#then i asked for a side of sauce and she said ‘you don’t order it’

[willowfey]

i just had the worst autistic experience at a quick serve restaurant where i was trying to order the “chicken with 2 sides” option, which i was trying to make macaroni and yuca fries.

what the employee SHOULD have said was “yuca fries cannot be chosen for this meal as they are a Specialty Side, and only original sides qualify for this specific meal”. i would have understood perfectly. instead what did she keep repeating to me over and over, getting annoyed when i didn’t understand?

“what it says on the menu and what you’re asking for are two different things”

….. bitch what?????

i damn near cried no matter what i asked she would not explain it to me differently i was ready to give up my order entirely until my mother stepped up to figure it out for me.

catch me making my own food at home for the rest of the WEEK at least

[greynatomy]

unexpected

katie mccabe x reader

this was requested from wp

kinda made caitlin as the ‘bad guy’ but it’s for the plot

i also updated my rules for requesting and added the footballer who i’ll take requests for

———

Another day, another training done for the Arsenal women’s team. Katie sat on the sidelines, catching her breath and winding down from the scrimmage. As she’s drinking from her bottle, a shadow casts over her.

“Hi, Katie.”

“Caitlin.” She acknowledges the Australian.

“Uh, well, I was wondering if you wanted to try this restaurant I found last week?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They have really amazing food. So?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll tell the team.”

“No, wait.” She tries to clear up her intentions, but Katie already walked away. “Great.”

Two hours later, the whole team had met at ‘Sapori’ and waited at the front of the building for everyone to show up.

“Hey.”

Looking to her left, she see’s Caitlin shuffling closer to her.

“Hi.”

“This is a really great restaurant. The ambiance is amazing so I’m glad you’re here to try it out.” Caitlin breaks the moment of awkwardness.

Katie’s lips form a tight smile. “Yeah, I’ve only heard great things.”

“Alright, let’s head in.” They heard Leah say as everyone that could make it has finally shown up.

It took a while for everyone to figure out where ghey want to sit, but they made it work. Katie took her place at one end of the table, Caitlin taking place on her left side.

Conversations were flowing freely, everyone with a smile on their face. Katie was chatting it up with Beth and Viv when she feels a hand delicately going up and down her arm, making her flinch her arm away.

“What’re you doin’?” Katie snaps, eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry, just wanted your attention.” Caitlin frowns.

“Okay.” She slowly nods. “Just don’t do that again.”

The food came out soon after, everyone hungry and diggin in.

“Sorry, excuse me? We didn’t order these.” Leah spoke up when extra dishes were placed on the table. Katie didn’t care, she dug into all that she could reach.

“These are just some dishes that the owner would like you all to try.”

“Well, please thank her for us.”

Everyone was in their own little groups talking about anything and everything at the same time. A couple of moments go by when Katie feels small hands on her thighs. Looking down she sees a little girl who seems to try and get onto her lap. So what does she do? she helps the girl up, getting her comfortable on her lap and wrapping an arm around her.

Said child, once content on Katie’s lap, grabs the fork and starts eating the food in front of her. Katie occasionally wipes her mouth with a napkin, the child unbothered by it.

Too occupied in helping the kid eat, she doesn’t see the looks on her friends’ faces. The group silently observes Katie and the kid, seeing how comfortable they are with each other.

The kid turns in Katie’s lap, hands going on both cheeks pulling her close. Katie thinks she’s going for a kiss so she leans down, except instead of a kiss, the gnocchi that was once in the kid’s mouth, was now in Katie’s.

“Ugh, Em! Not again.” She spits it out, wiping her mouth after. All Emmy does is laugh and goes back to eating. A couple of throats can be heard clearing, making Katie look up to see all her friends staring at her. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You’ve got a child on your lap.”

“Ye’ and?”

“Who’s child is that?”

“Completely hers.” A voice speaks up before Katie could answer. “She’s a menace and gets it from her mammy.”

“Mamma! Io mangio!”

“I can see! You’ve got sauce all over your face.” You wipe her face with a napkin. “How are you guys enjoying everything?” You ask the group.

“Oh, it’s amazing! Best thing I’ve ever eaten!” Beth exclaims.

“Who are you?” Caitlin asks.

“I am the owner of Sapori, Y/N McCabe. So nice to meet all of you. And yes, I know the last name isn’t Italian, but I just so happened to fall for an Irish.”

“Oi! Don’t make it seem like that’s a bad thing.”

“Oi!” Emmy echos.

“Wait!” Kyra says very loudly. “McCabe? So does that mean Katie’s your—”

“—Wife? Yes, unfortunately.”

“You’re beeing cheeky. Stop it.” She boops your nose.

You start to pick up some of the empty plates, giving everyone a smile.

“Hey, hey, hey! What’re you doin’?”

“I’m gonna take these back?”

“You’re not allowed to carry anything!���

“Katie, babe. I’m pregnant, not crippled. Plus, I’m barely even showing.”

“Aww, you’re pregnant?” Kyra goes to touch your stomach, but her hand gets smacked away by Katie.

“Katie! Be nice. And yes, I am.”

As the rest of the team fusses over Emmy and your belly, Caitlin decides to speak to Katie.

“So, you’re married?”

“Yup.”

“Why’d you make it seem like you were interested in me.” Katie didn’t know if she was being serious or not, but started laughing out loud.

“I don’t know what you’re on about mate. Probably just a figment of your imagination.”

[inmyheaddd]

fade into you - grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: more girl dad grayson 🙈 also i’m getting around to doing my requests so send some!! wc: 1k masterlist

grayson walked into the house, his mood instantly lifting once he smelled the familiar scent of your candles, and something being cooked. 

his eyes softened as he entered the kitchen and saw you making pasta with freya on your hip. she was telling you a story, and you were intently listening, nodding along. 

“what are my favorite girls up to?” he asked as he walked up to you.

“m’helping mommy cook dinner!” freya exclaimed.

you smiled once you noticed grayson’s presence, “she’s doing such a good job, you know? she helped me add the salt all by herself. isn’t that right fifi?” you added, her nickname rolling off your tongue lovingly. 

“yep!” she nodded enthusiastically.

“aw, my love. i’m so proud of you!” grayson cooed at her, kissing her forehead. 

he couldn’t help but pinch her tiny cheeks, to which she started giggling at. 

“dada stop! i’m a big girl now, i’m not a baby.” 

“you’re right, honey, i’m sorry.” he smiled at her. 

“s’fine… don’t do it again, okay?” she her hand out for a pinky promise, something she did often with her father. 

“i promise.” he said, interlinking his pinky with hers, before coming over to the other side of you, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back. 

“hi, my love, i missed you today.” he mumbled into your hair, kissing the top of your head. 

“i missed you too. you have no idea.” you tore your gaze away from the stove and looked to him, before pressing your lips to kiss in a quick kiss. 

“freya’s been screaming all morning. she only just calmed down, she’s a little devil sometimes.” you chuckled lightly as you stirred the pasta sauce in the pan.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t here,” he was now moving his hand up and down your back, “i’ll take her while you cook, yeah?” 

“you don’t have to, i’m all good.” you protested, but to no avail. 

“i want to, i can finish cooking and you can go relax, sweetheart.” he placed a kiss on your neck before moving over to get freya.

freya was preoccupied, braiding and curling pieces of your hair around her fingers.

“freya, do you want to come hang out with dad? we can cook while mommy rests.” 

“nuh-uh, i like mommy’s cooking more.” 

grayson chocked back a laugh, but you weren’t so successful in hiding your own.

“baby, don’t say that, it hurts daddy’s feelings.” you said as you attempted a serious face.

“but it’s true!” 

grayson joined in on the laughter, “for the record, i love your cooking gray.” 

“i don’t…” freya muttered quietly.

“thankyou, it means a lot, truly.” grayson was still chuckling, and so were you.

after some coaxing, grayson convinced freya to let you have a break. she asked him to his makeup, and it was impossible to say no.

he was sat on the floor of freya’s room, as she was standing in between his legs, poking her tongue out in concentration. 

“guess what?” she whispered loudly as she packed more eyeshadow onto grayson’s eyelids.

“what?”

“i have a secret,”

he hummed, raising an eyebrow with his eyes closed, “what is it, honey?” 

“i stole mommy’s makeup.” she giggled, and kept giggling. 

“oh really?” grayson chuckled and peeked an eye open, to see that she was applying your well-loved dior blush onto his eyelids. there were countless other products on the floor too, next to your makeup bag.

“hey, close your eyes!” she ordered, and her slight lisp made grayson laugh. 

“i’m sorry. just don’t forget to put mommy’s things back, alright?” 

“okay. you won’t tell, right?”

“my lips are sealed.” he held his pinky out, and was left hanging.

she stopped her eyeshadow application and gasped excitedly, “lipstick! you reminded me.”

you finished your well deserved everything shower and walked into the kitchen, and it was almost impossible to hold back your laugh when you saw grayson with pink sparkly eyelids and messy lipstick, with his sleeves rolled up finishing off your cooking.

“oh honey!” you snickered, “you look so wonderful, did you do that makeup yourself?” you teased as you walked up to him, placing your hands on the sides of his face. 

the way he was looking at you made your knees buckle, if it weren’t for his hand that instantly found your waist when you approached.

“no mommy, i did it!” freya ran up to where you two were standing, grayson moving you both forwards slightly so she wouldn’t be close to the stove. 

“aw freya, you did such a good job! i love it.”

“can i do yours too? please please please?”

grayson spoke up, “i can help too, freya’s taught me a lot of practical skills.” he grinned at you, the very same grin you fell for what seems like a lifetime ago. 

“yes! daddy can help, please?” she jumped up and down excitedly, giving you her best puppy eyes.

now you were equally as sparkly as grayson, and freya wanted to take a photo, “like how dad always does”, she said.

“okay, smile!”, she was holding her own little camera grayson had gotten her a while ago.

you posed with hand was on your hip, and grayson’s arm around your waist. 

after a moment, freya spoke up again “dad! look at the camera, not at mommy.” 

you both laughed, and freya snapped a photo. “perfect! now, daddy, kiss mommy!” 

grayson’s eyebrows rose and he smiled at you. you jokingly rolled your eyes before leaning in to peck him, your hands on his chest and your leg slightly kicking up behind you. 

“like a princess…” freya muttered in awe, before placing her little camera down and running up to you two. 

grayson lifted her up with one arm, the other  still around you. 

you moved forward to kiss freya’s cheek, and grayson watched with the gentlest smile painted on his face. with his two favorite people both in his arms, he felt like the luckiest man alive.

“what are you smiling at?” you mused at him, unable to hide your own smile. 

“nothing,” he slightly shook his head, his gaze unwavering.

he set freya down and she giggled as she ran out of the room, before grayson captured your lips in the softest of kisses.

with your hands around his neck, this time, your foot kicked up involuntarily. grayson did really make you feel like a princess, like you were his whole world. 

[alienguts]

Stay with Me (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce and Y/N's tentative first date gets extended when a storm floods the roads.

Warnings: Fluff, idiots with feelings who can't communicate them properly.

Request?: Not really, but I like writing this dynamic to see where the relationship goes.

A/N: I doubt anybody would ever have a problem with how fictional dogs are characterised, but I like to think that Ace and Titus are friendly pups who like people.

1 - Picking up the Pieces | 2 - Kintsugi | 3 - Stay with Me |

Earlier in the week, Bruce had asked Y/N to come over for dinner. Neither of them had said the word ‘date’, but it was certainly treated like one.

The plan was originally for the two of them to order pizza and eat it in front of the TV while Y/N showed Bruce all the movies that he’d missed out on over the years, but the rest of the Wayne household had other ideas.

As soon as she’d pressed the doorbell,the front door was flung open to reveal Damian suited up for patrol, his brothers crowding the doorway around him. The small boy tried to keep his composure as his much taller brothers tried to push past him, eager to finally see Y/N after missing her for so long.

“Boys, you have to let Y/N come in,” Bruce’s voice came from behind the wall of geared up heroes.

“We just wanted to say hi to her before we go,” Dick said as he stepped away from the door first.

“Before you go?” Y/N asked in surprise. “Where are you going?”

“Bruce put us on patrol so he can stay here for your date,” Tim said and tried to yank Damian away from her side.

Y/N looked at Bruce and saw his face turn pink in embarrassment.

“It’s not a date,” Bruce said quickly. “We’re just having dinner, that’s all.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” Jason said drily before slinking off into the manor, Tim and Dick following behind him after waving to Y/N.

Just as she was about to step inside the manor, Y/N felt a tap on her side. She turned her attention back to Damian, who had yet to follow the others.

“It was nice to see you, Y/N,” he said before heading down to the Cave.

“When did he get so nice?” Y/N asked once Damian was completely out of earshot. “No offence.”

“None taken,” Bruce said as he closed the front door behind her. “We all know how Damian can be. He must have missed you.”

When the cool evening air was shut out, the smell of food trailing in from the kitchen got stronger. The unmistakable smell of toasted bread and melted cheese filled Y/N’s senses and made her mouth water.

“You already ordered without me?” she asked as they made their way towards the kitchen.

“Not exactly,” Bruce said sheepishly.

A large cheese pizza sat in the middle of the kitchen island, steam rising from its surface. The counter against the wall was dusted with flour and an empty bowl of red sauce was ready to go into the dishwasher.

“Ah, so nice to see you Ms Y/N!” Alfred said as he appeared from behind the refrigerator door.

“Alfred made it for us,” Bruce said.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Alfred said with a warm smile. “We haven’t seen you in such a long time, I thought I would make something special.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Y/N said and took a seat at the counter. “Your cooking is just as good as ordering takeout.”

“You’re too kind, Ms Y/N.” Alfred took off the apron he was wearing and hung it up on a hook on a wall before making his way back to the foyer. “Enjoy your evening.”

Once Alfred had gone, Y/N turned to face Bruce who was now the colour of a tomato. She had to stop herself from laughing as he buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“Sorry about all of that,” he said as he took a seat next to her. “When I told them you were coming over, they all acted like it was Christmas.”

“I don’t mind,” Y/N said and took the pizza cutter that Alfred had left on the counter. “I like seeing your family.”

“Obviously they like seeing you too.” He watched as she cut two slices and passed one to him. “Wait, let me get some silverware.”

Y/N laughed before taking a bite of her slice.

“You’ve never changed, Bruce,” she said around the bite of hot pizza. “Just eat it with your hands!”

“Old habits die hard, huh?”

Although Y/N hadn’t expected the night to go wrong, it went a lot better than she’d expected. Since Bruce had sent the boys out on patrol duty and Alfred was keeping track of the comms, there were no distractions other than Ace and Titus sniffing around and wanting to be cuddled.

While Titus was more wary of Y/N, having been trained by Damian to be on watch, Ace was more than happy to shove his snout under her arm and wedge himself between her and Bruce. Despite being a German Shepherd, he seemed to want to be a lap dog.

The night was spent in front of the seldom-used television in the living room, Y/N showing Bruce her favourite movies and shows that he’d missed out on. And that turned out to be almost every movie and show ever made.

“Bruce, how can you have a subscription to every single streaming service and have not even seen The Simpsons?” she’d asked at one point.

“I don’t exactly have the time to be sitting around watching cartoons, Y/N,” he said with a laugh.

“Well, fighting crime and running a company and attending charity events doesn’t allow for a lot of leisure time.”

By 10pm, Y/N decided that it was time for her to head back home. She still had the weekend ahead of her but she didn’t really want to spend the last part of her night stuck in traffic.

There was just one problem: it had started raining. Heavily.

Y/N had never seen so much rain before. As a native Gothamite, she knew how extreme the weather could be at times, especially during the colder months. But this was torrential.

Thankfully, Wayne Manor was on higher ground and away from any likely flooding but the same couldn’t be said for her apartment on the Lower East Side. She watched the rain from the safety of the living room, worrying about how she would get home, or whether she could get home at all.

“It’s really coming down out there, huh?” Bruce said from behind her, snapping her out of her head.

“Yeah,” she said, her breath fogging up the window. “God, I hope the roads are okay.”

“You could always spend the night here,” he said casually. Maybe a little too casually.

“What?” Y/N asked as she turned around in surprise.

“I can get Alfred to make up the guest room for you. I didn’t mean, spend the night.”

“Oh,” Y/N breathed in relief. 

They hadn’t made anything official yet, weren’t even calling the date a ‘date’, so why had her mind immediately jumped to that?

“But I don’t have anything to change into, or my toothbrush,” Y/N said quickly, trying to make the air a little less awkward.

“That’s no problem, I can get you some clothes and I’m sure we’ve got a spare toothbrush or two.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked as she moved away from the window. “I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Y/N,” Bruce said and rested his hands on her shoulders. “You’re family to us. You’re not intruding and I’m sure the boys will love you to stay over.”

Her heart warmed at hearing him speak so earnestly. She’d never been able to explain why she’d never felt comfortable in the manor when Selina was around, but it was all down to her own insecurities and jealousy. She hated to admit it to herself, but she hated being around them when they were a couple and she felt like she’d been cast aside, whether or not that was the case.

She didn’t care that it was selfish to think that Selina being out of the picture gave her her best friend back, but it was like he was finally seeing her again after years of being invisible. Like Bruce wanted her to be in his life again and wanted her to know that.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, her head resting on his chest as she listened to his heart pick up its pace.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Bruce returned her hug and rested his cheek on the top of her head, crouching down slightly so he could reach her.

“You’re always welcome here,” he said. “I can’t speak for everyone else, but I think the atmosphere would be better around here with you.”

Y/N lifted her head from his chest, about to step away, when he gently pulled her onto her toes and captured her lips with his own. She startled slightly at first before letting him guide her, moving her hands from his chest to loop loosely around his neck, the hair at the nape of his neck just brushing her fingers. Their lips moved together softly, chaste enough to not escalate the situation but just passionate enough to feel it.

Once again, it was over too soon for Y/N’s liking. Bruce pulled away and briefly rested his forehead against hers before standing up straight again. He reluctantly released her from his hold and took her hand to lead her upstairs.

“C’mon, we’d better find you something to wear.”

When Bruce had said that he’d find something for Y/N to wear to bed, she didn’t expect him to give her his clothes. The look on her face when he’d handed them to her must have said something.

“I didn’t want to look through the boys’ clothes so I just got something out of my closet,” he said. “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N said and took them before opening the door for the guest bedroom.

Bruce, naturally, was still wide awake and was going to join Alfred in the Cave but stayed up to help him make up the guest room and wish Y/N goodnight. Usually when she stayed over at a friend's house, she expected to sleep on their couch, not in a lavish guest room. But, then again, most people weren’t best friends with a billionaire.

“I had a really good night,” Y/N said as she lingered in the doorway . “We should have another night like this.”

“We should,” Bruce said with a warm smile. “I think the boys will be happy about that too. They were always asking when the next time you were coming over was.”

“Well, hopefully you can tell them that I’ll see them more often.”

“Don’t be surprised if they almost knock the door down tomorrow morning.”

They were quiet for a moment, neither of them wanting the night to end, but tiredness taking over Y/N’s body. She tried her best to stifle a yawn but only made herself look more tired.

“I’ll let you get some sleep,” Bruce said before stroking the side of her face with the back of his fingers and leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Good night, Bruce,” Y/N said before reluctantly slinking into the bedroom.

As soon as the door softly clicked shut, Y/N inhaled deeply and slowly let her breath out. The night had felt like a dream and she couldn’t help but feel like she was going to wake up and find out that it had never happened. But the bundle of clothes in her arms told her differently.

She crossed the room to the bed and set the clothes down on it before undressing. Her own clothes felt scratchy and cheap in comparison to Bruce’s. He always told her that designer clothes weren’t important to him, but the quality of them clearly did. She pulled the plain grey t-shirt over her head and donned the sweatpants and sighed when the soft cotton brushed against her skin.

If she closed her eyes, it felt like Bruce was still with her, his strong arms circling her body and the scent of his cologne filling her senses. The clothes were far too big for her, but that didn’t stop her from feeling completely at ease.

Things were still moving slowly for the two of them; Bruce was still recovering from heartbreak, after all. But a slow pace was better than nothing. Y/N didn’t want to completely ruin everything by coming across too strong, but she wished Bruce was really there to sleep next to her.

Wearing his clothes would have to do for now.

As she drifted off to sleep, her mind conjured up the feeling of him holding her in his arms, stroking her hair, an echo of his heartbeat in her ear. Hopefully the next step in their relationship would come sooner rather than later, but she was willing to wait for him.

Even if that took forever.

[catindabag]

TBOSAS on Crack short take (43)

Coral: I’ll be honest, our Menders-

Lucy Gray: Mentors.☺️

Coral: *glares at Lucy Gray* Our Menders might be a bunch of drunk idiots, but their gift baskets and cookies were delicious.

Otto: True. I can’t seem to stop eating the blueberry flavored ones.

Mizzen: Hey, does anyone want to donate their shares to me-

Panlo: For the last time, 4, we are not giving you our shares!

Mizzen: Why?!

Panlo: You know why!

Mizzen: Seriously, I don’t-

Ginnee: You literally stole and ate half of our goods already!

Dill: You also stole and ate Wovey’s last cookie.

Mizzen: That was Brandy!

Brandy: No, it wasn’t! I was too busy stealing and eating Reaper’s-

Reaper: That was you, 10?!

Brandy: See! I told you I was committing a totally different crime at that time.

Mizzen: Fine. It was me.

Reaper: You heartless little shi-

Mizzen: But you guys weren’t eating them!

Treech: Obviously, we were saving them for later!

Mizzen: But I’m hungry.🥺

Reaper: How are you still hungry?! You literally stole all of Lamina’s cookies!

Mizzen: But I thought she didn’t want them-

Reaper: Look at her! She’s still crying over them!

Lamina: My cookies!😭

Mizzen: Well, we can always wait for pretty boy (Coryo) and his rich boyfriend (Sejanus) to give us more food-

Marcus: Please stop mentioning idiot Plinth in front of me and my stale bread.

Treech: Why, Marcus? Are you embarrassed to see your friend again-

Marcus: Idiot Plinth is not my friend!😠

Lucy Gray: But you still ate the cookies he gave you-

Marcus: I ate them out of spite!

Coral: And you’re also invited to their upcoming wedding-

Marcus: Don’t remind me!

Circ: I’ll go to their wedding if you don’t.

Lucy Gray: Me too!

Mizzen: Free food is free food.

Marcus: Ughhh! Why are you supporting crazy Plinth and his pretty blonde boyfriend?!

Lucy Gray: FYI, Coryo’s hair is not blonde. It’s white as snow-

Marcus: You’re even using his stupid nickname!

Lucy Gray: We’re best friends.☺️

Marcus: Since when?!

Lucy Gray: Since the moment I promised Coryo and Sejanus that I’ll sing ✨Snow On The Beach✨ and ✨Lover✨ on their wedding day.😌💅

Marcus: Don’t say his name!

Lucy Gray: Sejanus.

Marcus: I hate you-

Sejanus: Hi, guys!😊

Tanner: What the heck?!

Jessup: How did you get in here?!

Coryo: My fiancé payed the Peacekeepers to let us in.

Coral: That’s allowed?!

Lucy Gray: Hi, Coryo!

Coryo: Hey, Birdy.

Sejanus: Hi, Marcus!

Marcus: I ain’t Marcus!

Sejanus: But-

Lucy Gray: I thought you guys were punished by your Dean for ruining your fancy school’s reputation?

Sejanus: We were!😀

Coryo: And this is our punishment.

Treech: To annoy us?!

Coryo: Unfortunately, no. But we were ordered by ✨The Academy✨ to bring you guys some food and supplies.

Lucy Gray: How did you even get your fancy school to support us?

Coryo: ✨Ravinstill Nepotism✨.

Reaper: Ravinstill?!

Coryo: It’s the most powerful name in the Capitol.

Coral: So where are they, Blondie? Where’s my cheesecake and burgers?

Coryo: Well, I was thinking about asking you guys what you want to eat because Sejanus said that we could order takeouts today.

Dill: What’s a takeout?

Coryo: Basically, you order the food that you want to eat and someone will deliver it here for you.

Lucy Gray: We can order anything?!

Coryo: Anything. My boyfriend is rich AF.

Sejanus: Order what you want, Coryo, my love, my Snow Angel!😍

Coryo: See. I told you he’ll pay for it.

Tanner: Must be nice to be Plinth’s sugar baby-

Coryo: Boyfriend.

Tanner: Sugar-

Coryo: Boyfriend.

Tanner: Baby.

Lucy Gray: Fiancé!😀

Sejanus: Husband!😘

Mizzen: I want a stuffed salmon with lemon sauce on the side!

Coral: One roasted lobster and hash browns for me!

Tanner: Baby back ribs with fries!

Dill: Green Bean Casserole!

Jessup: One stuffed turkey!

Panlo: A grilled cheese sandwich!

Lucy Gray: Smashed Potatoes with love on the side!😘

Lamina: My cookies!😭

Brandy: Chicken! A whole ass chicken!

Coryo: Slow down! I can’t keep up with all of you shouting at the same time!

Wovey: Can we order a whole serving of Apple Berry Pie?

Coryo: Anything for you, sweetie.

Sejanus: How about you, Marcus?

Marcus: I’m on diet.

Sejanus: But-

Coryo: Babe, let me do it.

Sejanus: Ok.😞

Coryo: How about you, Marcus?

Marcus: Give me a hundred chicken nuggets. I’m hungry.🥺

[lilyrizzy]

sorry to post so much everyone, promise i will resume to writing fic only like, once every three months after this lol

“That is a very nice watch, Max.”

It’s Victoria who is the first to notice it, the two of them sat out on his and Daniel’s balcony, the August evening warm. Between them are two empty bottles of wine and a quarter full bottle of gin. Inside, her babies are sleeping on the pull out beds, and Daniel has taken Tom into their ‘hobby room’, where Max’s sim lives also, to show him the newest addition to his camera collection. Apparently the one Tom had been using to document their children as they grow died a smoky death last week, losing all the photos of baby Lio in the process.

“Daniel got it for me,” is all he says, glancing down at his wrist.

It’s Tag Heuer of course, because Max has to wear those kind with the sponsorship rules, but this one is much nicer than the big flashy ones he usually gets for free. More you, Maxy, Daniel had explained nervously when Max opened the box to see it for the first time. A classic, smooth black leather strap instead of the usual shiny silver metal, the face a little smaller, round. In the middle, where the two hands of the clock meet, a tiny little diamond that you can only see if you look close enough, like a secret. The real secret is, of course, the inscription on the back, the engraved cursive words, for my world champion.

It’s so lovely. Max hates it a little bit.

Victoria lets out a laugh that bounces loudly through the too-still night air.

“Oh no,” she says, voice teasing. “You do not like it?” When he looks up from where he’s been staring at it, her eyebrows are raised.

Max has had maybe a little too much to drink, if he’s letting his complicated feeling about the watch show on his face, but it is the summer break of course, so it’s okay, and this is his sister. Maybe he can tell her what he is sometimes too afraid to think about on his own.

“I like it,” he insists, “but-“

“Max it is okay,” she says with another laugh, her cheeks bright pink from the wine she has drunk. She says it like she is trying to help him by telling him how he feels. “Sometimes they do not always get these things right, yes? The nice thing is that they try.”

But that isn’t it. This isn’t like the time Tom brought Victoria a pair of shoes for her birthday and she had telephoned Max to ask unhappily, “do I look like the type of person who would wear Michael Kors,” like Max was supposed to know who that was. Daniel is good at presents. He is very good at making Max happy.

“I do like it,” he tries again, a little defensive now on Daniel’s behalf. His words slur together a little, and without realising it, he’s switched back to Dutch. “It is lovely, I- It even has something written just for me on the other side, so of course it is special, I just- I thought-“

He thinks back to that night, two weeks ago now, the first of summer break that they got to be alone together. The first of their break, five nights to spend in some outrageously flashy Ibiza villa that Daniel booked, 120 hours stretching out in front of them, almost too sweet like toffee.

By the pool, laughing together, as they twirled pasta around their forks. Daniel had made it for Max, one of his ‘sabbatical projects’, to get better at cooking. That way you can hire me as your chef Maxy, if I don’t get a seat, yeah? It was so nice because the rich tomato sauce almost tasted the same as Max’s favourite kind of soup, and when Max had told Daniel that his face had gone all soft the way Max loved to see it, like he’d said all the right words in the right order.

“I’ve got something for you actually,” Daniel had said then, and he’d leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Max’s mouth before getting from his chair to go and get his present.

When he’d come back with a black box and a shy, nervous smile on his face, Max’s heart had fluttered like there was a bird inside his chest, beating it’s wings against his ribcage. Daniel wanted to-

But then it had been a watch.

Looking at Victoria now, he can feel the wonky line his attempt of a smile makes of his mouth.

“For a moment, when he gave it to me,” he explains, thumbing over the smooth glass of the watch face, “I thought it was- I thought, maybe, a different kind of jewelry.”

It takes a few seconds for realisation to spread across his sisters features, but when it does it doesn’t make him feel any better the way he’d hoped it would to share this.

“Oh Max,” she says, reaching for his hand across the table, and he wants to recoil at her pity, “I did not- I did not even know that was something you wanted.”

Which to Max, seems like a silly thing to say, because of course it’s what he wants. He and Daniel have been together for so many years now, why would he not? It’s what you do when you love each other and want to be together always. He’d thought, maybe, now Daniel was happy again and not racing, but-

“Maybe it is not what Daniel wants,” he says with a shrug, but just saying the words out loud make his eyes sting and his throat ache. He is probably just too drunk for this conversation.

Victoria hums, like she is thinking. Over the balcony, Max can see the shimmer of the moon bouncing off the sea. His face feels so hot suddenly, like he is melting, and he imagines diving into the cool water.

“Have you two ever spoken about this?” Victoria asks, and Max just shakes his head, not looking at her. “Then how can- How can you know he does not want to? Why- You could always ask him too, you know.”

She’s right, of course. It’s just- Max doesn’t know how to explain it. That he wants it to be simple, for Daniel to want Max so much that he can’t stand to not ask him. That Max is afraid if he is the one to ask, Daniel will say yes just because he wants to give Max what he wants, and not because he wants Max.

Behind him, he hears laughter, the sound of footsteps, and Victoria’s face looks up, worried, to the sliding glass door behind him. It opens. Max wipes his eyes quickly, feeling even more foolish than before as Daniel runs a hand through his hair, presses his cheek into the top of his head, just as drunk as the rest of them and asks, “what are you two gossiping about then?”

[natashaslesbian]

The Ice Cream Is Too Hot

Summary: Natasha helps you to unmask and relax after a long day

Word Count: 823

Pairings: (Natasha Romanoff x Autistic!Reader)

Warnings/content: Neurodivergent behaviours and struggles

————

Your eyes were still so tired, you just didn’t want to open them. You sunk further into your pillow and blindly reached for your phone. “No, no, no!” You groaned ‘8:47am’ you started work at 10am, there was no way you would be able to continue your morning routine as normal now. It was all mapped out in your head, and on your phone, perfectly timestamped with each step. It must seem silly to everyone else how important it was to you, but messing up your morning routine was everyone else’s experience of falling face first down 10 flights of stairs.

Little did you know, the catastrophic morning you had would only turn into one truly catastrophic day. Work was a sensory nightmare, the constant change between the air con and the steaming hot kitchen was too much, and your hair was pulling and scratching all over your scalp. You started to crash after 3pm, confusing orders on the tickets and asking customers if they wanted their ice cream in a ‘cub or a tone’ rather than a ‘tub or a cone’ by 4pm it was starting to get too much, your skin was crawling, it was like their was someone else inside you trying to break through your skin. Thankfully, there was only one more hour to endure before your girlfriend came to pick you up.

“Hey beautiful” Natasha said as she pecked your cheek “how was work” she asked “it was alright” you lied. Nat suggested you pick up some takeout as a treat for dinner after your long work week, the two of you settled on pizza. After the table was set, the pair of you sat down for a semi-romantic dinner lit with candles and served with a side of wine. You were finally starting to calm down, relaxing after a very draining day, but as you bit into your second slice of pepperoni the gooey sauce spilled out onto your cheek. It was the final straw.

“Eugh! Ew ew ew!” You couldn’t take it anymore, the tears you had held back all day started to fall as your hands began to stim “hey, hey, hey” the redhead said as she made her way around the table, napkin in hand “it’s alright, come here” she said as she wiped the sauce from your cheek “Tasha” you sobbed as you crashed into her arms “bad day?” Natasha asked “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should’ve said something I-I just wanted it to go away” you continued to cry into your girlfriends arms for a while longer. She just held you, held you with the perfect amount of pressure and allowed you to fiddle with her rings as an alternative to your injurious stimming. She continued to whisper sweet nothings into your hairline until your sobs turned to a quiet muffle of sniffles.

When you pulled away, Natasha offered to clean up dinner and put away the pizza for later. She knew you wouldn’t be up for talking just yet so when she finished, she joined you on the couch and simply asked “do you want to cuddle or just sit?” She politely asked. You reached out your hand and she softly took a hold of it. You squeezed gently and began to fidget with her rings one again, the rings she bought especially for you “when I was waiting for you out front I saw there was a new ice cream, party rings?” You giggled slightly “every time I walk in there there’s a new flavour, last week it was blue marsh mellow, it was really good” at first you knew Natasha was getting you to chat and ramble to help you unmask but after a while you forgot, happily just being yourself “the weirdest one was popcorn flavour, it tasted a little odd. I don’t even know how they make it, come to think of it I don’t know how they make ice cream at all” you shot up to grab your laptop, needing to research this burning question “I probably should know considering I work in an ice cream parlour” Natasha let out a small chuckle.

An hour raced by, the two of you on the couch, Natasha just listening to whatever you wanted to talk about. You came upon distraction after distraction, you were surprised your laptop hadn’t crashed because of all the random tabs you had open “no way!” You exclaimed “what?” Natasha said as she scooted to closer to see your screen “you know when cats do that slow blink thing, apparently it’s them saying that they love you!” The widows smile was so smile “I mean I knew that when they show you their belly it means that they trust you and that when they….what?” You said as you finally realised Natasha staring at you “I love you” she said “I love you too” and you truly did, Natasha was the safest place on earth.

————

Defiantly not an actual overwhelming day I actually experienced at actual work…

-Astara🩷

[fanficshiddles]

The Redbridge Hunts, Chapter 46

Claire was quite concerned with how worried and on edge Loki seemed to be. It made her on edge, too.

When they got home, Matt and David came round about an hour later.

‘You really think Chris will try something?’ Matt asked Loki as the three vampires sat at the table in the kitchen with a beer, while Claire cooked dinner with a glass of wine.

Bat was on the table too, like she was listening intently to the conversation, though she did keep an eye on Claire too incase there was any food on offer.

Loki had said they’d just order takeaway, but Claire offered to cook. She was planning to make stew, knowing how much Loki loves it. Though the thought of having to fight with three vampires for the toilet wouldn’t be ideal, as she knew Loki would have a tantrum if she didn’t add garlic. So she just opted for something else entirely and was cooking up lasagne.

‘Definitely. I’ve never seen him so angry before, if dad hadn’t been there, he would’ve killed me. Without a doubt.’ Loki said with certainty.

Matt and David’s eyebrows shot upwards. ‘Do you really think having us two as backup will help if he does come knocking?’ David asked as he took a big swig of his beer.

‘One of you can try and keep him from killing me while the other goes to get my dad.’ Loki said as he also took a big mouthful of beer.

‘I’ll get your dad!’ Both Matt and David said at the same time.

Claire wanted to laugh, but the situation was quite worrying she couldn’t really see the humour in it. Her stomach was in knots, even though she knew having Matt and David here was a bit of extra security.

When dinner was ready, they all sat around the table to eat. They were a bit calmer and able to enjoy their food as they chatted away about other things. Bat had her own little plate of some mince that Claire had left to the side for her without any onions or sauce in it.

‘You spoil that cat.’ Matt laughed as he reached over to stroke said cat.

‘At least now I can blame it all on Claire.’ Loki teased with a smirk.

‘Pssssht. She was already spoiled rotten before I even knew you, don’t deny it!’ Claire argued back as she pointed her fork at him, making him chuckle.

‘Exactly. Remember that time it was Severus’ birthday, we all got him a cake and you snuck a piece home, just for Bat?’ David reminded him.

Loki looked a little sheepish as he shrugged. ‘Well… Bat should get to enjoy the celebrations that we do, too.’

‘That’s why she was so desperate to get at my birthday cake, she has a sweet tooth.’ Claire laughed.

‘She does.’ Loki sighed. ‘She’s rather partial to a little bit of baileys too on an evening.’

Claire giggled, while David and Matt shook their heads in disbelief. Bat let out a small chirp from the side of the table.

After dinner, Loki did the dishes while the others went through to the living room to relax for a while before going to bed.

‘Has Loki ever been this worried about Chris trying to hurt him before?’ Claire asked quietly, though she wouldn’t be surprised if Loki could still hear her from the kitchen.

‘No, not that I can think of.’ David shook his head.

‘Chris loves his job, he does it take it seriously. He does care for the students and his teachers, this will be a big blow to him for sure.’ Matt said.

‘I don’t get why they want to change things up. I mean, Loki would be a great head teacher if he does decide to take it.’ Claire said softly.

‘He really would.’ Matt agreed.

‘Do you think he will take the job, if Chris can’t get them to change their minds?’ David asked Claire.

‘I’m not sure, he hasn’t really said much about it. I think he’s too worried about what Chris might do right now.’ Claire sighed.

‘Well, we will do our best to help if trouble does come knocking.’ David said firmly.

-

For the following few days, there was no sign of Chris. It was like he’d gone off the radar completely. Loki had relaxed a little bit, though was still on edge. Matt and David had said they’d be happy to stay more nights, but Loki didn’t want to burden them anymore. They said they’d be on the end of the phone, if anything did happen to call them and just hang up after one ring, they’d be straight there.

‘I don’t know whether to be more worried or not that Chris has just gone completely AWOL.’ Loki said to Claire on Thursday morning while they prepped for the day ahead.

‘It is strange. Though maybe for the best, maybe he’s clearing his head and will come back calmer. Hopefully…’

‘I certainly hope so.’ Loki said as Claire walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him, he smiled and kissed her forehead. ‘Thank you for putting up with me this week. I know I’ve been antsy and probably not easy to be around.’

‘So… what’s been the change?’ Claire teased.

Loki growled at her and tickled her sides, making her giggle.

‘You’ve been fine, love. I know it’s worrying, you don’t need to apologise.’ Claire assured him and pressed her head in against his chest.

Loki ran his fingers through her hair, she always soothed him. He would be lost without her, that was for sure.

‘Hopefully he comes back before Saturday night’s party, I don’t know if I’ll be able to fully enjoy the Halloween night if I’m constantly worrying and looking around for him.’ Loki sighed.

‘I doubt he’d try anything at the party, besides if he does, there’s plenty of vampires around to protect you. It will probably be safer than being at home!’ Claire said as she looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest.

Loki smiled and nodded. ‘That’s very true.’ He hummed.

‘It’ll be fine.’ Claire said confidently as she reluctantly pulled away from him to place some textbooks on everyone’s table. ‘He’s bound to have calmed down by now, it’s been a few days. I think if he was going to do something dangerous, he would’ve done it already.’

Loki smiled across the room at her and nodded. ‘You’re right, darling.’

-

In a small underground nightclub, in a city across the country, around forty or so bodies lay strewn in various predicaments around the place.

The flashing lights still lit up the room sporadically in a multitude of colours. Music continued to blare out from the DJ system, even though the DJ lay lifeless across the mixing table, blood dripping from his neck with a huge chunk of flesh torn out.

The security guard’s bodies could be found just inside the doorway, in a puddle of their own blood. The few bartenders that had been working that night lay dead behind the bar, smashed glasses beside them.

One man who was left, the last one alive, scrambled backwards to get away from the monster that had arrived just mere minutes ago, causing the carnage inside, he’d watched his girlfriend get torn to pieces right on front of him. Trying to save her had been pointless, he was simply tossed across the room.

Now, the monster was after him. He’d fallen over and was backed to the wall on the ground, crying and pleading for his life. He’d been happily drunk just five minutes previously, but seeing the massacre had rapidly sobered him up.

The vampire was covered in blood, his clothes were soaked in it. His mouth dripped with so much blood as his fangs remained visible. His eyes were a terrifying deep dark red.

‘No amount of pleading will save you.’ The vampire snarled, then without more fooling around he launched for him.

He went straight for the neck of course, the sound of the man screaming in agony was like music to the vampire’s ears as he sucked the blood out of him.

From the adrenaline of fear, the man’s heart was working overtime and sent so much blood through his veins that just got sucked right out. The man turned pale white and passed out, before dying shortly after. The vampire could hear the man’s heartbeat slow, then it came to a complete stop.

Once he’d had his fill, the vampire dropped the body to his feet and he stood up straight. He looked around the room, at the sea of bodies, while he breathed in deeply. There wasn’t one survivor, no heartbeat could be heard.

He let out an angry snarl as he punched the wall, putting a large hole right through. It just wasn’t enough. It didn’t help ease his anger and pain one bit.

‘No… I know exactly what I need to do back in Redbridge.’ Chris snarled.

[bittenbyyou]

hello i’m not sure if you take requests butttt if you doooo could we get a fourth of july thing where the reader gets anxious from fireworks and just wants to be with peter for comfort for us sensitive girlies🙏😩🤭 (also i love ur writing it’s so sweet and silly hehe)

Title: Sparkles and Surprises

Fourth of July!AU | Fireworks!AU | Boyfriend!Peter Parker x Reader

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, lil comedy

description: requested

word count: 2.7k

warnings: Peter doing the most and having horrible time management skills, one Far From Home reference, just fluffy fluff.

a/n: THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST! I've never done a request before, it was fun. I hope I did your request justice. Your compliment made me smile. :)

Peter checked his phone, alarmed to see the flurry of texts asking where he was. Time slipped by without him realizing and he had promised to be there for you tonight. He texted you back that he was on his way as he cleaned up his area in Mr. Stark’s lab. With a hurried thanks to his mentor, he was out the door swinging back to his apartment.

[Y/N]: Don’t text and walk!

Peter: 😘

Actually, he was texting and swinging, but you didn’t need to know that. Aside from almost crashing into a bus just now, he was fine. He couldn’t wait to show you what he had been working on because this Fourth of July was going to be perfect, thanks to his foolproof three-step plan.

In his backpack was step one, the thing he’s been working on at the lab for the past week. During the time you’ve dated, Peter learned you were highly sensitive to loud sounds. It startled you to the point of where you didn’t even like having balloons at your birthday party in case they popped. The very thought of today’s holiday brought you immense discomfort because you couldn’t stand fireworks.

So when your family said they were going to see the fireworks show, you sighed and accepted your fate of spending the night alone again this year. However, Peter couldn’t accept that. He didn’t want you to face your fear alone. He immediately offered for you to come spend the night over at his place. You feared you were holding him back from enjoying the night, but he didn’t care about fireworks. He cared about you.

“Okay, I’ll be at your place at 8:30,” you said over the phone. 

“Great. Aunt May will let you in. I have some things to do with Mr. Stark and then I’ll be right there with you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“You promise you’ll get home before the fireworks show starts?”

“Of course.”

“Pinky promise?”

He laughed, putting his pinky in the air. “I’m pinky promising the imaginary you in front of me right now.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Very.”

You smiled to yourself. “Alright. Don’t be late.”

As he swung through the city, he spotted step two: your favorite place for take-out. He landed gracefully at the entrance and walked in, noticing how long the line was. 

“Aw man…”

Checking the time on his phone, he tilted his head side to side, calculating if waiting in line was worth it. The thought of seeing your face light up with joy if he’d show up with your favorite food convinced him it was worth the hassle. He tapped his foot impatiently, deep down wishing Spider-Man got a free pass to the front, but he knew that’d be abusing his status. After enduring 15 minutes of waiting, he reached the front of the line and ordered your usual, making sure to include all the customizations and sauces you liked. Fortunately, the food came out quicker than the actual waiting in line to order. Peter rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash and spare change. He attempted to pay, but disaster had struck as the coins slipped from his grasp. 

His eyes widened in disbelief as the floor transformed into a sea of copper. He let out an exasperated groan as he hunched down to pick them all up. 

“Of all coins, why did it have to be pennies?” he muttered. 

“[Y/N] is calling, Peter. Do you want to take her call?” his AI aka Peter’s suit lady asked. 

“Oh! Yes please!”

“Babe, where are you? The fireworks show is starting really soon. I already hear some people firing them nearby.”

“I’m coming, beautiful. I promise I’m almost there. I got off at the wrong stop and it’s a long story, I’ll see you soon!”

He ended the call, feeling guilty for the white lie, but his plan would make up for it. Speeding up the process, he used his webs and lumped all the coins into one big blob, presenting the bizarre creation to the cashier with an exaggerated shrug.

“Keep the change,” he said, giving him a playful finger gun gesture. Leaving the perplexed cashier behind, he left the shop and checked the time, knowing he was ready for step three of his master plan. 

It consisted of going to your favorite cafe, just a short block away. Peter’s confidence soared when he noticed there was no one in line, as if the universe was on his side. Approaching the counter, he flawlessly ordered your drink, stunning the employees with his eloquence in listing all your favorite add-ins. The drink was almost done when a group of enthusiastic fans burst into the cafe, excited to see the iconic red and blue-clad superhero. 

“Oh my gosh, can we get a picture? Please?” 

“Do a backflip!”

Even though Peter attempted to decline, he ultimately gave in because Spider-Man was compassionate. He loved all his fans (even the relentless ones who couldn’t take a hint). Besides, there was plenty of time to get back to you because he had now completed all three steps. 

“Thanks Spider-Man!”

“Yeah, no problem!” he shouted back as he ran out of the cafe after the impromptu photo session. He checked the time once again, sighing in relief that he had time to spare. Unfortunately, his heightened senses detected something amiss nearby. Peter groaned, torn between his desire to help and the urge to get home quickly. ���Damn it.”

He turned a corner to spot a group of criminals causing mischief in an alleyway. Setting down the food and drink, he approached them, determined to bring justice.

“Guess crime doesn’t take a holiday, huh?” Peter quipped at the startled group. They stopped fighting momentarily, staring at each other before sending a hail of bullets his way. Peter evaded their attacks effortlessly with a perfectly executed backflip, dodging the projectiles with ease. With a mischievous grin, he shot out a series of webs, ensnaring the criminals and leaving them dangling like confused pinatas.

Things seemed victorious for Peter until more thugs suddenly showed up, almost like a hidden level in a video game. He threw up his hands in mock frustration and groaned.

“You guys are ruining my night, you know that?”

*BOOM*

*BOOM*

*BOOM*

*Thwip, thwip, thwip, thwip*

“Hey, let us down!”

“I think you should thank me for giving you a great view of the fireworks. Have a blast, fellas!”

Oh man, you were totally going to kill him now. His phone was spammed with texts from you, mostly asking where he was.This was not how it was supposed to go down; his plan was meant to be foolproof. Panic set in, and he hurriedly grabbed the food and drink, bolting home to change in the only secluded spot he could find. Then he sprinted up the stairs to his apartment, unfortunately spilling the drink on himself from clutching it so tightly against his chest. 

“No, no, no, argh, ew. Ugh,” he groaned, drenched in the beverage. He persevered and unlocked the door, stepping in and calling out for you.

*BOOM*

“Babe, I’m here!”

Aside from the fireworks, only silence greeted him in response. He threw his backpack onto the nearest table, glancing around the empty living room and kitchen. Where were you? Wait, where was Aunt May?

“May?”

*BOOM*

*BOOM*

He narrowed his eyes, seeing his bedroom door open. He headed straight inside, only to see his bed covers slightly wrinkled and his blanket missing. 

“Babe?” he called out, voice laced with concern.

From the left, faint sniffles reached his ears, drawing his attention to the closet door. He set down his stuff on the dresser and then opened the closet to reveal you, cocooned in a mountain of blanket, tears streaming down your face. As your eyes met his, he felt his heart ache. 

“Oh my gosh, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, immediately lowering himself to your level and enveloping you in a tight embrace, feeling how much you were trembling. A whirlwind of emotions flooded through you—anger for his lateness, fear from the fireworks, and joy from the comforting scent of his hoodie. Yet one emotion trumped them all as soon as your chests collided.

“... You’re wet,” you managed to say in between sobs. “Gross…”

“Ah, yeah, I did this stupid thing and spilled the drink I got you.” He quickly took off his hoodie and discarded it to the side, hugging you once more. 

“You’re late.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

You pushed him off you and hit his chest repeatedly, your strikes were too weak to do any real damage. “You were late!”

*BOOM*

You jumped back into his arms, scared out of your wits. He couldn’t help but chuckle, holding you tight with one hand on the back of your head. 

“This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” you muttered, squeezing him tight. 

“I know,” he replied, his voice filled with understanding.

You two stayed like that for 15 minutes, giving you enough time to take some deep breaths and enjoy being embraced by your boyfriend. Somewhere along the line you allowed him to join you in your mound of blanket after he asked you with those beautiful brown puppy dog eyes of his. 

“It’s so loud… and it’s not stopping anytime soon.”

“Well, I got you something. Wait here.”

You lifted your head off his shoulder and protested, “No, please stay.” 

“I promise it’ll be okay. I’ll be right back. It’s just on my dresser,” he said, pointing to the furniture item that was only a few feet away.

*BOOM*

You shut your eyes tight, taking another deep breath before letting him go. Peter rushed to the dresser and grabbed all the stuff, then returned to you and closed the closet door. With a pull of the switch on the ceiling, he lit the closet with the soft glow of the lightbulb before settling down.

“This is your favorite drink, um… well half of it,” he said sheepishly, handing you the nearly empty beverage. 

“Peter…”

“And I got you your favorite food. It might be cold now though, do you want me to microwave it?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“And I got you–”

“Peter, stop.”

He froze, sensing the seriousness in your voice. “Is something wrong?”

*BOOM*

You winced at the sound, but remained strong. “Aside from the constant explosions… yes. I appreciate you going out of your way to get me my favorite things. I’m thankful, really.” 

Your eyes went toward the floor, your nerves getting the best of you. Peter placed his hand on top of yours. “It’s okay. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You were late. And I really needed you here. You broke your promise to me,” you expressed with a tinge of disappointment.

“I know and I feel awful about it. I just wanted this night to go perfect for you. I wanted to impress you,” he explained sincerely.

Your head snapped up, surprise and affection in your eyes. “Impress me? You don’t need to impress me.” 

“I don’t?”

“No. I’m impressed by you everyday. You’re sweet, thoughtful, so unbelievably smart, and…” you trailed off once you noticed how wide Peter’s grin kept growing. 

“And~?” he prodded, his eyes sparkling. 

“Cheeky. Irresponsible. Late,” you teased, unable to contain your laughter. His smile faltered, but you quickly reassured him. “Thank you for going out of your way to get my favorite things. But you forgot the most important one.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he held his hand rested on his head in a thoughtful thinking pose. What could he have forgotten?

“Oh! Wait! Here’s the last thing I got you.”

He whipped out a pair of headphones that had been hiding behind him. “I made these with Mr. Stark. They’re noise-canceling headphones, so you won’t be able to hear the fireworks. They have a 100% success rate while most store-bought ones only work 99% of the time (how is that any more impressive, you thought, laughing on the inside at his nerdy rambling). You won’t be able to hear anything. You can play music or call me and other cool features. And I made it your favorite color! Here.”

He carefully placed the headphones on your head and you couldn’t help but admire his concentrated face and how delicate he was with you. It made your heart beat faster, and above all, it made you feel safe. That's all you had ever wanted.

“Can you hear me?” Peter asked, his lips moving while you tried to read them. You shook your head. He was always very expressive with his body, shouting “yes!” while doing a fist pump in response.

“But babe this isn’t my most favorite thing,” you exclaimed, not realizing you were shouting louder than you intended because of the headphones. Peter closed his eyes and covered his ears, prompting you to tilt your head in confusion. He opened one eye, a smile playing on his lips.

“You’re shouting!” he exclaimed.

“What?”

“I said you’re shouting,” he said, mimicking the motion of Pac-Man’s mouth with his hands. 

“Oh~. My bad!” you said, still shouting. Peter chuckled at how cute you were before your words finally registered.

"Wait, what did I forget?" You kept your gaze fixed on him, and he realized he had to ask you again. "What's the thing I forgot that's your favorite?"

The way he acted out every word made you giggle because it was like a game of charades. “You! You’re my favorite thing in the world! That’s all I needed tonight!”

His face lit up with joy as he leaned in for a kiss. You closed your eyes as his warm, tender lips gently met yours, igniting a spark that traveled through your entire body. The kiss was gentle and sweet, ending with a soft smooching sound. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his smile matching your own. 

“Well, since I’m your favorite I guess you don’t need this.” He reached into the to-go bag and stole a few fries, eating them without remorse right in front of you. Your jaw dropped in shock at the betrayal as you pulled away from him. 

“Hey, those are mine!”

“But you said I’m your favorite!” You didn’t register what he said or even cared, trying to get the food back from him, but he lifted the bag high out of reach. You nearly climbed over his seated body, making him nearly choke on the fry out of laughter. In a surprising move, he somehow got past you and opened the closet door, darting to the living room. You chased after him around the kitchen before watching him hop over the couch like it was nothing. 

“Peter Parker, I swear…” Your sharp eyes then noticed his backpack, which was partially open and what appeared to be a sleeve dangling off it. The vibrant red and blue colors made you squint as your mind pieced the clues together. Peter followed your gaze and his face grew panicked. “What is that?”

“What is what?” he said, a tinge of nervousness in his voice. Despite not you being able to hear, his face said it all. You went over to his backpack, but he snatched it and hid it behind his back. 

“Is that what I think it is?”

Peter held his hand up in a stop motion when you tried to grab it from him. “D-Depends on what you think it is.”

You took off your headphones, unfazed when the last firework crackled in the distance.

*BOOM*

“You’re Spider-Man.”

Peter scrambled to think about what to say next. “W-Well, Aunt May isn’t here. She-She’s Spider-Man. It’s hers.”

“Then why is there a suit in your bag?”

“I’m just her glorified sidekick Spider-Boy!” he spewed out frantically. 

“But May’s watching the fireworks with Happy,” you countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Wait, they're dating? Aunt May and Happy? Wow, that's... unexpected. Gotta admit, I'm a bit out of the loop on this one."

“Don’t change the subject!”

He used his free hand to snatch the headphones back from your grasp and dramatically placed them on his head. 

“Oh no, babe. I can’t hear anything you’re saying. Wow, these work really well, I can’t even hear myself. Hello~, hello~?”

God, you wanted to kill him and kiss him all at once. You grabbed the nearest non-threatening weapon and Peter started to scream.

“NOT THE BANANAS!”

*BOOM*

Thank you for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts, feel free to shoot me an ask or comment in a reblog. 💞

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Hiiii, hope u're doing well :)

Can I request a slow burn-strangers to lovers connor stoll x mortal reader please?

( no headcanon, just a one shot 🫡)

Like how they met, their first kiss... AND connor reveling he's a half blood

A fem reader or gender neutral is okay

Okay so this has been sitting in my drafts since the stone ages but I had a burst of motivation so here's 2.9k of teasing and fluff

It's not really a slow burn because it's a one shot but it's implied that it happens over time so yk yk. And I checked all the boxes you get first interactions a make-out session and the big reveal :)

<3

Cafe au but it's not an au--- Connor Stoll x gn mortal!reader

»»————-　★　————-««

“We’ve got a new kid today, you wanna show him the ropes?”

You finished ripping the receipt out of the machine and smiled politely at the customer who took their change and moved to the side. The receipt made a tearing sound as you pushed it onto the metal spike [you didn’t actually know what it was called, you realized], and then spun around, “oh thank god, yes please.”

“That’s what I thought,” Maria chuckled, wrapping an apron around her middle and pining his name tag to the front of the green material that had an odd shaped stain on the pocket. “You hate the till.”

“Who doesn’t?” 

“Hopefully the new kid, he should be here in a minute, I did say four thirty.” He looked up at the clock behind the queue of customers waiting for their coffees that read four forty, and then glanced towards the glass doors.

“What’s his name?” You ask, resetting the price on the cash register and taking off the stupid little cap whoever was at the til had to wear. You groaned, “oh please don’t tell me it’s his first job, i can’t explain how to count change to another pimply little-”

“It’s his first job, just moved to New York,” she said, lifting up a sticky note and reading the note underneath it on the whiteboard near the mops. “And his name is… Cecil Markowitz.”

“I’m here, I’m here!”

“We noticed.” Maria muttered drily, pulling the cap over her jagged strawberry blonde hair. 

A blonde kid, maybe fifteen or so, panted on the other side of the counter. He was in a school uniform that he tugged a black hoodie over the top of as he spoke at the speed of light. “Sorry, my brother had to drive me and he ran like four red lights so we wouldn’t be late but then-”

“Then you shut up so your amazing big brother —who did not have to drive you here by the way, I have other things I could be doing— wouldn’t get arrested?” Another boy asked with a raised eyebrow, swinging car keys around his pointer finger. You had to pay a little more attention to him than the bouncing blonde currently eyeing the tip jar, because wow, the jawline he had…

“You have to look after us Connor! That’s the whole agreement!” Cecil hissed up at his brother. 

“Zip it, short stuff.” Connor [you liked the name] smirked, then turned to you. His eyes widened for a moment and you ignored the fact you immediately noticed they were blue. He blinked a few times and then cleared his throat, “Um. uh, I’ll get a black coffee… please.”

You just shrugged at him, and motioned for Cecil to follow you into the kitchens, where the fridge foods were whipped up. “Don’t order from me, I'm showing short stuff around.”

A look of horror dawned on the new employee’s face. “No, not you too!”

»»————-　★　————-««

“I’m sorry, but we don’t serve pizza here, there’s a dominoes a few blocks away if you-”

“No, I want to order one here, thank you.” The customer said to you with a frown and that patronizing look you got ten times a day just for being a teenager. “I know what I’m talking about, I’ve gotten pizza here a million times, and I'd like two large meatlovers.”

You stared blankly at the woman in front of you for a moment and wondered if it was too late to drown yourself in caramel sauce just so you wouldn’t have to deal with this lady. You take a deep breath and bring out that perfectly fake smile again to-

“Oh Fucknuggets! Miss, that chick just ran off with your purse! You’d better go chase her down!”

“What?” She shrieked, and reached for her big red leather bag and went pale under her orangey powdered face. “Oh for heaven's sake!”

The woman was out the door immediately, chasing down four different people that had just left the cafe. She waved her arms wildly and wailed like a duck that had just been stepped on.

Connor watched her leave with an amused expression on his face you had to quickly pull your eyes away from. He reached into the pockets of his spiderman hoodie [SpiderHam, to be specific] and pulled out a blinged up silver purse, flicking through the contents with interest. 

He turned to you and held up an ID card with that smug expression that made your stomach feel like you’d had too much bubble tea. “I reckon I could pull it off, in the right lighting.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see that.” You said quickly with your eyes narrowed, but Connor pulled the wads of cash out and stuffed it into the tip jar as he turned to the glass double doors. 

“Hey!”

Cecil nearly stumbled into another customer and you motioned to the back of the cafe, pulling his apron off the rack and handing it to him as he took off his yellow beanie, which for some reason had a lot of little sun’s sewn around the edges. “Hey short stuff, you can start by taking the trash out.”

He visibly sunk, tying the apron around his middle and sighing. 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Definitely don’t go over the fence to the back of the dollar store because it would be a terrible idea to see the baby racoons living in the recycling bin.”

Connor grinned, watching his little brother speed out of the room with black bags of rubbish in his hands. “So… Can I order from you today?”

“As long as it’s not a pizza, go ahead.”

“...What’s your favorite?” Connor asked, leaning on the bench littered in plastic cup lids and receipts, with his chin in his hands. He was lucky there wasn’t a queue behind him, but you probably would’ve let him sit there and distract you anyway.

You just tapped away at the ipad, sending the last of the order’s over to Maria, who was making one of the matcha teas. “Not a black coffee, if that’s what you're asking.”

“No seriously, what is it?” he said, and you felt yourself get hot when he glanced somewhere a bit lower than your eyes. Not in a gross way, but holy shit when did his own eyes get that lidded? “Maybe I’ll try it sometime…”

“Are you asking to kiss me or do you actually want an iced strawberry tea?” You blurted out, hand frozen over the screen in front of you. 

Connor went red in a matter of seconds and shot up, his eyes certainly not lidded anymore. “Oh look at the time I have to go make sure my goldfish doesn’t drown,” He yelped, tripping over untied shoelaces and scrambling to the door. 

“Careful… You’re looking at him like you look at those racoons.” Maria muttered as he walked past with a little grin.

»»————-　★　————-««

You dumped your school bag on a bench in the corner of the kitchen, but before you could ask Jerry if there was a new order you were supposed to pick up some new ingredients [the amount of times Connor ordered a black coffee when he dropped off Cecil meant they were seriously out of it[, someone banged on the back door. 

It was pouring with rain outside, but you eased open the door and peaked out into the stormy weather, then frowned at the figure. “What are you doing back here-”

You stopped in your tracks and choked, nearly dropping the drink in your hands. Cecil rubbed his hands together to avoid frostbite, a thin line of blood down the side of his face. His hair was stuck to his forehead, and thin patches of golden powder covered it, and his clothes.

He grinned, wiping his nose. “If it’s any consolation… This isn’t my blood?”

“Maria’ll clean you up, go.” You open the door properly and shove him into the warmth, then shut it behind you and step out into the biting wind that ripped though your green apron, and marched up to the car parked near the dumpster.

Holding your hand over your eyes so you weren’t blinded by the headlights, you yelled at the driver. “Why the fuck did short stuff just come out of a fucking apocalypse movie?”

Connor leant over the passenger seat and opened the door with a totally fake innocent smile. You didn’t think he could look innocent. Hot, on the other hand…He still looked hot with blood smeared across his cheek and something shiny underneath his fingernails, apparently. He shrugged one shoulder “I mean, it isn’t our blood?”

“Connor.” You muttered, crossing your arms and squinting through the mist swirling around your feet. You looked down and had to step out of a puddle with a grimace. 

Connor blinked and replied instantly, as if this was something he had to do a lot. “Do you want the technically legal version, the version that’ll make you happy, or the-”

You cut him off and glared, rain clinging to your eyelashes. “The truth.”

Connor thought for a moment and then gave you an apprehensive look. “There was a feral Harpy in the backseat of the car that popped out when we got to the intersection two blocks over.”

You sighed. “I said the truth-”

“You don’t believe me.” His voice was faint, and somehow hurt. He sounded resigned though, like he was expecting it. The look on his face made you want to climb into the pretty beat up car and grab his face and tell him you believed him so much and forever just so he’d look happy again.  

Maybe if you let him talk. He could be referencing something you hadn’t seen, you reasoned. “Was the harpy like a monster or a furry?”

“Well when you think about it harpy’s really are just furry’s, but yeah it was an actual monster.” Connor said simply, and then he chewed on his thumbnail nervously “Uh, do you wanna… hop in? You look like my brother when he stuck a huntsman in Annabeth’s pillow case.”

“What does spider pranks have to do with being soaked?” You mutter, not really meaning for it to be a question. You climbed into the passenger seat, brushing pools of water off you and wiping your nose. 

“You can’t even imagine.”

You raise an eyebrow at Connor. “I work in customer service, try me.”

“My dad is a god.” He blurted out, then froze and turned away from you with an odd expression, his gaze trained on the rain outside.

“Are you talking about the Romans and the Egyptians, or are you Jesus?”

“Greeks, actually.” Connor said through gritted teeth, then his eyebrows shot up and that familiar tone you might have thought about a few times seeped back into his voice. He untensed and grinned at you“One of my buddy’s did come back from the dead actually… but I don’t think Jesus would like him very much.”

“Why?”

“He’s dating one of my other buddies.”

“Oh.” You blinked, but you weren’t really sure what this conversation had to do with Connor and Cecil being attacked. “Good for him.”

“My dad’s Hermes.” Connor said suddenly, sucking in a breath and closing his eyes. When you didn’t answer, too focused on the way his face looked when he scrunched up his eyes, he glanced at you again with a cautious smile, as if your reaction really mattered to him.  “Surprise?”

You thought for a moment, actually considered it, and “Yeah. That checks out,” 

“Whaddaya mean? I don’t have wings on my shoes!”

“Isn’t he the god of like, traveling and stealing shit?” You ask, smiling back at him as reassuring as you could, soaked to the bone sitting in a boy’s car six minutes before your shift started. “Dude, you drive your brother back and forth across New York four times a week. And you stole that lady's purse.”

‘Oh yeah. That was fun,” he sighed, and sunk in the driver's seat. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and closed his blue eyes, relief painted across his face.

You wiped your nose again, sure that you’d get a cold tomorrow just from standing in the lovely New York weather for more than a few seconds. A song played on the radio quietly, and you recognised it from the playlist Maria played on the speakers in the cafe sometimes. 

The lyrics went something like ‘I rob and I kill to keep him with me,

I'll do anything for that boy’. When you looked over at Connor, you gulped.

Connor glanced at you from underneath his hand, and then looked down at the drink still clutched in your hands. The pink tone of it matched the fluffy strawberry’s hanging from the rear view mirror, and it was making your fingers hurt with the cold. 

He smirked. “Are you supposed to drink while you’re working?”

“You make it sound like I'm doing shots behind the counter.” You shot back with a glare, and then felt your face heat up as you spoke. “And uh… it’s not… I didn’t make it for myself.”

“There’s an angry old lady in there, you know?”

This was excruciating. You ducked your head and bit your lip a little, looking out the window so you wouldn’t have to see Connor’s face when that stupidly hot smirk spread across his lips. “Uh… I didn’t make it for a customer, either…”

“Is that-”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Connor was wide eyes and slack jawed when you turned back to him, a dark blush across his cheeks that you wanted to take a photo of because goddam he was cute, but you knew you wouldn’t be forgetting the sight any time soon. He opened his mouth to talk, his eyes no longer at, well… eye level. 

You put the drink into the holder between the seats and followed his gaze. “Just kiss me.”

You hadn’t seen that smile before. 

His hands were so warm on your jaw, as hot as the tight feeling in your chest that melted quickly. It happened so fast you couldn’t really register anything until you realized Connor was halfway between your seats with his teeth on your bottom lip and his soft hair threaded between your fingers. 

You used it to tug him closer, as close as he could and then more, because he was warm and soft and you could feel his grin through his lips that moved against your own in rhythm that ebbed and flowed. He slid his hands off you and you nearly pulled them back, until Connor was hugging you tight around your middle, his fingers knotting through the bow tied on your apron. 

You chewed on his lip, which felt puffy and pulsing under your touch, but you kept kissing him, breaking away every few seconds to breathe, but you couldn’t not press your lips along his jaw. He was just too much. You had to kiss him everywhere and pull on his hair and tilt his head back and melt into his touch like you’d die if you didn’t. 

Connor sighed into your mouth and gulped, you could feel his Adam's apple bob under the palm of your hand as you pushed him back gently by his neck. You got up on your knees as he blinked once or twice, like he’d been in a trance. “You took that all very well,”

“Don’t worry, I’ll freak out later when it sinks in.” You muttered back, pushing him back into the driver's seat where he’d begun. He made an odd noise and tightened his arms around your waist, ducking his head and when he pouted you couldn’t help but slide over the cupholder and sit on his lap, as if you hadn’t been planning to do so the whole time. 

Then he frowned, “Wait, you’ll freak-”

“Shhhh,” you said, pressing a finger to his soft lips. He shut up immediately. You glanced behind you at the console, checking the time. “I have four and a half minutes til I have to start, we can discuss this later.”

“Deal,” Connor breathed, dragging your hands down to his neck again and looking up with vague out eyes. You grinned at him and went back to wiping that stupid smirk off his lips.

»»————-　★　————-««

“Your boyfriends here.”

You looked up from the kitchen counter you were wiping down after an accident with the tub of coconut shavings, “Why?”

“I’m assuming he’s here for you, short stuff doesn’t have a shift til the weekend.” Maria checked the whiteboard and glanced out the swinging doors. You moved to peek over her shoulder and saw Connor standing by the doors, swinging his car keys around his pointer finger absentmindedly. He was wearing that spiderman hoodie again, the one you’d accidentally tipped black coffee down the front of once when you’d worn it. 

You grinned, if you finished up cleaning and took the trash out, you’d be done in five minutes and you’d get to follow him to his car that surely wasn’t road safe and then go wherever it was he’d planned this time. 

“Go. But tomorrow you have to stop the racoons from eating the tires off my Harley.” Maria sighed, crossing his arms and motioning to the exit.

“I love you.”

He raised his eyebrows “Was that directed towards me or the boy-”

“Both.”

»»————-　★　————-««

[spicycinnabun]

Yes, Chef

WC: 696 🥟 Rated: G 🥟 Read on Ao3!

“Table four said their chicken Kyiv isn’t saucy enough,” Ian said, sliding the plate across the heated pass. He braced himself for a blowup as he added, “They want another one.”

“A chicken Kyiv don’t have sauce, first of all,” Chef Milkovich’s grumpy voice answered him. “It’s filled with garlic butter. I can’t pump ‘em with any more, or they’ll burst. They already have enough to clog a fuckin’ artery.”

“I know, Mick—Chef,” Ian corrected himself. He ran a hand through his hair, tired from pasting on his customer service smile all night. “That’s just what she said.”

Mickey slammed his spatula down. He grabbed the plate, staring down at it. All that was left on it was the picked-over salad. The feta and tomatoes were missing; it was just a sad pile of arugula. “So, did the chicken disappear into thin fuckin’ air? Must have been plenty saucy enough for her to eat the whole fuckin’ thing. I ain’t re-firing this unless they’re payin’ for a double.”

“Yes, Chef. I’ll pass along the message.” Ian’s lips twitched into a genuine smile. Why was Milkovich kinda cute when he got all worked up? (He was worked up ninety-nine percent of the time.)

“Just call me Mickey,” Mickey said distractedly, turning his back on Ian, already busy firing another order from his queue of tickets. “Hate that ‘Chef’ shit.”

“Okay, Mickey.” Ian saw Mickey’s shoulders relax a little as he dropped a basket of perogies into the deep fryer.

Ian straightened one of Mickey’s tickets after noticing it barely hanging onto its clip, and then he returned to the front of the house to break the news to his oh-so-lovely patron.

*

After dinner service, he caught Mickey outside, tattooed and burn-scarred fingers loosely holding a cigarette, chef whites now stained colorfully from a busy night. Ian didn’t bother saying anything—he could see the exhaustion on Mickey’s face, in the crinkles of his downturned eyes, and Ian, himself, had been talking almost nonstop since four PM.

They shared a moment of peace, leaning against the brick wall of the alley behind the restaurant and decompressing. Ian loosened his tie and watched Mickey’s full lips purse and pinch. Watched him exhale smoke as powerfully as the oven when someone left a tray of pyrizhky in for too long.

Finally, Mickey rubbed his nose and glanced at Ian almost self-consciously. “Fuck you lookin’ at?”

You. “Nothing, sorry,” Ian responded, looking down the alleyway instead.

“I got somethin’ on my face?” Mickey wiped at his cheeks, then his forehead, frowning.

Ian chuckled. “No.”

Mickey let out an irritable huff. “Fuckin’ what, then?”

“Can I bum one?” Ian asked, even though that wasn’t what he wanted. He’d stopped smoking a few years ago.

“Fine, but bring your own next time, freckles.” Instead of giving Ian a new cigarette, Mickey held out his own.

Ian accepted it and took a drag. This time, he was the one being watched. Mickey’s eyes were piercing, and he was about as subtle as a brick. Ian enjoyed that about him. “Fuck you lookin’ at?” he teased.

“Fuck off,” Mickey said, but Ian noticed a rosiness growing along his ears. He pushed off the wall. “See ya tomorrow, Gallagher.”

“Call me Ian.” Or any of the other nicknames Mickey liked to use. “Hate that ‘Gallagher’ shit.”

He really did. It was a tag he used to be proud to wear, or at least faithful towards, in the same way a golden retriever was loyal to their owner even if said owner was horrible to them, but he didn’t like Mickey using it.

“Gonna call you Polly if you keep mimickin’ me,” Mickey griped. Ian laughed, and Mickey turned back to face him. “Alright. Ian. Happy?”

“That was difficult for you, huh.” Ian smiled at him, though. Slowly. He liked how his name sounded coming from the big boss. “Thanks.”

Mickey looked suddenly flustered, shifting his weight, hands twitching by his sides like they didn’t know what to do with themselves. “Yeah. You’re welcome. Whatever.”

Had Ian made him nervous?

Mickey went back inside the restaurant at record speed, the door slamming behind him. Ian grinned.

[ginnyw-potter]

Mum's Fury

Ginnyiversary bingo entry: I16 — Why had no-one ever mentioned Mum's twin? Read on AO3

Mr and Mrs Weasley’s anniversary celebration was a grand endeavour. They had all divided the tasks to do around the house to have it ready for the surprise party. They had precisely two hours to tidy the house, prepare food, and put up decorations without Mr and Mrs Weasley knowing.

With an hour to go they suddenly realised that no one had been tasked with picking up the gift. Ginny had placed the order but someone else was meant to pick it up. In the kitchen beside Harry she helplessly looked at him. She could not apparate while pregnant and they hadn’t announced that news yet.

“Percy?” he suggested, looking over at all the pots.

“No… he’s degnoming and then he needs to help Bill…” She locked eyes with him. “Can you just quickly go?” She wiped the sweat off her brow. “Please?”

Harry could never say no to those big brown eyes under any circumstance.

“I’ll get cleaned up and change when you’re back.” She used her wand to adjust the heat on the pots.

“Alright,” he agreed. He kissed her softly. “Ask help if needed.”

She nodded and pushed him. “Go.”

Harry thought it was impressive that he had returned in less than twenty minutes. He had reluctantly given the man an autograph just so he could make a quick escape. It only worked somewhat.

When he returned, he saw Bill, Charlie, and Percy standing outside near the kitchen window, giggling amongst themselves.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked.

Bill snorted and looked at Harry. “We were just wondering… why had no-one ever mentioned Mum’s twin?”

Harry was about to ask for clarification when Ginny’s voice soared—or rather rolled—out of the open window with a thunderous volume as she yelled at Ron for stealing food while it wasn’t ready yet.

Ron ran outside, pursued by a furious Ginny, who halted in the doorway wearing an apron. Her face was red and she was waving a spatula at her brother.

“Right,” Harry said.

Ginny’s scorching gaze landed on them. “If you have time to stand around you have time for more chores and I’ve got a few!” she shouted in a tone that could rival Mrs Weasley’s.

The Weasley men scattered immediately and vanished to return to their assigned tasks, leaving Harry standing on his own.

He walked up to her. “Got the gift, with some difficulty.” He kissed the top of her head.

She walked back to the stove and he followed her, setting the gift out of the way.

“Go get ready, I’ve got it.”

“Sure?” she asked. “The dish in the oven needs another 10 minutes but maybe check before then. Everything on the table has a cooling charm on it and everything on the counter a heating charm.”

“Lovely. Leaves me with nothing much to do.” He kissed her temple again in the hopes her face would relax a little.

“And don’t let my brothers near—”

“The food… Don’t worry, I’m a duelling champion,” he teased. He turned the heat on the sauce down.

She smiled a little. “Thank you, babe.” She glanced towards the window. “What were those idiots laughing about?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Well… you’re in the Burrow yelling at everyone to stop getting their grubby hands on the food. Reminded them of someone.”

She gasped, her eyes wide. “No!”

“On the bright side, you’re now as scary as your mum,” he teased with a chuckle.

“It’s already happening, isn’t it?” She turned to him and cocked her head. “I’m already turning into my mother.”

He leaned on the counter with his elbow. “I prefer to think you’re becoming a mother.” He grinned at her.

She shook her head smiling and wagged the spatula at him. “As per usual, you are completely unhelpful on the topic.”

Harry kissed her. “Get changed, and I’ll yell at your brothers and all will be done with ten minutes to spare.” He pushed her towards the stairs.

Ginny disappeared upstairs with her change of clothes and he turned back to the stove. His back stiffened when he heard the creak of the floor.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Ronald,” Harry said. He turned around to find Ron standing a meter away from the table, looking dejected. “Or I’ll report you to my wife.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “No, please don’t!”  

[neonponders]

Part 8 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🌹🌹

~ Part 7 + ART!!! ~

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Billy could not claim to have ever hung out at the Harrington residence. He had moved to Hawkins after Steve removed his crown and all interest in being Hawkins’ party king.

So the circumstances of walking into Steve’s house with two voices yell-singing out of a shoebox were not what Billy would have expected.

“Okay, little dudes. It’s food time,” Steve announced on his way to the kitchen.

Robin collapsed right onto the couch and turned the television on. Unsure what else to do with himself, Billy sat on the loveseat adjacent to the other couch. Then he asked, “Is it a good idea to have them in the kitchen?”

Robin answered, “They like having tasks. Little B, especially. Getting him to sit still is like a magic trick.”

Her gaze swept up with Billy standing to join Steve in the kitchen. “You antsy?”

He smiled venomously. “I think it’s rational to not trust anyone with a mini me.”

Her eyes rolled but her voice remained understanding. “If anyone’s capable of taking care of those little guys, it’s Steve. But by all means,” and she waved him away.

Billy navigated around the island counter to find his smaller self and the matching Steve standing on the pages of a cookbook. Larger Steve seemed to be trying and failing to sell them on mushrooms.

“It’s gway, Steve,” little Billy scolded over crossed arms. “Who wants gway food?”

“You don’t even notice it when it’s deep fried and covered in tomato sauce,” Steve reasoned, but the little ones moved out of his way to let him turn the page.

Large Billy leaned an elbow on the counter as they scrutinized the tomatoes stuffed with rice. “You’ll have better luck with that. Or Mexican food.”

Little Billy gazed up at him. “What’s Meckwican?”

“It’s colorful.”

“I like colwors.”

“I thought you might,” Billy confirmed with a smirk to Steve. “Who’s ordering?”

Steve took a deep breath and pushed off the counter to grab the collection of paper restaurant menus shoved between the refrigerator and the toaster. “Rob, what do you want?”

“Chicken sopes and a taco salad.”

“I’m not buying you two meals.”

“The salad is for tomorrow,” she reasoned.

“One bean burrito, coming right up,” Steve sassed, but his attention on the menu drifted up to little Steve and Billy climbing over the apples and pears in the fruit bowl like boulders. “Could you teach them how to swim?”

Big Billy’s eyes swung to him. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve got an old Barbie swimming pool - don’t look at me like that. Will you do it or not? It would save me the risk of a heart attack whenever they need a bath.”

Billy tipped his head to the side, not sparing Steve even a little bit. “What were you doing with Barbies, Steve?”

“This might not be relatable since you’re used to the ocean, but for a long time, I was the pool guy. The pool’s always been my ticket to making friends...or so I thought. Whatever. One summer, the only neighbor kids I had around me were girls. So I got a pool for their dolls. Are you a swimming instructor or not?”

Billy sighed and looked at his smaller self sitting on a pear like it were a horse and taking bites out of it. “I can get them started.”

Steve ordered their food and disappeared for a few minutes to get the small swimming pool out of storage. He cleaned it off in the sink, filled it with warm water, and Billy marveled, “You know, I would’ve said we could just use a casserole dish, but the slide and stairs are smart.”

Little Steve’s face lifted up to him, a blush making his cheeks go rosy as he smiled. “Smarwt Stevie.”

Big Steve waved some bathing suits in the air. “Are we skinny dipping or do you wanna change clothes?”

Billy’s eyes widened. “Where’d you get those? The sixties?”

Steve exhaled heavily. “We may or may not have a small doll collection, so what?”

“That’s such a rich people thing.”

“Yeah, well, they deserve a change of clothes and this is one less thing I have to explain to my mom when she looks at my card statements. Okay, B and Steve. Do you want the oranges or the flowers?”

He held up the swimming costumes for them to see and decide. All of a sudden, small Billy looked bashful as he tucked his chin and rolled his lips. Steve, meanwhile, hopped off the fruit bowl and pointed. “ ‘Wanges! Can I? Oh...Biwwy? Do you want the ‘wanges?”

He rubbed his tummy and admitted, “I want the fwowers.”

Large Billy’s brows pinched a little but he stayed quiet as big Steve encouraged, “You want the flowers one? That’s okay. It goes with your eyes.”

His lashes batted as he blinked up at him. “Weally?”

“Yeah,” Steve encouraged, “and they’re the same size. You can switch the next time you go swimming.”

Billy reached up for his swimsuit and they went to change in their shoebox. The larger Billy wondered aloud, “They have a sense of privacy?”

Steve shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to see themselves first before us.”

When they emerged, Steve spooned water over the slide. The little ones climbed the ladder and went down it together as if they rode a sled instead of a slide. The pool was shallow enough for them to stand, providing big Steve the relief he needed to answer the door. Robin followed behind him to help carry the bags, and they set up their feast on the island counter.

Billy had to use his Rec Center ID card as a floating board, but it fit both of them length-wise as they practiced their kicks. “Good job, guys. How about another ride on the slide while I get my food.”

Steve only just got a dishtowel down so they didn’t slip on their way around the pool. Robin passed Billy his bag and he held a nacho chip out for the little ones to take a bite at the top of the slide.

Big Steve scolded, “Aren’t you supposed to wait thirty minutes between swimming and eating or something?”

“I think they’ll be okay,” Billy disregarded, crunching loudly on his chips. “Swimming 101 is just getting comfortable in the water. So...isn’t this supposed to be a movie night?”

“Movwie! Movwie! Movwie!” the little Steve and Billy chanted, thoroughly locked in chasing each other down the slide and back around.

Big Steve nodded over his burrito. “When they start to slow down...then the movie seals the deal.”

Billy snorted softly and kept providing a nacho station for them to run past. Eventually, the exercise and food did take their toll, and they collapsed on the dishtowel. Given their old school, linen swimsuits, they dried off pretty fast, but little Steve eventually sat up and started patting Billy’s hair. The larger Billy observed this as the smaller one whined a tired sound.

“Biwwy, don’t get sick.”

“I won’ get sick. That’s what Stevie’s always sayin’.”

However, big Steve seconded with a restaurant napkin in hand. “Gimme those ears.”

Little Billy sat up in a huff, but sat still for Steve to gently push the napkin against his ears to siphon the water out of them. Then he folded it to get into the nooks and crannies of his ears and jaw. “Thank you, B. Okay, you next.”

That rosy hue filled little Billy’s cheeks as he mumbled a weak, “You’rwe wewlcome.”

Little Steve, meanwhile, stood up tall, blissful in his pampering. “Stevie? Can we have the honey tea?”

“ ‘Course you can. Go with Billy to the coffee table. He and Rob will get the movie going.”

It was little Steve’s turn to blossom a pink hue as they climbed onto Billy’s palms. They planted their butts down and held onto each other as Billy magic carpeted them to the setup of plushies on the coffee table. Small Steve gingerly stepped off his hand with a bashful, “Thankwou, Biwwy.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered quietly - 

Only to glare at Robin, who sat on the couch behind him. “You’re allowed to like them. I won’t spill.”

Small Billy lingered on the hand as he exclaimed, “Spiww what?”

She segued smoothly, “Won’t spill that we got Indiana Jones to watch. That is, if it’s not too scary.”

Billy finally got off the hand with a scoff. “Scawy? We watched the wed buwll and that wasn’t scawy.”

Little Steve perked up from the fluff of an otter. “It was a wittle scawy.”

“We can fast forward through the scary parts,” Robin promised, and slotted the VHS into the player. But as soon as she turned back around, her eyes widened. “Uh oh.”

“I knew it!” cried Billy from the doll box that had been placed on the coffee table. Little Billy climbed out, grinning victoriously with the tiny whip in hand and the hat on his head. “I’m weady!”

Robin glanced up at Steve in the kitchen, too busy trying to mix a safe temperature of water and honey together. “Uh, B? Can I talk to you about that - No no nonono...”

“Hey! Wobin? What gives?” little Billy exclaimed when she pinched the whip to keep him from waving it around.

“B, I’m sorry, but Steve doesn’t want you to have that.”

“Well Stevie can kiss my ass!”

That got a rankled Steve to come out of his otter plush. “Biwwy. Be nice.”

Robin corralled, “Billy, these things are use to hurt people. They’re not toys. You’ll see that in the movie.”

The fire started to go out of those blue eyes. “Hurwt peopwle?”

She nodded gravely. “We know you won’t mean to, but the whip might hurt your Steve. Even worse, you’re more likely to hurt yourself. That’s just how whips are. Big Steve loves you too much to tell you.”

His little body deflated as the large Steve finally arrived with a shot glass of honey tea. Seeing the body language on the coffee table, he sent inquiring looks to Billy and Robin.

Little Billy replied sadly, “Does Indiana Jwones hurt himself?”

“No, but it’s a movie, sweet B. It’s not real. You’re real and your Steve’s real. That’s way cooler than Indiana Jones.”

Big Steve sank onto the couch next to Billy. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on, is that I’m not sure I like being sweet talked by proxy.”

Finding that unhelpful, Steve leaned forward to intercept. “Hey? Little man? Are you okay?”

Little Billy was absolutely not okay, because his bottom lip pushed up, his eyes went big, and he dropped the whip in order to run into Steve’s hands. Steve glared at Robin and mouthed, What did you do?

I handled it, she replied, dropping the whip back into the box.

Little Steve dragged his otter across the table, or as much as he could with stuff in his way. “Stevie! Helwp!”

“Okay, okay, come here,” he soothed, picking up all three so small Billy and Steve could cuddle together against the soft fur while being held in big Steve’s arms. Little Billy bawled his eyes out during the opening of the movie, warranting big Steve to peek at the large Hargrove next to him. “It’s kind of wild how much their little bodies can hold onto. I thought you’d have stepped in by now.”

However, Billy’s mouth had been set in a hard line for a while now, and he shook his head. “I’m out of my element here, man.”

“No crying kids at your pool?”

“I put shit heads in line. Beyond that, it’s the parents who cause more issues.”

Robin leaned across her armrest to query, “Steve, I thought you were lifeguard certified? You really were the pool guy for years, after all.”

“Sure, but I think they like having Billy around.”

“I wike having big Biwwy awround.”

They looked down at little Steve, who was practically lying on top of small Billy, who blinked sometimes at the movie, but otherwise seemed too tired to really watch it.

“Biwwy does too. I know it. Biwwy wants to be stwong, like big Biwwy.”

But Billy shook his head. “I’m not the kind of guy to look up to, Harrington.”

Big Steve absorbed that in silence. For all of the Hawkins’ renowned lifeguard’s peacocking, Billy had never said anything like that before.

“Then wook down to us. My Biwwy’s smarwt, and nice,” little Steve smiled and finished, “Hawgwove.”

For a brief moment, Billy lost control of his face and his features crumpled, his eyes glossing over as his brows furrowed together. But he got a hand over his mouth, scrubbing his features clean. “Just watch the movie, short stack. He’ll feel better after he sleeps.”

[therealgchu]

Anamnesis - The Crush

new story up for Anamnesis called The Crush. it's the story of sam bringing home his crush when he was 15.

as keeping with the image above, this is all very sweet and wholesome. i mean, c'mon, the kid is 15.

btw, if you're wondering what anamnesis means, it's greek, and generally means recalling of memory.

if you want to read the first in the series, it's here on ao3.

the rest of my stuff is here.

being 15 sucks sneak peek

Despite having the desk furthest from the classroom door, Sam was the first out when the lunch bell rang. He almost sprinted to Chunks and got his usual lunch order: eggs, beef, chicken, potato, special sauce, and cheesecake for dessert. He then dashed to the top of the city walls where he could assemble his grotesque sandwich in peace, and imagine he was out past Akila City finding things Solomon had never found. All of the guards knew him, and since he didn’t cause any trouble up there, they let him be.

“Hey,” a voice said behind his back. He whipped his head around and saw Joe, hands shoved in his pocket looking out at the view. “You come up here a lot?” Joe asked.

“Yeah,” Sam grunted.

“Nice. Nice view. Beats that shitty schoolyard.”

“Yeah.”

“So, a Coe, huh?” Joe asked, cocking his eyebrows.

Sam blushed again, “It’s not a big deal, OK?”

“Yeah, I get it. Family sucks,” Joe said.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, it does.” He paused, looking out past the walls, “You cool? I mean about me being a Coe?” he asked.

Joe shrugged. “Can’t help who your family is. We’re cool.”

“Good, good,” Sam nodded.

Joe moved to stand beside Sam, causing Sam to have an explosion of butterflies in his stomach. The other boy looked at Sam’s food and scrunched up his face. “What are you eating?” he asked disgustedly.

Sam grinned, “The Sam Special. Your favorite Chunks, smash them together, little bit of secret sauce, and you get the best damn sandwich this side of the Settled Systems,” he said proudly.

“Oh god, you eat that shit?” Joe asked in disbelief.

“It’s great! Try it!” Sam offered the Sam Special to Joe. “I dare ya,” he added.

“This is your lunch?”

“Every day,” Sam said proudly.

Joe eyed the food warily. He picked up the sloppy concoction, and took a small bite, and immediately gagged. “Oh, god!” Joe exclaimed, spitting out the food over the other side of the wall.

Sam laughed uproariously, “You gotta have a stronger stomach than that!” he roared, shoving the rest of the “Sam Special” in his mouth. Joe took out a Boom!Pop pouch and drank the whole thing down in one draft. “What do you have for lunch?” he asked the other boy.

Joe pulled out a wrapped up sandwich from his coat pocket. Despite being squashed, it was clear that it was nicely wrapped and well made. The boy unwrapped it, and Sam could see that it was a reuben. His mouth started watering. “My mom still makes me lunch. Pretty lame,” Joe said. He saw Sam’s eyes, and offered half the sandwich to him. “Here,” he said.

Sam’s hand started to move, but then held back. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m sick of them. She makes them every day. Go ahead.”

Sam gladly took the sandwich and wolfed it down. “It’s only me and my old man, and he’s a terrible cook,” Sam said, his mouth full of sandwich.

“Where’s your mom?” Joe asked.

Sam swallowed the remaining sandwich and looked down, running his hands through his long hair. “Umm,” he started.

“Oh man, she run off or something?” the other boy asked.

Sam shook his head, “No, she died when I was seven.”

“Shit, I’m really sorry. That sucks.”

Sam shrugged, looking at the horizon, “It’s not a big deal,” he said, trying to be cool.

Joe slapped him on the back, “No, man, really. That sucks bad. I bitch about my mom, but she’s actually OK. I’d miss her if she was gone.”

Sam smiled gratefully at the other boy. “Thanks, dude.”

“Not a problem. Just, don’t make me eat that shit any more,” Joe said and play punched Sam in the shoulder.

[sky-the-trans-guy00]

Her PR Guy- Ch.2

Y/N’s POV

It had been about a month since I started working for Gotham, and I was already loving every second of it. The players were among the nicest people I had worked with, but there was just one problem— I was self-sabotaging and avoiding a certain blonde midfielder who was exactly my type.

I was hardly able to function in Kristie’s presence without turning into a gay mess, so I had been avoiding her and not acknowledging my feelings. I knew what I was doing wasn’t healthy, so I decided to speak with my therapist, Celesta, about it.

***

As I sat in the waiting room of Celesta’s office, I noticed that the ESPN body issue had come out and was sitting on one of the side tables by the couches. Before I could gather the courage to see if a certain blonde midfielder was featured in the issue, Celesta came out to greet me and then escorted me to her office.

“So, Y/N, how have you been coping with your move to New York?”

“I’ve been doing pretty well, but I wanted to talk to you about something regarding work…”

“Go right ahead!”

“I’m attracted to one of the players I work with, and although I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual, I have found myself avoiding her”

“Why do you think that is (Y/N)?”

“I think it’s because she’s out of my league and I don’t want to embarrass myself while talking to her. Also I don’t know why she would want to date someone like me when she can have her pick out of pretty much every queer person who’s single in the NWSL?”

“It sounds like you’re experiencing some imposter syndrome, but I’d challenge you to be nicer to yourself, and to stop with the negative self-talk. If you tell yourself something enough times, you’ll end up believing it.”

“Yeah, but how do I fix it and stop self-sabotaging?”

“I’d suggest coming up with an affirmation to say to yourself when you’re struggling; I think it would really help”

“I’ll be sure to try that from now on. Thanks Celesta!.”

***

The next morning, I decided to grab brunch at a local LGBTQ+ hangout with my best friend Danny. I didn’t know what to wear, so Danny came over early to help me pick out an outfit that would be fitting for my debut into the queer community of NYC.

I was dressed in a classic blue flannel, dark wash jeans, and a pair of chukka boots, and I could tell that there were plenty of eyes on me. Once we were seated by the host, our waitress came over and introduced herself.

“Hi, my name is Sammi, and I’ll be your waitress this morning! What can I get started for you boys?”

“I’ll take a mimosa,” said Danny.

“And I’ll have a strawberry banana smoothie, please,” I said.

“For sure, handsome,” Sammi replied, I’ll have your drinks out for you shortly,” said Sammi.

***

“She was super friendly and totally your type! You should definitely ask her for her number (Y/N/N)!”

“Oh shit…she was flirting with me, wasn’t she?” 

“I mean, yeah, it was pretty obvious…”

“Goddamn! I can’t believe I didn’t pick up on that,” I groaned in frustration. 

Sammi came back with our drinks, and asked, “Are you guys ready to order?”

“Yes,” said Danny, “I’ll have the buckwheat pancakes with a side of bacon”

“And what about you, cutie?” 

“I’ll umm… take the the Eggs Benedict with extra hollandaise sauce.”

“Coming right up,” Sammi replied. 

After Sammi left to put in our orders, I avoided eye contact with Danny in an effort to maintain some type of self-preservation.

“She’s definitely into you!” Exclaimed Danny. 

“Maybe so, but I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship yet,” I replied. 

“When are you going to stop letting Karen control your life?” 

This wasn’t the first time someone in my circle had something to this effect. My buddy Alex had said the same thing when I was ranting about my huge crush on Kristie. 

“Fuck it, you’re right Danny!” I said, “I’ll ask for her number when she brings us the check.”

“Slay! Look at you (Y/N/N)! I’m so proud of you.”

***

Sammi came back with our food shortly after I made the decision to “shoot my shot”. 

“Here are those buckwheat pancakes with a side of bacon,” she said as she placed Danny’s plate in front of him. 

“And here is your Eggs Benedict with the extra hollandaise sauce,” Sammi said with a wink. 

As soon as Sammi left the vicinity, I started to freak out. 

“Yeah, never mind. There’s no way I can handle asking for her number, I definitely don’t have the balls for that!”

“Well, why don’t you just write your number on the extra receipt and leave it there for her to see?”

“That’s actually not a bad idea; I think I will!”

“Okay then, let’s dig in!”

***

When Sammi came to collect our plates, I was beyond stuffed. 

“I think I’m going to nap away my food coma when I get home”

“Me too, (Y/N/N)!” 

After she finished bussing our table, Sammi brought our checks out to us, and sure as heck, mine had her number on it, along with a note:

You’re super cute and I’d love to go out with you! The ball’s in your court, handsome 😊

Kristie POV

I was sitting with Ash, Ali, Midge, and Lynn at Brunch when (Y/N) came up with the topic of conversation.

“Honestly, I’m not sure how that man is still single…if I wasn’t already in a committed relationship and in love with Marley, you’d best believe I’d be making a move on him,” said Lynn, “You mentioned that you thought he was cute, Kristie— what’s the hold-up?”

“I’m not sure, honestly. I’ve been flirting with him, but I think he’s starting to avoid me,” replied Kristie.

“Well, if I were you I’d take it up a notch. Be super direct and then leave the ball in his court,” suggested Ali. 

[pumpkinupsidedowncake]

Earlier I tried to draw a venn diagram of Malevolent the podcast and Stanley the parable, but I just filled up the middle and couldn’t think of anything to put on either side. Except for writing “GAMER” on Stanley’s side, then attempting to come up with a similarly appropriate title for Malevolent and failing, and then questioning if Arthur Malevolent qualifies as a gamer. Then my perception of the laws of what is and is not a gamer began to deteriorate. If a gamer is one who games, what are the limits of what a “game” is? Do you need to have agency in your participation in order to be a gamer? When Katniss was in the Hunger Games, was she a Hunger Gamer or a Hunger Survivor? Were the Careers who actually wanted to be there gamers? Is that the difference between gaming and not gaming? Seeking bloodshed?

Dear lord, is kayne a gamer? Are all omnivores gamers? Are thorned raspberry plants gamers? Is the sun a gamer? Are the bacteria that cause tetanus gamers??? This is madness! I can’t accept this. Everyone can’t be a gamer. The word doesn’t mean anything anymore if we go around calling every violent houseplant we encounter a gamer.

I decided there was only one solution to this irreconcilable situation: deleting the concept of gamers entirely from this realm. My finger was poised right above the gamer delete button when suddenly, some random white guy I don’t know yelled “wait! don’t do it!” I don’t know how he got in my house. His face looked like one humans tend to have. “don’t press that button! gaming is all I have!” he said forlornly. He fell to his knees dramatically. I don’t know who this guy is, so I asked the only relevant question: are you a gamer? “yeah,” he said, like it meant something profound. So I asked him, what is a gamer? “I dunno.” Is this fern a gamer? He looked intensely at the fern for twenty-four minutes, then stated, “yeah. that’s a gamer.” Dumbfounded, I asked if this small potted cactus was a gamer. He said “nah”. At this point I was beyond done with this gamer nonsense. I asked him if one needs free will in order to be a gamer. “nah”. Nah?!?!

I pressed the gamer delete button. The man in front of me disappeared. The sun disappeared. Even I disappeared. Most everything disappeared that day, except for every bucket and a small potted cactus. It was awful.

Then I got better and pressed ctrl + z. The world was once again inhabited by gamers. My houseplants were traumatized. The random gamer was still in my house. He stared at me with sad eyes, and I realized my finger was once again hovering over the gamer delete button, just as it had an eternity ago. I asked him for his name this time. He gave me his gamer tag. It was unremarkably weird and I forgot it immediately. “you gotta trust me, the world needs gamers,” he pleaded earnestly. I said cool, now get out of my house. But he didn’t. (Is that the true mark of a gamer?) So I did the only thing I could do in that moment. I gave him the gamer delete button.

I was hoping he would destroy it or at the very least leave my house immediately. But instead his “twitch” “chat” dared him to press it. Reader, you cannot know the depth of the baffled rage I experienced when I felt all the gamers in the world being deleted for the second time. I stewed in the void for a long while, wondering where it had all gone wrong. And as I did, I remembered my favorite quick and easy recipe for baked chicken that I learned from my father, who learned it from a family friend. Of course, that method was much less versatile than the version I offer you today.

You will need an oven, chicken meat, and a bottled sauce of your choosing. Consider choosing a restaurant sauce you enjoy, if they sell it somewhere, or possibly a salad dressing if it seems like one that could go on a piece of chicken. Either marinate the chicken in the sauce or chuck it in with the chicken before you bake it. Wash your damn hands and anything else that touched the raw chicken, you maniac. Then bake the chicken in your oven at the correct time and temperature for the variety of chicken meat you are dealing with. Consider using a meat thermometer as well. When this is done, you will have delicious cooked chicken. Unless you chose a horrible sauce. Then you will just have vaguely edible cooked chicken.

Reflecting on my love of baked chicken, I realized that my oven was a gamer, as it had also disappeared when that awful gamer guy pressed that awful gamer delete button. I once again re-introduced the gamers into our world’s ecosystem. “what happened?” the gamer guy in question said. He then was encouraged to press the button yet again by the same force that convinced him to do so previously. The last thing I heard before being yeeted once more into the void was “it would be really funny”.

At that moment, I was at my lowest. Did the world deserve to be infested with gamers who would toss out everything they cared for merely to advance “the bit”? Was there any way out of this mess or would the gamer guy trap himself in a loop of self-destruction? (Is that the mark of a true gamer?) I needed a gamer-proof plan.

There in the void, I created the unthinkable: a gamer delete button delete button. As soon as I brought back the gamers via ctrl + z I pressed the new button, causing the gamer delete button to be sent to the shadow realm, which was like getting yeeted into the void except slightly more permanent. The gamer guy was looking at me again. Leave my house, I said again halfheartedly, just in case it worked. “you saved the world, bro. thank you so much for that.” With a sincere smile, this man who I still don’t know crawled away into my ventilation system.

I had lost so much of what I had previously taken for granted. My button, my worldview, my sanity. But I had gained one thing from all this, one pyrrhic pearl of wisdom: the true meaning of gamer. All you have to do to qualify as a gamer was vent sussy amogus imposter like and subscribe. And in that moment, it felt so meaningful. Profound, even. And now I know for a fact that both the Stanley Parable and Malevolent contain gamers. My venn diagram may be fucked but that’s okay. I’ll make a new kind of diagram to contain all the similarities between these two pieces of media. I’ll call it a list diagram. It’ll be exactly like a list, but with more syllables that add no meaning.

List diagram of the similarities between Stanley the Parable and Malevolent the Podcast:

GAMER

Choices

Wrestling with predetermination

Horror

Wife

Voice describes everything

Fanon divorce arc

Leads are petty

Music that haunts me

Yellow

I’m doney with the funny