#cheap store for car stuff

[shouldprobablybereading]

In case anyone is missing out on the wonderful swedish commentary the sand loreen lies on is apparently purchased from biltema in skövde

[zombiepatch]

watching vids of people showing their commonplace journals / general journals and suddenly being hit with an intense wave of sadness because my life feels so dull and pathetic 😭 it's not even over anything major either it's just like... "i threw in some pics i took w/ my friend on this page" and i go... fuuuuck

[rigberts]

I'm such a goddamn hypocrite bc I will say with my full chest that if anyone gives you shit for not being able to hold back your tears in public (whether it's school, work, a party, the bus, whatever) then you are legally allowed to fucking destroy them like an orangutan thrashing a snake against the ground by its tail, but if I ever start to cry in front of a single person I feel obligated to creep off to the nearest dark corner to quietly commit seppuku

[longingforacultparty]

oh i didnt mention b4 but i work at a thrift store now which is cool

[wifeyoozi]

more woozi boyfriend headanons except no one really talks enough about these ones because hi my name is ceecee and I am clinically insane about this man

he is veryyy veryyy touchy and cuddly. idk why people always think this otherwise but I firmly believe that in a relationship he's very touchy. he may not be the one initiating the touches, but he always has this one particular whiny look or sound from which you know that your man needs one good hug ]. an attention whore who's too proud to admit. (tho this only happens when you two are alone cuz he is also one shy bean)

I feel that once you get actually close to him, he would share every detail of his life with you and will hear every detail of yours. in his mind its just something really intimate. when he's had a hard or tiring day, he wont be shy into fitting himself in your arms, might even crawl up your lap (so long he ain't hurting you with his weight ofc)

he likes having deep conversations with you, about his future and about yours and about the future of you two together. he talks about how he wants to continue his career and hears about the same of yours, even putting genuine inputs of his own when and if you ask for his opinion. he likes to talk about how he really wants to spend a long long time with you and ho he wants to marry you one day and have children with you. it could be during a good dinner or late at night just before you two are about to sleep when these conversations usually happen

he loves buying you expensive stuff, yes, but more than that he likes to buy you little stuff that might seem insignificant and effortless to an outsider but may really means something deep in your relation. that little coffee cup pendant he got you from a cheap local store? it reminds him of your first date when you accidentally spilled your coffee on him and then panicled while rubbing the stains off his expensive shirt. you didn't even know then how he was already falling in love with you as you wiped his shirt. there are just thousands of stuff he sees and immediately thinks of you or something related to your relationship and buys it for you. (he also makes those girlfriend gifts from interest for you tho they always turn out so messy and ugly but he gives them to you anyway because he loves watching you laugh softly as you thank him for his efforts.)

he doesn't ask you to take care of yourself. ik how it sounds, but really he never tells you that. he'll take care of you instead. you don't drink enough water? he sets water reminders on your phone. you don't eat on time? he'll always have food ordered to you. you overwork yourself? he'll pull you with him in bed and force you to rest, might even offer to do your work if it is something he can do. he never finds it a burden or a "work" he has to do as a boyfriend. its just a natural feeling in him. and he feels happy at the end of the day after having taken care of you.

i know how popular headcanon it is that jihoon invites you to his studio often late at night but no one talks about how he will always have a car to pick you up. not a cab, mind you, he'll get one of his bodyguards or a trusted friend or coworker to pick you up. if he is not as busy, he will pick you up himself. would never allow you to travel lat at night all alone or with a stranger. he protective like that.

tell me how this makes sense but the only time he likes being teased by his members is when he is teased about you. i think hoshi and dk would be main culprit, always teasing about how lovey dovey he is with you or even exaggeratedly mimicking the two of you. but he inwardly feels proud of how all his friends know about how affectionate he is of you. like idk how to explain but you get it right like he just feel proud that everyone knows how much he loves you to be teasing the way they do. (he also loves how naturally all members befriend you and how you just mingle in their group without any awkwardness)

he is a back hugger. whatever you are doing, he'll sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist and maybe lean his head on your shoulder lazily. kisses the top of your head or the back of your head, depending on how much taller he is (sometimes will go on his tippy toes to get that extra inches to kiss your head on top).

now some nsfw ones:

one of his favorite ways to tease you is asking you to watch an anime with him except it is some dirty hentai. he wouldn't let you touch yourself or even squeeze your thighs at all until the end while he is shamelessly jerking off beside you. he just wants you to get as wet as you can without getting off even a little.

has a kind of voice/sound fetish if you can call it that. loves to hear you moan and whimper and literally any sound you make turns him on like so much. he has plenty times recorded the sounds he has made to hear later when he is alone on tours or schedules for when he has to masturbate

unpopular opinion but he likes sensual massages, both giving and receiving. he loves giving you pleasure in more than one ways as he skillfully massages oil on your body and is equally turned on when you do it to him. (brings me an idea for woozi + massage parlour sex hmmmm)

he is a women pleaser!!! a service dom!!!! a worshipper!!!! i don't understand how people assume he is a mean dom or a strict dom. this man listens to bruno mars if that ain't the give away that he is the most soft and sensual lover then idk what is. loves praising you. defo puts his partner's needs and orgasms before his. but simultaneously makes sure to not tire you out too much. praises you and worships you and loves kissing every inch of your being.

big big dick. not an unpopular opinion ik but I will say it again. he has a big dick you cannot tell me otherwise. all that bde ain't with nothing. i think its on fatter side than longer but either way its enough to make you drool over it. early in the relationship, cocktraining you was his favorite part, whether with your mouth or your pussy.

(tw ass play) probably fucks ass. i think he'll have a thing for fucking the back door. just something he I see him want to explore. he'll make you super comfortable with everything of course. is gentler and would only do it all so long you are comfortable and okay with it. also spanks your ass just cuz he likes to see the way it jiggles and likes to hear you whine when he does it.

top grade munch. with how much he takes out his tongue out of his mouth, I refuse to believe he is anything below the best when it comes to eating you out. he ain't stopping till you're crying and writhing and shaking and have cum enough times to make his face drip with your juices.

also another popular opinion but cant get over how jihoon uses his muscles and strength to his advantage. during your intimate moments, jihoon uses his strength to assert his dominance, effortlessly lifting you and positioning you as he desires. he grips your thighs tightly, spreading them apart and pinning you against the wall or bed, his control evident in every powerful thrust. his hands explore your body with a commanding touch, leaving no doubt about who is in charge. the intensity of his strength combined with the passion in his actions leaves you feeling completely overwhelmed and exhilarated, fully surrendering to his dominant side. loves it when his grip leaves behind marks and bruises on your thighs and hip.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two / Part Three (you're here)/ Part Four

A03

It ain’t much.” Wayne started, half-curious if the sight of his trailer would be the thing to offend Steve’s (so far lacking) born-rich sensibilities. 

Of course turning to look at the kid proved he was in his own head about this more than Steve was, because Steve had his eyes closed and looked two seconds away from puking. 

Right. 

Pain management. 

“I’ll get your stuff.” Wayne said as he guided the truck to its usual parking spot. 

Steve’s quiet ‘okay’ had him hustling a little bit, and the fact he had to gently guide the kid’s hand off his bag handle told him it was the right choice. 

The nailbat could wait in the car for the moment he figured, as he led Harrington in. He’d get it sorted once he’d fished out the pain pills and gotten Steve settled a bit. 

"Eds--he's my nephew that I told you about--has the bedroom, so you and I get to share out here." Wayne explained as he loaded Steve up on Tylenol and put a bag of frozen peas in his hand, not bothering to give a tour of the trailer. 

It was pretty damn clear which door led to the bathroom and which didn’t, given Ed’s door was wide open. 

Steve peeked at the absolute chaos strewn about beyond the doorframe but didn’t say nothing of it. 

Didn’t, in fact, even look too long, instead sitting at the table as directed. 

Seemed to sink a little into it, leaning an elbow on the cheap wood to help keep his head up. 

"The couch is a pull out, but I'll warn you the bar across the middle is nasty. I usually sleep on the cot over there," Wayne nodded to where it was rolled neatly against the opposite wall, "but given the state of you, I'll let ya have your pick." 

Steve blinked (or winked, not like Wayne could tell since the peas were pressed against half of his face) finally seeming to perk up a bit. "I can't take your bed." 

"I'm not going to fight you for it, I'm just offering." Wayne responded, now focused on trying to locate the bandages in his ancient medical kit. 

The one on Steve's hand was falling apart, and he didn't like the look of the injury he could see under it. 

Yeah, Wayne was absolutely going to need to make a run to the store. 

“Lemme see.” He asked as he finally got what he wanted. 

It seemed to take Harrington a minute to process what Wayne wanted, but he finally held out his injured hand, watching as Wayne unwrapped the bandages.

"I'll take the couch." Steve said stubbornly, but Wayne was past it, too busy frowning at the kid's hand. 

It took him a moment, once he'd gotten it all off, to properly realize what he was seeing--that the mottled bruising on Steve's wrist was separate from the cut across his palm.

In fact, it looked a hell of a lot like…

Wayne paused, then pretended to fuss with the dirty bandages for a moment while his eyes sought out Steve's other wrist.

Sure enough, matching bruises.

Someone had tied the kid up--and it hadn’t been the feds, because these bruises were partially healed. 

Wayne had initially thought of Steve as having been tortured in the same way roving bands of neighborhood kids tortured their peers. The kind of hurt that came when it was an unfair fight; four on one and wielding knives, so you had to take what you were given and pray you didn't get stabbed. 

He was not thinking actual, honest to God torture. 

Yet here the evidence was, plain as day.

'What the hell went down in that mall.' 

Someone as young as Steve shouldn't have been caught up in it, and it made a deep part of Wayne ache for the poor kid across from him.  

All this shit, and his parents still couldn't be bothered to come home.Just left him on his own, as if it was another Tuesday. 

Did they even know? Wayne wondered as he got to work. Had Steve, or Hopper, or anyone tried to call them about the mallfire? Let them know their son got hurt?

Jim said he hadn’t bothered to reach out regarding the spooks, but that had been a week or so later past the fire. 

Wayne couldn’t even imagine it. 

Getting a call that Eddie been involved in such a thing would have him off the couch in an instant, and the image that played on the news, the ones all the reporters talked over of a gurney being wheeled out of Starcourt’s on fire front doors…

He’d have been a wreck until he had his kid in his sights. 

‘Nothing you can do for that,’ Wayne figured silently, ‘but you can help him now.’

Wayne wasn't exactly an expert when it came to wound care, but like many people who just couldn't afford to go to a doctor he'd gotten by.

Learned a lot of home remedies. Figured out pretty quick when something needed to be seen by an expert and when you could hold off.

Made friends with some of the local nurses on the night shift down at the Red Barn, well enough that a few well baked treats and dishes could sometimes be traded for looking over a potentially broken arm or two. 

It had come in handy plenty, given Ed’s ability to attract trouble, but thankfully he’d never managed to hurt himself like this. 

He’d never even gotten caught in a bad fight. 

A black eye or two sure, but the kid had adapted his “scary” act not too long after Wayne had gotten him, and it seemed to work as intended. It was half the reason Wayne never said anything about it (and hell, even let Eddie take his ancient leather motorcycle jacket.) .

All of that was to say that he could tell Harrington's hand needed cleaning before it could be rebandaged, but didn't appear to need stitches. 

Course pouring alcohol all over an injury like this wasn't exactly going to be fun, and he told Steve as such.

"I know." Steve replied, with a grimace. The kid’s injuries seemed to be getting to him, and Wayne anticipated he was going to drop here the second Wayne was done looking him over. 

He hoped Harrington could get in a few hours--particularly before Eddie came home. 

Wayne gently wiped it clean, noting how well Steve sat given the amount of pain he had to be in.

Tylenol, even given the more than recommended amount he'd given Steve, just wasn't going to cut it. 

Not in general, and definitely not for this. 

What could help was likely something Eds had, which was yet another conversation Wayne wasn't looking forward to having.

Particularly given that Eds had sworn off selling hard drugs after his last encounter with Hopper, and Wayne knew damn well that had only lasted until the damn kid caught sight of an overdue bill. 

Too smart for his own good, Eddie was.

"I can give you something to bite down on, if you like." Wayne said to Steve, getting the alcohol and bandages ready to go. 

He got a tight smile in response. "So long as you don't use a needle, I'm good." 

And Wayne figured it was just teenager talk--a young man who didn't really know how bad this was going to be, and prepared himself to hold Steve's arm down accordingly so they wouldn't have to do it twice.

"Four." Wayne counted down. "Three. Two."

He poured on two.

Better that than Steve clenching up in anticipation.

Steve hissed, arm jerking, but stilled it under his own power as Wayne began dabbing his hand with some of the medkit’s wipes. 

He felt his eyebrow raise as Harrington froze himself in place, breathing in a way that felt practiced. 

This, Wayne decided, was not Steve's first rodeo. 

"Almost done." He promised softly as he finished wrapping the wound back up, this time in the pattern he'd been shown long ago. 

"Thanks." Steve said, blinking rapidly. 

The kid's eyes were wet, but he didn't let a tear fall, and that perked Wayne's attention more than anything. 

Some men felt they weren't allowed to cry--and pushed the same ideals on their sons. 

It wouldn't surprise him any if Richard Harrington was one of them. 

"I know you got hit more than just your hands and face kid." Wayne said, after letting Steve have a moment to recover. "You bleeding under that shirt?"

"Not bleeding." Steve murmured, looking more and more like he was struggling to stay upright now that the worst part was over. "I think my hand got the worst of it."

"Do I want to know what happened there?" Wayne asked, keeping his voice calm and non judgemental. 

Like they were back to talking sports.

"I fell back into a broken window.” Steve responded, and now that Wayne had seen the kid lie, it was easy to see when he was telling the truth. 

"Ouch." Wayne said flatly. Which made that hint of a smile flash across Steve's face. 

"I'll cut you a deal. I taped last weekend's game, but haven't had time to watch it yet. I figure you might not have had a chance neither." He sat back, nailing Harrington with a no-nonsense stare. "You let me take a look at what they did to your chest n' back there, and I'll put it on."

Steve just looked at him a little miserably, a beaten dog still hesitant to wag its tail. "I don't think there's anything you can do for it, it's really mostly bruised. Nothing feels broken though."

"You know what broken ribs feel like?" Wayne questioned partially out of curiosity but mostly to make sure.

Teenage boys loved to think themselves immortal after all.

Or at least his did.

"Cracked, but yeah." Steve admitted. "Couldn't finish out the year on the basketball team because of it."

He said it like it didn't hurt, but Wayne knew better.

Boy like Steve? 

He'd bet big bills something like basketball was all the kid really had, in terms of positive relationships.

(Except apparently, whatever had made Hopper decide to look after him.)

"I mostly just wanna make sure nothing looks like it's broken or bleeding internally son." Wayne said, then tried to cinch it with some good old guilt tripping. "I'd hate to have to tell Hopper that after all he went through to keep you safe, you up and died on my couch." 

"Hey, it might save him some future gray hairs." Steve responded but he looked a little more open to the idea, at least. 

It took a bit more coaxing, but Wayne finally got the kid to take his shirt off. 

The damage had him whistling out of instinct.

A fucking artist had gone to town on his torso, with bruised of all shades parading around to his left side. 

Thankfully most of it didn't hold that deep, dark tone that indicated any kind of bleeding, his back had scratches and road rash, and his shoulder had one long, thin line that looked a hell of a lot like Steve had narrowly avoided getting cut with a knife. 

"You got lucky, kid." Wayne told him.

Steve let out a shaky breath. "I know." 

He hesitated, then opened his mouth, a question clear on his face. 

Which of course, was the exact moment Eddie chose to walk through the door. 

"Hey old man, I--Harrington!?" 

"Munson?" Steve said, looking just as confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here?" Eddie had frozen in their little entryway, so close the door nearly whacked him on the ass as it slammed closed. 

Privately, Wayne cursed his nephew's awful timing.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie challenged back, and it was only years of Wayne knowin’ the kid to see he was struggling to decide how he wanted to react. 

“Uh…” Steve said, trailing off and looking pointedly at Wayne. 

Eddie saw this just as he registered all of Steve’s injuries. “Shit Wayne, did you hit him with your car?” 

“Don’t try to be funny, boy.” Wayne warned. There wasn’t much bite there, and Eddie, far too used to him, didn’t take it seriously.

Eddie was glued to the spot, eyes narrowing, “... Did Harrington hit the car with his fuckin’ face? Jesus christ.” 

Wayne could tell he was struggling to pull one of his usual little bits, eyes too wide and voice too high. 

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Eddie.”

“We can take him out back and shoot him, put the poor bastard out of his misery.” Eddie continued, like a runaway train. 

All gas, no breaks. 

It was a joke but a poor one, and it made Steve straighten out of his sideways slant. 

‘Dammit.’  Wayne thought with a sigh. 

He needed to stop this now, before the two of them went for each other's throats. 

“Since you already know each other I won’t bother with introductions.” Wayne cut in, before Eddie could blow up like a tea kettle--or cause Harrington to do the same. “Steve’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”

That of course, got the reaction Wayne had been hoping to avoid. 

Eddie stood stunned for a second, mouth gaping like a fish. 

“Why!?” He finally landed on, seeming both at a loss for words, and equally trying not to have a proper meltdown in front of Steve. 

Certainly wasn’t for Wayne’s benefit. 

"I'm…" Steve glanced at Wayne a second time, "...on vacation?"

 It took everything Wayne had in him not to run a hand down his face. 

He was going to give Harrington a pass, on account of the head trauma.

"You’re vacationing here.”Eddie’s tone was flat, but seething, like a lit fuse. “In my living room?” 

“...Yeah?” He finished poorly tone up-ticking at the end like it was a question. “It’s a--college thing. Supposed to help my applications.” 

This time, Wayne did run a hand down his face this time. 

God save him from idiot teenagers. 

Hands clenched tight, Eddie took an aborted glance to the right before shaking his head hard and scoffing. At least it let Wayne know exactly what his kid was thinking. 

To Eddie’s right was the counter where Wayne kept the bills. 

Before he realized just how badly Ed’s daddy had messed him up about such things, Wayne hadn’t bothered to hide the bills that were past due. Turns out the kid noticed such things, and worry over money had been the leading factor in more than one of Eddie’s run-ins with Hop.

Clearly, he thought it was the cause of Wayne entertaining this bullshit. 

Offense was written in every rigid line of his body, and Wayne knew betrayal wasn’t gonna be far behind. 

“What the hell Wayne!” Eddie spat, taking a singular step forward, the accent he tried so hard to hide growing thicker the madder he got. “We’re not a damn experiment--why would you agree to that!?” 

He had seconds to salvage this, before Ed’s ran and did something dumb. 

“‘Steve’s here cause I owe Hopper a favor.” Wayne answered honestly, standing to put himself between the two. “He reminded me of all the times he’s been good to you, and then he called it in. Now,” 

He cut Eddie off before his rant could pick up steam and bowl them all over. “I need you both to listen to me. Steve, I need Eddie to know the basics in order to keep you safe. I’ll only tell him what he needs to hear to understand why that is.” 

Steve stared at him for a moment, catching Wayne’s eye as the elder man positioned himself so he could see both boys at once.

“Okay.” Steve said, dropping the hesitant tone for something serious. 

Eddie said nothing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and gripping the edges of his jacket hard enough to leave creases. 

Judging that as good enough, Wayne continued. “He’s not here on vacation, Ed’s. Hopper has asked us to house Steve for a bit due to an ongoing situation. It’s a dangerous one, and it’s important you do not tell anyone that Steve is here.”

Eddie’s mouth did the thing it did when he desperately wanted to say something, but Wayne held up a finger in the universal “wait.” position. 

“Let me finish.” He warned, and though he caught a hell of a glare for it, Eddie remained silent. 

“Right now I need you to trust me, son.” He said softly, and prayed that alone was enough for now. “I don’t do things without a good reason behind it. I know you know that. Let me get Steve settled, and I’ll come talk to you.” 

He could go in depth a little more, outside of Harrington’s eyesight. There Eddie would be inclined to drop the parts of his personality he put on blast as a defense mechanism, and ideally, Steve could get the sleep he so desperately needed. 

“It’ll be tight, but we’ll all get through this so long as you two keep your heads. “You both got plenty of problems right now on your own, you don’t need to add to it. You understand?”  

Eddie’s eyes narrowed dramatically as he sucked in a deep breath. 

“Fine.” He snarled, letting air hiss through his clenched teeth. “As long as King Dick here can keep himself out of my shit.”

Steve didn’t rise to the bait--or perhaps, was simply too tired to want to do anything but exit the conversation. 

‘Yes Sir.” He said instead, and Wayne didn’t bother correcting him that time. Simply clocked the title as a nervous tick of Steve’s and let himself feel that brief pang of sorrow that he’d caused the kid to backslide a bit trust wise.

No use for it, though.

Not if he wanted peace in his home. 

“Good.” Wayne said. 

Eddie stormed past, beeling towards his room. 

The door closed with an angry slam, the sound echoing throughout the trailer. 

Steve reacted like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out his own breath and going right back to slumping sideways. 

“Come on kid.” Wayne said quietly. “I think it’s beyond time you got to lay down. Let’s get you a shirt and some blankets.”

Steve didn’t say a word, just managed to get himself up and over to the couch, fumbling for his bag. 

“Oh.” He said after a moment, pulling a green sweater from the duffel and blinking dully at it. “Shit--I mean, shoot.” He shot a guilty look to Wayne, like Eddie hadn’t just sworn up a storm in front of them both. 

“What’s the matter?” Wayne just asked. 

“It’s nothing, I just-- grabbed the wrong bag.” Steve told him earnestly. It was clear the day had taken a hard toll on him, because he was blinking rapidly, fighting away sleep. 

A bad sign, given the energy Eddie had just come in with. 

It should be taking him longer to feel safe to drop off, and that he was doin’ so anyway was a bad testament to the state of him. 

“You need a different one?”

Steve shook his head. “No this is just my grab bag for the Upsi-errrm.” He hummed, before falling silent for a minute. 

Wayne let him fish for words at his leisure. 

“These are just clothes that I couldn’t get stains out of, kept them as backups.” Steve managed, before beginning the long process of pulling a shirt on. 

Wayne almost offered to help, except he knew he’d likely be rejected. It was too soon, the trust between them not there yet. 

He almost let the clothing comment go, figured it as  just one of those things the brain did when it was injured and run down. The sweater Steve was struggling with was expensive and soft, and Wayne didn’t even see a stain until the poor kid finally finished getting it on. 

He nearly froze, for the second time that day, when he did.

On one sleeve, smeared like Steve had wiped his face with it, was a bloodstain. 

This one was old, and clearly attempts had been made to get it out. 

‘Aw kid.’ He thought, staring at Steve as the kid managed to swing himself up on the couch, looking seconds away from dropping off. ‘What the hell has life done to you.’

It didn’t take long before sleep took him, but Wayne watched over him for a bit longer anyway, working up to what the hell he was going to tell his kid. 

Eddie might very well not forgive him for this, but Wayne had a shot now to head things off before they got worse. 

He just had to find the right words. 

[johnbrand]

New Favorite Brew

With @misctf, continuing their Gridiron Brew series

“David, c’mon we’re gonna be late for yoga!”

Matty shouted, grabbing his mat as he launched himself out of his room. He knew that the pair should not have gotten drunk last night. You could not squeeze that many drinks into twinks skinnier than rails! Matty had stopped while he was ahead–although not super far ahead as he was still a bit hungover–but David had gone hard. He had even pounded back a beer that he had gotten from the liquor store for free before they had arrived at Matty's apartment. They had exclusively drank hard seltzers since graduating a year ago, so when the cashier handed them the beer as a part of a promotion, they laughed. 

But now rushing towards the door, Matty knew they would be doing anything but laughing if they missed this yoga class. They had spent a fortune on securing their spots months ago.

“Ready to go, David?”

“What's goin' on, bro?”

Matty stood in shock for a moment at the naked man on his couch. The brute was large, hairy, and old–probably twice the size, girth, and maturity of Matty. This uber-masculine mammoth of a creature was not at all what Matty had been expecting, causing him to audibly squeak.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, bro?” His voice was deep, resonant and gruff. “Oh yeah, sorry you know how I get when I go too far. Would always lose my clothes by the end of the party, just reliving the good old frat days I guess.”

“I…uh…” Matty stuttered, but quickly recovered himself. Dave was right, this always happened when he got too drunk. “I’ll see you later, I have to get to my yoga class.”

“Sure,” Dave yawned, not even bothering to cover himself as he cracked open another can of beer as his breakfast. “Good luck or whatever, bro!”

Matty left, his bewilderment rapidly evaporating into being simply unfazed. By the time he was in his car, the whole situation was already behind him. Matty’s class was the only thing on his mind. In moments, he had his Top Hits of the 2010s playlist blasting through his earbuds. He luckily made it on time to his class, and afterwards was exhausted. Ripping his sweat-soaked shirt off as soon as he was in his car, Matty took a moment to recover and laid back in his seat. When he opened his eyes again, he was surprised by the metallic glare hitting his eyes.

Twisting around, Matty was surprised to find a can of beer in his car. He presumed it had been misplaced from his and Dave’s shenanigans last night at the liquor store; Matty’s bag of seltzer’s and Dave’s bag of six-packs. The can in question must have slipped out. Curiously, Matty picked up the can, the aluminum exterior slightly warm from having sat in the sun. The label was not anything special, brown with an old-timey football player on the front. The words “Gridiron Brew” were somehow delivered in the most masculine and yet generic font possible.

Feeling a sudden thirst, and growing interest as to why Dave was so addicted to the stuff, Matty carefully cracked it open. He did not know what he expected, but that first sip of standard cheap beer tasted like…cheap beer. There was nothing remarkable, no mouthwatering trigger that made Matty instantly understand why Dave was so obsessed with the stuff. It was probably not fair that he was having it warm, but Matty-

BOOOOOUUUURRRPP!

Matty clasped a hand over his mouth as quickly as possible, his face flushing scarlet. But before the embarrassment had completely resided, his hand moved down to his stomach. His glistening abdominals were cramping up, tightening in on themselves violently underneath his touch. Through his bare skin, it almost felt to Matty as if they were vibrating.

“Oh god…” Matty groaned. Suddenly, the tightness Matty was feeling was softening. Underneath his finger tips, his stomach began to expand, pushing out a thin layer of fat over his abs. A second coat was applied on top of the first, and then a third onto the second, until eventually the bulge emerged over his waistband. And his tight pecs soon jutted out onto his muscle gut with both fat and muscle, their taut nature now loosened dramatically. Frantically, Matty read over the tagline of the beer, his arms and legs bulking up proportionally with his midsection. “Gridiron Brew is for the ex-jock in you!” 

“Nnnhh…broooo…!” Matty pleaded to the open space, his voice taking on a lower and rougher nature. An aggravating warmth began to swarm his already overheated body, testosterone surging as it caused hair to erupt across Matty’s frame. From his dense pubes sprang forth a current of hair tracing over every available inch of his body. Nothing was spared, and Matty could not decipher through his agony if the masculinity upgrade was something to be reviled or cherished.

Matty prayed for his distress to end, gripping his gut and the beer can as his face rounded out, widening before disappearing underneath a thick beard. Age lines and wrinkles carved onto Matty’s once-clean skin, which was quickly growing a bit leathery as his body rapidly aged. Eventually the pain began to fade, and Matty could do nothing beside inhaling and exhaling slowly. Eventually, he realized he had been subconsciously flexing his pecs.

It was a strange sensation, feeling the slabs of meat bounce up and down, but at the same time it was…calming? Matty could not describe it, having never done it before. But then why did it feel so familiar? Feeling his girth, relishing in his massive size. It had been something he had enjoyed since he had discovered it back in high school, right? But that felt like years ago. Was it years ago? Matt nodded slowly–it must have been. Yeah, back when they played good music like the stuff on his Top Hits of the 90s playlist. 

Matt tossed back another swig of his new favorite brew before starting the car. He continued to relish his past glory days, never to realize that moments before he had been living those cherished days, and that they were not mere memories of decades past.

[sulumuns-dootah]

What WHB characters would wear in the human world: Tartaros

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

Quiet luxury with maybe some subtle expensive things

He's so old he's to bored of showing his wealth

Well, except the fact that he dumps money on anyone who looks like they could use it

Oh but this man's car? Whole different story

(I'll leave the make, brand and color to your imagination, and deffinitely not bc i know nothing about cars ^^)

   ༺☆༻

Total opposite of Mammon

If he's 'quiet luxury', then Bimet is 'omg please turn it down at least a bit luxury'

Doesn't care how tacky he looks

All form of stylistic advice is ignored bc Bimet doesn't understand broke

Let's be honest tho, he looks like he just stole the clothes off the mannequins in the stores

Definitelly more into the more interesting brands like Versace and Luis Vuitton (Gucci is too cheap in his opinion)

   ༺☆༻

With the amount of bows this cutie loves, Coquette is the perfect choice for him

'Why is all of this feminine clothes so cute and the male so boring?'

Eligos in a skirt and lacy thigh highs. That's it. That's the tweet.

Would probably get a leech and put a bow on its head

Also an absolute Selkie fan who attends every show

   ༺☆༻

On one hand, I'd say he's very much like Zagan and just wears any comfortable sweatpants and top, except the price is at least doubled

But then, thinking about it, Valefor looks like he enjoys Rick Owens

Maybe not the more extra stuff, but definitely the more down-to-earth stuff

Oh, also watches FrugalAesthetic on YouTube bc I said so

[sirfrogsworth]

I'm moving out of the city and I'm going to have to learn to drive. Any advice for someone (reluctantly) looking into cars for the first time?

Sorry for the late response, but I really wanted to answer this because I think I have some relevant advice.

I started driving the very day I was allowed to get my learner's permit. I took it very seriously. My dad was a mechanic, my brother literally built a car when he was 16. They were car guys and I was the goofy comedian they didn't really understand. So I wanted to be a really good driver to impress them.

I practiced every chance I got. I took driver's ed in school and got a 100% in the class. And I got a perfect score on my written driver's test and only got dinged for 1 thing on the main exam (it was bullshit, but apparently there is no way to protest a near perfect score).

But then I got sick and it didn't make sense to pay for car insurance and maintain a vehicle. So I didn't drive for roughly 15 years.

Then both my parents got sick and they became dangerous drivers and so I had to figure out how to drive again. And at first I was nervous, but after about a week of driving, I was nearly as good of a driver as when I was younger.

The reason?

Muscle memory.

Muscle memory will save your life over just about anything. The less you have to concentrate on the physical actions and habits required to drive, the more you can concentrate on situational awareness. If you don't have to think about turning the wheel, or braking, or even activating the turn signals, you can use all of that brain power to pay attention to all of the dumb fucks they let drive cars.

So my biggest piece of advice would be to break down all of the physical actions required to operate a vehicle. Even the tiny stuff like switching the station on the radio or turning down the fan on the A/C. Then find a way to practice these things over and over and over until you have that muscle memory embedded into your brain. My muscle memory was so deeply ingrained that it lasted through 15 years of not driving and a batch of mind-wiping electroshock treatments.

Find a safe place to practice and just repeat things until they feel like second nature. Especially checking your blind spots. If you can get checking blind spots to the point where you do it without even thinking about it, you will increase your safety substantially.

Other tips...

Small cheap cars are best first cars. Big cars can make you feel disconnected from the road. Almost like you are piloting the vehicle in a video game. I started on my grandma's 1987 Chevy Cavalier. It was tiny. It had no power. It was free. But I could feel everything I was doing. I could feel the turns. I could feel the road. I could feel braking and acceleration. And it really helped me understand the relationship between driver and vehicle. It was like a big go-kart but I think having that as my first car really helped me develop my driving skills.

And my last tip is to learn gradient braking and acceleration. It's mostly for the comfort of your passengers. It gives them a smoother experience but it also makes them feel safer driving with you. Basically you want to figure out how to apply pressure to the pedals in such a way that almost no G-force is felt. So you start with very light pressure and gradually transition into the max pressure you need. And you need to do it quick enough to stop and accelerate at the proper rate. If you don't transition fast enough you might not stop in time or be able to merge onto the highway. And if you transition too fast people will be lurching back and forth in their seat. But, again, practice makes perfect.

My brother is horrible at this, though mostly on purpose. He likes driving like everything is a race. And with his muscle cars, that can be fun at times. But when you are just going to the store it can make one a little nauseous. I find myself just grabbing the "oh shit" handles and never letting go.

But if you can smooth out your acceleration and braking to the point it is barely felt, all of your passengers will thank you for it.

Hopefully that helps. And maybe other folks can reply with additional advice. And if you have any more specific concerns feel free to ask. I wasn't sure if you were more worried about driving or picking out a car, so hopefully we can collectively cover both.

I wish you luck and hope you learn to love driving. It is pretty cool once you get the hang of it.

[raincoat-movings]

My abusive mother is trying to institutionalize me & put me in a conservatorship. Please help me fund my escape plan across a few states.

This is a remake of my original post that lost traction as it gained over 4k notes, but I still need help. Things have gone to shit I need to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible. That means the moving fee will be much more, but if we can get enough I am going to go for it as soon as May (I have to give a 30-day notice to my current landlord before I can leave) or June instead of my original post's estimate.

My mother has sold her house and is bringing her pets to the new house, but she is leaving my cat behind with the new owners knowing that will upset me. She gave me a few options - move in with her and I can keep him in my room, I can let her leave him with strangers whom I don't know or know what they'll end up doing with him, or I can pay the pet deposit on my current apartment of 350 dollars to have him with me instead. I would like to have my cat back as I have been alone in this apartment since I moved, and I am so afraid of her giving him to strangers and something happening to him before I can take him with me when I can move.

Since she is moving she has also informed me today she is also giving me another choice - move in with her to keep rides or stay in my current apartment and not have rides to the grocery store + doctors. Insurance can help me with the issue of the appointments, but I need rides to the city next to me as the town I live in has no store with decent prices on food. Everything is priced to hell here - I used to ride with my mom to Costco or Walmart where I could get a lot out of my food stamps - those are out of my reach without a car. (We do not have public transportation here. It is a small town. We don't even get pizza delivery here unless it's from doordash the city next to us.) As stated in the original post I will be renting an apartment with my beloved, but they are 3 states away so this is not going to be cheap. I am getting my stuff professionally moved as I cannot make the trip myself as it would cost more, be worse on my body, things can happen with me being alone, it will not be insured, etc.

Again, I am so sorry for having to remake this post I am sure many of you are tired of seeing me pop up on here, but I want my cat back + this is getting very fucking bad so I need to get out of here soon as I can.

paypal: partange1 cashapp: par1demon wishlist: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/37P45EQYVHZZT?ref_=wl_share <- This has cat, medical (I am disabled + get injured a lot), and packing supplies you can directly buy for me in case you can't donate through paypal or cashapp

[yokohamapound]

Hi bestie! Great to find a new BSD blog! For starters, can we have some hcs on what kind of lingerie Dazai, Chuuya, Ranpo, Akutagawa and Fyodor would buy their fem!s/o? ;)

Hey, I hope you enjoy these!

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Edogawa Ranpo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Fyodor Dostoevsky

Warnings: NSFW, lingerie

Dazai Osamu

This man is what we like to call an omniwhore. If it's on your body, he's interested in getting it off and getting you off.

Dazai's stated himself that he has quite wide-ranging tastes, so it's highly likely he'll just buy you something you'd feel sexy in, but if he had completely free reign...?

His tastes are pretty classic. He'd probably go for something black, with lace. He likes how it feels, warmed by your skin, against his hands, his tongue...

That being said, you don't need to buy anything expensive to seduce him. You could be lounging around in one of his shirts and a pair of thigh-highs and that would count as lingerie to him.

Dazai is someone who likes seeing his s/o wear his clothes, especially in a dishevelled, just-got-fucked kind of way.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya's favourite colours seem to be black and red, which isn't a surprise coming from anyone in the Port Mafia. Chuuya leans towards an edgy, femme/homme fatale style if he's choosing lingerie for his lover.

Think bustiers, garters, body harnesses, edging into bondage chic, I guess you could say. These are his tastes and you don't have to subscribe to them, but if you do he'll be shoving you into closets, back seats of cars, his personal office, the club bathroom. Pretty much anywhere he can get you alone and start ripping off buttons.

There's a certain part of your body, and anything that brings his attention to it is enough to get Chuuya raring to go.

Thighs.

Stockings are great, but those little harnesses or garters that go around your thigh get him bricked up like an 18th Century window.

If you're feeling cheeky, you can lift up the hem of a skirt or let him see the outline of it under your pants. Man is gripping the edge of the table.

"You're killin' me with these, dollface."

Edogawa Ranpo

You know those candy thongs?

Jokes aside, I feel like Ranpo doesn't buy you straight-up lingerie as much as he occasionally grabs a little costume for you. Straight-up sex is probably kinda boring, even if it feels good, so why not have some fun with roleplay?

You could be a cute little nurse and he's the world's greatest detective.

Or you're a cute little maid, and he's the world's greatest detective!

These aren't cheap costumes, though—he'll get you some nice, high quality stuff and not those itchy, shiny polyester things from Shein.

If he does buy you underwear, it has cute prints and colours. I feel like he likes stripes, pastel ones. Pinks and blues and soft yellows, because it lowkey reminds him of candy wrappers.

However, one time he did just bring you a bag from the grocery store.

"Ranpo, why is there a can of whipped cream?"

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Okay, do not send Akutagawa into a lingerie store because he will panic and he will destroy the store with Rashoumon. At first he will be highly dismissive of buying you underwear—are you not capable of buying it yourself?

Give him time to come around to the idea that he can choose what he sees on your body, the intimate garments that are going to hug your skin under your clothes, for his eyes only. Then he gets it.

Akutagawa's taste definitely runs to dark fabrics: deep burgundies, black, of course, deep purples and emerald greens if he's branching out a bit. Lace and frills, but also a touch of leather and metal. You can't take the Port Mafia out of the boy, after all.

I don't know if this is a Port Mafia-induced kink but he also likes body harnesses. The straps against your skin, especially if they're cinched a little tight against your soft flesh, remind him of when he binds you in Rashoumon and spreads you out underneath him.

This works with normal outfits too, actually. If you wear something floaty with a body harness underneath, and he sees it? Especially when you're out in public or on the job?

There's gonna be a whole different kind of screaming coming from that dark alleyway.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

I'm hardly original in thinking this, but Fyodor would strikes me as the type to lean toward something clean, pure. Angelic, one might say.

White is very common, especially delicate fabrics like lace and silk. Fyodor likes to get his cold hands on you, to feel you shiver at his touch, and the contrast between warm, soft skin and cool, slippery silk pleases him.

The sight of your legs sheathed in pretty white stockings, lace clinging precariously to your upper thighs—that's a temptation he struggles to resist, especially when you sit on his lap. He's a stocking man and will ensure you always have plenty in your drawer.

Little babydoll nightdresses too, usually delicate and translucent.

Oh, and blindfolds.

He also has a lovely collection of pretty silk ropes to tie you up in.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Forest guardian

Daryl Dixon x reader [pt.2]

You plan a week long vacation to a luxury cabin. Luxury is nowhere near what you find.

Yet another AU, mentions of canibalism, also Merle is gross.

The bald man behind the counter of the shoddy store was probably the grossest dude you had ever seen, cleaning what looked like blood off his hands while he kept so openly staring at your tits in the low cut top and following you around with his intense gaze as you picked up some items from the racks. "Dontcha worry, doll. Had ta quit skinnin' rabbit when I heard ya come in. S'legal in these 'ere parts." He reassures you, and after you paid you sadly needed to interact with him even more, seeing you weren't familiar with the roads and needed help finding your destination.

"Oh, tha' cabin's over 'ere on tha' road. Can't miss it, sugar." He doodled a little house on the map for you. "Gotta park righ' 'ere." 'here' was marked with a small X. "Road ends, rests'a sand path, too narrow fer cars." With a filthy grin he pointed at the map and marked the location of the place you rented to spend a week in nature to heal. You needed to be away from society for a bit and booked this crazy cheap place in the middle of the woods close to a gorgeous lake. It surprised you there weren't any more cabins like that around, the area was so nice it would make a perfect luxurious vacation spot. Still, that gross man's voice rung in the back of your mind. "Now dontcha go swimmin' in tha' lake, missy. Pretty lil' thang like yerself'd gon' get snatched up ne'er ta be seen 'gain."

On the way to the cabin, following the route you were suggested you passed the lake and watched the sun cast a beautiful gleam over its surface.

'This really is too gorgeous to go swim in.' You mind wondered to the cabin as you closed in on its location, turning the last corner before the road cut off and your small path through the tree line became visible. Not wanting to walk the path twice you stacked everything you took onto your body and started to lug your stuff forward, seeing you had to round the cabin to make to the front door.

The cabin that looked nothing like the photos on the website.. "Oh of course I got catfished by a fucking cabi--"

Stopping dead in your tracks you dropped your bags and sent yourself forward, up the wooden porch and down on your knees.

A man laid passed out in the door opening of the cabin, his breaths shallow. Every item he wore was covered in dried mud and stained to hell and back. A dead rabbit laid beside him, probably dropped from his grasp when he went down. Kneeling closer you looked him over for and wounds and found a deep gash on his side when you turned him over, and saw what looked like a stab wound on his upper arm.

Underneath long, greasy hair there was a large gash on his face, long healed over and leaving an angry scar over an empty eye socket and one side of his mouth was torn open.

You wanted to stare but needed to help this man first, going to find your first aid kit and cleaning the wounds after dragging him onto the cot in the corner of the ratty cabin.

"I'm sorry." You murmured at the man who didn't even hear you as he was out cold. Applying the disinfectant to his wound had you wince along with the soft twitch of his body and a wave of panic washed over you.

What if he woke up, with you hovering over him? You had spotted the throwing axe strapped to his waist, along with two large hunting knives and suddenly prayed you wouldn't end up on the wrong end of those.

When he didn't wake you continued to clean and bandage his arm, and thanked yourself for throwing a pack of butterfly stitches in your bag and carefully stuck them over the cut over his side with one hand as the other held it closed between your fingers.

Wrapping his arm was easy, but having to unroll the bandage around his waist was proving to be a challenge, having to shove your arm underneath his body to pass the bandage to your other hand multiple times.

The invasive movements had moved the man's body and it surprised you he hadn't woken up by the time you tied off the end.

With his wounds patched you could only sit around and wait. You got scammed by a too good to be true offer on a cabin and the first thing you had to do after getting creeped out in the shop was patch up a stranger's wounds yourself because the area had no service.

Curiosity got the best of you after a moment and you went to snoop around the place, passing time by going through cabinets and drawers.

At the third drawer you opened you felt like you stumbled on a goldmine. A black wallet and chain, and a passport laid pushed towards the back.

"Daryl Dixon, huh." Both the ID and the passport belonged to the man, and other cards in the wallet held the same name. It had to be him.

You gave the pictures a long inspection, turning to go compare to the passed out man behind you.

Instead, before you got the chance to turn a hand came and snatched the items from yours. "S'mine, thank you very much."

With a shriek you turned to face the voice and were met with the iciest blue eye you had ever seen.

The open drawer dug into your back as you tried to move away from him.

With the stabbing feeling your gaze turned back to the drawer, hoping to close it but something familiar caught your eye. So instead you dug your hand to grab at a flyer, and with it pulling out a stash of attached papers that scattered over the floor and made Daryl take a step back.

The paper in your hands was filled with the same photos as the cabin rental showed. "The hell?" It was a sales flyer, it told about the building plan for a large amount of cabins surrounding the lake. You looked past the flyer to the floor, bending down to look at the various news articles about the area.

"JUST ANNOUNCED: NEW LUXURY VACATION HOMES." That one spread information about the upcoming tourist attraction.

A smaller piece announced a delay due to "disagreements from locals." You thought if Daryl and the shop guy were those locals.

Then a large, gruesome front page spread.

"MASSACRE AT BUILDING SITE. PROJECT CANCELED."

The title did the article no justice, the first sentence warning people to stop reading if they were easily nauseated, and continued on to go into detail of the events where a whole building crew was murdered mere hours after their scheduled arrival at the site. The murders deemed "too gruesome to share in more detail.".

More articles of missing campers and words of the mysterious serial killer in this area were scattered around and that sudden panic from earlier arose again.

You were dead. It was a fact at the time you first thought of it and it was still a fact now that you saw all this. With shaking breaths you slowly looked up at the man still standing before you.

His hand rested on the handle of his hunting knife, fingers not yet curled around it. His one eye staring, clearly deep in thought.

"That's you, right? The killer?" Your fingers rested on a smaller article, looking further up at his face.

A quiet acknowledging grunt left him as he turned around and ignored your further words.

Daryl's mind raced with opinions, facts and other voices that all called out different things.

He killed trespassers. Humans were bad for these woods, they shouldn't exist here. Except for him and his brother. But this one healed him, patched up his wounds and made sure he didn't die. You weren’t here to harm..

His wandering mind had led him outside, lighting a cigarette and deciding to return the favor and rummage through the bags you brought, fishing out a tub of cookies from your backpack.

From just outside the doorway you heard the familiar click of the tub clasps opening, followed by a loud crunching.

“Huh. HEY!” Getting up from the floor you made your way over to the man and snatched the box from his hands. “Those are mine, thank you.” Your tone mocked his from before and Daryl grunted in protest.

“Why’re ya ‘ere anyways?” You huffed in response, a hand on your hip and pointing the one with the box at where he still sat in front of your pile of bags. “Obviously I came here on vacation, but I guess I’ll be driving home again since I got scammed…”

You had moved to start packing up your first aid kit and moved over to stuff it back into your backpack but pausing, and handing the kit to Daryl. “Why?” He spoke around lungfuls of smoke before blowing it out away from you. “Got ‘nough a’those layin’ ‘round.”

‘Why’re ya tellin’ her tha? She saw yer a killer. Why aint she dead yet?’ The voice in his head blended with his brother’s, scolding him like he was so used to, but still not believing you were harmful enough to kill.

Besides, you knew how to tend to wounds which was useful.

Hell, even going out to find his brother to bring him an outdoor oven and ingredients to make those cookies and keep you around just fir those was enough to dispel the voices.

You were standing in front of the storage space at the back of he cabin and you were worried. Why were you following this killer and not just leaving your stuff behind and running to your car? You’d never speak of this and find some excuse on the way home. But still you kept standing there next to him as he opened the door and showed the huge collection of useful stuff. All taken from trespassers.

“You’re killing me aren’t you?” The words weren’t supposed to leave your mouth and a hand clamped over it immediately after, eyes on him in fear as tears threatened to spill due to the panic you were causing yourself. But then again, would it really be that bad if he killed you? No more shitty jobs and cheating boyfriends. No more crying yourself to sleep over bills and food.

“Yer dif’rent.” You barely caught his words when he disappeared into his stash and throwing a soft fuzzy blanket at you. “Feel tha’ one. Ya like tha’?” You hadn’t throwing the item until it hit you in the face, grabbing to catch it before it hit the ground and being taken off guard even more by how soft it was. It calmed you, rubbing it against your cheek. At the sight of the tab on it you gasped, taking a closer look at it and staring back at Daryl, your previous worries entirely overridden by the shock. “Why do you have a hundred dollar blanket in your shed?”

He only shrugged. “Sum whiny whore had it. Guess ‘er boyfriend thought campin’ at a pretty lake was gon’ get ‘em laid or sum’n.”

“Bitch was fuckin’ disgustin’.” A shudder ran along his spine at the memory of cutting her open. “All ‘er curves fake, no meat left on ‘er bones tha’ was edible. Damn fillers leakin’ out of ‘er flesh over the fire.” He just rambled about it like it meant nothing to him at all while you stared. He ate them? You were getting hungry just now but that feeling faded just as quick upon hearing him talk.

He saw the disgust on your face and decided he needed to shut up. “Ah, sorry. Ain’t normal people talk.”

His apology really came out of left field and had you swallow a giggle, but failing and sputtering out a laugh. “Why even are you telling me all this?” Despite your laughs it was a serious question. “I mean, what if ai leave and call the cops on you?” Not that you were going to, but you got curious and had already decided you were fine with however this day was going to end. If this guy as gonna roast you over a fire then so be it, you weren’t scared anymore.

“Who says yer leavin’? M’keepin’ ya ‘ere with me. Yer dif’rent.”

Different. There it was again, he’s called you that more than once now. “Who says I want that?”

“Y’aint runnin’ yet.” He put his pointer fingers together in a counting gesture. “Ya patched me up. An’ yer not scared a’me ‘n ma face.”

It’s true. When you first saw his face it shocked you a bit, but mostly you were curious how someone could survive a wound like that. You nodded thoughtfully, not entirely aware you did so and earned a smile. “I aint plannin’ on eatin’ ya. But ya gotta respect ma rules or I’ll change ma mind ‘bout it.”

“If you’re talking about eating people you better end me now, there’s no way I’m doing that, ever.” You held your hands up in defeat with the blanket tossed over one shoulder. “Go ahead.”

This time it was Daryl’s turn to laugh. A deep, rumbling laugh that had you squint at him. He laughed?

Your calm around the offer for him to kill you right where you stood surprised him. You really didn’t care if he took you out. He respected that, so as long as you were fine with his ways he had no reason to get rid of you. “Dontcha worry yer pretty lil’ head ‘bout tha’. Aint gon’ make ya eat ‘em. ‘Nough small game ‘round ‘ere fer ya. I’ll keep ya fed.”

Oh. That wasn’t so bad. Yeah, rabbits and squirrels weren’t part of your menu now but as long as he wasn’t feeding you humans.

Talking about eating made the grumble in your stomach make another appearance, this time accompanied my the unmistaken noise of hunger. A huffed laugh and a nod towards the front door had you both back inside where Daryl still had his rabbit he had started skinning at his makeshift kitchenette across the room rom where you sat on the bed eating your leftover sandwich.

You observed him from a distance. How he skillfully took apart the animal and separated the meats while keeping an eye on his fireplace in the meantime.

“Hey, c’mere.” Without looking up from his work he waved one hand above his head to get your attention. He made sure you got the pieces you wanted, and prepared them to your liking. The way he was roasting them over the fireplace was almost like an inside barbecue.

“Smells nice.” You had moved to sit next to him beside the fire that roasted your dinner.

You ate together and spent the time after in quiet togetherness. Daryl cleaned up the rabbit’s leftovers and spent some time doing god knows what outside while you stayed in. You sat on the bed fidgeting with your clothing and the soft fuzz on the blanket he gave you. For a short moment you wondered what you were still doing here, why you hadn’t gotten up and started walking away, but now your mind was blank, staring mindlessly at the floor. You didn’t even notice Daryl come back in. He just suddenly appeared in your view, dropping a stack of bedrolls and sleeping bags at your feet and beginning to roll them out. When you realized his implications you let yourself fall. Ack with a sigh. You really had been here since early in the afternoon and still hadn’t made an effort to leave and were about to spend the night in a killer’s cabin in the woods..

You wondered if all these setbacks in life had officially driven you mad.

After you offered to take over from Daryl to “make your own bed” he only scoffed and tapped your ankle to make space. “Makin’ ma own bed ‘ere. Ya keep the cot, s’fine.” You went back and forth a bunch of times but he kept insisting you kept the bed. Why was he so kind?

You tossed him his pillows and got a quizzical look that followed you as you went to retrieve the ones you brought from your duffle bag at the door. With an understanding grunt he moved on, unzipping a sleeping bag and laying it over the bedding and left through the curtain beside the kitchenette.

“You brush your teeth?” You were seriously confused now. “You, a serial killer living in the middle of nowhere, brushes his teeth.” You pointed at him, hand palm up in disbelief. He rolled his one eye at your wording and took the thing from his mouth and pointed it back at you in an almost threatening way. “Yeah, so?” He spoke around a mouthful of foam. “Ya will keep up too when ya gotta yank out a rotten tooth ‘n can’t eat nut’n but soup fer weeks.” He scoffed at your assumption of his hygiene just because he killed people. “Gotta keep clean ta eat. Can’t eat, can’t hunt. Can’t hunt, can’t keep them woods ‘ere safe.” His tone was serious, he meant every word and made it clear these woods meant much to him. Enough to kill for. After he was done he turned away again and the room fell silent once more, taking it as your cue to crawl under the soft blanket Daryl gave you and sleep for the night.

You were about to lay down and zone out when he walked back through the curtain, ducking b something out of one drawer lower than you got before when you got there and move back, keeping what was in his hand hidden from your line of sight, but you caught something in his mouth for a second. “Wait. Hold up.” Oh fuck. His mind told him he fucked up by grabbing that magazine. You were gonna ask what he grabbed and there was no way you needed to know what he was planning to do behind that wall. You sat up and watched as he peeked his head from behind the curtain to look at you with a raised brow, faking his best annoyed look. “Hmm?” With a toothbrush between the scarred end of his lips he waited for you to speak.

[redroomreflections]

II HANDS II HEAVEN 4

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff and Reader reluctantly team up for a couples retreat mission. Despite initial resistance, they find themselves drawn together by unexpected circumstances and shared experiences.

W/c:4k

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Hour 15 - Welcome to Jacksonville  

“So live your life (eh-eh-eh)

You steady chasin' that paper

Just live your life (oh, eh-eh-eh)” 

“Ain’t got no time for no haters,” You sang the lyrics to the TI and Rihanna song, as you eased the car into a parking spot with precision. Your voice filled the car's interior as you continued to hum to the music. With one hand casually resting on Natasha's passenger headrest, you backed into the first available spot. 

Natasha seemed none the wiser as she slept peacefully beside you. She had learned to tune you out three hours ago. She stirred beside you, her peaceful slumber interrupted by the cutting of the car's engine. Blinking groggily, she glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings of the parking lot.

"Why are we stopping?" Her voice held a trace of confusion as she sat up, her gaze flitting around. "Where are we? Is this a mall?"

With a casual shrug, you unbuckled your seatbelt, a playful smirk playing on your lips. "Do you always wake up this disoriented?"

Natasha's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice. "I wouldn't be disoriented if you didn't keep making unnecessary stops."

You shrugged, unfazed by her annoyance. "Relax, it's just a quick pit stop. Thought we could use a little break before we hit the road again."

Natasha sighed, her frustration evident as she glanced out the window. "Fine, but make it quick. We have a schedule to keep."

“You’re coming aren’t you?” You turned to her as you slid out of the driver’s seat. 

Natasha followed suit, stepping out of the car with a grimace. This heat was atrocious. "I suppose I have no choice," she replied. 

You walked ahead of her, straight through the mall, and into the adult equivalent of a candy store; Jared's Jewelry.

Natasha frowned as she observed you eyeing the necklaces on the counter. "Jewelry shopping?" she questioned, a hint of skepticism in her voice.

"Wedding band shopping," you clarified, tapping your left ring finger for emphasis. "Married couples with no rings?"

“Right,” She mumbled. This mission hadn’t been as meticulously planned as others. The dealings mostly relied on you both to be sufficient spies that could handle things like this on your own. 

“We’ve been married two days and you’re already forgetting the important stuff,” You joked with a headshake. “Oh, I like this one.”

“$2,000?” Natasha tilted her head. She squinted her eyes at the price. This was a part of life she never had to pay much attention to. 

“You're right too cheap,” You nodded in agreement. Natasha was just about to protest when a man with an unidentifiable accent approached the both of you. 

The man, dressed in all black like a worker, approached with a friendly smile. "Can I help you ladies find something?" he asked in his accented voice.

You immediately shared a knowing gaze with Natasha. His accent was most certainly fake. Maybe as a way to keep up appearances in such a high-end store. 

“Yes, my wife and I are looking for wedding bands,” You begin to play the part of Alexis. Half ditzy and overexcited. “Can you show me a better selection or is this all you have?”

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Surprise me,” You gestured to the entirety of the store. 

The worker, Jimmy, nodded and led you to several pieces, showcasing them with pride. However, none of them seemed to be quite right. Natasha's annoyance grew evident, but you seemed to be having too much fun, trying on different pieces and admiring yourself in the mirror.

“What do you think of this one?” You looked at Natasha as you gently tapped against the glass. She inspected the jewelry piece and shrugged. She did not like it. 

“How about this one?” Natasha pointed to a wedding band set near the area she wandered off to. 

“Oh, that one is beautiful,” Jimmy praised as he opened up the glass casing for you to get a closer look. He picked up the ring, passing it over to you while watching the both of you closely. 

You eyed the wedding band set that Natasha pointed out, examining it with interest. It was simple, yet elegant and beautiful, just as she described. You reached out to touch it, feeling the smooth material against your fingertips.

“How many carats?” You asked aloud. “It’s pretty.” 

Jimmy described the wedding cushion band, "It's a 2-carat total weight round diamond set in 14-karat white gold. It's one of our finest pieces, quite exquisite, if I may say so."

Natasha's eyes widened as she realized how expensive it was, almost saying no. But before she could voice her concern, you rushed in, saying, "I'll take it."

“That’s a $4,000 ring,” Natasha pointed out. 

You shrugged casually, "Yeah, so?"

“Don’t you think that’s a little expensive considering the circumstances?”

“Let’s just say my billionaire daddy gave me his credit card,” You smirked cheekily, alluding back to Natasha’s insult a few hours ago. 

Natasha's eyebrows raised, but she didn't press further. Instead, she nodded, acknowledging your response.

“In that case, let’s look for a band that compliments you blondie,” Jimmy encouraged as he led you over to yet another ring display. He missed the death glare Natasha was sending his way as he walked ahead of you. You couldn't help but snicker at her expense. Oh, you would love this week.  “This time, I think the misses can pick one out. Since you did pick hers.” 

You grinned mischievously, your eyes scanning over rings that were far from Natasha's taste. "Sure thing, Jimmy. Let's see if we can find something that screams her." Your tone was playful, knowing full well that the rings you were considering would likely get a less-than-enthusiastic response from Natasha.

“Don’t you dare,” Natasha murmured threateningly. She caught sight of the rose gold wedding ring that looked more like a toy than real jewelry. It was tacky and not as well made as some of the other rings you’d seen. 

You chuckled softly, pretending to consider the ring for a moment before shaking your head. "Nah, too flashy for you, babe," you teased, using the nickname deliberately to provoke a reaction. "We'll keep looking." You shot her a playful wink before turning your attention back to the display. 

As you browsed through the selection, your eyes caught on a ring resting in the display. It was a delicate white gold band, adorned with a single, shimmering diamond that seemed to dance in the light. The stone was elegantly set in a simple, yet intricate design that directly matched yours. They complimented each other in the best way. 

"This one," You murmured, reaching for the ring with a sense of certainty. 

"This is it," You declared with a smile, turning to Natasha to gauge her reaction. “It compliments your eyes. I can’t describe it but it’s nice. What do you think?

“I like it,” Natasha cleared her throat, hoping to ease some of the awkwardness between you. “It’s nice.”

“We’ll take it,” You turned to give the ring to Jimmy. “How soon can we take both home?” 

“Within the next hour,” Jimmy suggested. “You said you’re paying by credit card? For you, I can have everything done within fifteen minutes. It simply takes insurance a while. I’ll give you a call when it’s ready?”

“That sounds lovely, thank you,” You stepped over to the register where he began to ring you up. “Oh, I think I left my credit card in the car. Babe, won’t you be a doll and swipe for me?” You looked at Natasha with a mischievous glint in your eyes.  

Natasha's eyes narrowed at your request, but she begrudgingly reached for her wallet, swiping her card without a word. As the transaction went through, you couldn't help but smirk, knowing you had just added another layer to your playful banter.

"Thanks, babe," You said with a wink, accepting the receipt from Jimmy. "I owe you one."

“Uh huh,” Natasha nodded. “We’ll be back soon.” 

Natasha followed you out of the store and down towards the food court. 

“Oh, Charley’s,” You grinned. “Come, we must feast.” You waved Natasha over to Charley's Philly Steak. 

“Thanks but no thanks,” Natraha shook her head. “This is a lot of grease and…”

“What type of health nut are you ?” You asked in disgust. You gave her body a once over before you sighed. 

Natasha gave a wry smile. "Call me crazy, but I prefer to avoid coronary artery disease."

You chuckled. "Suit yourself. More cheesesteak for me." With that, you headed into the restaurant, leaving Natasha to ponder her choices.

You ordered the best cheesesteak on the planet, practically salivating at the menu as you stood in line. When it was time to get your food, you led Natasha over to a table to sit with you. She sat with a simple lemonade in her hand as she eyed your surroundings subtly. You had to admit the girl was good. 

“You know I kind of like you,” You said to Natasha in between bites. “At first, I simply thought you were bitchy. Now I think of you as kind of hot and bitchy. It works for you. Also, the blonde does look good on you I must say.” 

Natasha raised an eyebrow, unamused. "Thanks, I think."

You grinned, undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm. "Hey, it takes a special kind of person to rock the 'hot and bitchy' vibe. Not everyone can pull it off."

Natasha shook her head, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Absolutely," You replied with a wink, taking another bite of your cheesesteak.

“You certainly have a way with words,” Natasha mumbled, as she watched you ogle a beautiful woman walking past the two of you. “Keep your eyes open.”

You glanced back at Natasha, a smirk playing on your lips. "Always do, especially when the view's this good."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but a hint of amusement danced in her gaze. "Just remember why we're here, okay?"

"Got it," You replied with a wink, turning your attention back to the task at hand.

“People say I’m a bit intense,” Natasha began. “They’ve never met you.”

You chuckled, acknowledging her remark. "Intense? Me? Nah, just passionate about the job."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Sure, let's go with that."

“It gets me through the day to keep my mood lifted,” You said solemnly. “I spent so much time being serious. Stone-faced and unhappy. I like this version of me. It’s neat.”

Natasha regarded you with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "So, you're saying the humor is a coping mechanism?"

You nodded a wistful smile on your face. "Something like that. Keeps me sane, you know?"

“I do,” Natasha agreed. “You’re not going to eat all of these,” Natasha said more so to herself than you as she grabbed a few fries from your plate.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist," You teased, nudging the plate closer to her. 

“It’s halfway decent,” Natasha hummed as she chewed into a fry. “I’m not a stickler when it comes to eating. Just so you know.”

“I know,” You shrugged. Some things went without saying. If there was someone to truly judge her on certain habits she most likely gained from life growing up as a spy it wouldn’t be you. 

“How old were you when you joined?” Natasha asked suddenly. “Your file doesn’t say.”

You chewed slowly, debating on whether you wanted to tell her or not. 

“Fourteen,” You admitted. 

Natasha's expression softened a hint of empathy in her eyes. "That's young," she remarked quietly, her tone more gentle than usual. She tried to imagine what a younger, spy you would look like. How would you have acted then? Were you afraid? Did you make friends? Were you allowed to have friends? She wants to know so much more. Though she figured you weren’t willing to tell her too much. You were only being cordial after all. 

“It is,” You swallowed thickly. “I played basketball in school and I was recruited based on my JROTC background. I guess they saw something in me no one else did.” 

Natasha nodded, absorbing your words. "They usually do," she replied, her voice carrying a weight of understanding. "Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I am,” You nodded. Anything to keep this conversation from going any deeper. 

—------

The rest of the ride to Bay Harbor Island is done in relative silence. You and Natasha would share brief tidbits about the other, both made up and truthful, as you prepared to assume your roles. You could feel the hairs on your arms stand as you pulled into the luxurious resort parking lot. You wouldn’t even attempt to find a parking spot on your own, instead pulling up to the valet. 

As the valet took the keys and you stepped out of the car, the weight of your assumed identities settled upon you. You straightened your posture, adopting the persona of Alexis, the confident and sophisticated woman you were tasked to portray. Natasha, too, seemed to slip effortlessly into her role as Joan, her demeanor shifting subtly to embody the elegance and grace expected of her character.

The resort exuded an air of opulence and sophistication, clear from the moment you stepped through the grand entrance. Freshly waxed marble floors stretched out before you, adorned with intricate patterns that spoke of craftsmanship and luxury. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings casting a warm glow over the lobby.

The atmosphere was alive with energy, as guests and staff moved through the various rooms. Busy chatter filled the air, mingling with the soft sounds of classical music that played softly in the background. 

Natasha and you navigated through the crowd with ease, wheeling your luggage behind you as a busboy trailed dutifully after you. The occasional glance was thrown your way, but everyone was much too busy trying to check into their rooms to do much of anything. 

As you and Natasha stood side by side, it was clear to you that each of you had your own way of assessing the situation. While you scanned the room for potential exits and assessed the number of staff and guests present, Natasha's focus was on the subtle nuances of the environment. She listened intently to the conversations around you, gauging the mood of the crowd and the flow of foot traffic with practiced precision.

Despite the amount of energy in the resort lobby, both of you remained calm and composed.  

“I told you we should have gotten here earlier,” A woman’s gruff and irritated voice floated from behind you. 

“Well, how was I supposed to know there would be people checking in on a Thursday?” The man argued. 

You exchanged a glance with Natasha as the voices behind you caught your attention. It seemed like a typical couple's bickering, but something about their tone piqued your interest. They sounded tense as if there was more beneath the surface than just a disagreement over timing.

Natasha subtly shifted her position, her body language indicating that she was now paying closer attention to the conversation behind you. 

“We're already late for check-in,” the woman continued, her frustration evident in her voice. “Now we're going to have to wait in line like everyone else.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” the man retorted defensively. “It's not my fault the traffic was so bad.”

As you moved ahead in line, a couple with a restless golden retriever cut off your path to get across. Hoping to avoid them, you stepped back, slightly losing your balance only to have Natasha press her left hand against your lower back to keep you steady. 

“Sorry!” The husband called behind him as they rushed outside the front doors. 

“Jeez, they almost knocked her over,” The woman behind you whispered to her husband, their bickering long gone. 

"Thanks," You murmured to Natasha, offering her a small smile of appreciation. 

“Is this okay?” Natasha leaned over to speak closer to your ear. She was referring to her hand on your back. You’d mentioned before how physical touch made you uncomfortable. Given that physical touch would be a must to sell as a fake couple, you would have to get over it. It was kind of her to ask. You nodded in response to Natasha's question, grateful for her consideration. 

"Yeah, it's fine," You replied softly, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. 

You were finally up. The front desk attendant was a kind young girl with a slight gap in her teeth. She had the sweetest smile that you couldn’t help but match. 

“Hi, my wife and I are checking in,” Natasha spoke. “It should be under the last name White.”

The receptionist nodded, typing on the keyboard in front of her. "Ah, yes, Mrs. White," she confirmed, her fingers moving deftly over the keys. "I have your reservation right here. Welcome to Shady Corners Island Resort." She smiled warmly, handing over the room keys to Natasha. "I hope you don’t mind. Seeing as you’re newlyweds we took the pleasure of upgrading your room to one of our over-the-water bungalows. Free of charge. It’s our last one for the weekend.” 

"That's very generous, thank you," Natasha replied with a gracious smile, accepting the room keys. "We appreciate it."

“If you just wait right over there near the red bell a member of our staff will be able to lead you and one of the other couples over to the bungalow area,” She gestured to the right. 

"Sounds perfect," Natasha nodded, gesturing for you to follow her toward the designated waiting area near the red bell.

As Natasha and you made your way towards the waiting area, you overheard the couple behind you whispering to each other.

"I wish we could get an upgrade like that," the woman muttered.

"Yeah, but didn't you hear? The last room got booked by that couple in front of us," the man replied, disappointment evident in his voice.

You exchanged a glance with Natasha, silently acknowledging the stroke of luck that landed you the upgraded room.

As you and Natasha settled near the red bell, the couple with the restless golden retriever approached and stood next to you. The dog, clearly still restless, tugged on its leash, occasionally letting out a low whine.

You couldn't help but wonder how the dog was allowed in such a busy and upscale hotel, but you kept your thoughts to yourself, not wanting to make any assumptions. Instead, you focused on maintaining your composure and waiting patiently for the staff member to lead you to your bungalow.

“White?” An attendant approached the two of you and you answered with an enthusiastic nod. “And, Corcoran?”

“That would be us,” The woman answered. Her hair was a dark brown, beach curled, and flowing down her back. Her features were pleasant enough, with soft curves to her face and a warm smile. 

“Follow me,” The attendant gestured. 

As the attendant led the way, Natasha eventually dropped her hand from your back. You tried to ignore the sudden absence of her touch, focusing instead on the picturesque view of the overwater bungalows ahead. The path to the accommodations wound through lush gardens and over small bridges spanning the peaceful ocean. The sound of gentle waves lapping against the wooden stilts beneath the bungalows filled the air, creating a serene atmosphere.

“302 Sunset Retreat,” The attendant offered to take hold of your key card to show you how to get in. He demonstrated how to use the key card to unlock the door, sliding it into the slot and giving it a gentle push. With a soft click, the door unlocked, and he pushed it open to reveal the luxurious interior.

Once inside, the bellboy followed behind with your bags, placing them neatly in the living area before excusing himself, leaving you and Natasha alone in the bungalow.

The interior of the bungalow exuded tropical luxury with a modern twist. 

A plush king-sized bed adorned with crisp, white linens served as the focal point of the room.  The large windows offered stunning views of the crystal-clear waters below. 

In one corner of the room, a luxurious jacuzzi tub awaited, surrounded by lush greenery for added privacy. Nearby, a sleek waterfall shower, with glass doors, stood tall. 

A top-notch mini-bar stocked with an array of beverages and snacks stood against one wall, offering indulgent treats for your enjoyment.  Outside, a small patio beckoned with comfortable chairs, providing the perfect spot to sip a refreshing drink and soak in the breathtaking views of the surrounding lagoon.

The best part of the room was the cooler filled with champagne and wine. Along with the rose petals sprinkled over the tiny kitchenette counter. 

“Nice,” Natasha sighed as she stepped into the bedroom area of the bungalow. “Bed-sharing.”

“I know so cliche,” You shook your head as you grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge.

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully at your comment, her lips curling into a small smirk. "Well, we're committed to selling the whole 'newlywed' vibe, aren't we?" she quipped, her tone laced with sarcasm.

You chuckled, nodding in agreement as you twisted the cap off the water bottle. "Exactly. It's all about authenticity," you replied, taking a sip before gesturing towards the inviting bed. "Shall we test it out?"

“Test it out?” Natasha raised a brow. 

“Must I be the beauty and the brains in this relationship?” You mumbled. 

Natasha chuckled softly. "Careful, or you might bruise your delicate ego," she teased. "But sure, why not? It's been a long day." She walked over to the bed and flopped down onto it, letting out a content sigh.

“You’re lying on the bed with your outside clothes?” You asked incredulously.

“What? You said test it out?” Natasha frowned. 

 "Fair enough," You conceded, walking over to the bed and gingerly sitting down beside her. "But you're still breaking all the rules of hotel etiquette."

“I think we’ll survive,” Natasha closed her eyes. She needed a few minutes to process. 

“It’s so boring already,” You groaned as you began to look through the drawers beside the bed.

Natasha sighed, a hint of irritation in her voice. "Can't you sit still for a moment?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, continuing to rummage through the drawers. "I'm just trying to find something to pass the time. Being cooped up in this room isn't exactly thrilling."

Natasha rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. "Well, try to contain yourself. We're here for a mission, not a vacation. Also, we’ve been here all of five minutes."

“Five minutes that I could have been in a bikini in the sun,” You said in a ‘duh’ tone. “Sun’s out bun’s out as they say.” 

“Are you sure you don’t have ADHD?” Natasha began to ask as she squinted her eyes. Was she analyzing you?

“What are you a psychiatrist? I thought that was my cover,”  You rolled your eyes. 

 "Who says I can't dabble in multiple professions? Besides, it's not exactly rocket science to see that you're a bit on edge like all the time,” Natasha pointed out. 

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Is that your professional diagnosis?"

"Consider it a layman's observation," She replied with a grin.

“Well, how about we observe someone by the pool? Come on Tasha,” You whined. 

“I thought I said no nicknames,” Natasha growled. 

“It’s not a nickname it’s just a shortening of your name,” You shrugged. “Also, you told me not to call you honey or baby. Nowhere did you say I couldn’t call you Tasha.” 

Natasha's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing. "Semantics."

You grinned mischievously. "Exactly."

She shook her head. "Let's just go observe by the pool, alright?"

----> part 5

[super-lovely-star]

Fun and nostalgic gifts and treats for Middle Regressors and Dreamers

This is a list of cute little things you can get for yourself or your middle friend! I will generally list them from cheapest to most spendy- but remember, just because something is cheap doesn’t mean it’s a bad gift. Don’t spend beyond your means! And also, you DO NOT need these things to “properly regress!”

Mood Jewelry ($) These were popular when I was a kid. You can get mood rings, necklaces, bracelets, and probably even earrings.

Age appropriate cosmetics ($) Like scented lip creams and gloss, or body glitter.

Glow in the dark stars ($) you can get these in the classic color, or bright colors!

Fidget toys ($) I especially like Tangle! These are good if you have anxiety or are just fidgety.

Small collectable toys ($) Like matchbox cars, littlest pet shop, blind box toys, etc!

Candy ($) Just make sure you don’t get too much, or you might get sick! I especially like sour patch kids, and yan yan.

Stickers ($) I like to get these at Daiso, but you can get them pretty much anywhere! Especially good of you/your friend keeps a journal or writes letters.

Cute plushie keychains ($) To clip onto your bag!

Art supplies ($-$$) If you/your friend likes to draw, you can get some colored pencils, markers, etc! Even a new sketchbook!

Stuff with a First initial on it ($-$$) like pillows, jewelry, little compacts, keychains, etc.

Kids craft kits ($-$$) they have plenty of these at craft stores! Jewelry making kits, paint a sculpture, you name it!

A cute character waterbottle ($-$$) choose depending on your/their favorite character/franchise! I have an usahana water bottle coming in the mail!

A lava/glitter lamp ($$) A cool way to add atmosphere to your/their room, and super relaxing to look at.

A caboodle ($$) To keep your/their accessories, makeup, art supplies, or small toys organized.

Plushies, duh! ($$) If you’re on a budget, you can get these at thrift stores! Just make sure to clean before cuddling.

Action figure or Fashion doll ($$) If you/they are less into plushies, these make equally good companions.

Video games ($$) for whatever console you/they use. I like nintendogs games best!

Tamagotchi ($$) or a similar virtual pet! I never had one, but they look fun!

A DVD of a favorite movie ($$) You can get these cheaper secondhand! Just make sure they still work.

A cute journal ($$) I like the ones they sell at Claire’s best. They look like cute animals!

Vintage Clothes ($$-$$$) If your shopping on ebay or depop, make sure you know the measurements. Especially if you’re going for actual tween brands like Limited Too or Mezzo Piano Junior, which run smaller than adult sizes.

An inflatable or beanbag chair ($$-$$$) Just make sure you/they have space for one!

MP3 or CD player ($$$) Especially good gift for a music lover!

Last but not least, a Razor scooter! ($$$) Did you know they make these in adult sizes? I have one named Jazz and I love it dearly.

Love you all, platonically ofc! 🎁💝

[catnipaddictt]

Abstract

wc: 2.1k

series masterlist ⭑ co-creator @memoiich

You had finally moved away from your hometown. A final answer to your undying search for independence. A trait your mothers whipped tongue had tried to rein back for years. Something that had very clearly failed. The thought alone made you smirk a bit as you stood before your new home. The Alderaan apartments were a choice at best. Very cheap for the location being so close to the centre of the city but a little decrepit. Still it felt like a palace to you right now.

You made your way up to the 4th floor, the highest of the crumbling building. Leaving you to look out to the curtains of the slightly nicer hotel on the other side of the street. Grabbing your suitcase, you unpacked your luggage before coming to the realisation that you had no food in your new home. And of course it just had to be dark outside, evening having set. After overthinking your options you decided to ask your neighbour for some eggs. Dragging yourself to your neighbour’s door with your metaphorical tail between your legs, you knocked on the door.

A strange being poked its face through the slightest gap possible, it looked around worried. You didn’t know if it was to look for trouble or to find it. After the anxiety-writing look, the creature opened the creaking door. Now that you could see it, It was clearly a Gungan.

“Hello. Missa Jar Jar Binks. Why are you at misssas door?“ he questions “Hey, I'm your new neighbour. I was wondering if I could borrow some eggs?“ You say, a bit unsure of the Gungan in front of you. “Missa loves eggs. Sun sun or scrambled, lovely for my tumtum” jar jar snickers at the end. ”So… Can I use the eggs? You question once again. “Missa doesn’t have any eggs for sunsun but missa could go to the store for stuff and stuff.” Not only did you think of going to the store before you were now massively disappointed and also extremely tired. The less effort option was clearly the wrong one.

“No it's fine I will go myself thank you anyways.” Before finishing Jar Jar was already speaking, “It's not a big dealio, you newbie don't know the way like missa does.” Before you could protest against this clearly exhausting task, he was already out of the door and started walking towards the staircase. Not wanting to be rude, you followed. It took 17 minutes longer than normal to get to the store because Jar Jar wanted to ‘cut a cornerio’. Once at the store Jar Jar started to argue after eating a RAW egg “As a tasty jum jum” Only after 36 min of arguing and you finally offering to just buy the dozen did you start to make your way back home which also took a small hour.

You could finally bid Jar Jar goodnight. You got home just to cook the damn eggs ‘sun-sun’ style and went to bed in the early morning, you already knew this new life was going to be hard at first.

Waking up had never been so hard before, but the alarm was ringing and today was an important one. It was your first day at your new job at the paper company, ‘Paper Force’. Paper Force was located pretty far away, you would have to drive past the mustafar part of the city, making it a long trip for a very tired driver. Prepping for work wasn't the worst as you had laid out your work outfit the night before.

You got in your beat-up 2002 beetle and started the 50 minute commute. At the 20 minute point your car started to rumble, not just a soft snore, no, a rumble. 10 minutes later and you were stuck by the side of the road. You search an auto shop on your hologram immediately. The only car mechanic that wasn't 2 hours away was a place called ‘MustaCar’. Having no time to waste, you called the number.

45 long minutes later an old pickup truck pulls up behind your still-not-starting beetle. By this point you were frankly very annoyed. You were already half an hour late to your new job, and it didn't seem like you were going to get there soon. And to make things worse, you slept bad last night, meaning you were now rather sleep deprived.

The door to the pickup truck swings open with a clunk, clearly well used. A man in his early to mid 20’s steps out of the vehicle, he reaches up and moves his dark-blond curls out of his field of vision. He wears an oil-stained long sleeved button up, of which you cannot tell the original colour, as well as a pair of dirtied jeans. He spots you, puts his hands in his pockets and stalks over, clearly in no hurry.

“I was just thinking you weren't going to bother showing up” you snapped at him harshly. “Well, sorry Miss, the rest of the world doesn’t revolve around you” You let out a sharp breath at his words. “Excuse me, just look at my car and do your job”. You were fed up with this day already and now you had to deal with a know-it-all, stuck-up, man-child of a mechanic. “Parents didn’t teach you manners I see, now what seems to be the matter here? So I can do my job” He walks towards your car, popping the lid. You roll your eyes at him before speaking. “Well she won't go” He rolls up his sleeves, “Figured that much” he states. Your brows furrow in annoyance, you don’t have time for his attitude, “something started making noise and now she doesn't want to run.” He leans forward to observe your car’s engine. “She, huh, does the lovely lady have a name as well?” You can hear his smirk through his words. Your ears turn red “Shelby, the car is called Shelby”. The mechanic lets out a harsh laugh as he turns to something unknown “An old lady I suppose then, with a name like that”. You let out a huff and turn away.

“Dead Battery and the terminals are corroding”. You jump slightly, having zoned out. “Sorry?” you question. “You have a dead battery and its terminals are also corroding. Oh and you have a break problem, that's what the noise was”. You stand there a bit perplexed, “Uh what does that mean?”. “It means you aren’t gonna be able to drive Shelby until you get her fixed”. He says the name of your car amusingly. “So can you do it then?” You ask, checking your hologram for the time, you were almost an hour late already. “Well that's my job isn’t it?” He raises an eyebrow. You sigh, clearly this guy thought highly of himself. “How much and how long?” you demand, patient wearing thin at this point. “Well the battery change is gonna be about 150, plus the corrosion, about 20, and the grinding breaks, another 150 credits” he pauses before speaking again, “it’ll take a bit, have to order in the parts, could take a while, a few weeks”. “A few weeks!” you all but shout.

You pace away, trying to think. You were very very late, had little to no sleep, and now your beloved car wasn’t going, plus you might have to wait weeks to get her back running. “Fine, do what you must” you bark out. Hopefully this man could fix Shelby quickly, and you would never have to deal with him or another car problem ever again. “Need anything out of her? Or are you good?” He asks. You walk over to Shelby, grab your bag, morning caffeine fix, and sweater. You shut the door gently. The guy speaks, walking back over to the pickup truck “Okay then, I’ll take her into the shop and she’ll be good as new soon. Oh and I will probably need some contact details, unless you never want to see your car again” He walks back carrying a piece of blue-ish paper and a pen with the ‘MustaCar’ logo on the side, passing both to you. You write down your information and hand it back to his expecting hand. “You should come by the shop, I’m sure the guys would love that” And with a smirk and a wink, he turns, secures Shelby, and gets back into the pickup. You watch as he drives off with your prized possession, your Shelby, If he ruins her, he will have hell to pay. You had now been walking for 30 minutes, with your workplace still another 20 minutes away. Your hair sticks to your forehead with sweat and your feet are starting to ache. The music playing in your ears is a nice distraction from your situation as you stroll at pace. Finally after what feels like a millennium, you reach the building. The large blue letters spell ‘Paper Force’, meaning you haven’t gotten lost along the way. Making your way to the building, you check your reflection in a window, fix your hair, and give yourself a mental pep talk. Just go in, explain what happened, it will all be fine. At least you hope. With a deep breath and step inside.

Pulling up the shop with a rumble, the pickup-truck deposits his newest client's female car around the back. The fading MustaCar sign blinks slowly at him as he gets out the parked truck and steps foot on solid ground. The beetle named Shelby looks out of place among the beat up vehicles, and forgotten projects of the shop. “Anakin” A female voice yells from inside the garage before a young togruta steps out. She wears overalls and a pair of safety goggles on her head. “New project Snips” He says. “What's wrong with it? It looks pretty good to me” the togruta states as she walks over and runs a hand over the bonnet. “Battery is dead, corrosion, and breaks need new pads” Anakin explains, counting off each problem on his fingers. “We are gonna need to order stuff in for her”. The togruta laughs “Her?” she questions. Anakin sighs “Yes, Ahsoka, Her. Owner calls it Shelby". “Cute” Ahsoka shrugs “lets see what we can do”.

“Well the brake pads are definitely going to have to be replaced, there is basically nothing there” Ahsoka looks up as she speaks. “Thought as much, '' replies Anakin, as he wanders over with two cups of coffee, he passes one to Ahsoka. “Thanks”. “I placed an order for the new battery and brake pads, should take a week to arrive, but knowing the shipping times, it will probably take longer than that” Anakin says as he surveys Shelby. “At least she isn’t a complete wreck”. Ahsoka nods behind Anakin “speaking of wrecks, how is that project coming along ''. Anakin turns to look at the car sitting under a large tree. He had picked up the third generation Pontiac firebird from a man on his deathbed; it had been living in a barn for 20 years, rusted, and in desperate need of restoration. If it even could be saved. “It's a work in progress Snips”, “I don’t know, it is rusted pretty bad in some of it, it will take a genius to make it run again”, “Good thing i’m here then” He replies with a smile. Ahsoka rolls her eyes and drains the last of her drink before returning to their newest project.

A voice pulls Anakin out of his work “Anakin, I need to speak to you”. The voice comes from an elderly man, Palpatine, the creator and owner of MustaCar. “Of course” Anakin wipes the oil off his hands on a nearby cloth, before throwing it back on the table and following Palpatine. They enter the main office of the shop and Palpatine closes the door behind them. “Sith Auto Dominion is growing. At this rate we will be losing profit by the same time next month” Palpatine states. Sith Auto Dominion was the biggest competition for MustaCar, located on the other side of town on Geonosis Blvd. Over time the opposing shop had been taking their customers, meaning Palpatine and the people he employ have been having to cut costs however they can. “What can we do?” Anakin questions. “Not much my boy, we just have to be careful. I have owned this shop for 45 years and I will not see it go bankrupt” he takes a breath “You are my best mechanic Anakin, I cannot afford to lose you”. Palpatine walks around to his desk and sits down, gesturing at the seat opposite him. “I have a favour to ask you, Anakin”. “Anything” He replies. “Take your apprentice, go to Sith Auto, find out what they have that we don’t”

“Alright Snips, we have a job”

[g0ttal0ve101]

Johnny Headcanons <3

TW: GAH!!!! TEXAS MAN JUMPSCARE!!!!!!!!

Note: had to do it to them 😮‍💨 i decided to do a mix of romantic and random hcs cause i thought it was cutie but I did section them off from each other!! might write about tcm later on so i’ll take requests for it!!!!! @twsted-idiot :3

RANDOM

he definitely had a FUCK ASS haircut growing up. all those boys in that damn house did. NANCY HAD NO IDEA WHAT SHE WAS DOING 🗣️💥 she really pulled up with the scissors and said ‘alright sweetie just hold still’ and fucked up his entire life for a hot 10 years. after that no one gets near the hair…

fuck ass teeth lets be soooo real. from the amount of times he’s gotten into fights at the bar or in a street, he definitely lost/chipped a few in his prime teen years. his bottom teeth are also a lil crooked…but it’s cutie on him! our little gummy bear ❤️ (bitch has gums for days it’s ok to admit it!!)

i’ll talk abt a lot of his love languages in the romantic section but let me tell you, he’s good at pulling bitches but has trouble pulling ppl he’s ACTUALLY interested in 🗣️💥

^ what I mean by that is like. if he just wants a good fuck and a bougie dinner, trust he’ll have a bitch under his arm! but if he has someone he genuinely cares about and wants to be with, he’s more reluctant to show interest… if that makes sense.

everyone knows he has a farmer’s tan 😭 tan one second, takes off his shirt, WOAH!!! WHOS THIS WHITE MAN??? IS THAT A FUCKING GHOST??? oh no it’s just johnny’s tatas 😻

^ speaking of wish im a freckle truther so fuck you he has light freckles on his face 😮‍💨

ALCOHOLIC. REAL BAD. say bye bye to his livers 😿……but no seriously he has terrible drinking habits. practically drinks every night smh. and that’s on dealing with unbearable depression 😮‍💨

SMOKES HEAVY TOO. (johnny your lungs…😿)

idk abt yall but I think johnny’s a sweetheart to bubba….his mama taught him better than to boss him around and be an asshole like CERTAIN PEOPLE. although johnny can come off as demanding, i truly think he has the best intentions at heart when he’s interacting with bubba ❤️

kinda homophobic but gay at the same time 😮‍💨 and that’s on that TEXAN TIP 🇺🇸🦅💥 YEEEEHAW!!!

in my head i think johnny had his own room n stuff in the house up until he confronted nancy. after that and getting his eye fucked up, he wanted to be petty and sleep outside just to bother nancy. at first she didn’t care and thought he’d eventually just come back in but. he. DID NOT. instead he literally cleaned out the entire shack, found a cheap couch from some thrift store, n fucked that shit UP!!!!!! nancy was PISSED!!! 🗣️ “come back in”…..“no” type shit

loves keeping souvenirs of his victims. ESPECIALLY memorable ones. where did he get that belt? simple, really. this cute guy tried to use it as a defense mechanism! johnny strangled him with it shortly after ❤️ oh and this perfume? yeah, he found that in a REAL fighter’s purse. she was cute whenever she screamed 🌹

started driving at like. 10. nancy fucking FLIPPED OUT whenever she caught him riding around in a car as a literal CHILD. (influenced by certain people😒) but even after all her scolding, he never stopped 💀…that’s why he’s a good driver to this day!

this man loooooooooves his hunting. talking abt sum “THATS A BUTTON BUCK 🗣️” bitch no one knows what you’re talking abt be quiet. (I love him passionately)

johnny DESPISES wearing formal clothing. whether it’s some dumb church suit, dress shirt, or WHATEVER, he does NOT FW THAT SHIT ❌ the real ones know johnny walks around his house with just his boxers on…..and that’s on that country shit 🇺🇸🦅💥 (more like CUNTry)

CALLOUSED HANDS TRUTHER 💥 he definitely has some fucked up fingernails too. stained with oil n shit….SOMEONE GET HIM A PEDICURE IMMEDIATELY.

nubbins always instigates him into fighting a family member 💀 (usually sissy or the cook) talking abt sum: “she said you get noooo bitches…hot ones at least lolsies” or “he told me that he thinks you’re the weakest link of the family but yknow…” FALSE ACCUSATIONS!!!! but johnny falls for it every time 😭

ROMANTIC

HATES PHYSICAL AFFECTION AT FIRST!!! I’m telling you this right now he DON’T LIKE IT!!!!! and it’s not even in the cutie ‘aw he’s touched starved’—NO. HE DON’T LIKE IT. that’s not to say his opinion won’t sway a lil depending on the person (🤭) but at first that’s a big no no with him.

^ but once he starts getting comfortable with you, it’s impossible to pry him off. always wanna hug you n kiss you n play with your hair….he’s a lil love bug fr!

terrible at handling verbal affection. like god 😭 when receiving compliments, he kinda just scoffs, says something snarky, n tries to change the subject. keep doing it? he doesn’t know what to do with himself. it eventually becomes a staring contest with him being like ‘quit that rn.’ but let’s be honest, he likes it 😮‍💨

^ in terms of GIVING IT OUT, he’s pretty good at it. words of encouragement come easy to him since he just has to give you a ‘good job’ (maybe even adding a lil pet name if he’s feeling cute) n move on with his life.

^ but complimenting your laugh? your voice? your eyes? your hair? your clothes? he does it in the slickest ways possible. never over the top or on the nose, always subtle and almost unnoticeable.

he shows his affection through gift giving. stolen flowers from sissy’s garden, stolen jewelry from…trespassers, stolen expensive clothes with suspicious gashes through the fabric, severed limbs—LMAO OFC NOT!!!!! but yes he’s very inclined to give you lil gifts here and there.

surprisingly enough, he likes teaching you stuff. whether it be something small like the mechanics of a car or something big like gutting and skinning a corpse, he enjoys being the one who shows you how to do things he knows how to do well. and when he sees that he successfully accomplished his goal of educating you, he’s happier than ever. (this is also a perfect excuse for him to call you a good girl/boy!!!!!! he’s not slick!!!!!)

pet names consist of the TEXAN WAY BABY YEEEEHAW 💥🦅🇺🇸 sweetie/sweetheart, baby/babe, honey/hun, angel face/doll face, y’know how it is. and it’s kinda cute cause throughout your relationship with him, you unlock certain pet names!!

wanna see a magic trick? 🪄 MANIPULATION! johnny is a genius when it comes to manipulating you. and trust me, you will NOT know he’s doing it.

this is really fucked up (bc HE’S fucked up) but he definitely pushes your boundaries in the beginning of the relationship. it’s kinda like a test to see what he can get away with and how you’ll react to him being an asshole. are you gonna cuss him out? are you gonna hit him? cry? run off? he wants to know.

^ and by ‘pushing the boundaries’ I mean degradation n shit. you ask him what’s wrong and he calls you a filthy whore, a mangy slut, a stupid bitch, JUST TO SEE what you’ll do.

^ the way to pass the test is STANDING UP TO HIM. that’s what he WANTS. be an asshole back!! don’t lose your shit, just one-up him. for example, call him a bitch ass momma’s boy!! that’ll have him on his KNEES!!

who said jealous? BECAUSE YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT. johnny IS insecure and thinks you’ll leave him, so it’s better if you DON’T talk to anyone he could perceive as a threat. he lays off with family n shit bc he gets it, but if they ain’t related to you? bitch they better know how to fight 😮‍💨

PDA is iffy with him especially around any of the family LMAO….but if he feels threatened by a guy or god forbid JEALOUS, best believe you’ll have an arm around your waist real fast. 🤭

you better like late night drives bc this man ADORES them. whenever he wants to have a sentimental moment with you or treat you real special for a night, best believe you’ll be in his car for a good while. takes you to the PRETTIEST landscapes he knows of and just chills with you.

^ cutie till he tries scaring the shit outta you with some horrific story abt what happened there or sumn. or even…idk…..starts the hypothetical scenario of “y’know I could kill you rn and no one would be able to hear you scream LOL! 😹” johnny…..if you don’t shut the hell up….

if shit is serious, you definitely made a blood oath with him that you’ll stick with him despite everything. basically marriage imo. peak romance right there <3