#hot gob summer

[orcbardneeul]

And closing out Hot Gob Summer, we have Roth showing off a…oh my. Roth, I think you're supposed to wear more than that on a public beach. But I suppose they'll make an exception for you.

(🎨 @syrupmandraws )

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Teenager Fics Masterlist

Across the Universe (ao3) - secretlyryanross luke/ashton G, 2k

Summary: "...So, like, you've done this before?" Luke asks in a hushed tone.

-

Or, Ashton smokes pot sometimes and Luke is curious about trying it.

Confront Me (ao3) - jadedperspective michael/ashton T, 2k

Summary: Ashton tells Michael they can’t be friends anymore and Michael, without anyone else to turn to, seeks his best friend for comfort.

He Was A Skater Boy (ao3) - SinisterMind michael/luke T, 2k

Summary: He was a boy, he was also a boy….can I make it any more obvious?

how did we end up talking in the first place? (ao3) - hemmingscliffords michael/luke, implied ashton/calum E, 3k

Summary: Michael Clifford, senior. Probably been gobbed off more times than any person Luke can think of. He's got this fucking awesome blonde hair with a too-good-to-be-true fringe, and his lips are big and puffy and he's the perfect mixture of pretty and rugged when he has stubble.

And Luke's fancied him for as long as he can remember.

it's getting crazy (i think i'm losing it) (ao3) - lucasshem luke/ashton N/R, 1k

Summary: Luke and Ashton meet at a party and shit goes down.

Made For You (ao3) - Headgehog_Louis007 luke/ashton T, 13k

Summary: Luke has always been the bad boy with the image to match. Ashton is trying to start his music career but nothing is working out. When Luke gets himself into trouble he finds himself out in the street, where he meets Ashton and they become friends or maybe more.

Maelstrom (ao3) - merlypops luke/ashton E, 225k

Summary: Ashton is struggling, Luke is hiding, and Michael and Calum just want to make things work. (And maybe Ashton and Luke fall in love too. Maybe.)

milk teeth (ao3) - prettyluke (parting_ways) michael/calum T, 9k

Summary: the four times Calum couldn't admit it and the one time he did.

oblivious (ao3) - orphan_account michael/calum M, 3k

Summary: "i asked," he rolls his eyes sassily, but michael couldnt see since his face was still pressed against his chest. "what is a blowjob?"

Spit Me Out Like Hot Wasabi (ao3) - takemymoneycth michael/calum E, 4k

Summary: Michael had never enjoyed parties. But what happens when at one of Ashton Irwin's, he meets Calum, a sex god who looks like he came straight from his wet dreams? (hint: it starts with a s and ends with an ex)

Summer Love (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton T, 18k

Summary: Luke goes to summer camp for the first time. His counselor, Ashton, is perfect in every way.

that’s why you like it (ao3) - merlypops michael/calum, bryana/ashton E, 69k

Summary: Calum starts doing workouts in the garden over the summer and Michael spends the whole time with his hand down his pants (until Calum takes matters into his own hands).

the kids will be alright, eventually (ao3) - wafflelashton luke/ashton, ashton/ofc T, 45k

Summary; ashton falls in love with his best friend, luke, and is somehow the last to know.

The Worst Things in Life Come Free to Us (ao3) - mukeftlashton michael/luke, calum/ashton E, 54k

Summary: On the outside, Michael looks like a bitter rebel who doesn't care about the feelings of others. In reality, he's a kid who had his heart shattered, and he needs help picking up the pieces.

Luke is a fragile teen who lives with his abusive, alcoholic, homophobic father. He has resorted to not speaking, deciding that it isn't worth his time; no one cares about what he has to say anyways.

Piece by piece, they help each other rebuild the fragments of their shattered hearts, but it doesn't happen overnight.

this is everything i didn't say - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) michael/luke, calum/ashton T, 6k

Summary: Luke's home life has never been great, with an abusive and homophobic father. Calum is the only good consistent thing in his life, with Calum being Luke's best friend. One day, Calum suggests that Luke meets some new people to hang out with. Luke is hesitant, but then he meets a red head named Michael Clifford, and everything changes.

White Noise (ao3) - merlypops luke/ashton E, 7k

Summary: Luke and Ashton have massive crushes on each other, Ashton throws a party, and all of Luke's dreams come true. (Maybe they're a tiny bit in love too. Maybe.)

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (95): Thu 16th Jun 2022

Today was my day off and I had a surfing lesson scheduled for 6:30 tonight I wish I'd booked it for earlier because it meant that I had to spend the rest of the day killing time waiting for it. I'm still utterly gob smacked that this place offers a two hour lesson for only £20. I went for drum lessons earlier this year and the guy there was charging £25 just for one god damn hour and that was mostly spent watching him playing the drums and using terminology I'd never heard before. At the start of the year my plan was to start doing all the cool things I've wanted to do for years simultaneously. However I quickly realized that learning to play the drums, ride a motorbike, fly a private plane, surf and scuba dive would be incredibly expensive so instead I've decided to spend the whole summer learning how to surf and then when September arrives I'll move on one of the other things. It was a nice day and I had quite a bit of time to kill so I went down to the seafront to find a good parking spot for my bike and to sit on the beach enjoying the sunshine. By the time I got there I still had three hours to kill before the lesson. I popped into Minchella's for the first time since I left there back in December for an ice cream and to say hello to my former co-workers. It was so hot in the cafe because of the sun and the fact that I was wearing my full motorcycle gear that I couldn't stay in there for long. After this I walked along the beach a bit and then popped into the arcade to play the dropping the plastic balls in the little holes game. I won a bunch of tickets and gave them to a woman passing by outside to buy her kid some toys. I used to do this pretty much every night after I'd finish my shift at the cafe because the bus would never be on time and I'd need to kill some time somehow. Man it sickens me to think of how much money I must have wasted on stupid game where all you get in return is tickets that you can exchange for cheap plush toys made in Middle Eastern sweatshops. As I was walking towards the town centre to have a look in the shops I got a call for a number I didn't recognize. Whenever this happens I just let it go to voicemail because if it's important they will leave a message but this call went on for a good minute and a half. I decided that if this cold caller was this persistent then the least I could do was answer the phone and tell him to fuck off. However It was not a cold caller, it was the surf club. I assumed they were calling to confirm that I had a lesson booked but to my huge annoyance they told me that the wind had died down meaning there weren't any decent waves so they were going to have to postpone my lesson. I was livid but what how could I really complain to this guy. Whenever a representative of a company tells me there's something gone wrong with an order or an agreement we had and then says that there's nothing they can do part of me always feels like there might actually be something they can do but they can't be bothered. This scenario is pretty hard to put blame on the company though. Unless this guy had Superman powers and was able to push the moon a little bit closer to the Earth in order to create bigger waves then there legitimately wasn't anything they could do. They said that they'd push back the lesson to this time next week. I told him that I had another day off booked for tomorrow and if it was possible to do it then instead since I was excited about the lesson and didn't want to leave it an entire week. The guy said that this wasn't possible and it had to be exactly a week from now which is really odd but I didn't feel like getting into a back and forth so I let it go and now the lesson is scheduled for next Thursday. I've really wanted to learn how to surf for ten years now because I've always thought it looked really enjoyable, peaceful and therapeutic but the thing that I'd overlooked in the fact is that it's also a very conditional activity. It's not like meditation where you can do it whenever and wherever you want, there actually have to be waves. I remembered seeing on an ad for a cruise ship that there are wave machines that you can put in a small pool to use to practice for surfing. I looked up how much these would be and the asking price is usually between $450,000 - $500,000 so they're just a little bit out of my price range. I could probably afford one if I just never bought anything for the next fifty years but by then I'll be in no condition to surf and will spend most of my days having my nappy changed and being spoon fed mushy peas.

[meetmymouth]

ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!

THANK YOU LINDS <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle

#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time

THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!

"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.

See, you knew he would be here.

You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.

Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.

He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.

You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.

It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.

"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."

"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."

"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."

Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.

There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.

You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.

"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."

Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.

"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."

"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"

"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"

"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."

"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"

"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."

"You're a stalker."

"You sleep on the sofa."

You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.

To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".

"I won't."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.

He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.

"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.

In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.

"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"

"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."

Fool.

"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."

"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"

"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."

Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"

"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."

You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.

You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.

You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.

As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.

Right, getting ready for bed.

You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.

He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."

"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."

"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.

You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.

You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."

"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."

"You did that just to annoy me."

You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.

"The bed's too small."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.

His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.

"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."

"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."

"Good."

Silence.

It's unbearable.

Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.

A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.

You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.

Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.

"What's wrong with you!"

"The bed's too fucking small."

"We've established that."

He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."

You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.

"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."

"Cuddle? Fuck no."

"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."

"Why don't you–"

"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."

You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.

It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.

You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.

"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.

"I know. Just shut up and sleep."

[sicksucculentz]

Littlest treehorn fanfiction: Bonding

“Where's the new guy?” Jay asked, turning to Cole. “Garden. He refuses to eat inside”. Jay made a bit of a weirded out face at this “he’s so weird”. Cole started making himself up a plate of food. He just shrugged rolling his eyes “at least he’s not peeing all over the monastery”. “True that. I really want to hear what he sounds like” Jay said, fixing up his plate. “Honestly me too. Hahah! What if he sounded all gravely and deep or something” Cole joked. “That would be something,” Jay chuckled. The two boys had a seat at the table to eat. After eating dinner the rest of the night was theirs to do with what they please so videogames what they chose to do. About 45 minutes after they sat down for a gaming session with each other Zane slowly wandered up to them. He’s not wearing a shirt, it’s a pretty hot summer night. He tilted his head to the side watching the action flicker on the screen. The two boys never noticed he’d come up to see what they were doing. After another while of gaming Cole decided he wanted to grab a drink, and Jay decided he wanted to head to the bathroom real quick. When they took their focus away from the screen to get up they both cried out in shock, startled by the sudden appearance of the wild one. After laughing it off the both of them left to do their thing.

Jay was first to come back, finding Zane sitting on the floor messing with one of the controllers out of confusion. He’d managed to un-pause the game and end the game via a death in the game. Jay narrowed his eyebrows out of frustration that Zane did this but he couldn't get too angry, Zane just doesn't understand. “Dude! You killed me!” Jay exclaimed. Zane looked up from the controller with a very confused look on his face. Jay just shook his head and started for the controller in Zane’s hands “nothing never mind. Give that back please”. Zane suddenly stood up to his full height witch did tower over Jay. Jay cowered back, he couldn't find the words to say. Zane had dropped the controller when he stood up as a display of aggression. Jay started trying to walk around Zane but every move he made Zane blocked with his body. Jay let out a frustrated grumble and used a loosely balled hand to knock once on Zane’s chest. The back of his knuckles gently tapped Zane’s chest making Zane look down at the contact then back to Jay. “dude! What's with you, your acting so weird!....well….weirder” Jay exclaimed. “....teach…..teach me….please teach” Zane uttered. His first words in 6 weeks! Jay was astonished! Absolutely gob smacked that Zane even had words to speak. Jay stuttered over his words out of shock. Jay held up a finger stumbling over his own feet to go find Cole “stay…stay right there I have to go get Cole and my phone”.

Zane watched Jay run off with a slight saddened look on his face. He slowly turned back to the controllers laying on the floor in front of the TV. He wandered his way back to the controller, picking it up and looking back at the TV. Pressing the X button the screen flicked to a whole new game, a restart. He looked away from the TV and in the direction Jay had run off hearing Jay’s high pitched shouting for Cole then tripping over something. Zane’s head quickly snapped back to the TV when he heard pained grunting coming from the TV. It’s one of those one on one fighting games where you beat the devil out of your opponent. Zane just started pressing random buttons but of course got his ass whooped by the computer. Zane kept his eyes on the screen when Jay came dragging Cole back. Cole had a soda in one hand and a plate with a huge slice of cake in the other. Jay clicked around on the screen of his phone then pointed it at Zane who was still focused on the screen. “Do it again Zane. Say your stuff buddy” Jay asked in an excited tone of voice. There was a long pause of Zane not saying a word and not even paying attention. Cole rolled his eyes at this and set the soda on the TV stand “is this a prank?”. “No! I'm serious! He said something he spoke!” Jay said gesturing to Zane who is now paying attention, looking at the two of them bickering. “You think I'm gullible? Zane doesn't speak and I know it dumb dumb” Cole exclaimed. “Zane, if you can speak, we will play the game with you” Cole said chuckling. Cole could see Zane is interested in the video game so he’s using that as leverage. Zane made a little gasping sound and smiled a little bit. “Awwee he’s-” Cole was interrupted by a low toned sickly smooth and sweet sounding voice “teach me! Teach me! Please!”. Zane wildly gestured the screen with one hand while the other held the controller. Cole nearly dropped his cake, his eyes slowly widened in shock and his mouth fell open. Jay pumped his fist and grunted a “yes!” as he stopped the recording.

“No…way” Cole whispered. Jay nudged Cole with a smile. “Can you say Jay?” Jay asked. “....Jay” Zane uttered. Cole and Jay lost it. They started cheering and celebrating scaring Zane a little bit. The boys taught Zane to play the few video games they had for the rest of the night until they went to bed at about 11pm. The next morning Wu had them line up just after breakfast to talk to them. “Last night when I was coming home I found that SOMEONE introduced Zane to video games” Wu said in a stern tone. Zane gave a bit of a confused look, he didn’t understand why Wu would be so angry about knowledge. Jay leaned in closer to Zane to whisper into Zane’s ear “Wu doesn't like us playing video games”. Zane knitted his eyebrows in worry, worried that he was going to get punished. Luckily Wu is under the delusion that Zane is clueless so the boys just got a talking to, what else could Wu really do. “Master Wu! Master Wu! We have something for you now!” Jay blurted out when Wu began to walk away. Wu stopped but did not turn around. Zane nervously shuffled his feet and clenched his hands together in front of himself. “Zane spoke last night!” Jay exclaimed. Wu slowly looked over his shoulder at the three of them. He slowly turned around and wandered up to Zane. “Zane?....can you speak?” Wu asked in a soft tone. Zane slowly nodded. Wu smiled, patting Zane on the shoulder. “Mmm…..master Wu” Zane uttered, bringing a hand up to copy Wu’s shoulder patting.

[vannahfanfics]

Melt

Word Count: 3140

Fluff, Romance, Dates

Summary: In the midst of a heatwave, Hanta takes Mina to a milkshake bar. He just wants to make her feel better. Totally doesn't have anything to do with the huge crush he has on her. Nope. Not at all.

Hi, everyone! Here is my story for the BNHA RarePair Bang! Please do be sure to check out the art done by my partner, Synnie, and a big thanks to my beta Rose!

Melting. Hanta was melting.

At least, it sure felt like it as he lay draped upside-down on one of the common room chairs, his face stuck right in the path of a small floor fan that was doing its darnedest to combat the sweltering heat boiling the dormitory. Summer heatwaves were unbearable to begin with, but the dormitory’s air conditioning had decided now was a mighty fine time to fry itself, locking the poor students in what felt like Hell on Earth. 

The blood was finally beginning to pool in his head, so Hanta allowed himself to slide off the chair, the slick of his sweat aiding in his smooth glide to the floor. He rolled onto his belly and grimaced at the sensation of his sweat-slicked muscle tank sticking to the wood. As he tried to absorb all the wind sputtering from the valiant little fan, he looked across the room at Shoto, who was trying his best to cool off Momo and Izuku despite sweating bullets himself. If their resident freezer was overheating, you knew it was hot. 

Just as Hanta was about to close his eyes, a miserable groan echoed in his ears, and he glanced out of his peripheral vision just in time for Mina to crumple to the ground next to him. 

“It’s sooooo hoooooot,” she droned, body melting into the floor as she laid down next to Hanta. She wiggled into the small stream of air, and Hanta obliged, scooching over so that they each got half of the wind. His left side would lament him in its blistering, but Hanta was not one to be unchivalrous even in times of great agony—especially not to Mina. 

He felt his heart rate jump as her arm brushed against his. The pulse of blood through his arteries seemed to jack his body temperature up, making him groan, but he couldn’t be too made about it. Even like this, her pink hair sticking to her flushed and sweaty forehead while little pants of misery puffed out of her lips, Hanta thought she looked like a goddess. Yep, Hanta was totally and absolutely crushing hard on Mina Ashido, and he felt blessed that she chose him of all people to die beside. 

“You know what I could go for right now?” Mina sighed, splaying out her limbs in an effort to increase her surface area and help her body cool. One of them flopped onto his back; half of him celebrated the touch, while the other half of him wailed at the very gross sensation of sweat-soaked fabric sliding across his equally sweaty skin. Head beginning to swim with the heat, he barely registered what Mina said next, “A milkshake.” 

“A milkshake?” he echoed. Somehow, he found the strength to raise his head and look at her with tired, but curious, eyes. She nodded, her lips curling into a sleepy smile as she fantasized about the frozen treat. 

“Yeah… Rich chocolate… Decadent vanilla… Sweet strawberry… Topped with gobs of whipped cream and a juicy cherry…” she slurred and licked her lips. “Oh, I would give anything to go get one right now… But I spent all my money on clothes to survive this heat wave, uwahhhh!” 

Despite the heat addling his brain, Hanta could see an opportunity when he saw one. Hanta had money. He could be her knight in shining armor, swooping in with the gift of chilly salvation in the form of an ice creamy treat. The girls always joked that food was the way to their hearts, and here Mina was, serving hers up on a silver platter. He knew that it meant braving the unbearable heat outside, but Hanta would gladly burn to a crisp under the assaulting sun if he could have but a simple chance to finally confess his feelings to the girl of his dreams. 

“Mina… Let’s go get a milkshake,” he said, and Mina looked at him with wide eyes. 

“What?” 

“Let’s go. I’ll buy you a milkshake.” 

“You mean it?” she cried, and if the heat didn’t kill him, the way her eyes lit up in happiness and gratitude would. She boosted herself on her elbows and gave him a brilliant smile that melted him more than the agonizing heat ever could. “All right! Let’s go!” 

Suddenly energized, Mina and Hanta hopped to their feet. All of the others were too lethargic to much mind what they were doing, only giving a few mildly interested stares before resuming their slow overheating. Mina and Hanta traipsed over to Mr. Aizawa’s room, finding him sprawled out on his floor just watching the ceiling fan circle at max speed overhead. He was too busy melting like the rest of them to debate signing the consent forms for them to take a day trip to town. Hanta ran (as fast as he could run while his meat was trying to cook off his bones) to get his wallet, and then joined Mina at the front doors. 

“Are you ready for this?” he asked with a gulp, looking through the window at the sidewalk. He could already see the air simmering above the concrete; he wouldn’t be surprised if the soles of his shoes melted as soon as they came in contact with the sweltering stone. 

“The good things in life require great sacrifice,” Mina said with a sharp inhale through her nose. “Onward! To milkshakes!” 

Great, Hanta thought. Now, somewhere between here and there I need to ask her if she would like it to be a date. 

That thought was immediately banished from his mind when the doors opened. 

It felt like a scene from an anime. The heat seemed to burst onto them, instantly chapping their skin with the dry, hot force. Both Hanta and Mina just stood in the entryway, seemingly frozen despite the fact they were frying like bacon in a skillet. It was only when their classmates began to scream at them to shut the portal to Hell that they remembered what they were doing. With identical loud swallows, they stepped out into the sunlight. 

Oh, sweet Lord in Heaven, if this is repentance for my sins… I will be good from now on! Hanta lamented. It felt like even the tears brimming in his eyes were hot, little droplets of lava searing into his skin. And they hadn’t even left the shade of the porch yet. 

“Come on, Hanta!” Mina wheezed, clutching onto the railing of the porch because her knees had apparently given out on her. Sweat had bloomed all over her body, running in rivulets down her face as she grimaced at the path ahead. “We must triumph… For milkshakes!” 

“For milkshakes,” he echoed with a groan. He still did the sign of the cross before timidly sticking a foot out into the sunlight. Oh, holy hell, he could feel those UV rays cooking the skin that wasn’t covered by the band of his flip-flops. He’d walk ten feet and would probably be as pink as Mina was! However, he did not quail. Now was his moment to look good in front of her. He sucked in a breath and then jumped off the porch. 

“Hoohoohoohoooooo…” he laughed under his breath. It felt like his body was suddenly alive with electricity; that’s how intense the heat beating down from the intense summer sun was. “C-come on out, the water’s fine…” he joked weakly. Was his head swimming? Or was that just the heat dancing on the asphalt? He wasn’t sure, but as he fanned his face, he thought he might be getting a little light-headed. 

He looked back as Mina slinked out of the shade. She immediately hissed, her face scrunching up in displeasure. Or was the hissing the sound of Hanta’s skin frying like an egg? It sure felt like it with the intensity of the sun beating down upon him. 

“Hanta?” Mina puffed as she walked up beside him.

“Yeah?” 

“If I’m to die, I’m glad it’s with you.” 

“Likewise,” he huffed. Together, they pushed onward through the courtyard—though they left half their weight in sweat behind. 

They gained momentary respite on the bus (there was no way in hell they were walking in this blistering heat). They managed to score a seat by one of the vents, and they both sat with their heads tilted heavenward, basking in the cool air pouring down from the clunky, rattling box mounted on the ceiling. Hanta didn’t even mind the funky-smelling condensation dripping down onto his face. As he felt Mina shift beside him, he cracked an eye open, and he smiled. 

She looked more disheveled than before. Her face was a rosy red, and her wild pink hair was sticking up at odd angles from the sweat. Yet, she was more beautiful than all the goddesses mortal men had ever dreamed of. 

Now… Now might be a good time, he thought. The question was on the tip of his tongue—but then the bus lurched violently over a speed bump, and his teeth sank right into it. He let out a muffled squeal as blood gushed into his mouth, staining his taste buds with the acrid taste of iron. He lurched forward, and the violent action caught Mina’s attention. 

“Ah! Hanta, are you okay?” she cried. She let out a cry of surprise when he looked at her pitifully, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth like he was some sort of vampire. 

“I ‘it my ‘ongue,” he sniffed. 

She giggled, then used the pad of her thumb to wipe away the blood. He gave her a lopsided smile, but on the inside, he was writhing around in self-pity. There went my chance! Hopefully, he would get another…

By the time that they arrived at their stop, the pain in Hanta’s tongue had dulled to an intermittent throb. The ice cream parlor was thankfully right by the bus stop, so they only had to suffer the blistering heat for a few minutes. Still, it felt like a life age; they stumbled through the glass door like a pair of travelers who had been lost in the desert and found their oasis—sweaty, panting, nearly delirious. Still, the employees greeted them jovially with a chorus of “Good afternoon!” 

“Heaven… We have found it…” Mina breathed. Her eyelashes fluttered as she savored the chill of the air conditioner and the frost of ice creams displayed in the freezers. Like a spell had been cast upon them, they staggered up to the counter in a daze. And when they both breathed in the saccharine, milky scent of the various flavors mixing in the cold air, they both sighed, energy pouring back into their bodies. 

“Some heatwave, huh?” one of the attendants smirked at them. 

“I don’t even think ‘heatwave’ is the word for it,” Hanta quipped back. When he ran his hand through his hair, he found it uneven and clumped with sweat. He glanced out of his peripheral vision to see that Mina had draped herself against the cool glass of the display freezer and had a dreamy smile on her face. Hanta chuckled, then snapped his fingers in front of her face to bring her back to reality. 

“Oh?” she said, eyes fluttering. Lucidity returned to her eyes, and she shot up. “Oh, right! We’re here for milkshakes! I want one of the banana split ones, please!” 

“And it’ll be cookies and cream for me,” Hanta told the attendant. They walked over to the cash register, where the other employee rang them up. As Mina began to fish her wallet out of her back pocket, Hanta waved a hand dismissively at her. “Nah, it’s on me.” 

“What? Oh, Hanta, are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” he grinned. “My treat!” 

“My hero,” Mina giggled, and though she was only joking, the comment made a burst of adrenaline run through him. My hero, he echoed, his smile turning hazy. Heh… I’m her hero… 

He was so out of it that he didn’t register the attendant asking him to pay for a few seconds. It was only when Mina prompted him that he snapped back to reality, and he hastily pushed some yen bills across the counter, smiling sheepishly. He dropped the change into the tip jar, and then they both walked to the other end of the counter to await their orders. 

Mina did a happy dance when the employee slid her milkshake forward. A pale yellow blend in a frosty glass, with swirls of chocolate fudge syrup and topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a juicy red cherry. She snatched it up and immediately popped the straw in her mouth; as she took a big swig of the shake, her body sagged and her expression melted into one of euphoria. 

“Ahhh… Now that’s good,” she murmured. She smacked her lips a few times, tongue sweeping out to wet her lips, and Hanta’s heart stuttered at the lingering layer of banana ice cream on it. He wondered if it tasted as good—

Okay there, fella. You’re letting the heat get to your head. Let’s keep it rated PG-13, he told himself, shaking his head and reaching for his own milkshake as it was presented. He took a big sip, and he had to say, the way the cool vanilla and cookie flavor burst across his tongue was almost rapturous. He felt like he was melting, but the good kind of melting, where your whole body felt warm like softening butter… 

“Damn good,” he murmured, echoing Mina’s earlier statement. They staggered over to a booth and fell into it, too busy staving off the intense heat with their cold treats to bother with proprietary. Like two drunkards at their nightly haunt, they devoured their milkshakes in silence. They only bothered to pull their lips away from the straws once they had sucked down about half of their shakes, and it was only to release a pair of satisfied sighs. 

“This was a good idea. Great suggestion,” Hanta hummed, shaking his milkshake cup before sipping at it again. 

“Yeah. I sure am a genius, huh?” Mina giggled back. She rested one arm on the table, the other keeping the milkshake close to her face so she could wrap her lips around the straw. As she sipped cutely at the shake, Hanta felt his heart stutter again. This was it, wasn’t it? There was nothing to stop him now—except maybe his own cowardice. No… You’ve put it off for too long. Just do it!

“Hey, Mina,” he said before he could change his mind. She looked inquisitively at him, still sipping at the shake. Even just how adorable she looked like that made his heart begin to play his ribs like bongo drums, and heat began to rise to his cheeks. Stay strong, Hanta… “I, um… I was wondering…” 

“Yeah?” she asked, setting her milkshake down. “What is it?” 

“Well, it’s, uh… It’s just you and me here, you know…” 

“Aaaaaaand?” she pressed. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. How did the people in the movies and television shows do it? They always seemed so smooth, always had the right things to say! Hanta felt like his tongue was twisting up into knots, and his brain couldn’t form a cohesive sentence for the life of him. 

“I, um… I was wondering if…” he struggled. His face was burning more fiercely than it had been under the light of the blazing sun. Was he getting lightheaded again? “I, um… Iwaswonderingifyouwouldliketoconsiderthisadate?” He spit out the words as fast as his mouth would let them leave, not taking a breath in between but rather gulping in air after they tumbled out. He then snapped his mouth shut, sucking in his lips to wait impatiently for her answer. If she even understood him. Gosh, did he have to try and say it again? He didn’t know if he could. 

“A date?” Mina finally said, and Hanta relaxed a little. At least he didn’t have to try and repeat himself. Oh, shit, wait! She understood me! What is she—? He thought, panic immediately setting in again, and he looked at her with wide eyes. 

And he melted.

“Okay, Hanta. It’s a date,” she said, and the radiance of her smile had him melting into a pile of goo right there in the booth seat. Eyes scrunched up into little half-moons, teeth shining white as the grin stretched across her cheeks, a red glow on her rose-colored cheeks—she seemed positively jubilant. And the fact that she looked jubilant at the idea of being on a date with him? 

Oh, boy. 

He couldn’t help the stupid grin that spread across his face. He tried to contain it, he really did, but it seemed that his facial muscles had other plans. His eyes dropped to her smoothie, and his earlier question popped back into his head. Did he dare while he was ahead? Oh, oh yes. He would dare.

“So, uh, I was wondering something else.” When Mina raised her eyebrow, he gave her an impish grin. “How’s that banana split smoothie taste?” 

And Mina, ever on his mischievous wavelength, grinned back. 

“Oh, it’s pretty good. You wanna try it for yourself?” 

Hell yeah, he did. And he damn sure didn’t go for the straw. 

Like drawn by an invisible magnet, their faces slowly approached one another. They leaned over the middle of the table, the space between them gradually decreasing, until their lips hovered but a few centimeters apart. Hanta’s eyes had been trained on her lips, but he paused for just a moment to flick them back up to hers. They were lidded, hazy, anticipatory. He could see it swirling within those mesmerizing depths, the silent plea to just do it already.

Hanta wasn’t one to keep a lady waiting. 

He closed the distance, tilting his head slightly so he could slot his lips perfectly against hers. It felt like they melted together like two pieces of soft chocolate, molding together until there was no distinction where one ended and the other began. And he tasted it, that sweet hint of banana split milkshake, but overlying it was the saccharine flavor of Mina that had his head swimming. 

When he finally pulled away, it was only because it felt like his lungs were going to burst from the lack of oxygen. 

“So?” Mina said with a cheeky grin. “What did you think?” 

He tipped his head to the side thoughtfully. 

“Hmmm… Can I try it one more time?” he asked, his lips tugging into a smirk. Mina shook her head, but obediently leaned forward to allow him another kiss. And as he closed the distance between them, Hanta thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad a thing to melt after all. 

[randomvarious]

Anne Murray - “Snowbird” Oh What a Feeling Song released in 1969. Compilation released in 1996. Country-Pop / Soft Rock / Easy Listening

From an article on cbc.ca, written by Andrea Warner:

Before there was Shania Twain, there was Anne Murray.

Yes, that Anne Murray. She was Canada's original country, pop, adult-contemporary crossover who baffled publications, critics and music programmers with her refusal to be bound by genre. She was also the first Canadian female solo singer to score a No. 1 hit in the U.S. with her 1970 breakthrough, "Snowbird." Twenty-plus years before Twain's fly-trap-sticky choruses became the karaoke anthems that bridged generational, gendered and geographical divides, Murray — a Springhill, N.S., gym teacher-turned-award-winning vocalist — was the country's gold-standard superstar.

Anne Murray has sold over 50 million records worldwide and has won a walk-in closetful of awards over the course of her multi-decade career. Before people like Shania, Alanis, k.d., and Sarah came along, Murray was Canada's most famous and most beloved female musician, and her music unexpectedly managed to cross over into the U.S., too. In fact, in addition to being the first female Canadian solo singer to ever hit #1 in the U.S., she was also the first to sell a gold record there as well.

And that gold record happens to be "Snowbird," a simply beautiful tune with gobs of crossover appeal that originally appeared on Murray's second album, 1969's This Way Is My Way, and then was eventually released as a single in June of the following year, when it went to #2 in Canada and #8 on the Billboard chart over that summer.

"Snowbird" was Murray's breakthrough hit; without it, there's a very decent chance that she would have never amounted to a dash of the immense success that she managed to go on to achieve throughout her life. The popularity of "Snowbird" earned her the opportunity to perform on many television programs thereafter, both American and Canadian, which got her in front of the eyes of tens of millions of people, who then went and bought even more of Murray's records. Many talents get overlooked, unfortunately, and Murray very well may have been one of them had the U.S. not cottoned itself to "Snowbird."

There's a bunch of things about this song that make it a real beaut' and one, of course, is Murray's own voice. It's pleasant, calm, to the point, and crystal-clear. She's not here to flex an overly impressive range or deploy some nifty vibrato tricks. She's more of a no-frills kinda gal who just wants to boil her little tale of woe down to a catchy as hell 130 seconds and get on with the rest of her day. She just needs this little release; to tell someone else what her current predicament is. It's therapeutic.

But beyond that is the arrangement and instrumentation. See, "Snowbird" didn't just go to #8 on Billboard's general chart. It went to #1 on Easy Listening and #10 on Hot Country, too. And it fits both of those categories. The climbing and then soaring, majestic strings, which sonically represent the snowbird that Murray longs to follow, but can't, categorize the song as an easy listening one. But the guitar-strum beat and hop-along bassline doubtlessly earn the song's status as a country song, too. And then there's the electric sitar in the beginning that disappears as Murray begins to get more personal with her lyrics. I don't know if that lands the song in any particular category, but it sure sounds great. Plus, the addition of the clapping tams on the chorus, which is the only piece of percussion in this song, makes for a nice touch, too.

Hey, are you still reading this? Good. In the Family Guy clip above, Brian and Stewie argue over the meaning of "Snowbird." Murray concludes that both of their interpretations are actually correct, but I have a lot of questions myself that, to this day, remain unanswered. See, the gist of the song is that Murray has found out that her husband is cheating on her, and she wants to leave him for someone else that she loves and move away with that person (the titular snowbird), but I guess leaving her husband is only a dream at that point. We don't know if her husband knows that she knows that he's cheating on her, but if Murray already has someone else in mind to pack up and leave with, was she cheating on her husband, too? If so, who was the first to cheat? Are Murray and her husband both just avoiding opening up that can of worms? She seems to have a moderately upbeat demeanor throughout the song, but her marriage is clearly in shambles. Does she not sound that betrayed because she herself is a betrayer, too? Is she realizing that her chickens have actually come home to roost? If she's cheating, does her husband know? Is that why he's cheating? Is that why he continues to cheat? I know she doesn't know the answers to these questions. She's not the one who wrote the song in the first place. And unfortunately, the person who did write it, Gene MacLellan, passed away in the 90s. Apparently he wrote it in about 20 minutes while strolling a beach in Prince Edward Island, which is kind of stunning considering how good the song is.

Classic soft crossover country-pop tune from the late 60s-early 70s that set Anne Murray up for a long-lasting and trailblazing career.

[carewyncromwell]

“There's a strange exhilaration in such total detestation... It's so pure, so strong! Though I do admit it came on fast, Still, I do believe that it can last, And I will be loathing, loathing you My whole life long!”

~“What is This Feeling?” from Wicked

x~x~x~x

Oh my GOD, you guys, I’ve had this project in mind for a while, wanting to draw something to celebrate this character dynamic properly...and now, after so much procrastination, it’s finally done! This is Carewyn Cromwell’s son “ward,” my HPMA Sour Patch Kid Erik Apollo, with his schoolboy archrival, Azariah “Rye” Steele! @cursebreakerfarrier​ 💚❤️

Okay, so a few things you should know about these boys right off the bat -- 

Erik Apollo is the son of a deceased Muggle banker and his wife who, during the Second Wizarding War, was hunted down by the Muggle-Born Registration Commission before he could properly start his first year at Hogwarts. Erik’s arrest was very traumatic, not only resulting in Erik being kidnapped and getting badly scarred when Death Eater Thorfinn Rowle used a whip made out of Dark magical flames to bind him around the neck like an animal, but also in the death of Erik’s mother, which officially made Erik an orphan. Fortunately tiny, but hot-tempered and foul-mouthed Erik was rescued from Ministry captivity by Carewyn Cromwell and put into hiding, and after the War was over, Carewyn went looking for Erik and fought to become his official legal guardian. Out of love for his deceased parents, Erik never calls Carewyn his mother and Carewyn, out of respect for Erik, doesn’t call him her son, but the two do love each other like parent and child and would do anything to protect one other. Erik has a fund at Gringotts set up in his name that contains all of the assets his parents left behind, but otherwise Carewyn provides for Erik’s needs solely with her own salary as a lawyer for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Erik’s also one of the very rare examples of a Muggle-born who was Sorted into Slytherin house, but given his intense pride, dislike of authority figures, vengeful streak, relentlessness sometimes to the point of brutality, and deep-seeded ambition to become an Auror, it truly was his proper place. Beware if you say anything negative toward his blood or especially his family, though -- there are few things in the world Erik hates more than blood purists, and he can get down-right vindictive toward anyone who ascribes to or shows any sympathy toward such beliefs. If you’re lucky, you’ll simply get off with being called a “pompous twat who thinks you deserve a fucking crown when your head’s only real hat should be your own arse.” If you’re not, you can expect Erik to skip settling your dispute on the dueling grounds and just send you straight to the Hospital Wing with teeth so overgrown that your jaw has become painfully dislocated. (“That should keep you from running your gob off, you son of a bitch.”) 

Azariah “Rye” Steele, on the other hand, is the sociable oldest son of a well-regarded magical family and a descendent of Godric Gryffindor. He’s well-liked by his classmates at large for his intellect, strong work ethic, and talent in wizard dueling, and he even eventually earned the position of Gryffindor Prefect in his fifth year, despite not being particularly attuned to the rules. And when this reckless, arrogant, playful Gryffindor collided with the surly, swearing, fiercely independent Slytherin, Rye found Erik (and his overly hostile reactions toward Rye ribbing him) absolutely hysterical. Rye’s amusement only served to insult Erik’s pride more and make him angrier, which made Rye tease him more, and the cycle continued ad infinitum from there. In short, these two became their generation’s James Potter/Severus Snape or Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy...only this time, the Slytherin never flirted with Death Eater rhetoric, and once these two become adults, they do actually bury the hatchet enough to work together as coworkers, when Erik becomes an Auror and Rye becomes a Hitwizard. (Though Erik never stops taking every opportunity to sass Rye’s face off whenever they collide.) 

Although just about all of you who are familiar with Erik know him as being very tall, that sadly is only when he’s an adult. Erik followed Ben Copper’s trajectory in that he was small for most of his school career, before he shot up like a friggin’ beanstalk over the summer prior to his fifth year. And this means, just like with a lot of things, Rye got his growth spurt before Erik...and the Gryffindor very much enjoyed ribbing Erik about it, in their fourth year. (Enjoy it while you can, Rye -- once you start your fifth year, Erik will be exactly your height. 😏) I daresay this pose was done just before Erik yanked his wand out of his back pocket and hexed this smug git right in the face. Yes, I see these two kicking each other’s arses on the dueling field constantly. 

Hope you like it, darling! xoxo

[purrincess-chat]

Kill Em With Kindness CH4

It’s here finally! And Adrien is getting more involved too since I know a lot of you really wanted him to do more even though this is more Marinette doing things with Adrien’s support, but I digress.

Read on AO3

Chapter 4

“So,” Jagged said a few weeks later, dropping onto the couch. Marinette sat scratching Fang under the chin, and the croc melted under her touch. “How are things with little miss liar?”

“Going well. We’ve successfully blocked her from going to the movies with us and from attending a party Nino threw,” Marinette said. “And I got her to wear a medical boot for a week because she claimed she hurt her foot to get out of gym class.”

“Is that all?” He laughed, and Marinette’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Well, yeah. That’s our plan. To keep inconveniencing her with her lies,” Marinette said, and Jagged sat forward, shaking his head.

“If you really want to get to this girl, you’re going to have to do better or else she’s going to learn your game and start fighting back,” Jagged said pointedly, and Marinette pursed her lips.

“I guess you’re right, but we don’t know what else to do without stooping to her level,” she said, lowering her gaze, and Jagged placed a hand on her shoulder with a smirk.

“You’re forgetting one very important thing, love. You’ve got something that this girl doesn’t: Your Uncle Jagged.” He jutted his thumb to his chest and waggled his eyebrows. “And he’s about to show you how to seek some good old-fashioned revenge.”

***

“Marinette? Is that you?”

Marinette sat up, lowering her sunglasses to peer up at Alya, Nino, and their siblings. She rolled onto her side, digging her toes into the hot sand as kids and teens scoured the banks of the Seine for the perfect spot to enjoy the beach.

“Oh, hey, guys! I’ve saved a spot for all of us,” she said, gesturing to the open area.

“Great, thanks. You’re amazing, but quick question, is than an alligator next to you?” Alya pointed to Fang sunning himself beside her.

“It’s a crocodile! You should know that cuz you’re a grown up!” Chris corrected, crossing his arms over his chest, and Alya rolled her eyes.

“This is Fang. Jagged is performing tonight in Berlin, so he’s busy doing show prep, and he really didn’t want Fang to miss the beach in Paris, so he asked if I could watch him today,” Marinette said, giving Fang’s belly a rub.

“And you said yes?” Nino quirked a brow.

“Of course! Fang is such a sweetheart, aren’t you?” She cooed, patting his scales affectionate. “He just wants to soak up the sun like all of us.”

“Can’t argue with that I guess,” Alya said as the kids crowded around to pet him.

“Marinette, hey!” Adrien called, and the rest of the class followed closed behind. “Thanks for scoping out this awesome spot.”

“It was no problem. I came early so Fang could enjoy the beach as much as he wanted today,” she said with a smile.

“Whoa, is that Jagged Stone’s crocodile?” Kim asked.

“Yep.” Marinette smirked.

“Whoa, Jagged really trusted you with his crocodile for a day?” Alix asked in disbelief, and Marinette winked over her sunglasses.

“That’s awesome!” Kim grinned, dropping his bag and rushing over to join the kids. “Hey, Lila, do you ever get to babysit Fang since you and Jagged are so close?”

The girl who had all but blended into the back of the crowd upon seeing the crocodile stiffened as everyone turned to her, but she was a natural, so it didn’t frazzle her for long. “Oh, yeah. All the time. Jagged trusts me so much.”

“Yeah, he tried to call you about today, but you’re always so busy, so I told him my schedule was clear,” Marinette said.

“Oh, that’s understandable,” Nathaniel nodded.

“Alright, well, let’s set up the volleyball net. I want a rematch with Alix!” Kim said, shooting her a playful glare.

“We can rematch all you want, but you’re still going down!”

Marinette smiled as her classmates all settled into their niches, Marc applying gobs of sunscreen to Nathaiel, Juleka and Rose setting up an umbrella, Nino and Alya helping the kids with a sandcastle. Lila picked a spot as far away from Fang as possible, which was fine because it left the spot next to Marinette wide open for Adrien to drop his bag.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Of course,” she said, cheeks pink from more than just the heat.

“I can’t believe Jagged actually loaned you Fang for the day,” he said, lowering his voice and glancing around at the class to ensure they weren’t close enough to overhear. “I mean, it’s so crazy that he wants to help.”

“Well, the part about a show in Berlin and Fang wanting to go to the beach are true. I get along with Fang so well that it wasn’t a big deal,” Marinette said with a shrug. “But Jagged told me that in order to really pull the plug on Lila, I need to start using my own connections.”

“Hmm…” Adrien tapped his chin. “Ya know, between the two of us, we can probably work our way around pretty easily.”

“Lila has lied about a lot of famous people,” Marinette pointed out, and a smile curled on Adrien’s lips. “What?”

“Do you want Clara Nightingale’s number?”

***

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news, and welcome back to Side-by-Side. I’m your host Nadja Shamack, and I’m joined today by teen fashion model and face of Gabriel Agreste brand, Adrien Agreste!” Nadja declared with every ounce of a reporter’s camera enthusiasm. “Thank you so much for agreeing to come on the show today, Adrien. How are you tonight?”

“I’m doing quite well. Thank you for having me, Nadja,” Adrien replied, leaning back on the couch casually.

“Glad to hear it! We’ve got quite the scoop for you all tonight because you have been quite the busy bee lately,” Nadja said, shooting him a knowing smile. “You star in the animated Miraculous movie voicing Chat Noir. You just had a new spread for Gabriel’s summer line come out, so how do you unwind after a long day of being a famous teen model and voice actor?”

“Well, Nadja, there are a number of ways, but I love spending time with my friends the most. We actually just went to the beach recently while it’s set up here in Paris,” he said, and Nadja jumped at the opportunity.

“Yes, tell us about that.”

“So, my school friends and I all decided to hit the beach together, and it was a lot of fun. We played volleyball, built sandcastles, ate lots of ice cream-”

“You did have some ice cream, didn’t you, and there have been a lot of rumors flying around because a lot of people happened to notice you spending a lot of time with a fellow classmate in particular,” Nadja said with a smirk as a picture flashed on the screen of Adrien and Marinette smiling over ice cream on the beach. “Lots of people are speculating about the two of you online especially after you posted this to your Instagram.” The image changed to Adrien’s post with Marinette and Clara at the spa. “What can you tell us about your relationship with Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Any rumors you’d like to clear up?”

“Certainly,” Adrien said with a laugh. “Marinette is a good friend of mine. She’s super talented and a really gifted creator. She actually made the swimsuit and hat she wore to the beach which is way awesome, and it was really cool because she and Jagged Stone are very close – he views her as family – and she was actually babysitting Fang at the beach for him while he was performing in Berlin, so we got to hang out with a crocodile all day which was cool.”

“Was he well behaved?” Nadja asked.

“Very,” Adrien chuckled.

“Now, you say that Marinette is a good friend, but is she a good friend, or a good friend?” Nadja quirked a brow, and Adrien sat back with a laugh.

“Just a good friend,” he said.

“A good friend that you take to the spa with Clara Nightingale?” Nadja said pointedly, and Adrien bit back a laugh.

“As I said, Marinette is super talented, and she has invited me to hang out with her and Jagged a few times lately, so while we were at the beach, we were talking about how stressed we are since she keeps pretty busy herself, and I normally go to the spa every other week because when you’re a teen model, facials are a must.” He paused to gesture to his glowing skin.

“So, anyway, I invited her to come along, and sometimes when Clara is in Paris, I invite her to come along too because she loves that spa and always goes whenever she’s in Paris anyway, and Clara loves Marinette, she actually wanted her to play Ladybug in her music video until they changed ideas, and she happened to be coming to Paris around the same time, so I text her to see if she wanted to tag along, and she did. So, we all went and hung out and had an awesome time.” He shrugged at the end as if it were no big deal.

“So, there is nothing romantic between you two?” Nadja asked, and Adrien shook his head.

“No, but she and I are great friends, and she is doing really amazing things for herself. I felt like I was the least accomplished person hanging out in the spa that day,” he chuckled. “Maybe sometime soon you’ll have her on the show talking about her fashion line. I think she’s absolutely going to kill it.”

“I look forward to it,” Nadja said. “And since you two are just friends, teen girls in Paris can sleep tonight?”

“Yes, please get some sleep,” Adrien laughed, and Nadja turned to the camera with a smile.

“You heard it here first folks. Adrien Agreste is still single,” she said. “After the break, we’ll talk more about Adrien’s role in the Miraculous animated movie, so stay tuned, and we’ll be right back!”

[keeroo92]

Victory is Sweet

My server did a little summer trade, this one’s for you @tehrevving! Based on the dialogue prompt of Dante and “That could really hurt you but I’m willing to give it a try.”

Word count - 768

---------

You hummed happily and licked the creamy deliciousness from your lips, savoring the treat as you basked in warm afternoon sunlight. Despite your desire to take your time, the muscles lining your jaw ached from overwork. As usual, you had let your less refined impulses take over. But who cared? Nothing could possibly be better than this.

“Babe, slow down or you’ll give yourself a brain freeze,” Dante chided with a smirk. He sat beside you at the kitchen counter, for once without his heavy red coat, his hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. The thin t-shirt he wore showed of his forearms, most likely on purpose just to tease you. Jerk.

You glared back and took another rebellious lick of cookies and cream ice cream. “No way, I’m immune.”

The roguish man shook his head and spooned another gob of his signature vanilla with strawberry topping into his waiting mouth, moaning dramatically as he pulled away the spoon. Such a tease, that man of yours. 

“If either of us is immune to brain freeze, it’s me. I could eat this all day!”

Indeed, he was already proving it. You hadn’t seen him without a bowl all day, always within arms reach as he puttered around the shop. He insisted the hot summer air didn’t bother him, but you had your doubts. That or he was trying to get diabetes.

You elbowed him and smirked as he pretended to be mortally wounded. He was in quite the mood today. Time for some fun.

“Oh yeah, tough guy? Betcha I can outlast you.”

He raised a white eyebrow, humor glimmering in his blue eyes. “You sure? That could really hurt you.”

The wooden barstool squeaked as you stood, striding to the freezer to resupply. Might as well skip the bowl and eat right from the carton. No way were you going to let him win, you’d never hear the end of it. 

Granted, you were going to do the same to him when you kicked his ass.

You pulled out the carton of vanilla and slid it across the counter to rest before him. “Bring it on, old man.”

He shrugged and stretched his neck, aiming a challenging look your way as you sat beside him, cookies and cream in hand. The lid came right off. It was still soft, perfect.

“Alright, I’m game if you are,” he commented. “Just get ready to lose!”

With a saucy grin you made the count, instantly diving in the moment you said go. The icy deliciousness chilled your tongue and teeth but you swallowed it in a single gulp, already spooning up more. A glance at Dante showed he was keeping up, messily devouring bite after bite. 

But you weren’t going to lose. Your next bite was more cookie than cream, granting you a respite from the inevitable cold rush. All you had to do was time your cookie-bites just right to stave off failure, while Dante had no such option with his vanilla. The man was doomed, he just didn’t know it yet.

Specks of white dotted his chin, tension forming in his brow. His spoon was slowing, each bite a little smaller than the last. Just a little longer…

His lips twisted into a grimace, eyes slamming closed as he released a pained groan. “Alright, alright! You win, jeez…”

“Ha! I told you,” you taunted as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

He dropped his free hand to rub your knee, still trying to ease the freeze pinching his brow. White dots still decorated his lips and chin, clinging to his grizzly stubble. “Congrats, babe. You’re the ice cream champion.”

“Victory is sweet,” you quipped with a saucy grin. 

Dante sighed and lowered his hand. Blue eyes met yours, sparkling with mischief as his pained expression relaxed at last. “What do ya want as a prize?”

You pretended to think, humming as you leaned closer. The scent of vanilla bean followed his exhale. “I can think of a few things…”

Dante chuckled as you brought your lips to his chin, licking away the last of his snack. Stubble scraped against your tongue, a warm hand tracing its way higher to your thigh. “Oh yeah? How ‘bout we go upstairs for the award ceremony?”

You chuckled and pressed your lips to his, humming as Dante opened to your probing mouth. He still tasted of ice cream and strawberries, but hidden beneath was the telltale taste of your beloved. Your hands traced his chest and tugged at his collar, bringing his body closer to yours. Yes, victory was sweet, indeed.

[orcbardneeul]

Barrens finally found a good spot to set up their stuff. Stop offering to help him even out his sunscreen, he said he likes it like this.

(Uncompressed version on twitter)

(🎨:@Midnight_Orbis on twitter [nsfw])

[aures-rose]

Dear Diary,

I've been having these weird dreams. The world is green again, like the summer. But everything is too green. There's moss and vines and green leaves and mushrooms but it's overrunning everything. I don't realise at first and I'm trying to walk through it but I get stuck in the mud and then vines start to creep towards me and my face is hot and wet with tears and there's a lump in my throat but finally I get free and I start to run through the brush but there's pine needles and vines and it's all reaching for me. And then I wake up. I think I'm longing for summer and feeling trapped.

I guess a lot has happened since the last time I wrote but also seems like very little has. I found Lars, since Jamie had told me he'd been looking for me. I found him by the Winged Horses reading. I came over and we talked some and he said the fox agreed to meet me! I just have to wait for him to tell me he's ready. He gave me a coin that he did some magic to. He also let me interview him for the Owl Post but I haven't seen Tom to finish it! Though, I haven't seen Magnus either, at least, not alone without a girl with him. Anyways, I interviewed him but I upset him, I guess. I asked him if he thinks the French Champion was trying to make him fall in love with her- because of what they put in Witch Weekly- but that upset him because he says it's a silly question. He got angry at me and it… I don't know why but it kind of hurt. He said he was mad at me when I asked him if he was. I left to go back to the castle but when I told him I was sorry and asked him to please not be mad at me, he sort of smiled and said as long as I learned my lesson. And I said I had.

Next, was Professor Macauley's class. When we all entered his class, Professor Macauley and Professor Blightly were there and they had all these goblets laid out on our desks. Professor Macauley told us it was a very dangerous potion and let us guess what it was. A bunch of people thought maybe it was a bunch of potions I'd never heard of, but also someone said truth potion. Anyways, we all ended up taking the potion before Professor Macauley told us the potion would make us confess our deepest secrets. Some people got really upset and left or tried to leave and then… everything went wrong. Everyone was saying or shouting their secrets and Talula said she was afraid her yabos were too small and I went to try and help her but then I just said what came to my head and that was that I thought she was mean and I didn’t really like her. Then she yelled at me about how I never want to grow up and that I’m bigger than everyone else and that my bum is too big! Eventually after I told Professor Macauley that he’s my favourite professor, he revealed that the potion really didn’t do anything and that we were all spilling our secrets just because we thought we were going to. A lot of people got really upset about that and Talula even screamed and ran out. I get why they were upset but… It was kind of… Well, it’s something the Fae would do, isn’t it? 

Next was the Gryffindor House Meeting which was… I think everything has been pretty weird this week. Well, anyways, Andie and I went together and I thought that maybe Dumb Vicky would yell at her for having pink hair but he didn’t. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised because he never does anything. Anyways, Jamie was there but I didn’t go sit with them because I didn’t want to leave Andie or make them be around each other. So Andie and I sat down and we learned we were playing a game where someone draws something and everyone else has to guess what it is. I wanted to play a prank so I let loose a jellybee and it stung Dumb Vicky which was great! Or it would have been but then one of the prefects started yelling at me and Andie. She threatened to keep me from going to the Hearty Party with Jamie! Luckily Dumb Vicky woke up and told everyone to calm down. Andie almost got into a fight with Ramon though and Jamie stormed out and so Dumb Vicky lectured us all about being Gryffindor and working together. He was all blah blah work it out or come to me if you can’t. I’d rather go to Professor Mac though, at least he helps with things so I left.

Then another day, I went into the Great Hall and found… Jamie and Andie fighting again. Everyone says it was Andie’s fault and… I know it probably was because she’s… well… Andie. I didn’t run after Jamie because I know sometimes they need space and everyone looked like I was the bad guy because I didn’t run after them! I just asked Andie what happened but… I think she lied to me. Anyways, I went to go find Jamie and… well… Nora was talking to Jamie and… said that she wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who was friends with someone like Andie. I tried to explain to her that if everyone’s mean to Andie, she’ll never learn how to be nice. I don’t really think Andie will ever learn to be nice and I don’t really think I can teach anyone to be nice, but I don’t think I’m a bad person because I want to be Andie’s friend. No one else paid me attention really until Andie was nice to me. Anyways, I found out Andie told Nora to “shut her fat gob” when Nora was inviting Jamie to the Hufflepuff… talent show like thing they were doing. And that Andie told Jamie the reason Jamie didn’t like her was because I like Andie better. Andie won’t admit she said that, but Jamie’s too good to lie. Jamie and I talked about everything for a while, about how she and Andie don’t have to be friends for me to still like them, they thought that I wouldn’t like them if they couldn’t be friends with Andie. We talked for a while and eventually… they asked me if we were dating now. Apparently someone asked them if we were and so I asked what dating would mean. Jamie says in the movies, dating means spending time together, going on dates, and deciding if we want to be a couple. I figured, we are spending time together and we were going on a date, so that we were dating. It’s kind of scary, really. Dating. I don’t why, but it’s… Scary.

I ran into Jamie in the library a few days later and we sat and talked. We talked about them being a Seer and my being a veela. And learning things about what you are. We also talked about Everlina. She talked to Jamie about me, I don’t know what all they talked about, but some of it was me. Jamie says they think Everlina’s a real friend to me. She gave them the ‘don’t hurt my friend or I’ll kill you’ talk, which I didn’t know was a talk people gave but I guess it must be. I haven’t had a chance yet, but I want to find Eve and talk about it when I can. Well, talk about stuff, not that talk.

After we talked about stuff, Jamie and I went back to the common room because I asked them if they wanted to hear me play. I felt pretty happy so, I wanted to play something like that for them. I played for them and they seemed to really enjoy it. We talked about anger some too. About what it feels like to lose your temper and… How they deal with it. They walk away so that they don’t say or do something they’ll regret, which makes sense I guess. I told them that Eve would always pull me away from whatever it was that upset me and they said they’d try that if I was getting upset.

Mother wrote back to me the next day. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. She basically told me to keep my eye hidden so that no one makes fun of me and that she’d send for me to attend the St. Mungo’s outreach. She also told me not to try to be a famous musician. She says I should focus on other studies so that I can get a job that will make money when I'm older. It made me so angry but I thought I'd talk to Professor Macauley about it after his next class.

After his class, Jamie kissed me on the cheek and left me to speak with Professor Mac. I told him about Mother's letter and he said that maybe, if it really is a curse, she didn't tell me because she's embarrassed. He says I should be easy on her. I was trying to listen to him but I just kept getting more and more angry so I took my calming draught. Professor Macauley though said that he didn't think I should take Calming Draughts. He says that if I swallow down all my anger that I'm meant to feel, I'll end up losing my temper and hurting someone, maybe with a dark spell! And I mean Professor Mac would know, right? He teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts!

Anyways, the next thing that happened was the Hearty Party. I told Jamie that I wanted to look like a Princess and so I took the whole long way from the common rooms so that I could come down the stairs like they do in all the Faery Tales. I didn't expect Jamie to look so… charming! I came down the stairs and they were at the bottom, dressed like a Faery Tale prince! There were so many buttons on their coat and they had a crown and everything. They gave me a rose to wear on my wrist and we went to see the Great Hall. It was beautiful there! It was like a big garden with statues everywhere. Everyone looked so beautiful, like they belonged in a Faery Tale! Jamie and I people watched for a bit and Andie even told Jamie and I we looked nice! She was in a hoodie and it had a bunch of pink on it and we told her pink suited her. She'd never got to find Artie to ask him to go to the party with her so she left to go find him. Jamie and I went to get food then. There was cheesecake and it was delicious. I saw Eve with Bobby and waved to them but then Jamie and I started to dance. They kept saying all these sweet things that made my face feel all hot while we danced and I asked them to be my Valentine. They agreed and we said we'd have a picnic. I'll have to write about that later, I'm getting very sleepy, Diary. I ended up having to run away, which also felt like a Faery Tale, but I gave Jamie a kiss on the cheek before I did! I think that's everything. I'll write to you about the picnic later, I think I'd like to play something sad before I go to sleep. Good night!

[possums-against-cops]

🔆summer goblin alignments🔆

tag yourselves!! 🌼☀️🍦

reptile gob -

lives only for summer camping

always in shorts

constantly forgets to put on sunscreen

sand castle overlord. also just sitting in the sand. it Warm

laying on warm rocks, sitting on hot wood/concrete whenever

slapping around in summer rain, best friends with bugs (and bug gobs)

freckles freckles freckles freckles

endless energy

knows all the best boardwalk restaurants

has a collection of beach glass in their pockets always

amphibious gob -

in water constantly

Well Hydrated

lives in their swim suit??? they’re always ready to swim

always has a pair of swimming goggles nearby

can hold their breath scary long

loves water sports but is awful at them, good sport about losing tho

soggy hair always

collects smooth rocks / shells

loves lakes, best friend with nessie probably

begging to go to the beach, hates salt water though

often seen with reptile gobs

bug gob -

LIVES for rainy summers and nothing else

always stays up late listening to frog songs in the evening

nursing their garden many days a week (also just sitting in the dirt)

wrecks peoples Perfect Lawns™ for a living

ladybird whisperer

always slightly messy and grass stained

loves lemonade

tans, but only once in a blue moon

SPEAKING OF THE MOON they love the stars and can point out some constellations (they tried to memorise them but forgot)

indoor gob -

NOT made for hot weather AT ALL

wants to live in a damp cave

always laying down by air vents/in front of fans

despite how miserable and sweaty they may be, they will NOT take off their hoodie

likes the idea of swimming but always ends up sunburnt

eats popsicles inside

if they end up at a beach, they dig a big pit in the sand to sit in the colder sand

watches paranormal/true crime videos the whole summer

has at least 1 of each of the above mentioned gobs as friends (who regularly drag them out of their house for ‘’’fun’’’’)

[somethingthatwedo]

Oh, in positive news... my baking challenge!

I don’t think I mentioned it on here but I should have. Mike commented toward the end of last year that I’ve gotten much more confident at cooking since we moved here and I started doing it more, so I decided I should see if the same would hold true for baking. (I’d baked about two things in my life before moving here, and then just pumpkin chocolate chip muffins and some cookies for Christmas.) So I decided I would bake one new dessert every month of 2020.

January was Snickerdoodle Bars, requested by Mike

February I forgot to take pictures of apparently, but it was Oatmeal Scotchies, using the recipe on the butterscotch chip bag

March was Butter Pecan Cookies

April was Red Velvet Gobs/Whoopie Pies with cream cheese frosting (for Mike’s birthday month, since he likes red velvet)

May was Brownie Pudding Cake, recipe taken from my Better Homes and Gardens cookbook

(Luckily, I’d just restocked on flour and sugar before everyone went baking mad...)

This month I’m going to do Mike’s favorite cake, Dr. Bird cake. I would have done that in honor of his birthday but he said he’d prefer it in the summer.

The challenge also gave me a chance to test my theory that my cookies were coming out bad because my oven runs hot. Which I’m now confident is the case. I’ve ‘underbaked’ all of these, testing for doneness, and they came out right.

[dcschain]

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT MEME. | always accepting.

@mercysought​ asked: How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

The hot tallow sparks, leaps upwards with a myriad of pops as he throws the rabbit flesh to cook on the pan. Its butchered head stares at him from the block, bloodied cleaver beside it, the eye something vacant. Inside it, the wind of cold winter right around the corner. The cold, a song, a song no sane man would dance to. 

The voices come behind him, and come muffled. Carried on the wind, they sound like little more than whispers. Abebi, angry. And Chapman falling in her footsteps. Alain, low and calm, his father’s drawl, as sturdy as his blood’s a flame. 

He ignores them, and chooses the rabbits instead.

He has two more to butcher that are threaded: a miracle that will feed their bellies for a few days at least if he’s smart with the cooking. The remaining twelve, muties one way or another, will make good enough bait for larger game when hunting, and the fur, what’s there of it, will line their new shoes.

He was more than careful with the threaded hides. 

The voices behind him still fall, bits of anger he doesn’t heed as they tumble from the branches around him. Golden, red, catching blood and sunlight indiscriminately, wearing the end of summer like a death-bag. The rustle of the first fallen leaves as there’s footsteps. Chapman’s boots appear in his line of sight. He makes no notice of him, and hasn’t since the raid, and he knows it drives Chapman furious.

It is not pettiness and it is not immaturity. It is ritual: Chapman has not cried his pardon for his dinh, and so his dinh does not think him therefore worthy of his time. The hierarchy, even in war, is a stubborn beast. And it gives sanity to a world that’s got no sanity left in any of its rivers.

But there is one piece of the hierarchy Roland is refusing. One piece which sticks in the gob of the order of things, like a bone that’s too big to swallow, too small to cough out.

Chapman stands before the dinh and does not back down. He stands as if this were the Council Hall, as if the tables were mahogany and not dust, as if there were a right hand and a left hand beside Roland, instead of three boys with their father’s guns on their hips like the masks of their faces. Beneath which, the truth, the ugly truth of the world, is showing. That the time is coming for the curtain to fall. That the end has reared its head, and from the peaks you can see its beady eyes in the moonlight.

Amos Chapman is older than his king is. Greyer. Sturdier. He’s seen more wolves and had more claws to give him pain. He’s seen more harriers. He’s seen three dinhs in his lifetime, and the third sits in front of a campfire and cooks pilfered rabbits they took from a traitorous homestead.

Amos Chapman seeps tradition with every cracked, fatigued breath he can muster himself to give. And he can question the boy-king before him, in ways he never dared to question the father.

Amos Chapman spits in the fire. When behind him, Jamie makes a movement whether to chastise or punish, Roland silences and stills him with a gesture. Chapman snorts, looks over his shoulder to the Red Hand of the dinh and then again to the dinh. Roland blinks at the smile he gives him. Those teeth. All creatures of malice, yet not the sharpest smirk he’s seen, not by a long shot. Chapman learned from the world how to bare his fangs, but was never born with them. 

The slow blink and then the dismissal: he turns back to his newest rabbit to butcher, and the thudding of the cleaver as he decapitates it weighs down on an otherwise still air. Abebi hugs herself and moves away too briskly from Alain, whose eyes look so much like his father’s now. Cold in the late summer darkness that trickles and trickles, slowly, from the azures of day into a violent purple, the yellows of the moon, light screamed against the cloud and heavy gauze.

Chapman hunkers down, to be eye-level with this child. The ones who know Roland as first Ro and then as dinh see his hands clutch the rabbit a little bit tighter, blood oozing past his fingers as he holds it by the leg, already skinned before being butchered. 

“I won’t stand around as you lead us to perdition, boy.”

Again, the thudding of the cleaver. The snapping as he dislocates the joints to cut the limbs off easier. The silence. The silence that crawls out of his eyes like the singing of ice comes from frozen lakes. The untrained foot that walks thinking them solid and does not see the hairline-cracks in the white-blue surface. 

No ice is truly blue. 

It reflects the sky. 

Chapman has the resolve at least to not reach across and touch Roland. He wants to, and Roland can see this from the way he leans in his hunker and the way his right hand tenses, untenses, clenches, unclenches. And hovers. Closer to Chapman’s own body than his, but the intent, the movement, the want -- all there. Roland reads it from his clenching jaw and his darting tongue. 

Whatever he said before when the wind was carrying it to him and he was not listening, it hangs here too. It hangs. Chapman’s tying the noose himself and is ready to pull it.

“You spit on your father’s face, so ya do, and ya can’t even kennit.”

The knife sinks effortlessly along the rabbit’s spine. The seeping crunch of metal to bone. 

“His pride rot ya father’s house and the maggots saw it good enough to eat it.”

The knife over the ribs, to detach the flesh and take the back meat off. The ripping noise and then the scraping.

“Cully, the rot’s eaten at you too. Ain’t no dinh that’s never worn the title. Gilead-dinh I understand, mayhap, for we’ve got no Gilead left to return to, but cam-dinh? Refusing that be like refusing the Tower itself!”

The Deschain’s knife pins the head of the rabbit his son just butchered to the block he’s using for his butchering. It shatters the cancerous growths and breaks past the skull and into the brain. In. Deep. If rage could ever hold a gaze, the rabbit’s glassy eyes spill over with it.

“Kian delah-kensa-thea. Chapman-sai.”

Heed me very well. Sai Chapman. 

Abebi shivers. Roland’s voice is the voice of a thousand years before him. It’s the voice of thirty generations. It is low, so terribly low, close to the mud and the muck and the radioactivity warnings. 

It commemorates no esteemed deed.

“Thee said it yourself. There be no Gilead to return to. When the bastard John Farson’s head finds its way to my pike, then we may speak once more of cam-dinh and cam-a-cam-mal, Gan willing its waters.”

He yanks the knife out of the head. It rolls off the block and lands in front of Chapman, blood and brain oozing. Its mouth hangs open. 

“If thee takes our hope from us, you miserable cur, then Farson’s already won.”

Farson won the day he gutted my father like a Fair-day fish, a thought which makes Alain flinch when he finds the aftertaste of it in Roland’s head. He shares a look with Cuthbert, who watches with those disquieting, dark eyes.

He resumes his thankless task. Skin. Decapitate. Butcher. Repeat. His audience is over, the throne-room to be vacated. Chapman still hunkers, and hungers, for whatever’s left of the life he once knew. He’d sink his teeth in its heart if he could. 

But the king with his blue eyes and daft hands has nothing else to say to him, or to anyone else assembled there. He barely dignifies Chapman with a second look. 

Abebi follows Chapman when he storms away, and over her shoulder she sees how the dinh watches them go, and that calm, the way he keeps on skinning, on butchering, fills her belly with enough anger to wish him dead.

The thought is sudden, and the thought scares her, and shames her. She smothers it and breaks its neck, and tells herself he is only trapped, like all of them, beneath their fathers’ and mothers’ ghosts.

[mewhenhorrormovies]

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As we

say in Texas, you couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions

printed on the heel. You are a canker, an open wound. I would rather

kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. You took your last vacation in

the Islets of Langerhans.

You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little

worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a

cad, and a weasel. I take that back; you are a festering pustule on a

weasel's rump. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench,

a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same

species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I barf at

the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut.

Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are

a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. You are a technicolor yawn.

And did I mention that you smell?

You are a squeaking rat, a mistake of nature and a heavy-metal bagpipe

player. You were not born. You were hatched into an unwilling world

that rejects the likes of you. You didn't crawl out of a normal egg,

either, but rather a mutant maggot egg rejected by an evil scientist

as being below his low standards. Your alleged parents abandoned you

at birth and then died of shame in recognition of what they had done

to an unsuspecting world. They were a bit late.

Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting

to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a

nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able

to access it ever so much more rapidly. If cluelessness were crude

oil, your scalp would be crawling with caribou.

You are a thick-headed trog. I have seen skeet with more sense than

you have. You are a few bricks short of a full load, a few cards short

of a full deck, a few bytes short of a full core dump, and a few

chromosomes short of a full human. Worse than that, you top-post. God

created houseflies, cockroaches, maggots, mosquitos, fleas, ticks,

slugs, leeches, and intestinal parasites, then he lowered his

standards and made you. I take it back; God didn't make you. You are

Satan's spawn. You are Evil beyond comprehension, half-living in the

slough of despair. You are the entropy which will claim us all. You

are a green-nostriled, crossed eyed, hairy-livered inbred

trout-defiler. You make Ebola look good.

You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid,

nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an

ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with

you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in

a land that reality forgot. You are not ANSI compliant and your markup

doesn't validate. You have a couple of address lines shorted together.

You should be promoted to Engineering Manager.

Do you really expect your delusional and incoherent ramblings to be

read? Everyone plonked you long ago. Do you fantasize that your

tantrums and conniption fits could possibly be worth the $0.000000001

worth of electricity used to send them? Your life is one big

W.O.M.B.A.T. and your future doesn't look promising either. We need to

trace your bloodline and terminate all siblings and cousins in order

to cleanse humanity of your polluted genes. The good news is that no

normal human would ever mate with you, so we won't have to go into the

sewers in search of your git.

You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and

obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living

emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a

loathsome disease, a drooling inbred cross-eyed toesucker. You make

Quakers shout and strike Pentecostals silent. You have a version 1.0

mind in a version 6.12 world. Your mother had to tie a pork chop

around your neck just to get your dog to play with you. You think

that HTTP://WWW.GUYMACON.COM/FUN/INSULT/INDEX.HTM is the name of a

rock band. You believe that P.D.Q. Bach is the greatest composer who

ever lived. You prefer L. Ron Hubbard to Larry Niven and Jerry

Pournelle. Hee-Haw is too deep for you. You would watch test patterns

all day if the other inmates would let you.

On a good day you're a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are

deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of

wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted.

Spammers look down on you. Phone sex operators hang up on you.

Telemarketers refuse to be seen in public with you. You are the source

of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

May you choke on your own foolish opinions. You are a Pusillanimous

galactophage and you wear your sister's training bra. Don't bother

opening the door when you leave - you should be able to slime your

way out underneath. I hope that when you get home your mother runs

out from under the porch and bites you.

You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock.

You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted

boggish foot-licking half-twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You

gormless crook-pated tosser. You bloody churlish boil-brained clotpole

ponce. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You cockered

bum-bailey poofter. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You

dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. May your

spouse be blessed with many bastards.

You are so clueless that if you dressed in a clue skin, doused yourself

in clue musk, and did the clue dance in the middle of a field of horny

clues at the height of clue mating season, you still would not have a

clue. If you were a movie you would be a double feature;

_Battlefield_Earth_ and _Moron_Movies_II_. You would be out of focus.

You are a fiend and a sniveling coward, and you have bad breath. You

are the unholy spawn of a bandy-legged hobo and a syphilitic camel.

You wear strangely mismatched clothing with oddly placed stains. You

are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just knowing that

you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go

away. You are jetsam who dreams of becoming flotsam. You won't make

it. I beg for sweet death to come and remove me from a world which

became unbearable when you crawled out of a harpy's lair.

It is hard to believe how incredibly stupid you are. Stupid as a stone

that the other stones make fun of. So stupid that you have traveled

far beyond stupid as we know it and into a new dimension of stupid.

Meta-stupid. Stupid cubed. Trans-stupid stupid. Stupid collapsed to

a singularity where even the stupons have collapsed into stuponium.

Stupid so dense that no intelligence can escape. Singularity stupid.

Blazing hot summer day on Mercury stupid. You emit more stupid in one

minute than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. It cannot

be possible that anything in our universe can really be this stupid.

This is a primordial fragment from the original big stupid bang. A pure

extract of stupid with absolute stupid purity. Stupid beyond the laws

of nature. I must apologize. I can't go on. This is my epiphany of

stupid. After this experience, you may not hear from me for a while.

I don't think that I can summon the strength left to mock your moronic

opinions and malformed comments about boring trivia or your other

drivel. Duh.

The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped

away most of your of what you wrote, because, well ... it didn't

really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was

pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a

load of babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after

you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more

success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal"

people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering.

But we sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this

world who find these things to be difficult. If I had known that this

was true in your case then I would have never have exposed myself to

what you wrote. It just wouldn't have been "right." Sort of like

parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the

emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a

demand on you.

P.S.: You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful,

cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable,

belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal,

fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic,

brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame,

self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, fraudulent,

libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, EDLINoid,

illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking,

devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic,

fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased,

suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim,

crazy, weird, dyspeptic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim,

unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive,

mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive,

abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, and Generally Not Good.