#maximalism christmas ideas

[hermaximalismhome]

[ex-injuria-jus-non-oritur]

12•12•22// studyblrs/lawblrs/people with opinions on Apple products ✨ I'm looking to get some airpods (not the max, earbuds pls) and I'm looking for opinions on what you liked/didn't like and which you would buy?? Thank you 💕✨

[riverwoodcottagevintage]

Colonial Williamsburg Christmas-- The Robert Carter House

[hermoodymaximalismhome]

[multific]

Modern Warfare Men and No Nut November - Preferences

Simon Riley, Johnny MacTavish, John Price, Kyle Garrick, König, Maxim Bale, Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Warnings: smut

Summary: In which both of you participate in the challenge. 

A/N: Yes, I know November is over but this was a request so here it is! I hope you all enjoy it!

Simon Riley

You suggested the idea of having no sex or any kind of act for a month. You two have been at it pretty much every day, sometimes many times during the day, so it came as the perfect idea.

You told him that it would make him want you more and vice versa. 

What you forgot is that Simon could be very patient. 

So much so, that he even said "Only a month?" before he shrugged and moved on.

What none of you expected is that the sexual tension and frustration would be too much to bear.

On day 27, he would be without a shirt and you would physically shake.

On day 28, you would wear a pair of jeans that just makes your ass look amazing, making him take a cold shower immediately.

On day 30, both of you had enough and you couldn't take it anymore.

To say you two destroyed each other's clothes would be a nice thing to say.

He never pounded you as hard as he did on that day. He never came as hard or as much as he did on that day. 

Johnny MacTavish

It was actually his idea, he heard from Simon that he and his wife were doing this challenge and Johnny wanted to try it out. 

You agreed, you really thought both of you had enough self-restraint to survive.

And in the beginning, it was okay. It seemed like you were doing good.

Until you weren't.

By the end of the month, you really wanted to at least take care of the 'problem' yourself.

But you couldn't.

As for Johnny, he was surprisingly well. He distracted himself and did many things around the house.

He even finished the porch that he started months before. He cleaned the garden and even began to build a new area in the garden for your dogs.

The fact that you didn't have sex, resulted in a very clean house.

But you both made it, and once the month ended, you two were at it again. 

The garden for the dogs? Forgotten.

But at least you both very finally satisfied again.

Kyle Garrick

When you suggested the idea, he actually had something similar in mind. So, you both agreed to go along with it.

And surprisingly, you both did amazingly well.

You two went out on many cute dates, never once making any sexual remarks.

It was easy, but it didn't mean you didn't miss it.

Kyle counted the last couple of days as if it was Christmas.

John Price

John would be up for the idea. But he would fail on the same day.

Seeing you preparing dinner, you happened to bend over to pick up something, and it was over. 

He had you bent over the table in a second.

Maxim Bale

It took you a solid 5 minutes to explain the entire thing. He didn't understand why you would want to do this, but when you explained that it could be exciting, he was down for it.

It was a long month for Maxim.

He was never a sex-crazed person but he did like his sex in the morning, so when you reminded him that you would rather not, he was a little offended. 

Just a little.

The month was a struggle more for you than him.

He could easily occupy himself by doing something with his car.

And there you were, watching him fix his car, covered in sweat, muscles on full display.

As soon as the month was over, you were all over him.

Alejandro Vargas

He would laugh when you tell him the idea. 

Him? Surviving a month without sex or anything?

Impossible.

He knew it, you knew it.

But if you insist, he will try his best.

2 days he would last.

Completely failing the entire challenge. 

But who could blame him?

He loved you and your body.

And just as he said: "How did you expect me to live without this perfect pussy tightening around me?"

König

In the beginning of your relationship, he never instigated sex.

It was always you making the first move.

But as he got more and more comfortable with you, he started to come out of his shell.

It got to a point where he had to stop himself.

So, a challenge like this would excite him. He wanted to see how long he would last.

But let's be fair, he would struggle.

Because once you find the person you love the most, the one you feel so good around you can finally be yourself. And then you put yourself through a challenge like this.... it is torture. 

Yet, somehow he would still pull through, although he is sure his balls would hurt more and more with each passing day.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster@capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak  @manduse  @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

In case you want to help out a dreamer: patreon.com/multific  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[jaxinvasion]

hey, @autisticaradiamegido!! i had the privilege of being your homestuck secret santa this year! merry (very belated 😭) christmas!! i’ll put some commentary under the cut (plus some bonus stuff):

lemme preface this with an apology for how long this took to finish :( im way too much of a perfectionist, i’ll admit, but i managed to get it done before school started again! i’m real glad i got to work on a prompt with a werewolf, though. it was a blast to draw!! i hope it was ok that i used my own hcs/designs… i had to make it as fun as i could for myself to maximize my motivation. also, there wasnt any colored references that i could find :0 i hope the piece is still a treat to see! im especially proud of the funny title, haha.

Bonuses:

here’s the original idea i had for the piece:

i always planned for it to be grand & complex, with hints of mystery and intrigue, but this iteration was so boring and unfun to me that i couldnt make myself work on it for a long while. im glad i went with something that resembles the classic wolfman poster though, it was far more fun.

my second sketch was the one i used. here it is:

[pyjamaart]

Breaking Bot (read more for some rambling about mega man fully charged)

Mega Man Fully Charged has been on my mind again lately, which made me realize that there's literally a robot named Chemistryman who worked as a chemistry teacher. Not using him as a Walter White stand-in would be a criminal offense.

I'll have to admit I started getting back into Fully Charged again after seeing some asshole on twitter complain about the character design for the hundredth time. I just can't stand that kind of negativity. I swear to god, Fully Charged is like the Sonic Boom of the Mega Man franchise. Personally, I really enjoy the FC designs. I've probably said this before, but I feel like the redesigns give some of the more forgettable robot masters way more character. Like, do I care for Classic Drillman from Mega Man 4? I mean, yeah, I do, but I wouldn't care as much if it wasn't for his Fully Charged incarnation.

I also really enjoy most of the original robot masters. I already talked plenty about Blastowoman and why I love her so much, but I want to talk about the others this time.

Take for example Chemistryman. Comparisons to Walter White out of the way, I feel like his character was a really fun idea. God knows I had teachers who put me to sleep back in the day. For me, it wasn't chemistry though, it was my economics teacher. I always compared her to a story teller at a Christmas market who would read children stories out of her big fairy tale book. Only that in reality, it was stuff like the minimization/maximization principle. Most of my notes for that class were incomprehensible chicken scratch, because I just couldn't keep my eyes open. In the end, I slept through like half her classes, lol. But I gotta say that I still always got a B or higher in the end. Somehow. I thank god every day that I never have to step foot in a school again.

I really wish Chemistryman got a little more time to shine though. Two episodes is just way too little. I would gladly take three more episodes with him over those gross Gutsman episodes. I know I love talking about wasted potential with this show, but I wish there was an episode that focused on Chemistryman outside of the school setting. I get that his whole character is "boring, bitter teacher", but I'd really like to see what he gets up to when he's not trying to force children to listen to his chemistry lectures. Like having Aki try to talk him into going into retirement for good. And then he tries to find hobbies for him so that he doesn't bore himself to death. I can see him getting into building model ships or something like that, lol.

Now that I'm already writing up a storm again, I might as well talk about some other headcanons I have about the FC bots. Since Woodman was in sleep mode for 30 years after the war ended (I don't know where I got that number from. I rewatched his debut episode, but the exact number doesn't appear anywhere. Oh well, let's just pretend this is canon, even if it isn't.) we got kind of a Shadow the Hedgehog type situation on our hands. All of his friends and family got to live their lives in this new, peaceful world of harmony between robots and humans, while Woodman spent 30 years powered down in a bush or something. Completely forgotten about. Like, why didn't they go look for him after the war ended? I don't think Aki and Suna wandered that far into the forest for their school assignment. If you really think about Woodmans back story for a moment, you realize how fucked up it actually is. 

Now my explanation for this goes into heavy heavy headcanon territory. When Suna calls the principal about Woodman, he warns her that Woodman is dangerous and to get away from him immediately. Now why would he say that? The principal also calls him "ruthless" in that same explanation. What I think happened back then was that Woodman actually planned to assassinate the human armies leader. (Possibly Sgt. Night?) The leader of the robots caught wind of his plan and put him into sleep mode himself, since he and Dr. Light were on the brink of finding a way to end the war peacefully. In my mind, this leader is the FC version of Swordman. Don't ask me why, he was just the first guy I thought of. And then it just stuck.

I know this makes Woodmans back story even more fucked up, but I just love putting my favorite blorbos through hardship. Don't even ask me about my headcanons for Drillman. They'd actually put me in prison.

Now all this culminates after Woodman is reactivated by Suna and Aki. Finding himself alienated from all his former friends and comrades (Maybe the other Mega Man 2 robot masters?), what was he supposed to do? He couldn't spend the rest of his life isolated (and homeless) in the forest, could he? And this is where season 2 could have delivered. But I'm done whining about that. If Capcom doesn't deliver, I gotta write my own season 2. Simple as that.

Anyway, getting back to Chemistryman, since he's pretty old, I imagine that he was already working as a teacher when Woodman was still around. Maybe he even was his teacher at some point.

And since I love having my favorite characters interact, I also thought of a scenario where Drillman wanders into the forest out of frustration over his miserable life, only to meet Woodman by coincidence. In the end, Woodman helps him work through his daddy issues and his body dysmorphia, while Drillman helps Woodman reintegrate and manage this (for him) completely new world of peace. Another great headcanon of mine is that Chemistryman is actually Acidmans father. Just because I think it would be funny. And as Fully Charged has confirmed: robots in that universe do indeed have parents. (Flashback to the time I drew Dr. Light beating the shit out of Drillman's father)

Speaking of Drillman.... For being one of my favorite Mega Man characters of all time, I haven't drawn him nearly enough. That will probably be my next project.

This might also be a great time to tell you that I've never watched Breaking Bad before, lol. Everything I know about it comes from RTGame's Stardew Valley playthrough and the RTVS Half Life parody.

Sorry for all the yapping. But if I don't talk about robots at least once a day, I might die. This is a serious condition.

[bradshawsbaby]

Looks Like Christmas

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Author’s Note: This is another contribution to @notroosterbradshaw​’s #hello december playlist challenge! It was inspired by Michael Bublé’s version of It’s Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas. Cass, thank you so much again for putting together this challenge! It’s been such a fun way to celebrate my favorite time of year with some of my favorite characters!

For those who read it, see if you can spot the reference to Underneath the Tree in this one!

Warnings: Enough Bradshaw family fluff to give you a toothache.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas Toys in every store But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be On your own front door

Humming softly along with the Christmas music that was jingling from the speakers of the entertainment system, you leisurely made yet another lap around the Christmas tree, carefully arranging the string of multi-colored lights across the dark green boughs in a way that would maximize the twinkling effect once all was said and done. 

It was a slow process, made all the slower by the fact that you kept stopping every couple minutes to take a few steps back and admire your handiwork from across the living room, but you didn’t mind. Stringing the lights on the Christmas tree was actually one of your favorite parts of the decorating process, right behind actually getting to decorate the tree. What other people, including your own husband, found to be an incredibly boring and tedious chore, you found peaceful and relaxing. Getting completely swept up in your task, you would have had no idea how much time had even passed, had it not been for the fact that you were keeping a mental tab of how many Christmas songs had played since you’d gotten started.

By the time you finally reached the bottom of the tree, the familiar strains of It’s Beginning To Look a Lot Like Christmas had just started swirling around the living room. Moving to the other side of the room, you crossed your arms over your chest and tilted your head to the side, eyeing the tree critically.

You rather had to agree with Michael Bublé. It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. And you absolutely loved it.

Yesterday had been a complete and total whirlwind, with it being Nick’s first Thanksgiving and all. You’d been frantic about making the day as special and memorable as possible, on top of seeing family and friends, to the point that Bradley had forced you to go sit down on the couch and actually enjoy the time you had with your four-month-old son.

“Honey, I know you have your heart set on it, but we don’t have to decorate the apartment for Christmas tomorrow,” your husband had told you later that night, once you were both in bed. “You must be exhausted. Why don’t we just take tomorrow to rest?”

“Not decorate for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving?” you blinked, certain you’d misheard him. That was like blasphemy to your ears. You’d been decorating for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving for as long as you could remember, a tradition you’d had no qualms about introducing Bradley to.

Bradley chuckled, kissing your surprised frown away. “Yeah, should have figured I’d get that reaction,” he teased, wrapping an arm around you as the two of you snuggled up under the covers. “It was only a suggestion, babe.”

“Don’t even joke around like that,” you told him, your eyes crinkling in humor as you started to laugh softly. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry, my little Christmas Queen,” Bradley grinned, tucking your head under his chin and pulling you close to his chest.

You were more than happy to proudly wear the moniker of Bradley’s Christmas Queen. Christmas was your very favorite time of year, and nothing brought your heart more joy than bringing the warmth and happiness of the season into your home. Each ornament, each decoration, each little knick-knack that you placed around the apartment told a story—stories from your childhood, stories from Bradley’s childhood, stories from the life the two of you had built together. That was why today was so meaningful to you.

And this Christmas would be the most special one of all, you thought with a smile, lifting the sweet little Baby’s First Christmas ornament that you and Bradley had picked out together, before your precious little bundle of love had even been placed in your arms.

Running your fingers over the delicately embossed bauble, the sound of beloved Christmas carols filling your ears, you didn’t even hear the sound of your husband’s footsteps behind you at first.

“Look who’s up from his nap, just in time to help Mommy decorate the tree,” Bradley’s smiling voice came from behind, wrapping around you like the coziest, most well-loved blanket.

Turning with a bright smile, your heart melted at the sight of Nick sitting up in Bradley’s arms, eagerly reaching out to you with a large, gummy grin.

“There are my boys!” you cooed, carefully placing the ornament you’d been holding down on the coffee table and hurrying over to your two favorite guys, holding your hands out to your son. “Did you get a good nap? Huh?” you asked in a sing-song voice, tickling Nick’s belly lightly before taking him into your arms.

“Well, it was alright,” Bradley yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “Oh, you were talking to him,” he added with a teasing smirk.

You rolled your eyes playfully, pressing a kiss to the top of Nick’s head. “Listen to Daddy, huh? Already with the bad dad jokes,” you stage-whispered to your son in a conspiratorial voice.

“I heard that. Don’t listen to her, Nick. Your old man is a gold mine of comedy,” Bradley insisted, resting a hand on your son’s back as he leaned over to peck your cheek.

“Maybe unintentionally so,” you winked, rocking the baby in your arms as he buried his chubby fingers in your hair and began tugging.

“Sounds like Mommy’s been spending too much time around Uncle Jake,” Bradley sighed, which elicited a loud laugh from you. “See, Nick? I always know how to make her laugh.”

“Mmm, you do,” you nodded, leaning up to peck his lips. “I’m sorry for teasing. You are very funny,” you assured him. “Daddy is very funny,” you added, looking down at Nick.

Your son just babbled incoherently in response, a little bit of drool dripping down his chin in his enthusiasm, which you wiped away with a gentle finger.

“It’s already looking great in here, honey,” Bradley said, hands on his hips as he began gazing around the living room.

Your husband had been an absolute champ getting the tree and all your decorations over to the apartment in time for you to start decorating today. Being that there was only so much room in your apartment, a lot of your stuff had been put in storage, also known as Penny and Mav’s basement. With Mav’s assistance, Bradley had managed to get everything up to your place by the time you’d woken up that morning.

Which is why he’d happily accepted when you’d suggested that he go lay down at the same time you were putting Nick down for his nap.

You didn’t mind getting things set up on your own, content to listen to your favorite Christmas songs as you opened boxes and determined where everything needed to go. But you were glad that your husband and son were here now, ready to help put the most important touches on the tree.

“Thank you,” you beamed, shifting Nick in your arms and gently taking a hold of his hand as he attempted to pull on your necklace, the necklace that Bradley had given you to wear on your wedding day. The necklace that had belonged to Carole. The necklace that you hardly ever took off. “I should especially thank you for being so patient in wrapping up the lights for the tree last year. It made my work so much easier this year,” you laughed, stepping closer to the tree so Nick could look at the lights in question.

Though you loved getting ready for Christmas, you could fully admit that you were not a fan of cleaning up after Christmas. Taking down the decorations was the most depressing day of the year in your book, and you got rather impatient when it came to putting certain things away.

“Honey, you know that’s going to be a disaster come next year,” Bradley had chuckled last January, watching you unwind the lights off the tree and throw them into a heap on the floor. “Let me wrap them up,” he said, patiently winding them around his arm until they were bound in perfect, neat little loops.

“My knight in shining armor,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Every Christmas Queen needs one,” he winked, capturing your lips with his own.

“Very true,” you laughed, beaming as he helped you put away the rest of the decorations.

“See? I told you a little patience would pay off,” Bradley smirked, pinching your butt playfully.

“Well now you’re officially on light-wrapping duty for the rest of our lives,” you joked, giggling as you adjusted one of the snaps on Nick’s onesie.

“Whatever you say, baby,” Bradley nodded, smiling down at you with a sweetly indulgent twinkle in his eyes. “So should we start decorating then? I know you’ve got us on a strict schedule,” he winked.

“You’re absolutely right about that, Lieutenant. I’m the Admiral when it comes to Christmas decorating in this house,” you teased, jokingly pulling rank.

“Trust me, Nick, we better do what she says,” Bradley warned your son, lifting him out of your arms and settling him against his side. “No one takes decorating more seriously than Mommy.”

“And don’t you forget it,” you smiled, walking back over to the coffee table to pick up the ornament you’d been holding earlier. “Look, sweetie, this ornament is just for you,” you said, holding it out to show Nick. “Daddy and I picked it for you before you were even born. It says Baby’s First Christmas,” you explained, pointing to each word. “That’s you. You’re the baby,” you cooed, poking his belly softly and kissing his nose.

Nick gurgled happily once again, bouncing in Bradley’s arms.

“Oh, yeah, he’s a big fan of that,” Bradley beamed, pressing an affectionate series of kisses to the side of your son’s face in quick succession.

“Do you want to put it on the tree?” you asked with a smile, holding the ornament out to your husband.

“No, you do it, baby,” Bradley insisted, patting Nick’s back gently. “You’re the one who went through hell to bring him into the world. Seems only right,” he added with a lopsided grin.

God, you loved him so much.

“Can’t argue with that logic,” you nodded, winking as you stepped over to the tree and chose a spot right in the center, carefully draping Nick’s ornament over the branch.

“Look at that, buddy. Front and center,” Bradley murmured, pointing enthusiastically at the tree until Nick’s gaze followed the direction of his finger. When your son just stared at the tree, mouth hanging open, Bradley began laughing. “I think he likes it, honey.”

“Do you? Do you like it, sweet boy?” you asked, grinning when you witnessed another luminous smile light up your son’s face. “Do you want to help Mommy and Daddy decorate the rest of the tree?”

Nick let out a loud little babble in response, which you and Bradley took for eager assent.

Decorating the tree took much longer than it had in years past, namely because you and Bradley kept passing the baby back and forth between one another as you grabbed ornaments out of the box and began dispersing them across the branches, stopping every now and then to point out a particularly shiny or interesting looking one to Nick. Your son, the sweet, docile angel that he was, just stared at everything you showed him with wide eyes, seemingly as entranced with Christmas as you had always been.

“Looks like we’ve got another big fan of Christmas in the family,” Bradley winked, setting your son’s bouncer down at the foot of the tree so that the two of you could get a break, while still keeping Nick included in the festivities.

“It’s in the genes. Very powerful stuff,” you replied, your eyes dancing with merriment as you knelt down to carefully settle Nick in the bouncer and strap him in. You smiled and dropped a kiss on his forehead when he began kicking his feet happily.

It was only when you stood back up to continue decorating the tree that you realized the music you’d been playing had come to an end. It had been playing for hours, since you’d first started setting up.

“Oh, baby, can you go turn the music back on?” you called to Bradley from where you were currently standing at the back of the tree.

He didn’t verbally respond, but a moment later, you heard the familiar notes of a classic tune floating across the room once more. And then suddenly, there was a strong pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, and a very familiar mustache brushing against your neck as your husband began peppering you with kisses.

“Mmm,” you sighed contentedly, lowering your hands to rest them over Bradley’s forearms and closing your eyes, enjoying the feel of his kisses.

“I love you,” Bradley whispered against your ear, nipping lightly at your earlobe.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, leaning against his chest and reveling in the feel of his strong, protective arms holding you close.

“I was thinking,” he began slowly, his voice sounding like warm honey as his lips moved against the shell of your ear. “Maybe once Nick is asleep for the night, you and I could have a little private fun by the tree. You know, just like last year,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your ear.

You smirked, though your cheeks flamed at the memory of the time you two had spent under the Christmas tree last December. “Hmm,” you hummed, turning slowly so that you were facing him and wrapping your arms around him. “Only if you can guarantee that you’ve been a good boy this year,” you winked.

“Oh, very,” Bradley nodded eagerly, pecking your lips. “The best.”

“Then I’d say it’s a very strong possibility,” you told him, your lips pressed against his.

The look of absolute victory on your husband’s face made you grin from ear to ear.

“But first we finish decorating,” you told him, wagging a teasing finger in his face.

You didn’t think you’d ever seen him move so quickly to fill in the empty spots on your Christmas tree.

Another hour or two slipped by as you and Bradley put the finishing touches on the tree, and then finished decorating the living room. Between the hot cocoa that Bradley made, the music chiming merrily in the background, the lights twinkling all around, and your sweet baby boy cooing happily in your arms, you couldn’t think of a better day you’d ever had in your life.

At one point, you turned around and saw that Bradley had taken Nick back into his arms, walking him around the tree and pointing out all the different ornaments, and the bright, multi-colored lights. You stopped what you were doing at once, taking this opportunity to just soak in a beautiful, candid moment between the two people you loved more than anything else in the world. 

Getting to see Bradley become a father, getting to witness the way he loved your little boy, was a gift that you never wanted to take for granted.

Struck by a sudden burst of inspiration, you hurried over to the drawer where you had left the small Polaroid camera that you had recently purchased. Holding it up to your line of sight, you quickly snapped a photograph, Bradley turning his head to look at you only after you’d done it.

“No paparazzi, please,” he joked, holding up a halting hand in your direction.

“Sorry,” you smirked, lowering the Polaroid as the film popped out. “A hot man with a baby? Too sexy to resist,” you teased. 

Pulling the photograph out of the camera, you waved it slightly, giving it a few moments to fully develop. When it did, you looked down at it and beamed. It was a beautiful, perfect shot, and one you would cherish always. Both Bradley’s and Nick’s gazes were transfixed on the Christmas tree, Bradley pointing towards an ornament that had been his when he was a little boy.

“What do you think?” you asked, holding the picture up for him to inspect.

“Oh my God,” Bradley breathed out, eyes widening as he looked down at the picture. He just stared, not saying anything else for a moment.

“What is it?” you asked in confusion, glancing between him and the Polaroid picture several times.

“I have to find something,” Bradley said suddenly, gently placing Nick in your arms and marching deliberately over to the cabinet where you stored all the photo albums in your possession.

“Baby, what is it?” you asked again, stroking the back of your son’s head as Bradley began flipping determinedly through a few older albums.

“Look at this, honey,” he exclaimed suddenly, evidently finding what he had been looking for. “Come look at this,” he told you, moving over to the couch and sitting down.

Curiosity piqued, you sat down beside him, settling Nick comfortably on your lap.

“Look,” Bradley smiled, pointing at a small photograph, almost the same size as the Polaroid you’d just taken. The caption beneath it read Bradley’s First Christmas in Carole’s strong hand.

When your eyes beheld the image that Bradley was pointing to, your breath caught in your throat instantly.

It looked almost identical to the photo you’d just taken of Bradley and your son. The man in the photograph was holding a little boy in his arms, hand lifted as he pointed eagerly at one of the ornaments on the Christmas tree. His bright, laughing smile and mustache were the mirror image of your husband’s, just as the baby boy in the photograph looked like your son in every way.

“It was my mom’s favorite picture,” Bradley said softly, gazing at you as you stared down in shock at the photo of him and his father. “She took it while we were decorating the tree, same as you did just now, honey. I just—I can’t get over how much—look,” he breathed out, laying the photograph you’d just taken next to the picture in the photo album.

The similarity was almost too great to be believed.

“I feel like it’s my parents’ way of saying that they’re here with us,” Bradley whispered, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “With you. With me. With Nick,” he went on, resting a hand on your son’s back. “It’s just—it’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Me?” you asked in surprise, eyes widening as you looked up at him. “I didn’t do anything,” you argued, shaking your head slowly.

“Honey, you did everything,” Bradley insisted, cupping your cheek in his hand. “You’ve made this place our home. Everything that we have is so special because of you. And I just want you to know how much I appreciate that. How much I appreciate you. Thank you, baby,” he told you, resting his forehead against yours. “Thank you for being my home.”

You felt tears trickling down your cheeks as you reached up to touch your husband’s face, gazing into his warm brown eyes. “Thank you for being mine.”

Setting the photographs down on the coffee table, Bradley pulled you into his lap, Nick starting to doze off on your chest as the three of you sat bundled up together, taking in the peaceful glow of your newly decorated Christmas tree.

“This is all I ever wanted,” you whispered, laying your head in the crook of his neck as you rested against his chest. “This is all I need for Christmas.”

Bradley smiled, kissing you softly and wrapping his arms around you and Nick. “This is all I need forever.”

[inqorporeal]

I rescued an orchid from the grocery store last night. It looked small and pathetic, and next to the vibrant purples of the other plants, it was a subtle and lovely burgundy with interesting patterns on the petals. I have had very little luck with plants (other than the Christmas Rose I named Audrey III after it took over the kitchen) but I won't get better if I don't try.

Looked up orchid care instructions on the ride home, so the first thing I did was unpot it to inspect the roots. The poor things were tangled up in a dense brown spongelike thing that was definitely not any sort of potting medium designed to let it breathe and definitely way too damp. Some of the leaves were cold-burnt or broken, there was fuzzy mold on part of it, some of the roots were already browning and squishy from rot. I trimmed everything out carefully, cleaned as much of the brown sponge off as I could (it's adhered to some of the roots and I'm afraid to scrub too hard), and dug out the African violet pot that I got from a craft fair in my hometown years ago.

It's currently recovering wrapped around a little statuette of a shaman with a sandstone base soaked in water, on the windowsill in the bathroom to maximize indirect light, warmth, and humidity. No idea if it'll survive (I'm REALLY concerned about the root rot, which is why I'm letting the roots air out). But I ordered some potting medium and fertilizer which should arrive soon, so we'll see.

[hermaximalismhome]

[moistvonlipwig]

9 10 16 please? :D (cwsg, i’m sorry)

aye aye cap'n 🫡 under the cut for length

9. worst part of canon

I think it has to be Mon-El, who is so very terrible that even now he is stealing my ability to kvetch about other things. ...Luckily, this is my blog, so I can do what I want. So the other worst part of canon was the demonization and eventual murder of Manchester Black at J'onn's hands in the same season that saw James cozying up to the Children of Liberty (WHY) and the Superfriends insisting that killing them (the neo-Nazi analogues), even to prevent them from killing their marginalized alien targets, was Wrong and Bad.

(Crisis on Earth-X was pretty bad, too. Not sure how it didn't occur to any of the higher-ups that putting their heroes in Nazi uniforms in order to make them ~Cool Villains~ was maybe kind of a super fucking antisemitic thing to do.)

10. worst part of fanon

I was sorely tempted to just answer this with "el problema es el racismo," but thinking on it further that is technically the worst part of fandom, whereas fanon is generally understood to mean (a) post-colonial Marxist philosopher Frantz Fanon or (b) fan-constructed canon, i.e. headcanons that have become popular and widely accepted by many people in a fandom (sometimes to the point where people mistakenly believe that these headcanons are canon). I've already talked about my problems with the "Kara is a genius"/"Krypton is Advanced™ and Earth is Primitive™" take, as well as the "Lena never really cared about James" take; other popular fanon ideas I can't stand include "Clark is an asshole" (no >:( I like Clark), "J'onn is Alex and Kara's space dad" (citation needed), and "Eliza Danvers is the best mom ever" (when, lest we forget, Alex's whole Deal is a direct result of her Not being the best mom ever lol). Um...there's probably more but to be honest I'm blanking on what they would be.

16. you can’t understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

Hm, well, I could talk about general fanfic tropes I don't get but I prefer to stay fandom-specific in order to maximize damage from my biting and maiming. So I'll just expand on what I commented on your earlier post: I don't understand the appeal of the trope where Kara shows Lena Disney movies or imparts upon her the True Meaning of Christmas and thus transforms her life from one of forever sadness to one of joyful bliss. I'm not saying I don't like fics where Kara's presence in Lena's life improves her life -- ideally, I would imagine that both of them improve each other's lives. But the specific trope of "OMG, Lena had an abnormally wealthy and abusive childhood and thus has never done [normative thing for American (Christian) children to do that there is no canon evidence she hasn't done and also that is not necessary for healthy childhood psychological development], we must rectify this immediately!!!" baffles me.

[modelbus]

Hi!

Could you write a x reader for Wilbur, where the reader is dating wilbur but they live long distance? But on Christmas eve the reader shows up to his house to surprise him? Sorry if that dosnet make sense!

It’s most definitely still Christmas time! Woo! (I’m so late)

Pairing: Cc!Wilbur x Gn!Reader

Simple Surprises

You trudge through the snow, trying your best to move quickly but not fall on your ass. Why did Wilbur have to live next to the iciest sidewalk in the whole world? All you wanted to do was surprise your boyfriend, not put your life on the line.

Really, your mistake was not taking the Uber all the way to his flat. But it was Christmas eve, meaning even these roads were packed. You thought it'd be easier if you walked, but apparently not.

The snow was pretty, though. Glistening white, perfectly pristine. It came just in time for a white Christmas.

Carefully triple-checking the address, you finally reach the building Wilbur lives in. Assuming the address isn't wrong, and he didn't move within the last few days. God, why were you so nervous?

Although your relationship with Wilbur was long-distance, you often planned to meet up. When he had asked if you wanted to come over for Christmas with him, you had made some bullshit excuse about not being able to. All so you could turn the tables on him and surprise him.

Now that you're actually here though, you can't help but think this was a bad idea. What if he wasn't even at home? What if he had made different plans for Christmas?

No, you had literally talked to him earlier and he told you he wasn't doing anything. In fact, he planned to watch Captain America at Tommy's request! You told him you were going out with friends to cover your tracks, and he didn't doubt a word.

Marching up to his door, so familiar for something you've only really seen a few times, you hesitate. Not out of anxiety or irrational fear, but excitement. Spending Christmas with Wilbur would be a blast, and you can't wait to see his reaction to you being here.

With that in mind, you knock thrice and wait.

"Hang on!" You hear his voice from somewhere inside, and you smile to yourself.

Something crashes inside, startling you, but the door is flung open to reveal a wide-eyed Wilbur. If you had to wager a guess, he just ran across his flat.

"Sorry, I-" He cuts himself off, gaping at you.

"Nothing to be sorry about. Actually, I think I might've gotten the wrong door?"

"Like hell you did."

He tugs you into him, crashing his lips against yours. You laugh into the kiss, looping your arms around his neck. It's so nice to be here with him, feeling a solid body instead of having to stare at a video call.

"You told me you were busy." Wilbur accuses you once he stops kissing you. He doesn't let you go further than an arm's length though.

"I might've lied, but it was for the greater good. I wanted to surprise you!"

"I'm fucking surprised. I love you. How long are you here for?"

"Just a week." It was the longest you could get away from home, and you're already wishing it was more.

"A week's better than nothing." He assures you, "And I know exactly what to do first!"

"Oh yeah?"

You let him tug you to his couch, reveling in how large his smile is. You've missed this. Hell, you've missed him.

His Tv is paused on a movie, and he doesn't hesitate to pull you down onto the couch with him. Within seconds he's gone full octopus mode, pressing your bodies together to maximize physical contact.

"Cuddling?" You ask, thankful you slipped off your shoes at the door.

You're already melting, muscles relaxing. He's warm, a stark contrast to the winds and snow outside.

"You're here for Christmas, right?" He asks quietly, not yet resuming the movie.

"Of course."

"Good. I almost bought a train ticket to see you, plans be damned."

"Wil!"

"But I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

He keeps staring at you with the same dopey expression on his face, and you stare back for a few seconds before laughing.

"Are you going to resume the movie?" You ask.

"What?"

"The movie."

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Just admiring you first."

He presses another kiss to your lips before clicking play.

This is exactly where you're meant to be.

[riverwoodcottagevintage]

Wrapping gifts!

[samscorch]

@12daysofhatchetfield Day 1: Cookies! (I know I'm late, I'm gonna try my best to catch up lol)

"So you've really never made Christmas cookies before?" Peter asks gently, setting aside the rolling pin and picking up a snowman-shaped cookie cutter. He stamped it into the sugary dough, sticking towards the outside to maximize the amount they could use.

"Nah. Or if I did, it was a long time ago. When my mom was still around, or something." She says it as nonchalantly as possible, but Peter can see a small glimmer of sadness in her eyes. He's about to comfort her, reaching out a hand when Steph suddenly scoops up some of the dough on her finger and pops it in her mouth. She hums in delight at the taste, and Pete rolls his eyes, elbowing her gently.

"You're not supposed to eat it raw, you know-"

"Yeah yeah, I could get Salmonella or some shit from the eggs, I know," she chuckles, glancing at the rest of the cookie cutters spread upon the counter. She opts for a gingerbread man, pausing as she goes to stamp it down. An idea flits across her mind, and she smirks.

"Actually, that's a misconception. Sure, the eggs could make you sick, but it's the flour that's more dangerous. It can carry E. Coli *and* Salmonella, and-" he cuts himself off as Steph stamps the gingerbread shape into the middle of the dough, her tongue peeking from between her teeth as she grins.

She barely holds in a laugh at the offended little noise Peter makes beside her, steeling herself and returning to a neutral expression as she turns to him. She bats her eyelashes at the now bewildered Peter, putting on the most saccharine voice she can muster. "What's wrong? I thought you wanted me to stop eating the dough?"

Try as she might, Pete immediately clocks her bullshit. She can play innocent as much as she pleases, but he recognizes the mischievous glint in her eyes, and her smile lines are a dead giveaway. He can't stay annoyed at her, though. Not with the way his heart squeezes at the mere sight of her.

Fighting back a smile, he grabs a stocking shape and presses it beside the cutout she had just made. "Usually I try to keep them as close as possible. We won't waste as much that way. Then, after that, we can eat the leftover dough. Deal?"

Steph grins, brushing her hands off on her pants and bringing them up to cup Pete's face. She kisses him briefly, reveling in the way his face turns bright red from the unexpectedness of it. When she pulls away, she gently presses their foreheads together, giggling. "Only you would have cookie making down to a science, Spankoffski."

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Thanks for tagging me to do your excellent poll tag game, @myladyofmercy 😊

rules: list 5 of your favourite books on a poll, so your followers can vote which book they think captures your vibe the best

Tagging: @sergeantpixie @jonairadreaming @purplesigebert @mistressaccost @mynameisbirdie @panalegs27

Book summaries from Goodreads below the cut:

Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca:

"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again..." Ancient, beautiful Manderley, between the rose garden and the sea, is the county's showpiece. Rebecca made it so - even a year after her death, Rebecca's influence still rules there. How can Maxim de Winter's shy new bride ever fill her place or escape her vital shadow? A shadow that grows longer and darker as the brief summer fades, until, in a moment of climatic revelations, it threatens to eclipse Manderley and its inhabitants completely...

Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go:

Hailsham seems like a pleasant English boarding school, far from the influences of the city. Its students are well tended and supported, trained in art and literature, and become just the sort of people the world wants them to be. But, curiously, they are taught nothing of the outside world and are allowed little contact with it. Within the grounds of Hailsham, Kathy grows from schoolgirl to young woman, but it’s only when she and her friends Ruth and Tommy leave the safe grounds of the school (as they always knew they would) that they realize the full truth of what Hailsham is. Never Let Me Go breaks through the boundaries of the literary novel. It is a gripping mystery, a beautiful love story, and also a scathing critique of human arrogance and a moral examination of how we treat the vulnerable and different in our society. In exploring the themes of memory and the impact of the past, Ishiguro takes on the idea of a possible future to create his most moving and powerful book to date.

Nick Hornby's Juliet, Naked:

Annie's put fifteen years into safe, slightly obsessive Duncan, and now she'd like her money back, please. It's time to move on. But she lives in Gooleness, the north's answer to a question nobody asked. Is she really going to find real, proper, feel-it-deep-down-in-your-boots love on a damp and windy seafront? Or perhaps she should follow her heart and pursue Tucker, the reclusive American rock star, who keeps emailing her his smart advice. But between Annie and her second chance lie a few obstacles. There's Malcolm, the world's most judgemental therapist, and Barnesy, the north's most extrovert dancer. There's what men and women will do and won't do for love. And, of course, there's Tucker...

Chris Van Allsburg's The Polar Express:

Late one Christmas Eve after the town has gone to sleep, the boy boards the mysterious train that waits for him: the Polar Express bound for the North Pole. When he arrives, Santa offers the boy any gift he desires. The boy modestly asks for one bell from the harness of the reindeer. The gift is granted. On the way home the bell is lost. On Christmas morning, the boy finds the bell under the tree. The mother of the boy admires the bell, but laments that it is broken—for you see, only believers can hear the sound of the bell.

Michael Cunningham's The Hours:

In The Hours, Michael Cunningham, widely praised as one of the most gifted writers of his generation, draws inventively on the life and work of Virginia Woolf to tell the story of a group of contemporary characters struggling with the conflicting claims of love and inheritance, hope and despair. The narrative of Woolf's last days before her suicide early in World War II counterpoints the fictional stories of Samuel, a famous poet whose life has been shadowed by his talented and troubled mother, and his lifelong friend Clarissa, who strives to forge a balanced and rewarding life in spite of the demands of friends, lovers, and family. Passionate, profound, and deeply moving, this is Cunningham's most remarkable achievement to date.

[nogoodthing-official]

No Good Thing

Volume 1: Special Delivery

Synopsis:

Brock and Maxim try to find a delivery that never arrived.

[I will add appearances for extra characters later on when I get a good idea of their designs]

Extra:

Here it is!! I hope the very first volume will be to your liking, but please tell me if there’s any errors I should fix. Hopefully I’ll get a better idea for any volume plots in the future! Merry Christmas!

Read:

A piercing sound jolted Brock out of sleep. He looked around frantically, his heart beating rapidly. He looks around to see what could even make that sound and sighs heavily in half-relief and half-embarrassment when he saw where the sound was coming from. 

Oh. His alarm clock.

He only started recently waking up with an alarm clock, and he was still not used to the sound that would startle him ad nauseum every time it was apparently now time to get up. He sluggishly reached over to his phone and wanted to shut off the alarm, or at least set it to snooze for a few minutes, but he knew that he needed to get up soon, if not now, a few seconds from now. He’s had trouble with sleeping in before, before he moved out. At one point it got so bad that he wouldn’t even come out of his room until 1:00 P.M. Maxim has been helping him get better at waking up at more active times of day, and he didn’t want him to relapse since his mental health has gotten better since then. Brock appreciated that he believed in him. He decided that it was best to just get up now and face whatever the day had planned for him. He sat up in his bed and looked at his phone. 7:00 A.M.

“Ughhh…”

As much as he didn’t want to let Maxim down, he had to admit, it was a rocky start.

Brock slides his legs over the side of the bed, grabs his blue shirt and khaki shorts to put on, and walks out of he and Maxim’s bedroom. He enters his bathroom and begrudgingly turns on the light, screwing his eyes shut until they get used to the sudden change of brightness of the room, dropping the clothes on the floor beside him. He leans forward with his arms braced against the sides of the sink like he would fall over any second, and faces himself in the mirror. Just as he expected. A mess. 

Brock really looked okay, as okay-looking as someone who just woke up could be. He had a medium tan skin tone dotted with two small moles on his right cheek. His eyes, which carried faint bags, were a deep brown color, so much so that they almost looked black from afar, unless light was shining into them. The unkempt hair that he was currently running a comb through was jet black and reached to his shoulders. He looked more annoyed than he usually did, given that he just woke up. He had a figure that most would call “athletic” and what he would call “stick-like”. To most, if not all people, he looked like a regular person. To him, he looked like Brock, which was worse in his eyes. After putting in as much effort as he tried to muster at 7:04 in the morning, he changes his clothes to the outfit he picked out and starts out the door, downstairs to greet Maxim for the morning.

Brock walked down the stairs, still in a half-asleep fugue state. He felt like his mind was running on autopilot today. Waking up this early was not his strong suit. As he reached the bottom, he worked through the brain fog as he finally saw a familiar face come into view.

Maxim sees Brock descending from upstairs and immediately smiles that warm smile that greets Brock every morning.

Brock could feel a drowsy smile start to etch its way onto his face as he greets him.

“Good morning, Max.”

“Hey! How did your second week of waking up with an alarm go?”

It was terrible. “It was a little rough. I almost had a heart attack from the alarm.”

Maxim chuckles a bit, his deep voice making the simple act sound soothing, and Brock can’t help but laugh with him, although less energetic. God, it should be illegal for someone to be this contagiously good-natured.

Maxim Torres, or Max as Brock and a few of his friends call him, was sitting at the table, eating cereal from a red bowl while reading something on his phone. He definitely woke up early before. Compared to himself, every single thing Brock saw in Max was beautiful. His eyes were an icy blue color, matching the equally cool undertone of his fair skin. He wore his dusty brown hair down to the middle of his back, and while he was only 2 inches taller than Brock, he was considerably more muscular and more built than him. He wasn't wearing one of his sweaters today (he always wore a blue sweater), but was instead wearing a black t-shirt with dark grey sweatpants, one of the two outfits that he wore to sleep. Max is one of the few people that gets to see more than one side of Brock, one of the two people that lives with him, and the only person that can get Brock to feel better without even trying. Needless to say, Brock loves him.

“Well, alarms always wake me up. Maybe we should change the alarm to something different for you.”

“Yeah, maybe I should.” Brock muttered. He appreciates his help, as much as alarms stress him out.

“Oh, I forgot to ask, do you remember that we were supposed to get yesterday?”

Brock snaps out of his haze, trying to get the sleep out of his voice.

“No… was it something important?”

“Uh, well,” Maxim chuckled sheepishly. “It’s important to me.”

“Hm. Well, is the package late? Didn’t you already get a message from the delivery guy saying that it arrived yesterday?”

“Yeah, I got it yesterday, but it never came. It’s weird...”

“That is weird… what about buying it again? It’s probably an option…”

Maxim leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “No. I want to track down and find where he is.”

Brock fully wakes up. “What? Why?”

“Because,” Maxim shows his the delivery guy’s route on his phone. “It says that his route stopped in a town almost two hours from here! He confirmed the delivery despite the fact that I haven’t heard from him since the stopping point, and any messages I’ve sent him haven’t been returned. I want to check to see or at least confirm that he’s still alive. I just don’t want to think that we have a… situation. On our hands.”

Brock scans over the screen. “Okay, that is weird, but why is this your first action? What is stopping you from just repurchasing whatever you bought?”

“The $40 I spent to have it delivered here.”

“…”

Brock takes a deep inhale and stands up. He stretches his back and slouches forward with a long exhale.

“Alright, get some clothes to wear, let’s just find this guy.”

They started the journey to the location, about 2.5 hours away on foot. The first 30 minutes went without a hitch, but the physical fatigue finally caught up with Brock at the 40 minute mark. Maxim, of course, barely looked tired, but more determined as time passed. After multiple rest stops, they reached the edge of their location at 6 P.M., and the sun was starting to go down. As they continued walking, they took in their surroundings.

“THAT FUCKING SUCKED.” Brock was tiredly dragging his feet a large distance behind Maxim. He didn’t like being outside because of many reasons, but the energy drain on his body was a huge reason why. Maxim reassures Brock that this is the final stretch.

“Okay, okay, let’s just find the guy, we still have a lot of time left.”

As they walked through the neighborhood at dusk, they realized how little of this town they actually knew. Every house looked identical, each lined up close to each other in a way that made the place almost look claustrophobic. Every light in the house was turned off, which was strange, as it was nowhere near the time where anyone is winding down yet. Many rows led to dead ends, but others led to roads that looked like they led to the middle of nowhere. It was like trying to navigate an artificial maze. They continued walking for almost 10 minutes, trying to find the spot where this delivery guy supposedly went. As they tried yet another row, they found a clue in the empty space between one of the houses and a tree; a box.

Maxim’s smile becomes bright enough to power a small village. “Look! There’s the package!!”

“hUh…??” Brock was about to pass out.

Maxim picks up his pace until he stops just short of the box, then circling it to inspect it for any damage. “Well, we found the box, but no deliverer.”

“Okay, we did it, let’s go home now please…”

Before Maxim can lift the box up, he hears a fretting whisper come from somewhere beside him. “Wait, don’t touch it!”

Maxim whirls around until he spots an arm coming from some abandoned animal burrow beside the tree. The arm shakily pulls forward the person it’s attached to; the delivery guy. Right now, he looks scared for his life.

“Please, you have to leave, now!”

“Wait, why? Why are you hiding?” Maxim asks.

Brock taps on Maxim’s shoulder. “Hey, Max? I don’t know why, but I’ve been getting a bad feeling about this place after a while. Everything looks so… off here. Maybe we should just make an exception this once and reorder it again-“

“Wait…what’s that noise?”

The sound of asphalt footsteps silence all three of them. They all collectively turn towards the source as they see a quintet of approaching shadows down the road. Maxim preemptively picks up the box while the delivery guy retreats back into his hidey-hole. Then, the group seems to stop in the shade of one of the houses, purposefully obscuring their faces. A voice then comes from the closest silhouette, shattering the silence with how loud it was.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going with that?”

The voice sounded… young. In fact, it sounded prepubescent. It sounded like a little girl’s voice than anything threatening. As the shadow steps forward, lo and behold, there was the source.

The girl was about two-thirds the height of each one of them, but she carried her stature and projected her voice like she was the one who had the upper hand in this situation. The group behind her, which also looked equally as young, finally stepped into the visibility of the moonlight. It was just a gaggle of formidable preteen girls, combing the streets at night like a group of stray cats. Probably more intimidating to an elementary school boy, but confusing to a group of adults in their near 30s.

Brock was the first to break the long gap of silence. “Uh… I’m sorry, do you need help with something?”

“No. But I can’t help but notice that your friend over there is carrying the spoils of today’s looting.”

Brock turns to the delivery guy, still cowering in his hiding spot. “This is what you were so afraid of that you couldn’t leave??”

“They were threatening me, okay?!”

The girl whistles to get the attention back on her. “Alright, I’ve humored this situation long enough,” she says as she makes her way towards Maxim and the box. “We’ll just take these hats and we can just pretend that this never happened-“

Brock snatches the box from Maxim before she can lay her hands on it. “I’m sorry, hats?? That is what we traveled 2 hours for?”

Maxim nervously laughs through his confession. “Uh, haha- well I’ve been meaning to try and restart a collection-!”

“The box.” The little girl demands.

Brock ignores her. “Whatever, the only reason I’m not thinking about leaving this here is because it cost $40 to ship it-“

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere with that. We found it first.”

“Little girl, we paid for it first.” Brock retorts. “You’ll learn about it when you get older.”

The girl seethes silently, before taking a deep breath inwards. “Alright. You asked for this.”

Brock hands the box back to Maxim. “How will you even convince us to do what you want? You’re all shorter than us and are physically weaker than three adults.”

“Maybe,” the girl then snaps her fingers as all of the girls suddenly brandish large bags of stones. “But everyone is weak against blunt force damage.”

Brock actually falters back a little. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding- Max, grab the delivery guy and get ready to run-!”

With no warning, the leader of the group throws a stone that actually connects with Brock’s forehead. Brock lets out a cry of pain as he presses his hand to his forehead. He pulls it back, panting in pain, and he sees a smear of blood.

Maxim pulls the delivery guy out from the hole. “Alright, we’re getting out of here, Brock, get a head start, I’ll distract them!”

Brock starts to bolt back down the street. Before the girls can notice that he made a break for it, Maxim throws one of the hats down the opposite way, accompanied by the chorus of squeals telling one of the members to catch it. Maxim takes the box and the delivery guy and runs down the road to catch up with Brock. The diversion would only buy them a few seconds of time, but they needed to take what they could get.

Maxim and the delivery guy catch up with Brock, who was already sitting near the exit of the neighborhood. His legs hurt, his lungs burned, his forehead was still throbbing from having a stone lobbed at it, and he was sitting beside the stop sign panting like he had just run a marathon.

“Where… where are they…?”

“They’re all the way back there, but it won’t be long until they catch up. Now, do we have everything?”

Brock pauses to take in more air. “What do mean ‘do we have everything,’ we didn’t pack anything!”

“Right. Glad you’re okay.”

Their convening was cut short by distant shouting coming from the road behind them. Maxim and the delivery guy start to panic.

Brock calls for Maxim. “Max? …Pick the box back up, I’m gonna go buy us some more time. And be ready, okay?”

Maxim wordlessly follows his request. Brock gets back up off of the ground and sees the group in the distance, running towards them.

“Hey Max? I actually took the rock she threw with me before I ran. You might not like what I do next.”

He then takes said stone out of his pocket, takes a running start towards them, and uses his momentum to launch the rock towards them, where it lands directly on the leader’s forehead. The girl trips and tumbles over, and her friends convene around her, all of them chattering and asking if she was bleeding, or still awake, etc. She was definitely still conscious since they could hear her crying from the exit.

Maxim turns to Brock, in shock.

“Did you just throw a rock at a child??”

“I know, but we have much more time to escape their line of sight, come on!”

Brock takes off further down the road towards the forest clearing they walked through to get here. Maxim whirls his head from the group of kids and a rapidly departing Brock, before picking up the box again and urging the delivery guy to follow him.

Maxim calls after him. “We’re gonna talk about this when we get back home!”

It was now nighttime, and they finally reached the clearing in the forest that used to mark their final stretch of the trip. It looked like a natural sunroof for moonlight, with the rest of a forest forming a large opening shaped like an oval. The trees were pink around here, but the low light combined with the blue tint of the moonlight made them look more indigo. This, along with the falling petals, gave this place an appearance that looked like a scene from a movie, and gave the area an aura that would make anyone just happy. If this place was a painting, it would be in a museum.

They were not in any condition to enjoy the scenery, though. They were all catching their breath in the middle of the clearing and were all about to pass out from exhaustion. Brock started coughing, his lungs were hurting from so much running.

“I think we… finally lost them…”

Maxim drops down to sit on the grassy floor, setting the box beside him, and tries to take some even breaths. “This has been… way too adventurous for me.”

Brock lets out an exhausted laugh. “Yeah… I don’t know if this was the best idea… but at least we got your stuff back, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah of course. I just didn’t expect it to be an all-day thing…”

Brock laughs with a bit more energy before collapsing beside Maxim onto his back. “Me neither. This… sucked.”

They both start to laugh amongst themselves as they realize just how ridiculous this situation is. Their laughter is cut short by footsteps in the trail they just came from. They both stand up and Maxim grabs the package, and all are ready to run. Instead of the leading girl, they instead see a different girl from her group. She puts her hands up defensively.

“Hey, it’s alright, I’m unarmed.”

The girl continues to walk to about a few feet away from Brock and Maxim, with the delivery guy right on the edge of the clearing, ready to run.

“You gave her quite the goose-egg, but she’ll live.” Maxim slightly decompresses and lets out a small sigh of relief, since he didn’t know if a girl that young would survive a small rock to the head. Things are silent for a moment before he decides to de-escalate the tension.

“L-listen, I’m very sorry about what he did, and I hope that that girl isn’t incredibly injured. But I have to ask, why did you feel the need to jump a delivery guy and steal a random person’s package, and how many times have you done this? I get that some friend groups make you feel like you’re inseparable from them since they’ve been there your whole life, but that doesn’t mean that you’re expected to follow through with every single plan they have. What would your parents think if they heard about you robbing someone and then chasing a group of people down the street?”

The little girl is silent for a moment. It looks like she’s really thinking about the question. She finally gives her response.

“My parents are dead.”

Maxim feels like he’s made a horrible mistake.

“… oh.”

A very long, very awkward stretch of silence ensues.

Brock fidgets with his hair before deciding to break the silence.

“Hey, I know you probably don’t want to hear anything from me, since I… injured your friend. Sorry. But, as a peace offering, I think you should have this.”

Brock reaches into the box and pulls out a hat at random. He then walks over and crouches down to the little girl’s level.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone that close to me… what you did is still extremely illegal, but I don’t think you should go back empty-handed. I still think you’re a nice person underneath the exterior that we had to witness tonight, but here’s hoping that it’s more visible to more people next time.”

He then hands her the hat, before standing back up and taking the box with him as he exits the forest clearing. Maxim stands still, still slightly in shock before shaking off the feeling and taking off after him. As he leaves, he calls out “Sorry for your loss,” before disappearing after him.

The girl looks down at the hat before shifting her attention to the delivery guy, who just started sneaking out of the place.

“HEY!”

The man freezes in fear. The girl just holds out her hand.

“Wallet.”

The delivery guy, seeing no other way out of this, just sighs and forks it over. She smiles sweetly as she pulls out a couple of dollars before dropping the wallet on the forest floor.

“You’re doing a good thing, y’know. This’ll pay for all the band-aids we’ll need to buy.”

She turns on her heel and practically skips back towards her town with money and a new hat.