a dream about you.”

“No shit?”  He’s not sure anyone’s ever dreamt about him before. He’s kinda flattered. “Was it hot?”  

Randy snorts. “No, it wasn’t…like that. We, uh…we were at the beach.”  

Benson screws up his eyebrows, looks down at Randy. He can’t see his face from this angle. “The beach?”  

“Yeah. We were just, like…there. Just messing around. I mean, there were other people there, but they didn’t…matter.”  

Benson doesn’t know what to make of this. “Huh. That’s it?  Just…beach day?”  

“Yeah. Well, I mean, until the end. A shark showed up and you…punched it so hard that it died.”  

Benson does a genuine double-take. “I punched a shark. And it died?”  

Now Randy twists, looks up at him, smiling. “Yeah. It was awesome.”  

It sounds kind of awesome. Benson pokes him in the ribs. “You’re a fucking dork.”  

“I’m just telling you what happened!”  

“Look, Randy, I’ve never been to the beach, but I’ve seen Jaws about one thousand times and I know for a fact a shark would swallow my ass whole. And it would eat you and not even know that it happened. I’m not saying I’m scared, I’m just saying, don’t count on me to save you from a fucking sea monster.”  

Randy doesn’t laugh and Benson looks at him and he’s making that face, that little frown and the line on his forehead that means that Benson just said something puzzling. Here we go. He tenses up without meaning to, braces for it. Grits his teeth, pops his knuckles. 

“You’ve…really never been to the beach?”  

Fuck, he hates this feeling. Like loss except you never had the thing in the first place. Like realizing maybe you’re supposed to be mourning something but you don’t really know what that something is or why it’s so important. He knows his upbringing wasn’t shit compared to Randy’s, compared to most kids’. He just wishes he could grow out of giving a shit about it. 

So he gets defensive. He always gets defensive. “No, I’ve never been to the fucking beach. What’s so super-duper special about a bunch of sand?  And water that’s mostly fish piss?”  

Randy props himself up on his elbow, leans lightly on Benson’s chest, completely unfazed by his attitude. “Well…let’s go. You can decide for yourself.”  

“To the beach?” Benson says incredulously. “Randy, we’re in fucking New Mexico.”  

“Not–not today.”  Randy waves his hand dismissively. “We can leave tomorrow. Make a beeline for California.”  

And that’s that. The magical realism of the newly reformed Randy Fucking Bradley. No pity. No shame. Just the simplest solution in the whole damn universe. 

“California.”  Benson pictures the Beach Boys and hippies on rollerskates, rolls his eyes. “Sounds dreamy.”  

“It’ll be worth it, Benson, I promise.”  Randy looks at him with those puppy-dog eyes, chews his lip, slides his arm around Benson’s waist. He knows what the fuck he’s doing, the little shit; he’s too smart for his own good. “We don’t have to stay. We can leave as soon as we get there. I just…I think you would like it.” He leans a little heavier against Benson’s ribs, nudges his foot with his toes. “Please?”  

Benson huffs. He’s not a fucking pushover, swear to God he’s not, but it’s like he can’t help but fold these days. He’s gonna spoil the guy rotten if he’s not careful. He has to at least pretend to put up a fight, just to say he tried. “What if I say no?”  

His brow furrows. The puppy-dog eyes flick down to his mouth and back. “Well...maybe I could convince you.”  

One of Benson’s eyebrows pops up. He likes the sound of that. “I’m listening.”  

Randy sits up unsteadily on the marshmallow mattress and straddles Benson’s hips, tucking his hands beneath the pillow on either side of his head. Benson looks up at him, the angles of his face kissed by the sun, and feels a pleasant sort of ache in his chest. It's almost the same feeling as when he finally gave in and pulled over and let Randy sit on the hood, leaned back next to him and looked up at the stars and felt big and small at the same time. 

“It’s amazing, Bence…you can't even imagine.”  His thighs press against Benson's waist, wrists press against his shoulders. 

“Yeah?” Benson licks his lips. His eyes can’t move fast enough, trying to take in every piece of his face, of his body, his name written all over all of it in red and purple. “Tell me about it.”  

Randy's hair is hanging over his face like a messy kind of halo. He peers through it with this earnest intensity, this lion cub ferocity that might be the hottest thing Benson's ever seen. He shifts his weight to one hand and strokes the sensitive spot behind Benson’s ear with his thumb, sends chills spidering across his skin. 

“The smell of the water and–and the sound. You never forget it. And it makes you feel…it’s massive. It’s amazing.” 

“You know what else is massive?”  

Randy stifles a chuckle, looks away, color rising in his cheeks. Benson grins. “Listen to me, Benson.”

“I'm listening!”

“It makes you feel…it makes you feel small, I guess. But not in a bad way. We could just walk around or maybe…swim a little bit?”

Benson pictures Randy with wet hair, dark and wavy, water rolling down his neck. Salt water, salty skin. “Could be nice.”

“We can do whatever you want.”  He curls his toes against Benson’s thighs. “We could get ice cream and sit in the sun.”

The image of melted sticky sugar dripping over Randy’s hand, down his arm, hits Benson like a truck. Knocks the wind right out of him. He thinks about licking it off, watching him suck it off his own fingers. He wraps his hands behind Randy's knees and grips harder than he means to. 

“That sounds, uh…that sounds good. I’m into that,” Benson says and he sounds like a moron in his own ears but it makes Randy smile so it's fine. He can feel the blood rushing away from his brain as fast as it can and he’s about ready to give in and end the discussion. Move on to other things. 

Randy gets that earnest, uncertain look in his eyes all the sudden and touches Benson's face, brushes his thumb across the lines at the corner of his eyes in this foreign kind of way that Benson’s brain registers passively as tenderness, and all the sudden he can't breathe right. His throat’s fucked up like he’s getting sick. He swallows hard. 

“I want to–I want to kiss you in the ocean,” Randy says quietly. “I think…I'd really like that.” 

So now this is the only thing Benson cares about. His number-one goal. A shining and glorious reason to be alive. He’s going to kiss Randy in the ocean if it’s the last thing he fucking does. 

“How about you kiss me right here, huh?”  He cups the back of Randy’s neck and pulls him in, hard, yanks him really, because he can’t fucking help it. Because he wants him right now, right fucking now. 

Randy resists, just a little, on reflex, and then gets overeager and his lips crash into Benson’s, but that’s okay. Randy kisses like he’s starved for it, always, no matter how long they’ve been at it. Even now, first thing in the fucking morning, he opens his mouth expectantly and moans when Benson slips his tongue past his teeth, one hand twisting the sheets, the other gripping his shoulder. He’s greedy, wants more, always more, is done depriving himself after fourteen years of solitude. 

They’re a perfect match because Benson wants to give it to him. Anything he wants, everything, always, no matter where they are or how much skin is showing. He wants to share his space, his spit, his air, his anger, every inch of the car, every inch of the sky. All the bad nights. All the good ones, too. All the golden mornings that come after. 

Benson laps at Randy’s bottom lip, catches it in his teeth and pulls. He digs his fingers into the half-healed shadow of his own hand on Randy’s waist from all the times before, opens his mouth to catch the gasp that wrenches free from his chest and swallows it whole. 

“Benson,” Randy says, breathes his name like an exclamation of wonder. He presses the length of his body against Benson’s, weaves his fingers through the curls at the back of his neck and squeezes tight. He moves his hips in short, subconscious little thrusts, makes a desperate, hungry noise in the back of his throat. Benson can feel him hard against his stomach and fuck, he better pop a handful of painkillers for his back because they’re not leaving this shitty bed anytime soon. 

Randy leans to the side so there’s a little breathing room between them. He runs his hand over Benson's chest, down his stomach, wraps his fingers around his dick and the sound Benson makes is strangled, animal. 

“We can go, right?” Randy says. He strokes him like he can barely contain himself. “We can leave tomorrow?”

Benson arches his aching spine against the bullshit fucking mattress, digs his nails into Randy's back, feels lucky. Feels like a spaceman. 

“Fuck yes. Fuck–yes–you got it, baby.”

Randy lights up and it's like staring into the sun. Transcendent. Fucking beautiful. 

He twists out of Benson's grasp and ducks beneath the sheets and Benson can't fucking stand it. Can’t believe it’s real. He feels weightless, so light he just might end up way out there with all the stars. Nothing comes close to this, never has, never will. It’s not fair. He probably doesn’t deserve it. But no one ever said life was fair, now, did they?  Sooner or later the odds had to end up in your favor.

He closes his eyes and grips the sheets and lets it be, lets it all be for once. Because for once, it's good. He's good. He's great. And they’re leaving tomorrow. For California.

Sounds dreamy. 

tagging a couple friends who have gassed me up and been so patient sdlkfjlsk i just adore you guys <3

@crumb @ace-of-hearts-and-spades @cherubgore

[yellowroseswrites]

yo. so i just saw that spencer x reader you wrote featuring an ED. i was wondering if maybe you could write it as an imagine/one shot/whatever but from a different perspective? im struggling with losing weight unintentionally due to drug use and its starting to scare me. last time i was this thin i did have an ED. so would you be able to do one where the reader is just as concerned as spencer about their weight loss? maybe he helps find foods that work for them, encourages them to eat, etc? id love it of spence were cheering me on to finish a bowl of cereal (⋟﹏⋞)

"One more bite?"

Spencer Reid x Reader

Author's notes - {I have quite literally no clue if this is good or accurate, but I did my very best. I did a little research but I still wrote it very vague to avoid as much invalidating as possible. I hope this brings at least a little comfort, and my apologies for any and all inaccuracies}

TW- {Plenty of eating talk, reader eats, Spencer eats, they eat cereal, milk is mentioned, past eating issues are mentioned but barely, Pulp Fiction is mentioned, probably inaccuracies about movies, Dead Poets Society mention, there's a 420 joke but it's from Spencer so it's not really said as a joke, Autistic Spencer Reid, but that's just how I write him,not proofread, if there's any more lmk! love you all please eat some food and drink some water lovelies <3}

“I’m not hungry.”

God, it sounded so sad on your tongue. You wished you could just eat, you really did. You weren’t like you used to be, you didn’t want to be like this. You just wanted to eat.

Spencer’s face fell, but only a bit. He was used to this by now to, your body working against you. Your body craved things that would destroy it, but it refused to accept the things it needed, like food. It was scary for you, and it was positively horrifying for Spencer. He was watching you fight back, but wither away anyway, and he hated it.

"I know you aren't, but it's important that you eat it."

You groaned in annoyance. You knew Spencer was helping, but it was the same thing you've heard over and over again.

Reid seemed to think a bit before moving again, this time pouring milk into his own bowl before putting away the milk and the cereals, (fruit loops for you and raisin bran for him, which he insists helps him remember things during cases).

He came back to his bowl and started eating in front of you, "You like Tarantino movies right?"

"Uh, some of them, why?"

While you spoke he took a bite of his food, signaling with his spoon for you to do the same. Once you grabbed your spoon, he spoke again.

"Did you know that almost every clock in Pulp fiction is set to 4:20? Some people have said that they only have 2 scenes where they are set differently, but to be honest I've never seen it so I wouldn't know."

"Wait a minute," You said, "You have never seen Pulp Fiction?"

"That's what you got from that?"

"Who hasn't seen Pulp Fiction? It's a classic!" You took another bite of the cereal.

"That's what you said about Dead Poets Society." Spencer replied.

To be fair, he had read the book. He knew everything that would happen, it was definitely not your fault he spent the whole time pointing out things they got wrong. You simply nodded your head at his reply, messing with the fruit loops left spinning in your bowl.

"Wanna take one more bite for me?" 

There was barely any left in the bowl, half of you wanted to fight back, and half knew it was stupid and that Reid wanted the same thing you did. You took the bite and slid the bowl over to him, which he quickly took with his to the sink. 

"Ok," You stood up from your seat at the table, "We are totally going to watch it now."

Spencer giggled at your excitement, walking over to you and kissing your forehead. "Uh-hu. Go turn it on, I'll be in in a second."

 

You turned to walk over to the couch when Reid stopped you again, 

"And hey, I'm proud of you."

He gave you a quick smile before you walked off again, and his smile only grew as he washed your empty bowl.

[sadie-bug345]

the gang as breakfast foods😟👹‼️

now ik i already did cereals but I REALLY LIKE BREAKFAST so let’s go💀

ponyboy:

gives me like eggo waffles realness

my guy is a hardworking academic WEAPON and he a runner he a track star🙄

so you’re probably assuming he’d need a complete breakfast

nope 😃

just a couple chocolate chip eggo waffles that are still slightly frozen in the middle and a pack of cigs is all he needs

5/10 he stays consistent

johnny:

he seems like a bacon and sausage kinda guy

but he can’t get it that often cause he’s #neglected

BUT darry knows how much he loves having a filling meal so he’ll make him a big ol brekky on his bday and stuff

also maybe oatmeal?? but like gross he doesn’t put anything on it so it’s just hot grains😭

3/10 struggle meals are struggling

sodapop:

i haven’t reread the book in a hot minute but wasn’t there smth abt him making green pancakes🤨😟

guy seems like the type to just root around in the kitchen for any sort of edible substance and considers it breakfast

like he’d make some frozen mini corn dogs just cause he knows how to use the microwave😭😭😭

6/10 for the zero thoughts just vibes

darry:

OATMEAL

and he calls it “cereal”🧍‍♀️

either that or raisin bran/kix typa cereal

BUT he actually puts stuff in his oatmeal like fruit or brown sugar

its def a vibe and he can whip up breakfast so fast it’s crazy

7/10 we love the father figure🏃‍♀️

dally:

doesn’t eat breakfast period.

/j

BUT if he does he’d eat like some sorta egg mcmuffin like he seems a hot breakfast kinda guy

despite this, cereal 24/7 some apple jacks are enough fuel for him

idk if yall have seen that deleted scene from the outsiders on youtube where he johnny and pony are all at a diner and he’s like “lemme drink mah cawfee” in that new york accent😩 ANYWAYS

he seems like the kinda dude to just drink black coffee and smoke a pack of cigs🧍‍♀️

but yeah cereal every meal

9/10 bro is him🤷‍♀️

two-bit:

this is so 2018 wattpad coded but chocolate cake and a beer

cause he is lowk an alcoholic which is not ok pls get help two butt🙏😔

but he lowk doesn’t need any more energy

just wakes up and decides to be a menace everyday

he seems like the type to make a single slice of white toast and then just DUMP NUTELLA all over it

8/10 zero nutritional value💀🫶

steve

surprisingly set when it comes to breakfast

he seems like an overnight oats/yoghurt and granola typa dude

on the run though he just chugs a gogurt i’m sorry😭

also probably a juice lover he gives orange juice kinda guy

10/10 my mom would be proud🙏🥰

THIS WAS FUN!! request hcs or imagines please‼️‼️ (also i’m currently working on ones in my inbox so don’t u worry pooks🥰)

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

i think im gonna eat my soggy raisin bran and write actually. fuck it. does anyone want to see writing? its arcane

[nightowlwoman]

My Thoughts on a Spring Snowstorm in Maine.

In case anyone was wondering where I've been the past few days -- Maine (where I live) was hit by a massive Spring Snowstorm that started late in the evening of Wednesday, April 3rd, and continued until mid-day on Friday, April 5th. In our area - somewhat northwest of Portland - the accumulation of heavy, wet snow amounted to 12" to 15".

We lost the power (along with some 300,000 other households) some time in the early hours of Thursday, April 4th. Repair crews made it to our street this morning and electricity was restored to us by 10:30 a.m. After a bit less than 3 days managing without electricity, heat, running water, a functioning septic system, hot coffee and, of course, internet service and other modern amenities -- my husband and I were very, very happy to be returned to the 21st century!

However, I have been reminded, once again, of all the people in this world of ours who are struggling to live without what we consider the basic necessities of life - much less the modern amenities and comforts we are so fortunate to enjoy. My husband and I had food to eat that didn't need cooking (PB&J, bread, cheese, muffins & raisin bran cereal), bottles of clean water, flashlights and candles and extra matches and batteries. We had plenty of warm clothes for layering and extra blankets for warmth when we went to bed. We had a sturdy roof over our heads and felt safe in our dark and quiet neighborhood. Most importantly, we had the knowledge that there were people working out in the storm to fix things and the absolute certainty that in a few days, at most, things would be returning to normal! How awful it is to know that so many people in our world today have none of these things and, tragically, little to no hope of their lives returning to the normal they once knew. Solutions are neither easy nor simple - what is necessary is good will, kindness and generosity of spirit and action from most of us - not just some of us. I persist in clinging to the belief that while there is life, there is hope - but sometimes the world makes it very hard to continue to believe.

The worst thing about this last hurrah of Winter given to us as a slightly tardy April Fool's gift by Mother Nature is the terrible damage done to the trees and shrubs and plants - all budded and waiting for Spring warmth to open - to leaf and flower. My neighborhood is filled with giant pine trees - very old and straight and tall. The ground is now covered with their branches, from small to huge. The maples and oaks and birches fared little better. When the snow finally melts, the sound of many people and their chainsaws clearing it all will fill the air. From my kitchen window, I can see a huge pine now missing its top half - snapped like a matchstick! Amazingly, it didn't fall on the house that sits near it. I don't think the tree can survive that damage, but it will require a crew of professionals to safely take down what remains.

The smaller plantings also were heavily damaged. A row of small-leaf rhododendrons that we planted nearly 40 years ago - that have survived countless snow and ice storms over the years - are lying bent to the ground by the weight of the snow. Far too many of their branches are snapped and broken away - it remains to be seen what may survive of them and be salvageable. I and countless pollinators and hummingbirds will miss their sweet, pink beauty this Spring!

A lilac varietal that we planted over ten years ago looks to have lost almost all its branches. We had been told it was a "miniature" variety that would stay small, so we planted it in front of our walkway porch. This lilac ignored its label and embraced growth with an enthusiastic abandon - reaching the porch roof, aiming for the sky and the sun. I resisted trimming it back - even as it obscured the view and overhung the railing onto the walkway, because it's purple flowers were so abundant, so fragrant and so beautiful - well, I just couldn't bring myself to limit its zest for life! It blossomed after the rhododendrons, when the weather was warmer and the windows were open, and its fragrance filled the whole house. I shall miss everything about that lilac that is still so young and hope that enough of it survives to eventually grow and blossom again.

Our single broad-leaf rhododendron, thankfully, seems to have weathered this storm with minimal damage. It has not been so lucky multiple times over the last nearly 40 years! It is battered and yet unbowed! I am hopeful that we will be able to enjoy its bouquet-sized blossoms this Spring!

I haven't had the chance yet to assess the damage to various lilacs and forsythia - the snow needs to melt and time will tell. The "grande old dame" of our lilacs, however, took some heavy wounds - not for the first time, either. This lilac has very fragrant and abundant white blossoms and was growing here before we built our house. It has lost major branches, been split in half in a massive ice storm - but it is a survivor and has always healed and continued to grow and blossom - even as it has assumed a different shape and silouette each time. It looks like it may lose about one-third of itself this time, but it's too soon to tell. Some major branches are snapped right off and many more are flat to the ground and trapped in the snow. As I watched it today, one long branch that was held by a lighter layer of snow seemed to break free and flung itself skyward and managed to stay upright on its own - a hopeful sign! When it is completely freed, we will lend it some support where necessary, perhaps do a little trimming and I trust it will heal itself and we will all get used to the new iteration of its appearance.

There has been a lot going on for me and my husband and family throughout 2023 and so far in 2024 - with no end in sight. Multiple crises, small and large, have been overwhelming at times and have occupied much of my mind and my time. These last few days, however, have had a narrow and more simple focus. The problems weren't really personal, because they were shared by so many. I went to bed early because my old eyes don't do well by candlelight and because it was warmer under a stack of blankets! I slept long and well and recharged my old battery. I had no control over events and, thus, no need to fret or feel responsible for it. Considering that I am a world-class fretter and worrier - that was a novel experience for me! Most of all, I had some very quiet time to think and just be.

I have experienced many difficult and painful things over the years and continue to do so, but if I've learned one thing in my 72 years, it is that things can always be worse! My experience of this storm certainly could have been much worse. Except for my dismay over damage caused by the storm - and Nature will eventually heal and be restored (with a little help from us) - looking at the last few days honestly - they weren't really all that bad at all! That being said - I am totally ready for the snow to melt and for Spring to finally arrive!

[woltourney]

ROUND 1 / SIDE A / POLL 14

B'rsh Bran (@boileddogchicken) v. Angel (@afflatusviscera)

B'rsh Bran:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. B'rsh Bran (she/her)

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Miqo'te

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. Red Mage

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. N/A

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. B'rsh is very easygoing and loves messing with her friends. She became a hero in order to honor her father who died fighting against Garlemald. She aims to be an inspiration to others who want to be heroes, but sometimes she goes a little overboard when fighting against those who seek to harm the people she cares about. She tries not to show it but she sometimes scares herself when she goes all out.

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. hiiiiii!!! i, B'rsh Bran, should win because i am wonderful and everyone who ever meets me loves me :3 i am the best red mage ever and i bring a sort of "cool aunt vibe" to the party (pay no mind to the fact that i also bring an "i can't believe b'rsh needs to be raised AGAIN" vibe to the party) but yeah anyways if i win i might even share some of my favorite food, raisins! (this is a BIG deal, i loooove my raisins and almost never share them, but don't let that give you the idea that i'm selfish, i share plenty of other things!)

q. Anything else you wanna add? a. B'rsh's character playlist includes such hits as Shuffle or Boogie (the triple triad song), Go Kitty Go, and Belgian techno anthem Pump Up The Jam

Angel:

q. What is your WoL name and pronouns? a. Angel (he/him it/its)

q. What is your WoL's species? a. Viera

q. What is your WoL's class? Or classes? a. Paladin & Dark Knight

q. What data centre/server are you on, if you want people to find you? a. Aether

q. Tell us a bit about your WoL! a. Conscripted into Garlemald's imperial army at the young age, Angel's life is filled with turmoil. His echo awakening soon after his defection from the legion, he quickly finds himself wrapped up in the affairs of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Though Angel is hailed as Eorzea's champion and Hydaelyn's chosen warrior he slowly starts to loathe his role as a hero. He hates the hand he was dealt in life and wishes to be free of the burden. In spite of this, Angel's journey is that of finding joy and purpose in the face of his despair. Angel enjoys friendly blood sports (PvP) and is an amateur culinarian, he also has a secret fondness for tea with milk and sugar. While he is incredibly troubled and addled with issues he tries to find happiness in the small things in life.

q. Why should YOU win? (Answer IC!) a. (Angel shakes his head and looks away shyly, it is unclear if actually wants anyone to vote for him…)

q. Anything else you wanna add? a. Please enjoy my awful sopping wet creature. Hydaelyn's most un-obliteratable twink. I hate (love) him.

[treetownconfessions]

htf who picks out all the raisins in raisin bran bc its disgusting as fuck

no this is real asf i have never met anyone younger than a millenial who likes raisins

raisins by THEMSELVES are good. raisins in other food are bad.

[ohbeffinitely]

does raisin bran count as old man cereal? i rarely eat cereal normally (usually dry like a child bc lactose ouchy) but when i do its RAISIN BRAN CRUNCH ALL THE WAY with one (1!) small spoon of sugar on top

IT ABSOLUTELY DOES TOP TIER OLD MAN CEREAL except when the raisins get stuck in your teeth and then that's also ouchy

[lemonboytea]

Calorie Intake Diary - week 7 🍋🍵🍃

Daily Limit: 999.6 calories/9 months

(~276 days)

Goal: 102 Ibs

Start: 148.8 Ibs (04/03/24)

○Day 43 - 567.5/143.2 Ibs

Raisin Bran + Cashew Milk - 215 calories

Coolaid 🫐 - 20 calories

Sandwich- 282.5 calories

Seaweed Snacks - 20 calories (X2)

Hugs Fruit Drink🫐 - 5 calories

Snapple (0 sugar)🍑 1/2 - 5 calories

♡ Left Over: 432.1

~

○Day 44 - 955.4/143.8 Ibs

White Cheddar Cheez-its - 190.4 calories

Raman - 550 calories

Snapple (0 sugar)🍑 1/2 - 5 calories

Classic Crisps - 140 calories (X 1.5)

♡ Left Over: 44.2

~

○Day 45 - 550/143.8 Ibs

Clam Chowder - 390 calories

Pineapple slice - 30 calories (X4)

♡ Left Over: 449.6

~

○Day 46 - 955/142.8 Ibs

5-layer 1/2 - 250 calories

Chicken Power Bowl - 420 calories

Seaweed Snacks - 20 calories (X2)

Crab Snacks - 80 calories

Hugs Fruit Drink🍒 - 5 calories

Taco Bell - 160 calories

♡ Left Over: 44.6

~

○Day 47 - 960/142.4 Ibs

Chicken Power Bowl - 420 calories (X2)

12 oz sweet tea - 120 calories

♡ Left Over: 39.6

~

○Day 48 - 970/143.2 Ibs

Chicken Power Bowl - 420 calories

Clam Chowder - 390 calories

Vitamin Gummy - 6.67 calories

♡ Left Over: 182.93

~

○Day 49 - (CHEAT DAY!!!)/143.2 Ibs

♧Available: 23.86/1193.03♧

🍗/🥦/🧀/🥔 Chowder - 430 calories

Seaweed Snacks- 20 calories (X7)

Waffle+Syrup - 92.5 calories

Lemon Tea+Honey - 50 calories

Crab Snacks - 80 calories

Bai 🍒 - 10 calories

Crisps - 280 calories

Vitamin Gummy - 6.67 calories

Chicken Noodle Soup - 150 calories

Exercise + 350 calories

Left Over: RESET

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

absolutely unhinged Top 5 Beatdown things that have me feral:

besides the fact that nobody mentioned jackalopes or the fresno nightcrawler while not mentioning the basis of thunderbirds in native american lore

Garret’s entire being when he comes in. Soft boi!

Ryan and Shane’s old straight married couple vibes continuing

Ryan calling out Annie for dropping the shot.

“my balls are not cryptids” “oh that’s my whole list”

“it lies to people?” “and it talks”

“it bites its own ass”

“that’s probably the worst snake i’ve seen since that penis snake”

“i don’t know what that means and i don’t want to know. don’t expound up on it. don’t let him do this! he’s just going to show you his penis, this is what he does” cue ryan losing his shit

ryan visibly restraining himself from commenting about shane’s bird

“akin to a pumpkin spice latte”

dunsten checks in for the second time this season

“beautiful rendering”

they can go into a jar

it’s not outlandish to be like, maybe it’s hiding in that 95%

how giant? big! big big big!

you know what else they thought were strange sea monsters--whale penis! let me show you a picture

ryan looks at shane’s phone despite the fact he should know better by now

raisin bran nessie

nessie flipping the bird

humps in the water--yeah, BACK humps, not like--

mongolian death worm

garrett and ryan having a full conversation about checking their backseats for killers while shane goes through the six stages of grief

“you always wanna talk about your worm!”

garrett regretting his life choices as shane talks about eating worms

“i love! this worm!”

shane’s delight at the reveal of the vegetable lamb of tartary. “how very whimsical!”

plants don’t have mouths or vocal cords so they might be screaming

you guys want to harm these cryptids

“what if it was just like a fucked up guy”

mothman callback to the mothman call in the bu mothman episode

ryan and shane still impressed with the mothman statue’s ass

ryan and shane once again being given a trajectory for what straight dudes act like and missing by a mile

ryan asking for a picture of mothman’s ass

“no, don’t give him that”

ryan reassuring him no it’s good dude

then the whole sidebar about nightwing’s ass

swamp santa

“you MUST go, it is absolutely delightful“ said in the tone of a rich WASP talking about taking summers at martha’s vineyard

the sad realization that the boys haven’t been to the mothman festival and garrett turning down that offer

good guy, great statue, very erotic

“in deepest java, there is a wing’d creature”

ryan comparing his hand to garrett and shane’s

taken to GOD knows where

get your fuckin hand out of my face

seems like you want to see a lot of their genitals

“well no, from a scientific--” “no don’t bring your pervy stuff in here”

[angelkids]

i would gladly eat raisin bran cereal if they put brian in it.. instead of the corn flakes or whatever its just thousands of tiny little brians Yum

[wolfstrong]

to be honestly honest I cannot blame the Spuffy girlies for going crazzzzyyyy cuz like in season 4 Buffys romantic interest is Riley and their interactions are about as exciting as Raisin Bran with soy milk but then evvveeerrrryyyy once in a while Spike and Buffy interact and maybe flirt justtt a little and the chemistry is just like palpable and sexual tension is flying off the walls and its like okay idk if that every true but when we compare it to whats going on with Riley its like holy shit. cool drink of water and fresh breath of air etc ect. Riley's cardboard boxyness is making me long for Angel's thrilling personality and charisma.