#and then take that ratty tshirt for myself

[ballpitwitch]

Keanu Reeves The ARCH Origin Story

[whatisreggieshortfor]

Perfect Birthday Celebration

With the help of @csmicletters and @sunshinejihyun , this is for your birthday @justtuesdays ! Happy birthday love 💛🥳

Tim finally convinced Renny a day off is what she needs. And he knows exactly how to spend it.

Tim x MC

Renny finally had a day off.

Given, she had requested the day at Tim’s behest, he was all up in arms that she hadn’t had a day off in months and needed to take her birthday off so they could ‘celebrate properly’.

But she was mentally drained. She didn’t want to go out and dance or whatever it was he had planned. She glared at the outfit she had set aside for the night, much more comfortable in her sweatpants and old uni shirt than she would be in a mini skirt and sparkly top, her fuzzy socks feeling miles better on her feet than the stilettos sitting next to the hanging outfit. It was only five. She figured she had at least three more hours of comfort before Tim would be here and she needed to dress up, which meant she had roughly two and a half before her hair and make up routine.

Except there was suddenly his signature hammering knock on the door of her flat not even fifteen minutes later.

Nervously tugging on her ponytail, she raced to the door, barely getting it open before he was pressing a kiss to her cheek and pushing his way inside with an overstuffed paper grocery bag and the backpack he always used to store his gaming equipment.

Renny was no longer sure what they were doing today, so as her boyfriend started connecting his Nintendo to her tv she looked him over, noticing his ratty old tshirt and even older sweats before she finally asked, “What’s happening?”

Tim stopped where he was untangling a cord, still crouched on her living room floor as he looked up at her, “Whaddaya mean, love? What’s happening with what?”

She gestured wildly at what he was doing, distress starting to paint her features as her mind was still too exhausted to work it out on her own, “This! What is this?”

Tim laughed, hopping up and pulling her into his chest, “Babe, I thought we could have a night in.”

“A night… in? I thought you wanted to have a proper celebration.” She blinked owlishly up at him, and Tim felt his heart ache at the fatigue he could see coloring her beautiful features.

But he gave her a chuckle all the same, “Let’s start with this,” brushing the wispy hairs that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ears as he reached up and pulled the hair tie loose, “You know this bloody thing will give you a headache.”

She giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek as they held each other, silently acknowledging that he was right, “What about dressing up and going for a drink or something?”

Tim pulled back with a dramatic gasp, “And lose this gorgeous image? Absolutely not. This is my favorite way to see you.” Any other guy, she’d think he was lying. But not Tim, never Tim. Not when the adoration always filled his eyes when she could match him for burgers scarfed up when their date turned into an eating contest or when she spit verses to his flow as they lounged on the couch and he was stumped for the next lines or when they would go to the arcade dressed just like they are now and shove each other while they played games that weren’t even two player until the worker kicked them out only to tell them he’d see them again in a work. No one ever struck down her concerns and doubts like Tim did. Especially as he opened his mouth again, “Besides, love, I thought to myself ‘how would my lady want to spend her big day?’ And dressing up and wearing shoes that pinch and hurt your feet most definitely didn’t even hit the list.”

She laughed brightly, feeling like he heard her thoughts about that damned outfit, but knowing he really just understood her. “So what is on our agenda?”

Tim beamed brighter, hand snapping forward to lightly dig into her side, pulling a squeal from her as she tried to bolt from the tickles only to be caught in his arms, “I’m glad you asked! First, we have some drinks on the menu, pizza is ordered and on the way,” he started digging into the bag, pulling out her favorite wine- a bottom shelf strawberry travesty that her father cringed at every time she bought it around him- along with her favorite snacks, some that he must’ve even had to import from the countries she visited on her father’s military bases. She looked at him with sparkling eyes, anticipating what she realized was coming next, and he looked back with glee in his own gaze, “We’re gonna sit on this couch, stuff ourselves with garbage, and I’m gonna thrash you on these games.”

Her eyes shifted, glinting with competitiveness instead of adoration, “Oh, you think so, do you?”

He winked, knowing he was just egging her on, “You know I will, love.”

“Oh, it’s on, you bellend, bring it!”

Renny took care of laying out the snacks while Tim went back to organizing the cords. When the pizza arrived, she moved to grab her wallet- only for Tim to literally throw it across her apartment, “It is your birthday. You aren’t paying for anything, who do you take me for?” He playfully glared at her as he took care of the pizza man, leaving her collapsing into laughter on her couch at his trademark absurdity.

And to her (very mild) surprise, he placed two large pizzas on the coffee table next to the snacks. “I’ll pour us some wine, and then you know what it’s time for?”

Renny couldn’t contain her smile as she looked at the man she loved, “You really want me to kick your ass in all the things tonight?”

Tim laughed, grabbing the goblets he’d bought for her at some nerd gaming event they’d gone to together from her kitchen before unscrewing the wine, “I’m sure gonna watch you try. Got you peppers and onions, just like ya love!”

“Yessss!” She cheered, clapping her hands giddily, like she ever doubted he knew exactly what she’d want, and taking a big sip when he presented her goblet first before letting out a big sigh of relief as she finally fully relaxed, “Do I ever tell you that you’re the best?”

“Only every day, love.” He winked, opening the boxes to let the food cool before they started racing through it.

Renny grinned, undeterred, “Well, you are the best, Timye. I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, before pulling back with a wild grin, “You ready for this?”

She hopped up from where she leaned into the back of the couch, prepping herself, “Let’s do this!”

She beat him by half a slice as she swallowed down her last bite, he was too distracted by their trash talk to realize he had fallen behind before her hands were thrown up. “Yes! I win!”

He nodded, finishing the last of his own pizza, “Great job, baby. No one can out eat me like you do.”

“Game time?” Renny questioned, grease still smeared across her lips as she smiled at him- Tim could swear his heart melted as he looked at his dream girl.

“Game time. You get first pick.” Her answer was devilish smirk as she immediately raced to dig through his bag, pulling out the game he already expected.

Mario Kart.

Renny pushed Tim back with her elbow as he leaned into her shoulder shoving her as their cars swerved around Rainbow Road on the screen, before her Luigi beat him across the finish line as his Mario spun out over the edge, “YES!” She jumped up, damn near throwing him to the floor, “Take that! No one beats Luigi! He’s the better brother!”

“I can beat Luigi against anyone that isn’t you,” Tim laughed, pulling her back down and pressing a kiss to her head, “How are you feeling now, love?”

“Sooooo good.” She grinned, “I’ve beaten you twice tonight, and it’s still the most relaxed I’ve been in months.”

“Good. Happy birthday, baby.” He pulled her into his side, letting her lull herself into relaxation before their game night would continue.

It was her first night off in months, and she may have been mentally exhausted, but Tim knew just what she needed. He always did.

Masterlist

[mintaka14]

Fic Snippets

@goldenlaurelleaveswrites tagged me for this.

Rules: Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or a few), and share it! Then tag people!

I’m not sure who hasn’t been tagged yet. No pressure to these people if they don’t want to, but taggin @freedom-shamrock @trixxiephantomhive @airi-p4

So, here goes, in order of posting:

O Fortuna (this one is NSFW and ML AU Lukanette)

When she turned back, though, Luka was leaning calmly against the altar, unaffected by the fading static in the air. He was watching her with a look in his deep blue eyes that never failed to bring a blush to her cheeks. The slow, private smile that curled the corners of his mouth was a whole different kind of intense.

“He’s not wrong – those songs don’t do you justice,” he said, his voice dropping in a way that sent a shiver through her. “That was so hot.”

Don’t Go Down By Carter Hall (ML AU Lukanette)

He bit back a smile at the confirmation that Marinette was more than she seemed.

“I come from an interesting family,” he shrugged. “Ma… well, she’s always followed the call of her music and the sea, but you don’t get much more pragmatic than my Ma. Her ma, though… my granny, she had the second sight. It runs in the family, and odd things turn up in our bloodline from time to time. There are plenty of songs about Couffaines who followed their music and their hearts to strange places.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to,” Marinette said in exasperation, and Luka grinned down at his guitar.

“No, I don’t have to,” he agreed. “Do you really want me to go?”

Get In and Drive (ML AU Lukanette)

“No word of a lie, I’ve played the accordion. In public, what’s more, although guitar is still my first love.”

“Guitarist… I could see that.” She ran a glance over him that he felt down to his bones, lingering on his dyed hair and piercings. “I could see you pulling off the whole rockstar glam thing, although you might want to go for a different shirt,” she giggled again, eyeing the ratty tshirt he’d pulled on that morning, and her smile grew wider. “Or are you the music nerd who posts guitar covers on youtube and knows every word of all the obscure indie classics?”

“Music nerd, definitely. You can test me on the lyrics,” he said, grinning back at her.

Locked Out (ML AU Lukanette)

“I met one of your neighbours,” he said in a daze, and Juleka’s eyebrows rose. “Dark hair, said she knows you from work, climbs like a ninja, legs like you wouldn’t believe, and god, those blue eyes…”

Juleka’s brows rose further. “Marinette was here? Wait, climbs like a ninja?”

“Yeah,” Luka sighed happily. He probably should ask Marinette out to dinner at least once before he proposed. He was pretty sure that was the right thing to do. He probably should introduce himself to her first.

See the Light (ML Lukanette)

“Tell me if you don’t want this,” he insisted. His ocean blue eyes were still on her, giving her that look that saw more than they should, and Marinette remembered sixteen year old Luka telling her You can tell me everything, or nothing if you prefer as he held her while she fell apart. And she’d wanted to tell him everything. She’d come within a breath of spilling all her secrets and risking the safety of everyone she cared about to keep him.

Looking into his eyes now, Marinette had a bad feeling that the man Luka had become would be even harder to walk away from than the sweet sixteen year old boy he’d been. So it was just as well that Rose and her Sparkly Sense was way off base.

“What have I gotten myself into?” she sighed.

Coryphee (ML Ballet AU Lukanette)

“Marinette was here earlier,” she said to the screen, and Luka paused in the middle of trying to take off his shoes.

“Was she okay?”

Juleka shrugged. “She didn’t say. Just asked if you were around. What the hell is going on with you two?”

Luka sighed and dropped onto the couch beside Juleka, running a hand through his stiff and sweaty hair.

“Marinette’s been having a tough time with a bitch in the ballet corps,” he told her. “She’s spreading rumours about Mari, and tried to get me involved today.”

“And you just left Mari instead of walking home with her? So you could go on a date?” Juleka sat up straight and glared at him. “No wonder she looked like death when she got here.”

“Adrien was going to drive her home!” he protested, and Juleka’s glare grew fiercer.

“What kind of gobshite moron are you?”

Stars and Fire (Fushigi Yuugi)

Daisuke was following Marin, who trailed her fingers over the mossy stones of the wall as they climbed. Near the top, she paused at a beautiful bas-relief carving and traced the sweep of a magnificent feathered tail curving over the peonies and flowers.

Daisuke gave an involuntary shudder, and Marin glanced back at him.

“Are you alright?”

He tried to smile. “It’s that damn firebird again. I’m seeing it everywhere.”

“Well, it is Suzaku’s country,” Marin told him. “His image tends to show up a bit. Why does it bother you?”

“I don’t know,” Daisuke shrugged. “I just feel like it’s watching me. It’s got this look in its eye like my brother gets when he thinks I’ve screwed up.”

Marked (ML Lukanette)

Luka reached across the table to grab a bottle of water, and she found herself staring at the seemingly random patterns of the mystery tattoo wrapped around his wrist. She knew that pattern. She knew it like the back of her hand, and suddenly it felt like all the air had been stolen from her lungs.

“Mari?” someone was asking, as if from a long way away.

She felt a hand on her shoulder – Luka’s hand.

“Marinette, are you okay?”

Wingwoman (ML Lukanette)

Alya waved that away.

“She’s just getting distracted because she thinks that Adrien is hooking up with Kagami now, but if we can just get Marinette alone with Adrien so she can confess, then he’ll fall in love with Marinette and they can double date with me and Nino and be happy ever after, and she doesn’t have to settle.”

Behind her fringe, Juleka frowned. Settle? That was her brother that Alya was dismissing as a poor second.

A Time and a Place (ML Lukanette)

“Stop!” Chat shouted. He clapped his hands over his ears and then dropped them again, glaring at the taller boy. “I get it.”

“Do you?” Viperion raised an eyebrow, his eyes still cold. He stepped back, glancing over his shoulder to where Ladybug was watching them with a deep frown. “We still have a battle to fight here, and the lady is waiting.”

[strawnarrries]

Stuck

Summary: You get stuck in an elevator with your least favorite person on campus.

Requested: yup

POV: 1st

Warning(s): oral sex and intercourse 

I took a deep and readjusted my bag on my shoulder as I pressed the circular button to the elevator, waiting patiently for it to arrive. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, about 9:30 AM. I had a history test on Monday so I decided that I was going to go down to my favorite local coffee shop and study there. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open revealing Niall, probably my least favorite person on campus. I internally sighed and walked into the elevator, standing on the opposite side as him.

"Is this?" he trailed, peaking at the hallway the elevator stopped at, "No, needa go down one more." 

"You goin' t' 1?" I asked, pressing on the first-floor button.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Me too." 

I hated Niall. He was the campus's known fuckboy. He was so hot, but he was such a player. We've talked a couple of times but only with school-related stuff. I was glad he didn't give me the attention most girls got. I always hear stories about him and I see the way he treats girls. It is disgusting and disrespectful. He's a sweet talker and every girl falls for a sweet talker. He'll lead them on and eventually get them into his bed before never speaking to them again.  Oh, and don't even get me started on how cocky he is. 

I really didn't want to be alone in this elevator with him but I just hoped and prayed that he wouldn't speak to me and the ride would go by fast. The elevator dinged before it began to move down, my tummy slightly dropping at the sudden movement. I stared at the floor numbers dropping, praying for them to speed up. All of a sudden, there was a loud crash and the whole elevator shook slightly, causing both of us to grab onto the railing that lined the room immediately. The shaking wasn't enough to make us lose our balance, but it sure did startle us.

"What was that?" I asked, eyes wide as I stared at him. 

"I dunno, but it doesn't feel like we're movin' anymore," he replied. 

"Great," I chuckled sarcastically, "So we're stuck in here?" 

"I think," he hummed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing quickly on it before humming, "I don't have service."

Immediately, I dug into my back and pulled out my phone, seeing that the top left corner of my screen read no service before I murmured, "I don't either."  

"Uhh," he hummed, taking a step towards all of the buttons on the left side of the elevator before pressing one of the bottom ones, "We can call someone."  

Nothing happened after the first time he pressed the call button, so he pressed it a couple more times and finally, we heard a muffled voice through the tiny speaker looking thing next to the call button. 

"Hey, uh, I t'ink we're stuck in da elevator, t'ink it stopped movin'," Niall responded. 

"Okay, what happened?" the lady on the other end asked. 

"Dere was like a loud crash and den it shook a liddle." 

"Okay, we'll get some people out there. Jus' hang tight for a liddle bit." 

"T'anks." he replied before leaning back against the railing again. 

I was pissed. Of course, all the people to be stuck in an elevator with and I get Niall. I just prayed that we wouldn't be in here long and that he wouldn't talk to me at all. I let my head gently fall against the wall, taking a deep breath in and out, preparing myself for a long next couple of hours. I glanced up at him and saw him hang his head low, staring at the ground we stood on, licking his lips. Minutes passed and the awkward tension in the room just kept building and building.

"Sooo, how are ya?" he chuckled awkwardly. 

"Was doin' fine 'til now," I giggled softly. I hated him but I wasn't going to be rude to him. 

"Me too," he giggled back, flashing me his pearly white teeth. 

There were a couple seconds of silence because neither of us knew what to say. I just hoped that he didn't keep talking to me but I really did not want to talk to him. 

"So, where were ya headin'?" he asked.

"I was gonna go down t' that coffee shop down the street an' study fer my history test on Monday but I needed t' pick up my book because I left it in the library yesterday."  

"Ah, I've definitely done dat more den a couple o' times," he chuckled softly, "Did it more den once in one week. Marxson was pissed." 

"Oh, that's not good," I giggled. 

The conversation kept trailing onto new topics and I was surprised at how sweet and funny he was. I had my guard up because I know Niall and I know what he does. But I was seeing a side of him that I never knew he had. He was very interested in me. Unlike many dates that I've been on with guys, not that this was a date, Niall asked me questions instead of just talking about himself the whole time. It shocked me because, after all of the stories I've heard about him and how I've seen him talk to girls, I would have never guessed he was this thoughtful and this funny. 

I began to butterflies in my tummy as we talked. He was so cute and so sweet. No wonder he gets all the girls. I couldn't believe the things my mind was wandering to. My mind was swirling with thoughts as I glanced down at his lips, watching him talk. I wanted to kiss him and feel his lips against mine. My heart was racing and my mind was tipsy on him. The conversation began to die down and there were a couple minutes of silence and staring down at feet before I heard him speak up.

"I see ya lookin' at me lips, (Y/N)," his voice dropped an octave and his usual, gorgeous, sea blue eyes were overtaken by a thick layer of lust.  

My heart began profusely beating out of my chest, my cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. I was speechless. I didn't know how to react or what was going to happen next. I didn't know what was happening to me. Never in a million years did I think I would have these feelings for Niall Horan, my least favorite person on campus. I so badly wanted to feel those soft, pink, plump lips molded with mine. I wanted to feel his tongue explore my mouth, exalting his dominance over me. I wanted to feel his calloused hands caress my body, feeling every single inch of it. I wanted it all. 

"Know ya wanna kiss me," he whispered as he stepped closer to me, his lips only inches from mine. 

I took in a shaky breath, not knowing what to do. I felt his big hands firmly grasp my hips before he closed his eyes and leaned in. His lips molded with mine and I could hear my heart beating and imaginary fireworks shoot above our heads. I slowly wrapped my hands around his waist, gripping on his shirt as his lips began to move in sync with mine. My wishes came true once his tongue ran left and right against my bottom lip. I parted my lips slightly and granted him access. He explored my mouth, his tongue playing games with mine. His hands began to roam by back, slipping his cold hands under my light pink, Adidas shirt and feeling the soft skin, sending visible chills up my spine. He smirked lightly against my lips, absolutely loving the effect he had on me. 

He pulled me closer into him, pressing my chest against his. I wrapped my arms around his neck and played with the soft hairs at the nape of it with my fingertips. I hummed against his lips, feeling my tummy twist and my panties dampen. He moved his hands south, cupping my bum over the fabric of my black leggings. He squeezed my skin before pulling back and giving it a good smack. I involuntarily whimpered against his lips, melting into him. He began massaging it, soothing the stinging area. 

"Mm," he hummed, grabbing my wrist and bringing it lower to cup his bulge over his jeans, "Ya feel dat? You did dat." 

I squeezed him slightly, biting my lip as I watched and felt him grow in my hand. Massaging him gently, I bit my lip and looked back up at him. He cupped my jaw and attached our lips again. He trailed his kisses down my neck, nipping and sucking the skin. I let my head fall back, giving him more access. His hands landed on my waist, gripping firmly. He trailed his kisses down until he reached the collar of my tshirt. He grabbed onto the hem of my shirt, lifting it up until it revealed my breasts. The black bra I was wearing cupped my breasts nicely, accentuating the curve of them. I was just glad I chose to wear this bra instead of one of my old, ratty ones. He cupped them in his hand before pulling it down and pulling out my breasts. The bra awkwardly set below my breasts, but he had access to them. 

Cupping both of them in his big hands, he flicked his thumbs over my nipple, feeling them harden under his touch. He dipped his head down and attached his lips to the swell of my breasts, sucking and nipping to leave marks for later. He sucked one of my nipples past his lips, flicking his tongue over the bud. I let out a breathy moan of satisfaction, letting him know I liked it. I threaded my fingers through his soft, brunette locks, letting my nails gently scratch his scalp. I whimpered when he nipped at my nipple before he moved onto the other breast, giving it the same amount of attention. 

He kissed back up my neck, reaching my lips and licking into my mouth. I hummed against his lips, slipping my hands up his shirt and feeling his hairy chest, my nails gently scratching up and down. He pulled me into him again and I felt his hardening member against my inner thigh. I started subtly grinding into him, my clit beginning to pulse with desperation. 

"Get on yer knees," he demanded, "Want those sexy lips around me." 

He took a small step back and placed his hands on the metal railing, giving his body support as he rested against the wall. I readjusted my bra and my shirt before I did as I was told and trailed down his body until I was on my knees, face to face with the huge bulge in his pants. I placed my hands on his hips and leaned over, pressing forceful kisses to his bulge over the fabric of his jeans. I looked up at him through my lashes our eyes immediately making contact. He licked his suddenly dry lips as he watched me. I unbuttoned his pants and pulled his zipper down, giving a little bit of relief. I slipped my light purple fingernails past the hem of his jeans around his hips, pushing them down his hairy legs and allowing them to pool at his feet. 

His black boxer briefs hugged his thighs, and fit perfectly around his waist, accentuating his throbbing member. I palmed him over his briefs, massaging him gently. I used my free hand to slightly lift up his shirt, leaning in and pressing my lips to the skin just above the hem of his briefs. His breath began to get uneven as he got antsier, needing some relief. I slipped my fingers past the elastic band of his briefs, sliding them down his legs and allowing them to pool with his jeans. His hardening member was exposed to the cool air around us, causing him to sigh softly. 

I licked up his shaft a couple of times, before wrapping my palm around him, using my saliva as lubricant. His swollen red tip peaked out from his foreskin and that's when I slipped his head past my lips, sucking away the salty precum that was oozing from his slit. My hand slowly pumped him up and down while my tongue swirled against the underside of his tip, looking up at him with innocent eyes. 

"Dammit, don't fuckin' tease," he groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall, his eyes fluttering shut.

Obeying his orders, I chuckled softly before lowering my mouth onto him, beginning to bob my head up and down. I hollowed out my cheeks and he jutted his hips forward, his tip hitting the back of my throat. I hummed against him, the vibrations from my voice sending him into a moaning mess. 

"Fuck yeah, ya like dat? Like havin' me big cock in yer mouth, hmm? God, dat feels good," he hummed.

"Mhm, taste so good," I murmured. 

Groans, hisses, and profanities spilled from his lips, boosting my confidence. With my right hand pumping what wasn't in my mouth, I used my free hand to cup his balls, massaging them gently. Reaching down he threaded his fingers through my hair before collecting all of it into his palms and pulling it up into a ponytail so he could have a better view of me. 

I looked up at him and our eyes locked. God, he was gorgeous. His eyebrows were furrowed together and his plump, pink lips were parted, filthy words and beautiful sounds escaping them. His scruff defined his jaw perfectly, sweat beading at his temples. He still had his shirt on, but I could still see the way his muscles tensed every time I did something he particularly liked. 

"Take it deepe-" he hummed and I relaxed my throat before nuzzling my face into his trimmed patch of hairs as he hummed, "Ah dere ya go, fuck me." 

My eyes watered and my throat closed as I gagged on him, my instinctive reaction kicking in and causing me to pull up off of him. He immediately let go of my hair and grabbed onto my head, pushing me back down onto him, "No. Ya can't stop 'til I say so, fuuckk." 

I whimpered and looked up at him innocently through watery eyes, watching as his face contorted with pleasure and his grip on my hair tightened. I continued to gag on him, my eyes spilling with water. I did my best to relax my throat and breathe through my nose, my grip on his thighs tight. As uncomfortable as I was, his moans were like music to my ears, making everything so worth it. I loved the fact that it was me making him moan like that and it was my mouth that was making him feel so good.

He let go of my head and I took that as a green light to give myself a break. I came off of him with a soft pop and a string of arousal and saliva coating him. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and blinked away the tears in my eyes. I cupped his balls, massaging them gently as I took him in my mouth again, sucking and swirling my tongue all around him. I could feel him throbbing against my tongue and I knew his orgasm was just around the corner.

"Mm stop, wanna cum in ya," he whined. 

Coming off of him with a soft pop, I pressed a couple of kisses up and down his shaft before he gently grabbed my arms and pulled me up. I stood back up on my feet, my knees silently thanking me for the relief. 

"Jesus, yer fuckin' good at dat." 

I stood face to face with him before I wrapped my arms around his neck and licked into his mouth, letting him taste himself on my tongue. His dominant side took over again and his tongue began to battle with mine. His hands slipped past my leggings, cupping my bum over the fabric of my panties. He pushed my leggings down my legs, letting them pool at my feet. I slipped off my flip flops and stepped out of my leggings. Usually, I would never be barefoot anywhere in public but at this point, I didn't care at all. I just needed a release. 

His right hand grabbed my wrist and pinned it to the wall above my head. His left hand slipped towards the front and landed on my clit before rubbing it in circles over the soft fabric. I whimpered when he dropped his head into the curve of my neck, nipping at my soft skin. Reaching down with both hands, he pushed my pink panties down my legs before I stepped out of them, leaving them with my leggings. His hands trailed down to the back of my thighs, tugging me upward. I jumped up onto his waist and he pressed my back against the wall of the elevator, growling into my mouth, "Ready fer me t' fuck ya? Have ya cummin' all over me big cock?" 

I melted into him, my eyes fluttering shut and my head falling against the elevator wall as I whined impatiently before he hummed, "Gonna answer me or am I gonna haveta punish ya?" 

"Niall, please, I need you. I wanna feel ya in my stomach," I whimpered. 

He lifted me up slightly, lining his swollen tip up with my dripping entrance. He slammed into me and we moaned out with pleasure, grabbing onto the railing. He found a steady pace and moved in and out of me, hitting my spot with every hard thrust. The only sounds that filled the small room were my moans, his hisses, and the soft sound of skin slapping. I felt the knot in my stomach begin to tighten before the elevator shook again and carefully began to move down. 

"Shit!" he cursed, letting me down onto my feet again. 

We both quickly began to get dressed again, knowing someone had finally rescued us and neither of us wanted them to catch us snagging against the elevator wall. We both managed to get dressed and make ourselves look like we didn't just fuck each other before the doors slid open and revealed a couple of construction workers. The workers cheered at their success before asking if we were okay. After we both replied with a "yes", I grabbed my bag and we thanked them before making our way out of the elevator. 

"Why don'tcha come t' my place an' we can finish what we started, yeah?"

[sapphiclecterarchive]

the babysitter - fic

Fandom: MCU, Spiderman

Character(s): Peter Parker

Desc.: In which Peter is trusted with a child.

A/N: i’ve never posted any fics on tumblr so i thought i’d give it a shot! this will also be on my ao3 if you fancy sending it some love over there. SORRY if this is indecipherable, it was written in 3 days in amongst a mad panic to finish art coursework

WARNING FOR ENDGAME SPOILERS. SO MANY SPOILERS. OH MY GOD THERE ARE SO MANY SPOILERS IN THIS

Peter really isn’t expecting the call.

May is working a late night at the shelter, which she’d explained with a concise note left in the middle of the kitchen counter, underneath a twenty dollar bill for takeout. The takeout guy is the only person he’s expecting to encounter this evening, besides the Instagram group chat which buzzes every two minutes and John Mulaney on Netflix. That’s until his phone rings.

The number isn’t saved on his phone, so he almost doesn’t answer it. It’s only when he realises that it could be May calling in an emergency, or Ned or MJ or anyone else, that anxiety forces him to pick the phone up. The line between his Spidey senses and generalised anxiety disorder is a thin one that he treads very carefully.

“Hello?”

The woman on the other end of the line sighs in relief, “Peter, thank God you picked up.”

He recognises her voice instantly - from the news, from the battle, from the funeral. He scrambles to find the remote and pause the TV.

“Mrs Potts? Why are you — what is — uh — how are you?”

They haven’t spoken since the wake, when she’d hugged him and let him cry into her shoulder. His heart seizes at the memory of her calm composure, supporting a boy she barely knew while he fell apart over the death of the man she loved.

“I’m doing alright, thank you,” she answers. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Okay.”

“Would you be able to babysit Morgan for a few hours?” Peter’s hand freezes on it’s way to the bag of Cheetos next to him on the couch. “I wouldn’t normally ask with such little notice, but I have to do some stuff for the Foundation launch, and our regular sitter fell through.”

“That’s no problem at all,” Peter says, without even thinking about it. “I didn’t have plans, anyway.”

Pepper exhales with relief, “That’s amazing. I’ve sent Happy to pick you up, he should be there soon. Thank you so much, this is such a big help.”

As soon as he places his phone down, Peter realises that he knows absolutely nothing about taking care of a kid, and that he’s currently in nothing but ratty sweatpants and an old sports jersey.

He practically launches himself over the back of the couch, abandoning his show and his takeout to race into his bedroom. His pyjamas are replaced with black jeans and a thick wool sweater over a tshirt, and he just manages to comb through his hair and spray himself with deodorant before his phone chimes from the couch and he races to check it.

Unknown Number: Outside. – Happy

He texts May to let her know where he’s going while he bounds down the stairs. Sure enough, Happy is waiting on the sidewalk, leaning up against a black car.

To Peter’s surprise, Happy ignores his offered handshake and instead pulls him in for a hug. The embrace lasts a long few seconds before Happy pulls back, his hand lingering on Peter’s shoulder. “How you holding up, kid?”

“Okay,” Peter says. Happy opens the passenger side door for Peter and rounds the car to get in behind the wheel. The doors slam, and Peter talks over the starting of the engine. “School’s getting intense, and — uh — everyone’s getting excited for prom. But, uh… Yeah, that’s sort of it.”

Happy glances at him out of the corner of his eye as he pulls the car out into the road. “Prom, huh? You got your eye on anyone? Planning a…. what do you call it? A promposal?”

Peter thinks about MJ, about Ned, about Betty, about the guy in his physics class who always lets him share his textbook when Peter forgets… “I haven’t really thought about it, uh, with everything going on.”

“I getcha, kid.” They come to a slow stop at a red light. “These past months have been pretty intense… I haven’t really known what to do with myself, to be honest.”

His voice has grown quiet, and the last word of the sentence almost dies completely. Peter looks over at him as he scrubs a hand over his face. Is he crying?

Happy is covering his face with one of his hands, now, shoulders shaking minutely. Peter has no idea what to do. What are you supposed to do when your dead mentor’s assistant who hated you not that long ago is suddenly crying in front of you?

“Uh… Happy?” He gets no reply. “Happy?”

“Yeah, kid?” Happy looks up at him, his eyes tear-filled and puffy but a supportive smile on his face all the same.

“The light’s green.”

As if on cue, the car behind them beeps it’s horn, spurring Happy into moving the car forward.

Pepper Potts is waiting for them when they arrive at the house. It looks no different to how it did at the funeral, and it upsets him a little to look at the front porch and the small dock where they’d stood to say their final goodbye. She gives him a very brief tour of the house, and an explanation of Morgan’s bedtime routine. Apparently, she has already had her bath and her dinner, so the only thing Peter has to do is put her to bed by eight.

“There’s enough food in the refrigerator and the pantry for you to make yourself something to eat, feel free to watch whatever you want on the TV, and I should be home by eleven, but if you’re tired by then you’re welcome to sleep in the guest room.” She pauses, taps her fingertips together as if checking off a list, and then drops her hands and smiles warmly at him. “I really can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

How could he have said no? He understands more than anyone what grief feels like, and if the obvious exhaustion underlying her composed expression is anything to go by, being suddenly thrust into single parenthood has taken its toll on her. He remembers May wearing the same expression after his Uncle Ben died, and he knows now how much she’d needed an extra pair of hands.

“It’s really no problem, Mrs Potts.”

Her petite hand brushes his elbow, “Please, call me Pepper.”

She then crouches down to say goodbye to Morgan, and he politely looks away, for some reason he feels like that moment deserves privacy.

“You’ve got my number, so if there’s anything you need you can either call me or Happy, okay?” she assures him.

“Okay, Mrs — Pepper.”

She smiles, nods, and gives Morgan one last kiss on the cheek before leaving.

“We’ve got about forty minutes to kill before bedtime.” He looks down at the young girl. “What do you want to do?”

“Cartoons!” she exclaims, a gleeful grin on her pudgy face.

“Cartoons?” He turns toward the couch, expecting her to follow him. She grabs three of his fingers with her small hand and walks ahead of him, as if guiding him to the couch. He doesn’t have to wonder where she gets that from.

“Cartoons,” she clarifies, jumping up onto the couch with a huff.

He sits next to her and picks up the remote to start looking for the kids’ channels. “What’s your favorite cartoon?”

“Spongebob!” she says around her thumb.

It takes him all of five minutes to scroll through the entire TV guide and finally assess that there isn’t one channel currently playing an episode of Spongebob. Or any cartoons, it seems. He’s about to give up, when she holds out her hand.

“Remote.” The ‘R’ is more of a ‘W’, and she makes a grabby hand toward the remote until he passes it to her.

“There are no channels playing cartoons…” he begins to explain, bracing himself for a five-year-old temper tantrum. Instead of screaming or crying, however, he’s greeted with the familiar opening note of the Spongebob theme tune.

When he looks at her, she’s looking back at him with a cheeky grin. “How did you figure that out?”

“Mummy got it on the TV for me.” Her speech is pretty advanced for a five year old, but it’s obvious how hard she’s working to get her words right. “She said so I can watch it when I’m sad.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he fears sounding like a counsellor - or a parent - but he can’t help but ask, “Are you sad a lot?”

She shrugs, jams her thumb in her mouth and talks around it, “I watch Spongebob a lot.”

He ends up watching her more than he watches the cartoon, mesmerised by her starry-eyed expression as she watches the bright colours flash across the screen. They reflect in her big brown eyes, which he knows that she inherited from her dad. She also inherited her stubbornness, apparently, because even when her eyelids begin to droop and she can hardly sit upright for sleepiness, she doesn’t give in. She refuses to doze off until the end credits of the episode are rolling, and then she almost instantly collapses, snoring lightly, onto the couch cushions.

Careful not to wake her, he slips his arms underneath her armpits and lifts her. Her arms and legs wrap around him sleepily, making it much easier for him to carry her upstairs without fear of dropping her. He pushes the door open with the heel of his shoe, uses his right hand to continue supporting Morgan’s weight while his left pulls back the covers on her small bed. Once he’s placed her down and tucked the blanket up to her chin, he follows Pepper’s instructions of shutting the blind, turning on the nightlight next to her bed, and leaving the door slightly ajar when he eventually steps back out into the hall.

The TV is still displaying the paused credits of Spongebob when he sits back down on the couch. He wants to go onto Netflix and carry on with what he was watching earlier, but he feels like it might be a bit of an intrusion to use Pepper’s personal Netflix account, so he settles on a channel that seems to be only playing reruns of Family Guy.

His phone buzzes, and he glances at where it sits next to him on the couch.

Ned: Deathmatch?

Peter can’t help his smile. After Thanos, and everything else that’s followed, the simple things like playing Overwatch with Ned - even if he loses every time - make him so much happier than they would have before.

Peter: can’t tonight, am babysitting.

The next message from Ned comes through almost immediately.

Ned: Who tf trusted U with their kid?

Peter: ikr

Peter: pepper needed an extra hand w morgan

Ned doesn’t reply, so he assumes that the match has started and settles down onto the plush couch cushions. He scrolls through his Instagram feed, through photos posted by people from school and the odd celebrity. Until, eventually, he dozes off with his phone still in his hand.

A loud bang makes him start awake what feels like five minutes later. His phone slips out of his hand and onto the floor, the bang it creates making him startle again. He sits up blearily and stretches until his back pops. Through the windows, he can see nothing but black. His phone screen, when he picks it up to check, tells him that it’s just past nine-thirty. He hadn’t planned to sleep at all, let alone for an hour and a half.

Everything in the house still seems intact, and it doesn’t seem like Pepper is home, so he assumes that the bang was caused by the dog door, or something similar. Nevertheless, a residual anxiety forces him to his feet. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he trudges up the stairs toward Morgan’s room.

The door is still slightly ajar, and the light from the hallway illuminates a strip of her polka dot duvet cover. He pushes the door open more, expecting to see her still tucked up tight and fast asleep.

She isn’t in her bed.

Peter’s stomach flips.

“Morgan?” he calls, hoping that she’s just hidden somewhere and will pop out giggling.

She doesn’t. He flicks the light on.

“Morgan?” He rounds the bed to check the other side, which is also empty.

She’s not hiding underneath the bed or in the wardrobe, and he checks every single room upstairs for her. But, she’s not in Pepper’s room, the guest room or the bathroom.

“Morgan!” he calls again as he races down the stairs. The downstairs bathroom is also empty, and she isn’t in the living room or the kitchen.

As he races back into the living room, his eyes lock on the front door. He can’t remember locking it behind Pepper, and he’d been woken up with a loud slam…

He throws open the front door, looking out onto the lake and the front garden, until there’s a small cough to his right.

There she is, her small form curled up on the rocking chair, thumb in her mouth and eyelids heavy with

He softens his voice to try and mask his panic. “What are you doing out here?”

“I can’t sleep,” she explains quietly. Her body seems to betray her there, though, because she lets out a yawn almost immediately.

He really doesn’t know how to get a stubborn kid to go back to sleep. He thinks back to when he was a kid, and how May would convince him to go to bed.

“You can have milk and cookies if you come back inside.”

She shakes her head.

“Juice pops?”

He remembers seeing them in the freezer earlier, and he assumes that she’ll be moved by the offer. She isn’t, and shakes her head again.

“I want to talk to daddy,” she says.

Peter’s brain takes a second too long to reboot, because she rolls her eyes and continues like he’s missed a very obvious point. “Mummy says that daddy can hear me if I sit here and talk to him.”

This is the first time this whole evening that Peter realises how much she must miss her dad. For the past few weeks, he’s felt like he’s been on autopilot, like there’s a vital part of him missing. So he can hardly imagine how she feels; she probably doesn’t even understand that he’s never coming back.

He doesn’t remember when his parents died, but he remembers asking May about them. He remembers the frown that would tug on her mouth every time he did. He remembers how much that frown would confuse him. They’re in a better place, she would say, so why would she look so sad?

He understands the questions she probably has, he understands how overwhelmed she must feel, surrounded by sadness and falseness and feelings that she doesn’t yet understand. All she needs is some normality.

“I think daddy would want you to wear a jacket outside.”

She pouts indignantly and crosses her arms to let him know she isn’t going anywhere.

Knowing now that she isn’t being moved, he grabs the hem of his sweater and tugs it over his head. The hair on his arms immediately bristles against the cold, his t-shirt doing nothing to keep him warm.

He crouches in front of the chair so that he’s level with her, sweater held between them.

“This sweater belonged to my uncle Ben. He’s in the same place as your dad, but before he went, he gave me this sweater. Do you know what he told me when he gave it to me?” She shakes her head. “He told me that it would protect me against anything, and it can protect you, too.”

He remembers Ben passing it to him while they were queueing for the Haunted Mansion at Disney World. Peter had forced him and May to queue for almost two hours, only to get too scared and start sobbing as soon as they got closer to the ride. The sweater was supposed to be a mode of persuasion for a then nine year old Peter, but it’s his most treasured item, and memory.

After Ben had died, the only thing Peter wanted to keep was the sweater, and ever since, he has worn it whenever he needs extra comfort.

He’s been wearing it a lot recently.

“Anything?” Morgan repeats, eyes wide. “Even monsters?”

He laughs, “Even monsters. Do you want to put it on?”

She nods enthusiastically, and he silently praises himself for his quick thinking as he helps her pull it over her head. It’s too big for him, so it covers almost her whole body, and the sleeves are about twice the length of her arms. She looks a lot warmer and happier, though.

She reaches out to him, and he doesn’t understand what she wants until her hands pop out of the sleeves and open and close sporadically in a move which he reads as “pick me up”.

He picks her up around her waist, her arms wrapping around his neck, and then turns to sit on the chair. She shifts around until she’s sideways on his lap, facing the lake, her head cushioned on his shoulder and her hands pulled up under her chin. The sweater cocoons her like a swaddle.

“Can you tell me a story?”

He doesn’t know any stories for kids, unless the classic, Disney movie fairy tales count.

“Do you want a story about your dad?”

She nods, the movement clear against his shoulder.

“Okay.” He wills himself not to cry immediately at the memory of his mentor, not wanting to freak the kid out or undo the hard work Pepper has undoubtedly done on making this whole situation seem lighter for her. “When I met your dad, I’d just gone through a big change…”

He recites the story of Germany, and then, when she asks for another, the stories of the boat and of Titan. They’re shortened, censored, and the latter is missing the part where he turned to dust for five years, but they’re true. Calmed by the stories, and smiling at the talk of her dad, she eventually falls asleep soundly against his shoulder. He looks down at her serene face, and he hopes that she remembers the good things about Tony, he hopes that she’s dreaming about him. He hopes that she dreams about building pillow forts with him, about him carrying her on his hip while doing important research, about him tucking her into bed and kissing her forehead.

Pepper gets home not long after Peter has tucked her back into bed.

“Was she okay?” she asks in a whisper, although the house is definitely big enough to talk at full volume and not wake the sleeping girl.

“She was a dream.”

A small, relieved sigh stirs her fringe. “Good. I really can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s honestly fine,” he says. “I had fun.”

When he unlocks and pushes open the door of the apartment, May is in her pajamas on the couch, watching some reality TV show. She looks over the back of the couch when she hears the door close, and smiles. She seems tired, as she always does after working overtime, but she’s wearing her fluffy pink socks, which means that she’s happy.

“Good night?”

He sits next to her, slowly tipping sideways until his head lands on her bent knee. Her hand automatically goes to his hair, stroking the top of it like she used to when he was small and would sit on the floor between her knees while her and Ben watched TV. Then, she moves her hand to his upper arm, and her palm feels boiling hot against his skin. “You’re freezing.”

As she tugs the throw blanket over him and pulls him closer to her side, he realises that he didn’t take his sweater back.

[betareaderj]

Rules: Answer 21 questions and tag 21 people you would like to get to know better!

Nickname: I don't really have one! Occasionally I’m called Jame. Sometimes I’m referred to by last name lol Real Name: Jamie

Zodiac? Libra Favorite Musicians or Groups? Halestorm definitely. Straight No Chaser. Albanach. My music tastes are many and varied.

Favorite Sports Teams: I would rather drink fermented goat's milk than be subjected to watching sports, but I can be pressured into sitting for a hockey game. I used to follow UFC pretty closely too.

Other blogs:  Man I barely maintain this one!

Do I get asks? Nope. But I also very rarely interact with anyone online either, so this is zero surprise! Anxiety is a bitch! I always assume I'll offend someone somehow and try to take as little space as possible! How many blogs do I follow? 110 Tumblr crushes? No one! My asexual ass doesn't really do crushes! Even fun, no risk ones like tumblr crushes or celebrity crushes! Lucky Numbers: 42. I am ride or die for Douglas Adams. What am I wearing? Considering I just got home; heels, slacks, blouse. I live in business casual or ratty tshirts and NOTHING IN BETWEEN. Dream Vacation: Oh man, I would loooovvveee to see the glaciers in Alaska someday. Or the castles over in Europe! I just...don't want to dump all that money and hide in the hotel all week because I'm terrified of interacting with people.

Dream Car: I have had a lady boner for the 1979 Stingray Corvette since I was like...12. In realistic cars that I would like to drive, I'm eyeing a Jeep. Something that doesn't take me forever and a dozen ratchet straps to hoist my bike and/or kayak. Favorite Food: I'm a simple girl. Gimme steak. Medium rare. Slight sear to the outside. Mmmmmmmmh. Drink of choice: This is so unhealthy but I can guzzle cherry pepsi like no one's business. I try to stick to tea. I'm really partial to a pomegranete blend sold in the local farmer's market. That sounds so pretentious but OH MY GOD I LOVE THAT SHIT.

Instrument: I played piano all throughout my childhood and through college, but haven't touched it since I moved out of my parent's house. Languages: English. I know enough Spanish to make my job easier. I know a few dozen signs in ASL; I used to know a couple hundred but disuse has made me HELLA rusty.

Celebrity Crushes: See aforementioned tumblr crushes. But I do enjoy watching Tom Hardy in just about anything he's in. He's delightful! I also really like Katherine Hepburn! Random Facts: I just taught myself to crochet! It's super relaxing!  

I don't know 21 people on this platform to tag, and I shamelessly stole this from @wildlingoftarth

[whindsor]

@universalfanfic this has been a long time coming....a little sprinkles and honey au for your giveaway gift!

Sutton woke up early for once, actually leaping out of bed with a vigor she didn’t know she could possess before the sun came up, especially on a Sunday. Sure, the bakery was closed today, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going in. They still had to prepare mixes, organize orders, and clean up for the party they were going to host tonight.

And, the new ovens were coming in. 

She splurged on the fancy coffee on the way to the bakery, actually going in a storefront instead of stopping at a stand. Dawn was just breaking when she reached her own storefront (which now sported a beautiful new sign), and she was surprised to find the back door unlocked and the light already on.

“Happy new ovens day!” she sang as she pushed the door open with her hip, holding the coffee aloft like the award they’d won a month prior. The glass cake stand engraved with American Bake Off Champions was displayed in the front of the store, but she could still see it if she leaned over just right.

“Best day of the decade!” Mika replied, also holding her hands up in celebration. She then grabbed Sutton by the face, kissing one cheek and then the other, and then the first again for good measure. Normally Sutton would be a little overwhelmed with the affection, but today she would allow it. “How are you this morning, champion?”

“Amazing. And yourself?” Sutton asked, handing her one of the coffees.

“The same.” she said with a smile, taking a sip. She perched against the big counter, her fingers tapping against the coffee cup. Normally she only fidgeted when she was nervous, but Sutton assumed she was just excited. “So Sutton-”

“Oh my gosh, are these all the new orders?” Sutton said, not meaning to interrupt her friend/business partner but unable to hold back her astonishment at the pile of papers on the printer.

“Yes, but I need to-”

“We’re going to have to get another binder. Is Office Depot open today? It’s a Sunday...”

“Sutton-”

“Oh it doesn’t matter anyway, the guys with the ovens are going to be here between nine and noon and we have so much cleaning to do-”

“Sutton!” at Mika’s insistence, Sutton stopped the avalanche of things to add to the to-do list. 

“What?” she asked, curious. Was she missing something? Mika opened her mouth to respond, but both of them were interrupted by a male voice coming from the back utility room.

“Okay Meeks, I found the leak, so the dishwasher should be good to go - oh hey, Sutton.” Bucky strolled into the room, a wrench in his hand and a tool belt slung over his shoulder. Sutton stared, dumbfounded, with her gaze flipping between him and Mika.

“Hi.” she finally said, once the silence had gone way past awkward. She turned fully to Mika, her voice high and tight. “Could I borrow you for a moment?”

Mika gave Bucky a warm smile before allowing Sutton to tug her through the swinging door into the front, still holding onto her coffee. Whether it was for actual caffeine dependency or just something to do with her hands, Sutton wasn’t sure.

“Okay,” she started, tugging her hand free so she could put it on Sutton’s shoulder. “Listen, I tried to tell you-”

“What is he doing here?” Sutton whisper-yelled through clenched teeth.

“He just said he wanted to help-”

“Help? With what?” 

“I may have mentioned last night how much work we had to do today-”

“Last night?!” 

“I know how it looks but nothing happened!”

“Nothing hap-?!”

“We just met for dinner and it got really late and I didn’t want him to ride the train with the weirdos that late at night-”

“How late was it, exactly?”

“And I said I had to get up early and he offered to help-”

“But he’s not supposed to be here until tonight-”

“I’m sorry!” Mika pressed her lips together, looking very apologetic and holding her coffee so tightly Sutton was afraid she was going to crush the paper cup. Sutton took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. After all, this wasn’t Mika’s fault. She just wasn’t always that great with surprises.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Sutton finally said. She’d known Mika was crushing on the other baker; why should she be surprised that they were hanging out now? “I’m sorry I freaked out. I just got a little overwhelmed.”

“Still, I’m sorry I didn’t warn you.” Mika said, visibly relieved now that the wrinkle was smoothed over. “Though, this would probably be a good time to tell you-”

“Who wants doughnuts?” a starkly different male voice echoed from the back room, making Sutton’s eyes go wide. 

“Steve is here too?” she said, so frozen that she couldn’t even yell. Mika gave her a sheepish grin, bracing herself for another meltdown. Sutton numbly nodded her head. “Huh. This might as well happen.”

“Hey Meeks, you guys are out of coffee. Want me to go get some from the bodega around the corner?” Bucky poked his head out from the kitchen. It was a little odd to see someone besides Mika at that door, but it didn’t really look unnatural. 

“Oh, I can get it - we’re very particular.” she said, grabbing Sutton by the belt loop of her jeans and forcing her to move. Sutton suddenly found herself wishing she’d dressed a little better than her jeans and ratty tshirt. Why didn’t she brush her hair this morning?

“Well just tell me which one to get.” he said with a flirtatious grin. Mika patted his chest with a little too much familiarity before sliding into the kitchen, Sutton following behind her and trying to prepare herself for who was on the other side of the door.

“That’s the problem, we never remember the name of it. We just know what it looks like.” she said, grabbing her purse. Sutton finally made eye contact with Steve, who gave her a bright smile for someone who came all the way from Brooklyn so early in the morning. “I’ll go.”

“I’ll go with you.” Bucky immediately offered. He nodded at Steve. “Don’t eat all those before we get back.”

“No promises.” he said. Mika and Bucky ducked out the back, leaving the two of them alone. “You look surprised.” he said, looking at her with those darn blue eyes.

“I am surprised. I wasn’t aware we were going to have...visitors this early.” she said. Why was she nervous? It was just Steve. Just the super cute guy that she hadn’t seen (or stopped thinking about) in a month. He held up the white box.

“Well surprise or no, I did bring sustenance. And an extra set of hands to get everything ready for tonight.” he said. Oh, so they were still planning to come tonight? Sutton felt her insides twist, but she realized it wasn’t with nerves - it was excitement.

“Are those from the place right next to the train station?” she asked, pulling the box towards her. He scoffed, loud and offended, at the notion.

“I’m not starting my day with a weak Manhattan doughnut. No, I made these myself, the right way.” he said with a grin. Sutton noticed his hair was just slightly disheveled, as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep and thought to fix it last minute. She didn’t mind it.

“Hey, don’t make fun of our doughnuts. Then I’ll start making fun of your pizza.” she said sharply, flipping the box open. She had to admit, the doughnuts did look really appetizing. “And I’ll be the judge if you did these ‘the right way’.” 

“I look forward to your assessment.” he replied. He gestured to the box. “Go on.”

“Alright, alright.” she huffed, pretending to be annoyed so that he wouldn’t realize how he made her feel like a teenager again. She picked up one glazed in chocolate, going to tear off a bite.

“Now let me stop you right there.” he said as she barely broke the outside of the doughnut. She could already spot the perfect aeration and texture. Oh man. “Doughnuts aren’t meant to be torn. You gotta go face first.”

“Maybe in Brooklyn where you’re cavemen, but not here.” she teased, knowing full well that if she was alone she’d consider trying to stuff a whole one in her mouth in one bite. 

“Can you quit fighting me and just trust me?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her. The challenge in his face made something stir behind her sternum, and it took a second to gather herself before she huffed.

“Fine, fine.” she said, going to take a full bite from it. Just as she suspected, it was soft and buttery and warm and perfect. Not that she would ever tell him that. 

“So?” he asked, and she remembered oh yea, she had to stop thinking about how utterly mind blowing this doughnut was and give him a response.

“It’s alright.” she said lightly. At his perked eyebrow, her facade finally broke. “Okay fine. It may be the best doughnut I’ve ever had.” 

“That’s what I thought.” he said, looking entirely too proud of himself. It made Sutton want to start researching doughnut recipes. “Oh, you’ve got-” he reached out, tenderly wiping the corner of her mouth. He was so close that she could smell the lingering scent of frying, probably oil splashing on his shirt from making these this morning. His hands were so gentle, despite being so strong. 

“See? That’s why you tear it.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t move away, and neither did he. In fact, he just grinned at her.

“Nah,” he said, licking the bit of chocolate from his thumb. “that’s how you know it’s good.”

Sutton had to admit that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

[not-close-to-straight]

First Date (SWS #21)

SUNDAYS WITH SPIDEYPOOL MASTERLIST 

**********************

“Oh god. Okay. Just be cool. Just be cool.” Peter stood in his bathroom, running gel through his hair and splashing water over his face to calm himself down. “Big night. Big night. First date with Wade. Its a date right? Its fine. You’ve gone on dozens of dates before. Harry. MJ. Gwen. No problem. We can small talk our way through a date. Bought gum so I’m minty fresh. Hair is done, he loves red and black so Im wearing red and black. Its fine.” 

He took a deep breath. “Its fine, Peter, stop freaking out. Its just a damn date. Just... just a date.” 

He picked his phone back up, scrolled through the messages until he got to the text from Wade that simply said, “buy ya dinner tomorrow?” 

Peter had texted back with an equally casual, completely chill, “im always down for free food.” and then had proceeded to freak the fuck out, holding his phone to his chest and spinning around in his living room until he had banged his knee on the coffee table, and then he was jumping one legged and cursing out loud but still smiling and half way to giddy. 

He had wanted to go out with Wade for so. damn. long. but surprisingly enough between patrol and late night food runs and saving the city, the topic of dating had never come up between them. 

Wade constantly threatened promised to do things to Peters ass, and Peter seriously jokingly commented on how big Wade’s arms were and how much he liked them but this-- this was real. Wade was buying him dinner and it was a date and--

But what if it wasn’t? What if Wade was just asking to have dinner like a normal thing, like something normal people did, and Peter was overthinking this? It wasn’t like their lives were normal, after all. And Wade trusted Peter, so maybe he just wanted a normal evening with someone he could trust not to judge him. 

Why would this be a real date? All the times they had saved each others lives and other than suggesting congratulatory blow jobs, Wade had never said anything about a date, or spending time together without their masks. 

Really, this was kind of a blind date, because they had never fully unmasked in front of each other. Peter would recognize Wade because of the scars, but Wade might not recognize him. 

Oh god, what if Wade didn’t like him? 

Peter looked a this reflection critically. His hair was a little out of control, probably, and his glasses didn’t help the fact that he looked barely seventeen even though he was pushing twenty three. Maybe he was too young for Wade. Maybe the man- cuz fuck was Wade all man-- would take one look at him, think he was too young and walk away. Or maybe the skinny jeans were a mistake. Kids wore skinny jeans. Or he should switch out his glasses for contacts so he looked more mature and less like a hipster?

Was he over thinking this?

Of fucking course he was overthinking this. Of course he was.

Peter swore and slammed the door to his bathroom on the way out, throwing himself across his bed and going back to the message on his phone, seriously considering texting the merc and backing out. 

***********************

“Red or black?” Wade held up one of the only two shirts he owned that weren’t his Merc gear. “Red...” he held up the pushing-too-small tshirt. “Or black...” a fitted long sleeve. “Red....” the tshirt. “Or black? Which one?” he switched them again, holding the red over his chest critically. “Which one...which one is gonna make Spidey wanna jump these bones?” 

Unable to decide, Wade stripped off his ratty “I HEART SPIDEY” pajama shirt he had stolen bought from a vendor a couple blocks over and yanked the red one over his head. 

It had been a risk, a shot in the dark to ask Spidey out on a date. The kid hadn’t ever really given him a clear signal that he was interested in more between them, but he certainly wasn’t given off signals that he wasn’t so Wade had typed and retyped and deleted at least fourteen different messages before settling on one that seemed appropriately casual but not so casual that Pete would mistake it for just another chance to hang out. 

And then, in the longest six minutes of his life, Pete had finally texted back and agreed to dinner. And thank god too, because Wade was absolutely going to throw himself out a window if Peter had said know. Not in a dramatic, ‘Ill kill myself if you don’t love me sort of way’, but in an ultra dramatic it took all my courage to do this and now I don’t know how I’m going to look you in the mask on patrol since you said no sort of way. 

“Oh yeah. Yeah I look fucking good in this.” Wade flexed in the mirror, grinning when the shirts seams strained to hold him in. All that fast food he ate hadn’t caught up with him yet, and he knew for a fact that his spandex clad crush had a thing for his chest and his arms, so he was definitely wearing the red shirt.  “Accents my pecs and my girlish waist and my arms--” the smile slid from his face when he saw how much of his arms the t shirt showed. 

How much his scarred, fucked up skin looked all the worse against the soft cotton. 

Wade pulled the shirt off and grabbed the black one, relaxing a little when he was covered down to his wrists, but the damage was done, the insecurity had taken root, and he stared at the rough face in the mirror, at the bald scalp, at the eyes that looked startling without eyebrows, at the raised edges that marked down his neck, over the spots he had hoped Pete would want to leave hickeys but who would want to put their mouth on--

Wade turned away from the mirror abruptly, and went to find his phone, scrolling through the messages until he hovered over Peters number, and told himself to text and cancel the date. 

This was a terrible idea. 

***************************

“Um, Wade?” the soft voice pulled Wade from his admittedly crazy thoughts, and he turned around slowly, tugging his shirt sleeves down over his hands, wishing he had gone back and grabbed his hoodie from his room so he wouldn’t just be out here, scars and all for everyone to stare at and point at and--

“Holy shit. Spidey?!” He blurted, and the kid in front of him jerked forward to clap his hand over his mouth. 

“No, Wade, out here I’m just Peter.” he said firmly. “Remember?” 

“Peter.” Wade repeated. “Pete. Baby boy what the fuck--” he knew he was staring. Knew he was staring and didn’t care. Just didn’t-- how the hell was Pete’s hair that thick? How did it stand up like that? He thought only deer had eyes that big? And the fucking smile? 

“I’m dead.” he announced. “I’m dead and have gone to heaven and all the angels look like a goddamn wet dream.” 

“Oh god.” Peter rolled his eyes and stepped back. “Well its definitely you, isn’t it? No one else starts a blind date by revealing secret identities and then offending angels, huh?” 

“I uh--” Wade shrugged a little sheepishly. “Sorry. I was just not prepared for how adorable you are. Petey-pie you are fucking adorable. Good christ.” 

“Yeah well--” those big brown eyes flitted over Wade’s body, taking in the broad shoulders filling the black sweater, the narrow cut of his waist, the way his jeans hugged thick thighs. Then they moved back up, over a perfectly cut jaw and cheekbones, stopping on piercing eyes. 

“Damn Wade.” Peter finished, clearing his throat and blushing a little. “You’re pretty damn adorable too.” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” Wade rolled his eyes. “Not wearing the mask, cutie pie, I can see all your expressions.” 

“Oh, I know.” Peter raised an eyebrow then, all cocky glances and meaningful looks at specific places and it was Wade’s turn to flush a little, unused to scrutiny that wasn’t... judging. Or horrified. 

“So.” he tipped his head towards the restaurant so he would at least stop staring at the beautiful kid. “Dinner?” 

“Actually.” Peter rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, looked away shyly and bit into a bottom lip that Wade just wanted to fucking attack. “I was thinking you know, this doesn’t really seem like us? Maybe we could just go get some Mexican and hang out.” 

“We had Mexican last night.” Wade pointed out. 

“Uh no, we had hours old burritos that we ate while running across a roof on our way to catch a burglar.” Peter countered. “That doesn’t count.” 

“Is there any other way to eat Mexican?” Wade challenged and Peter laughed, dropped his head back and just laughed and Wade-- Wade was fucked. No way he would survive this date. 

“I am so glad that the you are the same even without your mask.” Peter said over a chuckle. “I mean, you drive me fucking nuts, but I am so glad you’re you and not--” he made a vague motion with his hands. “I dunno.” 

“Well baby boy, its not like I take off the merc suit and become some hunky hollywood star with a gorgeous wife.” Wade said dryly. “So I’m glad you like my particular brand of charm, because this is the only flavor I come in.” 

“Mmm.” Peter made an interested noise, let his eyes linger on Wades lips, and then licked his own. “Sounds good to me.” 

************************

************************

“You’re killing me Pete!” Wade fussed. “That’s not even a flavor! Its like... its like...”

“Its like what?” Peter asked with a frown, curling an entirely distracting tongue around his vanilla ice cream cone. 

“Its like milk.” Wade took a big bite of his double chocolate fudge with m&ms and chunks of brownie ice cream. “You are basically eating milk. Like milk that got left in the fridge for too long and they decided since it was a solid, they’d just go ahead and scoop it onto a cone and try to sell it anyway. You’re eating chunky, solid, spoiled milk.” 

Predictably, Peter gagged and Wade absolutely cackled when Pete dropped his ice cream cone in the trash can and wiped his hands. 

“Thank you for ruining my ice cream, you asshole.” Peter muttered. “I should make you kiss me for that.” 

“Normally, I’d be all over that invitation.” Wade admitted, especially since it had taken most of his self control not to drag Pete over the table and kiss him absolutely senseless while they were sharing their fajitas. “But you know, you’ve had spoiled milk on your lips and--” 

“Oh that’s fine.” Peter said casually. “I don’t want to kiss you with that messy chocolate crap all over your lips either.” 

“Blasphemy!” Wade gasped. “Take it back NOW!” 

“No way.” Peter pulled out his phone and made a show of looking through his messages like he had something better to do than pay attention to Wade. “Nope. I’m sure you taste disgusting.” 

“Put your phone away and find out.” Wade challenged and Peter grinned, shoved his phone in his back pocket and practically leapt into Wades arms, smooshing a cold, vanilla flavored kiss onto very surprised lips. 

“I was only kidding.” Wade explained over a laugh. “But don’t stop now.” 

“I should stop.” Peter muttered and locked his arms around Wade’s neck to pull him closer for another kiss. “You taste terrible.” 

“At least I don’t taste like vanilla.” Wade shot back, winding one hand through Peters thick hair and tugging sharply, thrusting his tongue past cold lips when Peter opened on a gasp. 

“God.” Peter laughed a little and backpedaled, bringing Wade with him until they ran in to a wall and Wade could fit himself right against Peters body. “You wish you tasted like vanilla. Best flavor ever.” 

“The most boring you mean?” Wade panted when Peter sucked at his tongue. “I’m gonna get tired of it quick. No one ever gets tired of chocolate.” 

“The hell they--” Peters words lost out to throaty moan when Wade started mouthing over his jaw, leaving little bites down his neck. “The hell--” 

“You gonna finish that sentence?” Wade teased a little breathlessly. 

“Probably not.” Peter shook his head, tightening his hands around Wade’s biceps, his eyes flashing when the big merc flexed beneath his fingers. “But you know, I am wondering how we went from eating ice cream to almost humping against a wall?” 

“Sorry.” Wade pulled away instantly, running a self conscious hand over his scalp. In the heat of the moment, wrapped up in Peters smile and the near glow of those beautiful eyes, Wade had forgotten they were in public, had forgotten that people were probably staring. It was amazing enough that Peter wanted to be seen out with him, but this sort of thing-- probably best done in the dark. That was fine. 

“I didn’t say it was a problem.” Peter held out his hand coaxingly. “I was just wondering how it ended up like this. It was only a kiss.” 

“Are you gonna start singing?” Wade narrowed his eyes but Peter gave a little wiggle of his hips that had Wades eyes widening right back up.

“It was only a kiss.” Peter sang quietly, teasingly. “how did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss.” 

“Damn even when you’re being ridiculous you’re cute.” Wade laughed and went back to him, tilting Peters head up for a longer kiss. “Do you always let your dates get to firrrrrrst---” he dragged the word out as he slid his hand under Peters shirt and up to his chest. “-- second base?” 

“If I knew this was a date, Id probably let you get to home plate.” Peter said honestly, and sounding maybe a little vulnerable and Wade pulled away to look down at him. 

“What do you mean, if you knew this was date? This is a date. I showed up, bought you dinner and dessert, was mostly appropriate, and copped a feel. I mean, that’s a date, right? Normal people do that shit all the time. What else is supposed to happen on a date?” 

“I almost cancelled because I thought maybe you just wanted to hang out.” Peter admitted. “And I wanted this to be a date too badly to just be... platonic. Didn’t want to just hang out it it was just... hanging out. Too far past that at this point.”  

“Oh.” Wade rubbed his thumb over Peters cheeks gently. “Well, its definitely a date. I wouldn’t have dressed in my fancy clothes and shown off all this skin if we were just hanging out.” 

“This is your fancy clothes?” Peter plucked at the black sweater with grin. “And what do you mean, all this skin? You’re practically dressed like a nun. I helped a little old lady the other day who was showing more skin than this.” he made a face. “Not that I ever need to see that again.” 

“I think this is probably enough skin to show.” Wade tried to sound like he was joking. “No one needs to have nightmares.” 

“Wade.” Peter murmured and kissed him lightly. “As hard as I’ve been staring at you, I’m wishing you had shown up shirtless. You should be glad I don’t have laser eyes or something, because you would be shirtless. And maybe pantsless and maybe--” he quit talking in favor of crushing their mouths together in a hungry kiss. 

“Yeah?” Wade licked his lips nervously when they parted again. “You’re alright with-- with this?” 

“So alright with it.” Peter copied Wades earlier motion, and slipped his hands underneath the shirt until he could feel the rough skin sliding under his palms. “Wade, I am so alright with this and so much more of this, just all of--” he scratched his nails lightly and Wade groaned under his breath. “You’re amazing. You are amazing with your mask on and I’m so glad this is a real date because you’re just amazing without your mask on and I want to...” 

Another kiss, longer this time and heated, tongues tangling and hands roaming, breath coming harder between them until Wade yanked himself away and took off running, dragging Peter along with him. 

“Your place?” Peter called, laughing as he chased him and Wade hollered back--

“Hurry the fuck up baby boy! I don’t want the clock to strike midnight and the date to be over before I get to you and that booty!” 

Peter laughed all the way down the street. 

The chocolate ice cream lay on the ground where Wade had dropped it, forgotten. 

**************************

[doublerumnukacola]

If I had a bullet for every mistake, the whole Commonwealth would be dead.

Sole’s head was pounding uncontrollably. She groaned, holding it as she drifted out of sleep. Her mouth was uncomfortably dry, her tongue feeling leathery and sticky against her cracked lips. Was this how Hancock felt all the time?

She kept her eyes closed against the invading sunlight, trying to cover them and massage her skull at the same time. She vaguely recalled a nuka-cola bottle on her bedside, maybe there were some stale dregs left inside… She reached over to it, patting blindly as she went… Hold on…

Sole opened her eyes, adjusting to the light. There was a figure beside her, laying against the headboard, fully clothed with their hat pulled over their face. Both were unmistakable.

“Fuck…” She muttered. The figure stirred.

“Language...” Macready murmured, pulling the hat up. His blue eyes were so striking against the dreary beige of the room. She smiled, despite the headache.

“So it's one of these dreams…” She sighed, nestling back into the pillow. “I must be pretty hungover if I’m feeling it in my sleep.” Macready gave a hesitant smile, wondering if she really thought she was dreaming. Sole looked over tiredly, brow furrowing. “... And you usually have less clothes on…” Mac coughed, cheeks flushing. It took a moment for it dawn on her that she was awake. She sat up slowly, smile falling. Macready tried to slowly slide off the bed, but she put a gentle, but firm hand on his coat.

“You’re… Here…” She started simply, dumbstruck. “You came back…” Macready was a bit choked up. He looked away from her.

“Of course I came back, I just…” He tried, but his words trailed off. This wasn't how he really wanted the conversation to go. He didn't really want the conversation at all, he just wanted things to go back to the way they were. The two of them against the Commonwealth… But he sort of blew that. She rubbed her head, closing her eyes.

“I understand why you left.” She said quietly.

“Uh, you do?” Mac asked nervously. She took a breath, trying to keep her stomach down.  

“Yeah, I do.” She reaffirmed, annoyance creeping into her voice. “You left to see Duncan.” Her chest tightened as she continued, heart starting to ache. “I knew that. But what I had to think about all that time you were gone was why you left without me…” Mac bit his lip, he wanted to answer, but words failed him. “At first I thought it was because it would only be a quick visit. Then I thought it was because you were just tired of me…”

“Sole, no…” He tried, but she continued.

“In the end, I put myself in your shoes. Really thought about what could drive someone to do something so thoughtless…” Sole’s voice grew stronger now as she pushed through the hangover. “It was because you were afraid.” His face paled, she’d hit the nail on the head with that one. “Afraid of what Duncan would think of you moving on, what he would think of me, what I would think of him. Maybe it was something else, I could think of a thousand things to be afraid of. What gets me, is you… Never said goodbye… A letter… Anything.” She clutched the material of his coat tightly, balling it in her fist… Before taking a breath and letting go.

“You always knew me better than I ever could.” Macready admitted quietly. “I was terrorfied. Not just of those things but… Losing you. Taking you somewhere that could get you killed…” He gave a soft laugh, barely above a sharp breath. “Sounds a lot stupider out loud than in my head.”

“That should be your slogan, Mac.” Sole joked, but she didn't smile. The world was starting to come into focus again, but the banging in her head was growing more distracting. There was usually some water in her gear, so she started to make her way off the bed. The pain intensified, she managed her breathing to keep her going.

“Hey take it easy!” He snapped, moving to help her up, but she waved away his hands.

“I can… Make it across the room. Thank you… Very much.” She mumbled, pausing to swallow down bile that kept trying to crawl up her throat. She tottered to her gear, rifling through for her can of purified water. Her fingers found it and she cracked it open, drinking it down greedily. She finished, took a gasp of breath, and tossed the empty can on the floor.

“Guess it's the maids problem now.” Macready joked nervously.

“Shut up, R.J.” Sole muttered, loud enough for him to hear. His jaw set into a firm frown, the nickname always struck a nerve with him. She stood at the dresser for a moment, collecting herself.

She looked down at herself, she was still wearing the rose dress. She needed her armor to deal with this. Her Vault suit was still at Irma’s, but she had some road leathers she’d been keeping just in case.

She slipped the dress off over her head, setting it on the dresser to keep it neat.

“Should I uh… Go?” Macready asked. Sole refused to turn around, but she smirked. His face was undoubtedly flushed red as a tato.

“Why? Not like you haven't seen it all before.” Sole noted casually, bending down to get the road leathers and Combat armor. There was a heavy silence, Macready stayed on the bed, frozen to the spot. She started sliding on the jeans, the denim hugging close to the skin.

“So, uh…” He swallowed, but tried to keep the conversation going. “Are you… Still mad at me?” She sighed, pulling the jeans over her hips, more snug than last she tried them on.

“Mad? Who’s mad?” She asked, grabbing a ratty tshirt two sizes too big. “I told you I understand why you left.” She took her time slipping the shirt on, she heard another audible swallow. “You alright, R.J.? Need a can of water? You sound a little thirsty.” She tugged the shirt over her head and pulled it down. He coughed, trying to clear his throat.

“Does that mean… You forgive me?” He asked hesitantly. She froze, hands wrapped in her leather jacket.

“No.” She answered coldly. That was all she had to say on it, and he was smart enough not to press. She resumed putting on the leather jacket.

“Figured as much.” He sighed, finally moving off the bed, now that his blood flow was moving north. “Any chance that…” He said before he could stop himself.

“Chance that I’ll change my mind?” She asked sharply. He flinched back. “Forgive you for leaving without notice? Not long after I told you I loved you?” Oh he’d screwed up. He cringed into his hat, pulling it over his face. “I couldn't have been that bad in bed. I certainly didn't hear any complaints when I put that mutfruit-”

“Jeez ok I’m sorry!” He cut in. “I messed up!” She chuckled softly. She’d missed getting under his skin like this. She turned to him, smiling gently.

“Mac…” She started, starting to grow more sentimental now that her headache was fading. “Not two days ago I was drowning at the bottom of a bottle, trying to get over you.” She looked away, moving towards the door. “And at the end of it I did.” She opened her hotel door and looked back at him. “I'm going to start packing now, you can come back when I’m done and do what you want with the room.”

“You don't have to leave because of me-” Macready started but she shook her head.

“No, I decided this before…” She explained.

“What would you have done with my stuff?” Macready asked jokingly. “I hope you wouldn’t have burnt it, those comics are pretty rare.”

“Probably would have given it to Daisy.” She guessed. He nodded, glad it wasn't malicious. He headed out the door, pausing in the hall.

“For what it's worth,” He said, voice hitching. “Duncan would have loved you.” She swung the door shut, locking it quickly. He stayed there a moment from shock, the suddenness catching him off guard. He put a hand on the door silently, as if trying to feel her through the plywood. He rested his forehead against the door, closing his eyes. Then, in the stillness of the hotel, he heard quiet, broken sobs. The kind when you cover your mouth, choking on the words you want to scream out, and tears bleed down soaking your shirt. The sobs you make when you are desperate that nobody hear you.

They were the same ones he’d done after Lucy was killed, and Duncan was fast asleep.

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[thegastricadventure]

The Great Sorting Dilemma

Let me tell you a small story, I was going through my clothing earlier, emptying drawers looking at sizes and eyeing every piece of clothing with a skeptical eye. I never realized how many articles I’ve collected over the years. It makes it even weirder when I realize when I was 25 I lost everything.

By losing everything I do mean everything. I came out of a bad relationship with the clothes on my back, my laptop, a pair of pajama pants, my camera and my critters (at that time it was 3 cats and my dog). So over the last 12 years I have gathered quite a massive amount in my eyes. I should also note I had one more purge session when my daughters father and I broke up.

Having now gone through everything I have somewhere between 5-7 trash bags (just the tall white kitchen ones) stuffed full of clothing and shoes for people who are a bit bigger than I am now.

With that said lets go back to the first step of this new quest of mine..

Knowing I was going to go through a purge over the last few months I have kept things out of my drawers as I have used/worn them. Well, I would like to think it was all early planning on my part, you know part of that grand master plan. However, it was because I was unmotivated to put them away and when I finally got the wind in my sails, I was quickly given a reality check of my luck.

About August I had started to move my bedroom around. I have no built in closet so my closet can move anywhere I want it, and prior to August my bed was shoved into a corner and my room resembled to something maybe an angsty teenager who listened to My Chemical Romanance while apply black eye liner and lipstick complaining about how no one understands them.

Okay, perhaps that last bit was a smidge overboard but I was doing it for the dramatic effect. However, I did feel like I was back into High School.

To do that I emptied the majority of things out of my closet and my dressers, I even bought a new bed! To be fair my old bed was a used bed that I got 10 years ago. So It was needed if I was going to be spending any amount of time in it. So I was lucky to have gotten a good deal and had spare money just laying around.

Now my room was now in a whole new position and my clothes needed a culling. Sadly, it had to wait until October for it to happen. Two days before my daughter went back to school we were getting final school supplies and I broke my ankle! I was laid low for about seven weeks. Luckily I just missed breaking it in the spot that would have required surgery and rehab.

So my motivation went away like ice in the desert. Which leads me to now, only a few days away from my surgery and now I am finally finishing my bedroom and my clothing.

Since I have now had my story time of the day, we will get to the meat of the post! Sorting clothing.

When sorting clothing I put everything I own into a giant pile either in my living room or on my bed. This time it is on my bed, which I will post the picture of once I am completely done putting things away.

With everything in one place you will get overwhelmed. It is a lot of stuff, or it will seem like it. Breathe. It will be okay.

Start with one piece at a time. Look at it, decide if you are going to wear it. Do you like wearing it? Can you wear it multiple times a year or is it a one and done thing? What size is it? Be honest is it already too big or small for you?

Ask yourself all these things and more. Start new piles. I suggest: Keep, Discard, Maybe, Pack.

Now I know it may seem like a stupid step but go with me on this, let me explain why I suggest doing this. 

The keep stuff, you know what you want to keep, what you will wear. In the keep pile you will also find yourself putting in stuff you want to keep because of emotional attachment. So when you go further into that pile, separate the stuff you know you are going to wear to the ones you don’t want to get rid of. Put that second pile with the pack pile. Put your clothing away. Good job! The hard part is done!

The discard pile is a hard one, but once you get into that pile you can choose to make two in it once you go through it again. One is donate the other is trash. If you can’t make that choice don’t stress yourself out!! Almost all big donation sites: Salvation Army or Goodwill (Arc where I am) sort everything when they get it anyway. They will throw away the truly ratty things. Don’t stress yourself out by trying to decide things. What I suggest you do if you know that is something that is going to make you worry, as you place things in the discard pile put them into a trash back and tie it off when it is full and put it to the side. It allows you to see how far you have come and forces the idea that you won’t take something out of it once it is tied.

The maybe pile is pretty self explained. It is the stuff you aren’t quite sure okay. Don’t get stuck on one piece of clothing, come back to it! Think about it slowly while you go through everything. Ask the additional questions of: Do I have other clothing like this? What will I wear with it? Do I like it or am I hung up on how much I spent on it? Remember with everything in your clothing collection the money is already spent. No matter how long you hold onto something, no matter how much you paid for it, if you don’t like it or no longer wear it all it does is take up space. You won’t get money or time back the longer you hold onto it. Throw it out. You don’t need it as a reminder of something you can no longer wear or wasted money on. As many people say “Release it to the universe” It’s the universes problem now.

The pack pile, this one is a little interesting. Only because many things can go into this pile. I have shirts from back when I lived with an Electronica Artist (like a DJ) and he taught me to spin vinyl (that is a whole other story) so I had gotten clothing based solely on that pastime years ago. Packing can be put into many different piles and it all depends on you. I personally had three. My piles were Graphic Tees, Memories and Reminders.

Graphic Tees - I have a very large tshirt collection. I have a love of tshirts I live in them unless at a shoot, hiking or doing Girl Scout/Church related events. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them, but there is no reason for my to have 50+ shirts in my dressers. I am sure at some point I will go back to that box in the future and decide to get rid of some of them since I will not have them around me, but until then this is a good choice I know I have the room for it so I will just take advantage of it.

Memories - This is for those aforementioned DJ shirts and a few others, the dresses I wore to my grandfathers and my grandmothers funerals, the hoodie I had one when I was in my roll over car accident that saved my face from getting hundreds of stitches and my shirt I wore when introducing my daughter to her family when she was out of the NICU and healthy enough to travel. I may never wear any of these things again but they have a very deep connection with me and I can’t just let it go. So into a box they go just like my daughters first toy and pictures that aren’t on my wall or in scrap books.

Reminders - I suggest you do this box or bag. Whatever you have room for. This is where you put your largest set of clothing you own. The favorite pair of jeans that you wore all the time when you were at your biggest or lowest (mentally that is) and the shirt you wore because you felt safe in it. It hid all the fat rolls or the fact that you didn’t shower or shave your arm pits. Put all that together so when you finally get to a plateau or hurdle where you are thinking things aren’t worth it or you aren’t moving forward fast enough you can pull it out and truly see how far you’ve come! If it helps write yourself a letter, from the person you are now are writing to the person you will become.

Once you are done sorting, everything that is in that keep pile? Wash it. Start fresh and new. Fold it and put it away. Get new hangers if you need to, those cedar drawer and closet hangers to keep everything smelling fresh and keep away any buggies that might wander in because of the heat or cold.

It sounds like a lot but it will help you. The more together you are now the easier it will be together later when you may be more frazzled.

Remember, you don’t have to do this all at once. Take you time if you can. It is a marathon not a sprint. It took your your whole life to get where you are today, it won’t take hours to undo a lifetime of habits. Small changes add up to grand things.

You’re doing great even if all you do in one day is fill one bag or throw away one shirt. You are just one small step closer to your goal. That is something to be celebrated! Kudos, I’m proud of you for everything you’ve accomplished thus far.

[pancakesgoforcliff-blog]

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 I stood there leaning on the counter waiting for my shift to end and reading my Cosmopolitan magazine. It had Brooke Shields on the cover. She was the hottest celebrity in 1981. Pretty much on the cover of everything. Plus I heard she was kind of dating Michael Jackson. Or seen with... according to all the Hollywood gossip rags. It was nearing the end of my shift. All I had to do was wait for a coworker to relieve me. But she wasn't around yet: I was getting excited for a bit and then it hit me. I was going to have to hang out with James wearing my waitress uniform. It wasn't too bad. It was a little short at the knee and not exactly something I'd wear to go hang out with a guy. We didn't have any customers at that moment so I quickly went to the restroom and gave myself a once over before I powdered my nose and put on my coat. I stood at the counter and waited for my other coworker Debbie to clock in. I glanced outside and I saw him out there leaning against his truck. I suddenly felt nervous as all get out and I needed a cigarette... badly. I quickly snuck out the back door to have a smoke and compose myself before I went out to meet James. It was helping. My nerves were dissipating. "Hot date tonight, smalls?" It was Kevin, one of the older cooks. I always waited for him to be done his shift and he'd give me a ride home. He always made sure I got home safe. "Nooo we're just hanging out tonight" I said as I took a drag of my cigarette. "Well, you have fun babydoll" he crossed his arms "Let me know if that boy gives you any trouble" "I'm sure he won't Kev!" I laughed. "Let me finished my cigarette in peace" "Alright, shithead. See you tomorrow" I smiled at him before he left. My nerves were pretty much gone. I think it was just the 5 hours of anticipation after James left the diner earlier. I went back inside and I checked a window to see if James was still waiting and he was. I wasn't as nervous as I was but my heart rate was still a little elevated. I could tell because he saw me through the window and it started banging wildly against my chest. Missy must have told Debbie about it because I faintly heard "Get it over with, sweety" I looked back at her and smiled "I'll see you on Monday, Deb. Have a good weekend." And out the door I went. I slowly walked towards him and I finally gained some composure when he smiled at me. "Hey, Michelle" he said as he extended his hand for me to shake. I grabbed his hand and instead he kissed my knuckle and looked me in the eyes while he did it. I giggled and turned red. It's been some time since a guy has made me blush. He obviously went home to get cleaned up. He was dressed differently. His clothes didn't have any holes in them. He was wearing a black leather jacket and a black tshirt that said black sabbath on it. And black jeans. His shoes were ratty and falling apart. He was obviously a skater. "So, what are we going to do tonight?" I asked as I hugged my coat tighter around me. It was super chilly out. I could see my breath. "Why don't we get into my warm truck and see where the night takes us?" His eyes eyes lit up as he said it. He was adorable. His smile took up most of his face. I love his smile. "Yeah totally, I'm sure we can think of something." "If we can't find anything good to do we can come back here and have coffee or something" "That could be a plan as well" I laughed as he opened the passenger door to his truck and stood there holding the door waiting for me to get in like a chauffeur. He was a dork and it made me smile. We drove around for awhile and talked. He told me dorky jokes and I genuinely laughed at them. He was pretty funny. But he also smelled amazing. "So are you in high school still?" "No I graduated in June." "Awesome, what do you want to do with your life" "I'm still undecided. I figured I would take a year off and think of what I want for a career. What do you do?" "Me and some friends just started a band, so far so good" "You and those guys you come to the diner with? What's your band called?" "Those guys yeah. We're called Metallica" "That's a great name. I like it." He smiled that amazing smile at me and he asked me if I wanted to come watch a movie at his place. He lived with his friend Cliff and his girlfriend. It was the middle of the night. But it actually didn't sound so bad since there was another girl there so I accepted the offer. He seemed like a nice enough guy. So why the heck not. Plus he smelled amazing. I guess it's time to find out where this is going.

[tacosandsausage-blog]

Laundry Day

You know how every couple of weeks there’s a point where you are out of clean clothes? I dread going to the laundromat. It never fails that it’s usually super busy and I have to wait for a machine. Or there are a bunch that are broken. And I include myself in this statement (there are a bunch of weirdos lurking) among alll those mundane trips to the laundromat, one stands out in particular

It was a big load day. Not only my clothes, but bedding and blankets. That generally means a longer visit with the extensive number of loads. Fortunately, it’s not too busy today. Maybe because it’s saturday evening. Usually the mornings are tough with everyone wanting to get done so thay can have free time. As you get closer to evening you either get fewer patrons, or people like me who don’t have social life. Needless to say, I have my pick of machines, and the large loader is availble for my blankets.  I shove my loads in, pop the coins and turn to my phone screen. The wash does its thing, people wander in and out, but I’m engrossed in something of little consequence. Soon I start to hear some knocking. When I look up a machine is off its mount and knocking into other machines beside. People are standing around gawking, so I go up and lean into it to see if I can get it stabilized. No luck. Man vs machine and the agitator wins. So I decide to just lean on it while it finishes its spin cycle so that at least its not banging around. Its taking some considerable effort and people are snickering. I chuckle myself. The load finishes and I return to my own loads and deposit them in the dryers. Of course I cannot find a bank of dryers in sequence so I have to cart my stuff around the laundromat. Honestly I am just thankful that I don’t have to wait for one to open up. All loaded, I go back to my phone. An hour or so later the buzzer rings and I start to collect my items. The place is nearly empty except for a family and an annoyingly attractive young couple. 

With earbuds in, I pour my clothes onto the counter and start to fold them. As I dig through my pile I see a gross holey pair of mens underwear. It’s mixed into my load and I am unclear if it was in the washer or dryer. I’m poking it and making a face when I hear something. I look over to see Its the girl from the couple laughing. I pull out an earbud to exclaim that they are not mine. She cocks and eyebrow and says ‘Okay’ in that way where the tone affirming, but the body language is “if you say so, but I don’t believe you.” I’m looking for a stick or something to separate it out and push into a nearby trash bin. The girl looks at me and says “you want this?” while holding up a hanger. That would do the trick. She goes on and says, ”I suppose I owe you for holding my unbalanced load”. I squint with my best ‘that was you glare’, and she giggles. She hands me the hanger and I take it, but she doesn’t let go. I look back and realize i’ve been so focused on my foreign underwear issue that I haven’t even looked at her. She’s cute. Blonde with her hair pinned up messy, a ratty sweatshirt and shorts. Clearly in the same boat as me with dwindling wardrobe. That said even dressed down with little make-up she is attractive. SHe finally lets go of the hanger and take it while looking for her boyfriend. I say thanks, and she says no prob and grabs one of my tshirts. “This is cool! where’d you get it?” Its one of my designs. “Thanks “ I say that I made it. Now she’s putting it on. Its too big and I am too shy to protest. I look again for her other half and at this point I ask. “Where’s…” and she finishes the question “…my brother? He took off a while ago. Laundry is too boring to just hang out.”

At this point I am so ecstatic to be in a laundromat on a Saturday evening.

[a-beautifulday2savelives]

Will I be remembered or will I be lost in loving eyes... *We Came As Romans

I was going through old posts last night.  There’s an entry from the spring before I went to grad school.  We went to a We Came As Romans concert.  I wrote that evening about how my favorite part of the whole trip wasn’t the show, but instead, watching how happy it made you.  I was so incredibly content and full of peace to get to see you that way.  It meant everything to me for you to have a moment where the world felt still... especially after Jason died. 

I think that’s part of why it literally took my breath away and hit me so hard when Kyle died a few months ago.  We’ve both had our own trials and tribulations, but even in the darkest of times we always had music.  That was always our light.  I was sitting at the longer table pressed against the window in Starbucks... the right chair by the door with the air blower that drives me insane. That's when I got the text message.  Kyle died. They didn't even have the decency to tell me. I was just sent a news article.  I think I’ll remember that moment forever.  A piece of everything that was happy about our memories for me died then too.  All of my feelings about drugs and overdose aside, it broke my heart all over again that one more thing between us had vanished.  No matter how dark our passed sometimes was, Kyle always showed us the light.  For so long he was our only light.  It still doesn’t feel real sometimes. Sometimes the dark scares me now. Some nights... some nights his voice stains my cheeks with mascara as tears fall to the floor. Am I crying because he died... because your gone... or both? I don't know if I currently have that answer. Maybe I never will.

I wonder from time to time if you ever think about those evenings?  Do you think about showing up at the House of Blues to see Andrew at 4:30 am determined to be front row center?  Do you remember seeing him again just a few days before I moved away.  That was literally the very last thing we ever did together... an Andrew McMahon show on the east coast.  We stood in the back left against the wall in the tiny bar with awful acoustics.  He played Cavanaugh Park.  I was so excited because I knew it was your favorite. Do you still have that ratty old white Element tshirt you wore to all his shows... the one you asked him to sign as a joke? Or did you throw it away with all your Romans shirts? Do you remember the Yellowcard concert at Jannus?  The drumstick you caught that night that for some reason you can't find it in you to want anymore?  It sits on my guitar amp now.  That night Ryan stood on stage, and for the very first time I heard Sing for Me.  That song became my anthem for you after you disappeared.  “Look at me, and listen close so I can tell you how I feel before I go.... Say tomorrow, I can’t follow you there.  Just close your eyes and sing for me... Out of time.  All out of fight.  You were the only thing in life that I got right.”  Amber had Ryan handwrite those lyrics for me for Christmas for me last year.  That might just be one of the most important things I own.

I guess what I struggle with the most is that all of these nights I spent so excited for you... because you felt safe... because you were happy... because he played your song... always because of you, and it feels now as though you never cared about me back.  I always put you before myself... always.  Don’t get me wrong, I did it of my own free will, and I don’t regret it.  But it hurts.  I literally would have broken my heart in two if it would have saved yours. I would have done anything to save you from everything we have been through. I'm so sorry I failed. I guess... I guess all those years I thought our bond went both ways.  I believed we were stronger than anything, because I knew how much I loved you and I just assumed you felt the same.  It really has begun to feel like I was wrong.

I find myself struggling a lot lately.  I’ve spent 20 years imagining what medical school would be like, and the truth is none of what I had imagined turned out to be true.  Until lately, I didn’t realize that I was getting in my own way.  I’ve been so consumed by this idea of how life is supposed to be that I’ve forgotten to appreciate and enjoy what it truly is.  While I feel as though I’m finally slowly starting to pull myself out of this funk, it’s in these moments I miss you the most.  There have been so many times lately I wish I could have just come home to you sitting on your bed with your guitar playing Take Me Dancing for me because you know I’m struggling.  I’ve needed that guy so many times.  You gave me so much hope... so much strength.  You pushed me through so many situations I didn’t think I was capable of surviving.  I probably wouldn't have without you... but in the end I guess everyone leaves.  

I catch myself looking for you all the time... in the back of the room at my white coat... somewhere in a moshpit at a concert... sitting in the backseat of my car with Jason smiling and playing Pokemon on your Gameboys. In everything I do, I feel myself looking for you hoping that you're smiling... hoping that maybe just maybe you're proud of me too.

I hope wherever you are tonight you’re happy.  I hope life has been treating you well.  

Just close your eyes and sing for me.

[rparchiveblogxoxo]

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like seblaine.

Stranger: (Seblaine) After graduation, Blaine and Kurt were only happy for so long before they just weren't again. This time, when they called it off, they called it off for good. Only a couple of years later did Blaine graduate and had his teaching license. After a couple of odds and ends substituting jobs, he ended up setting down in Boston as a full-time teacher. One day after classes, he took his tests that needed to be graded and went to a local coffee shop before settling down at a table near the door and started working, only pausing every now and then to sip on his coffee.

You: Sebastian stopped in to the coffee shop to get himself something to drink to get himself through the rest of his day. On his way back out the door with coffee in hand, he stopped short at the sight of Blaine sitting there at a table. He paused for a second, looking at him, partially convinced he was just imagining the likeness. "Well, isn't this a surprise?" he said as he approached the table. "Blaine Anderson."

Stranger: Blaine had long since gotten used to people walking past him while he was sitting down working on whatever task was at hand. However, this time was different. When he heard a voice that he hadn't heard in years but it was still as familiar as it was back then, he quickly looked up to figure out if he was imagining it or not. Once his eyes landed on Sebastian he had a shocked look on his face, but smiled up to him, "Sebastian?" He replied, not expecting to see him or anyone else that he knew there of all places.

You: Sebastian looked at Blaine with a grin, chuckling softly as he pulled the chair across the table from Blaine and sitting down; sure, he could've asked, but he didn't want to risk Blaine actually saying no, even considering how he did seem to be pleased to see him. "Long time no see, huh?" he said with a soft chuckle. "So, what the hell are you doing in Boston?"

Stranger: As Sebastian went to sit down across from him, Blaine quickly moved his papers out of Sebastian's way, wanting to at least give him the option of having some table space if he wanted to put his drink down or not. "Yeah, it's been a really long time. Don't think I've seen you since graduation and high school one at that," he replied back. He had texted Sebastian a couple of times during the summer before college but it just never really seemed to be good timing then and he just forgot about it as time went on. "I'm actually working here. What are you doing in Boston?"

You: Sebastian smiled softly at Blaine in thanks, setting his cup down in the newly freed up space. "God, yeah, I guess it has been that long," he said, shaking his head slightly. "God, how the time flies." He looked at Blaine for a moment then, almost as if appraising him. He raised his eyebrows slightly at his words, letting out a soft laugh. "Well, wouldn't you know it, I live here too now, actually."

Stranger: Blaine sat his pen down on the table and sat back a little, putting all of his focus now on Sebastian and not on the work he had to do. "It really has. It's been what, four about five years or something like that?" He replied, not feeling like thinking about it too much that way. "Really?" He replied back, surprised again by this, "How long have you been here?"

You: Sebastian hummed softly in thought, nodding. "Yeah, something like that, at any rate," he said with a soft chuckle, shrugging. He looked at him with a smile, nodding. "Yep. It's been... Ah, I don't know, I guess something like a year now," he said with a small shrug.

Stranger: "You've been here longer than I have then," Blaine told him, shrugging his shoulders a little bit. "I've been working for like two months so I've been here about four," Blaine told him, motioning to all of the papers in front of him. "Which explains all of this. What about you? You still in college or are you doing something else?"

You: "Mm, well, good to know that we haven't missed out on each other by far too much," Sebastian said with a soft chuckle, giving him a smile. He nodded, glancing down at the papers before looking back at Blaine. "Yeah, no, I'm still selling my soul to academia. The end is within sight, though. Then I sell my soul to someone else."

Stranger: Blaine laughed a little at that, shaking his head at Sebastian as he reached up for his coffee cup, taking a sip of it. "Well, at least you'll be past the part where you have to pay something to get something. Then you'll have to work to get something else," he told him.

You: Sebastian laughed softly at his words, shaking his head slightly. "Look at you, all grown up and speaking in riddles," he teased, looking at him with a grin. "So, what /is/ your work that you're doing here, with all this paper?"

Stranger: Blaine laughed a little again and shook his head at that, "That's how you know you're older I guess," he replied back to him. "Well, I am a teacher. So I have a lot of papers that need to be graded. I try to stay on top of it but look how many I have now," he laughed a little.

You: Sebastian nodded slightly, looking down at the papers. He grabbed one and turned it so that he could look at it. "Mm... Yeah, no, I could never live that life. You're a stronger man than I, Blaine," he said with a soft chuckle.

Stranger: "It's not that bad," Blaine told him, looking over the papers. "Once you have all of the answers it's so easy to just go through them all," he shrugged. "Are you still going into law? That's a lot more than I could have done."

You: "Still. It's terrible and I could never do it. Especially interacting with the students on a daily basis," Sebastian said with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Yep. That's why I'm up here now, for law school. It's not so bad, and it means I get to be paid for arguing, eventually."

Stranger: "I like kids," Blaine replied and shrugged his shoulders. "I like kids and I like music so just combine the two of them and that's what I get paid to do. My paycheck isn't that much but it's better than nothing," he stated. "Now that's something that I can see you doing well with, paid to argue with people."

You: Sebastian nodded slightly. "Yeah.. I mean, I can definitely see that working out well for you. I'm glad that you're still doing stuff with music," he said with a small smile. He chuckled softly and nodded. "Exactly. I can't say for sure, but I imagine the career may have still called to me even if it wasn't what's been expected of me forever."

Stranger: "Yeah, I don't think I could do something that didn't involve music. I need to be able to do something with it," Blaine told him. "I'm sure even if you weren't so good at you'd still do well as a lawyer. I can't picture you doing anything else."

You: Sebastian hummed softly and nodded. "Yeah, it suits you. It seems like you figured out the right path for yourself," he said with a nod. He chuckled softly and nodded. "Mm, yeah, it's my calling. It's the suits, though, isn't it? Can't picture me dressed down on the daily."

Stranger: Blaine laughed a little at that and took a sip of his coffee again, "You caught me, it's the suits," he agreed with him, a grin on his face at it all. "You can dress down on the weekends."

You: Sebastian laughed softly and nodded. "I knew it. Nobody can resist me in a suit, it's just human nature," he said with a soft laugh. "Oh believe me, I will. I will be /so/ dressed down on weekends."

Stranger: "Are you really going to get /that/ dressed down?" Blaine asked him, raising an eyebrow at him over the fact. "I'm going to need to see him proof about that before I believe it."

You: Sebastian let out a soft laugh, grinning at him. "So, I'm going to choose to believe that what just happened was you asking me for nudes," he said with a wink.

Stranger: Blaine blushed a little at and shook his head at him, "That's not what I was saying, but if you're going to take it that way then I'll just let you think that," he said, his eyes going away from Sebastian's face.

You: Sebastian let out a soft laugh, nodding. "Mhm. I know what you meant. Believe it or not, I have ratty old tshirts in my closet," he said. He paused for a second, then asked, "Are you seeing anyone? Was that overstepping a line?"

Stranger: "Do you really now? I'm in shock about that one, I don't think I've ever seen you wear an actual tee-shirt." Blaine replied back to him. At his second question, he quickly shook his head, "No, no, don't worry about that. I'm not seeing anyone. I haven't seen anyone since Kurt and I broke up. Figured I needed time for myself while I figured everything out."

You: "Yeah, I wear them occasionally. Not enough to have a whole lot, but they're around. Tshirts, hoodies, I've got them," Sebastian said with a soft chuckle. He nodded, giving him a small smile. "Well, that's good, then. So long as you're not lonely."

Stranger: Blaine returned the smile to him, and shrugged a little, "It's a little lonely occasionally, but it's not that bad I guess. I think I might get a dog though, I've been wanting one for a long time."

You: Sebastian let out a soft laugh at his words, nodding. 'Yeah, I think that would be perfect for you. You seem like a dog kind of guy," he said.

Stranger: "Yeah?" Blaine asked him at that, "I thought it would be a good idea, I've just been wanting to get more settled in before getting one and having that commitment. Anyway, how about you? Anyone in your life pets included I guess," he laughed a little.

You: Sebastian nodded. "Yeah, but it sounds like you've been here long enough that it's about time you can make that commitment," he said with. a nod. He chuckled softly, rolling his eyes. "Eh, no, no one special. My brother, an asshole, gave me a bird when I came out here, though. It screams at night."

Stranger: "Yeah, I think it's time. Whenever I have time to go find one," Blaine shrugged. At the comment on the bird, he laughed out loud at that, "I'm sorry, that sounds terrible but that's also hilarious."

You: "Yeah, that'll be fun. Play around with some puppies. Or adopt an older dog, that's a nice thing," Sebastian said with a nod. Chuckling, he shrugged. "It is, it really is. Worst part is, I kinda love the damn thing."

Stranger: "I think I'm going to adopt one, I'm just going to go see which one I get attached to," Blaine told him. "Oh come on, that's great. It's better than you the love the poor bird and you don't hate him. If you didn't the poor bird might be suffering."

You: "Yeah, that sounds like a good way to do it," Sebastian said with a nod, smiling softly at him. "Mm... Yeah, I guess that's a good way of looking at it. No, he's definitely not suffering. I spoil the little jerk. He can't help that he's dumb."

Stranger: "Don't be rude to your poor bird, he's just happily living his life being spoiled as he can be," Blaine told him, grinning at their conversation about the bird. "I think your brother gave him to you for a reason."

You: "Yeah, he is. I try to teach him stuff, so that he'll be one of those cool birds? Not happening," Sebastian said with a soft laugh. "Yeah, and that reason is because he knew a bird is the loudest pet. He says he gave me the bird so I wouldn't get lonely, but I know better."

Stranger: "He wants to be a free minded bird and not have to deal with people telling him what to do, you can't blame him there," Blaine replied back. "You don't know that, he could you be a good brother, making sure you have something else in the house to talk to even if he doesn't talk back as well."

You: "Mm, no, the bird definitely talks back. He talks back so, so much. He sings, too. Maybe you could get through to him," Sebastian said with a soft laugh, grinning and shaking his head. "But yeah. I guess it might be too quiet without him around."

Stranger: Blaine laughed a little at the list of things that the bird got up to, "Now I really don't think you'd want your bird and me both singing, but if you /really/ want that it could be arranged," he joked. "You know it would be and it's okay. We both know it you don't have to admit it."

You: "I mean, at least you're a good singer. He... has heart, I'll give him that," Sebastian said with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Mm... Yeah, yeah, I'll admit it. I just thought, you know, birds are supposed to know to go to sleep at night. You throw a blanket on them and boom, night time, gotta go to sleep. Not him."

Stranger: "I'm sure you're heard worse. I mean I'm sure you sat through a Warbler's audition process," Blaine reminded him. "All because you cover him up and try to shut him out doesn't take the heart of it all away," he joked again.

You: "Mm, true, true. There was a whole lot of lack of talent that I saw," Sebastian said with a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Mhm... Fair point. He just wants to be heard. And apparently I must be the one to hear him."

Stranger: "I think as long as he's not so loud that he bothers your neighbors that you'll be fine. You'd know if you were bothering them too," Blaine added on and finished up what was left in his coffee cup before setting the cup back down.

You: "Mhm, true. My neighbors seem like good people, they don't need to deal with my bird's sass," Sebastian said with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "So, yeah. Get a dog. Birds are loud, and weird."

Stranger: "Would you really want a bird without a personality, though? That just sounds boring," Blaine replied back. "Don't worry, I'm going to let you be the one with all of the bird stories. I'll happily stick with a dog."

You: "Yeah, no, he'd be boring, for sure. I like him the way he is. I kind of like how he cuddles," Sebastian admitted with a soft laugh. "Yeah, definitely a good call. You can train dogs however you want. And they listen."

Stranger: "Wait, you and your bird actually cuddle? Now I will need a picture of that, that sounds too cute." Blaine told him, grinning at the thought of it. "Yup, lets just hope my dog doesn't bark at ghosts in the middle of the night."

You: "I can maybe arrange that. He hangs out on my shoulders and likes to try and sneak into my shirts," Sebastian said with a soft laugh. "Oh god, they do do that, don't they? God, maybe no pets are without their faults."

Stranger: "I accept videos of it too, whatever it may take," Blaine told him, a little more excited that he should be over the thought of possibly seeing that. "They really aren't. Like cats can be little devils. Fish don't do much but swim around," he shrugged.

You: "Mhm, that can definitely happen. Hell, if you come over sometime, you'll probably see it," Sebastian said with a soft chuckle, smiling softly at him. "Ugh, true. Lizards? I don't know. They're basically like fish, but weirder."