#farts n craps

[willy---wanka]

DISCLAIMER!! I ADORE PEARL I LUV HER CHARACTER DESIGN

i just think she is such a funny little creature......

#she's so good hehe #also YES i couldn't be arsed to draw pearl's crown nor marie's hat nor marina's headband. fuck headgear #plus this was just meant to be a quick thing lol #splatoon #pearl houzuki #marina ida #marie cuttlefish #pearlina #uhh #wow i haven't posted art in a long time #i dont remember how to tag stuff anymore LMAO #farts n craps

[octuscle]

I need some help! I spent most of my life in the UK, but I'm living in the States. I miss it. And I may have keyed in a few changes to make me feel at home. But, I dunno, I feel different, mate. What do you fink is happen'?

Mate, you've made a few adjustments to get back to living life as a chav like you did in Newcastle. But "Young", "Stupid", "Lazy" and "Constantly Horny" admittedly leads straight to a cheap haircut, tracksuit and fake Louis Vuitton hip bag at the bus stop in the UK. But you're in Los Angeles… The clocks tick differently there. You won't be a scally. You become more of a muscle bro. No interest in soccer, just football. No beer drinking and no chain smoking. American jocks are so boring. I'm glad you contacted me.

You're standing in front of the mirror. Flawless white teeth, buzzcut, toned and tanned muscles. Ey, not everything is bad. But that has nothing to do with homesickness. And the constant "bruh" and "dude" also annoys you… One of your gym bruhs calls and asks what's up. You ask "Mate, what dee ya say to a pint in the pub?" Your bruh asks if everything is okay with you. Alcohol? And at this time of day? He wanted to go to the gym and then to the beach. "Nah, mate! i was goin' to break for lunch na n' then i havta get 'ack to work here." Back to work? You're in college. And it's Spring Break…. Fuck, of course not. You're a carpenter. Interning at an interior design company here in the US. Fuck, the quality here really sucks. You should have tried to get an internship in Scandinavia. Or even better in Germany. There you can already drink beer for breakfast. And not some light stuff like here…

You have to burp. You made yourself a great English breakfast this morning in your dorm. None of that high-protein low-carb crap. Eggs, bacon, beans. Whatever a real man needs in the morning. Shit, beans always make you fart…

Your basketball shorts become work pants. Your tank top becomes a t-shirt. Your cool Apple Watch becomes a cheap almost real gold swank watch. On the other wrist you wear a matching bracelet. Your cell phone vibrates. "Mate, us're meetin' for a booze-up at the bus stop na. Are ya comin'?" You reply that the bloody pigs should fuck off, you're in fucking America and you still have work to do. You take a selfie and send it to your mates.

"mate, hav ya bin under the tannin' 'ed?" "you look like a 'each propa lad!" "come 'ack soon, ya're nit gettin' enough weed!"

You just answer with "I miss ya fuckers". It's time to go home. A chav like you just doesn't fit in California.

Ya alway find propa lads @toughukladz

#male tf #reality change #male transformation #inked man #age reduction #chav tf #chronivac

[pentacentric]

I probably think way too much about how very little Sam knew about Mary. How John and Dean gave him almost nothing, to the point that she wasn't even really like a ghost shadowing his life, more like the story of one overheard in bits and pieces over the years. And yet, his whole life from when he can first remember—every bit of motivation or guilt, every point of pride or shame—is built around his mother, this person he isn't allowed to know.

I've written a lot of bits and pieces about it before, but never a standalone. This is actually an excerpt from a longer story, but I modified it some and I think it works on its own, hopefully (he knows about hunting already but that's really the only canon difference).

..........................

When Sam's in fourth grade, and has to write a page about his favorite memory, he asks for Dean's help. All he can seem to dredge up at the moment is just too weird or too farfetched. Things that say far too much about the way they live for a teacher to read.

So he asks Dean what he would write about.

After some teasing about his best memories being of all the times Sam's embarrassed himself (and a well-aimed pink rubber eraser hitting him between the eyes) Dean quiets down and turns thoughtful.

"Well, I dunno what my most favorite memory would be, really. I guess…" He bites his lip, chews on it for a second, gaze directed absently into the distance. "I think it would prob'ly be my first memories? It musta been, like, when I was three and four maybe. They're…of Mom."

"Oh." Sam's chest gets a little tight. He speaks quietly, cautiously. Dean—Dean and Dad both—they don't talk about her much. Sam's seen her picture, the one that Dad keeps in his journal, a few times, but he knows so little about her. Just that she was pretty (beautiful), with a smile that reminds of him of Dean's and wavy blonde hair. "What was she—what are they like?"

Dean smiles, maybe a little sad, but it's more than that. Warm, wistful; gaze still unfocused and distant. "Mostly…happy. Like…bright. She'd sing to me a lot, and, like, I didn't know the songs back then, but, when I hear 'em now, I can hear her voice singing them. Beatles, Beach Boys, Simon and Garfunkel, um…Peter, Paul, and Mary, maybe…" Dean chuffs out a laugh. "I remember Puff the Magic Dragon, at least…I think I even remember Dad teasin' her about how she better sing me some real music, too, not just sissy crap, but, I dunno, maybe I made that up."

Dean pauses, that bittersweet expression on his face, still, and Sam doesn't want him to get lost in it. He also doesn't want to miss this opportunity, if he can help it.

"I dunno. He'd say somethin' like that." Dean spares him half a smile, still somewhere else in his head. "What…what else do you remember? What'd you guys do together?"

"Well, not a whole lot. I guess mostly just the normal stuff you do with a little kid. Like legos, I remember we'd build castles an' fortresses and stuff. I wanted her to build me a car but we didn't have enough black bricks, so she made me a little boat instead. Dad said it looked like a bathtub." He smiles. "Um, she'd dance with me, sometimes. To the radio. Make lunch—I mostly remember sandwiches and Mac n' Cheese. I'd sit in that little seat in the cart when she went to the grocery store, and she'd ask me what was on the list and I'd pretend I could read it and make up dumb stuff."

The silence is longer this time. Sam breathes out, carefully. "What kinda stuff?"

"I dunno. Just silly things, like 'elephant steaks!' Or 'a unicorn!' Or 'poop n' rhubarb pie!'"

"Gross." Sam wrinkles his nose.

Dean grins at that. "I think you're, like, the only kid ever who never found poop and fart jokes funny."

"'Cause they're not."

When Dean laughs, muttering little weirdo, Sam looks around for something harmless to throw at him, pouts.

"Don't worry, Sammy, if anyone wonders why you're so weird I'll just tell them it's 'cause you still poop your pants, and you're kinda sensitive about it an' all."

"Dean."

Sam decides that his pencil is perfectly fine to throw after all and, as a concession, doesn't aim it at his head. Dean grins, not seeming too annoyed by the assault, so Sam decides to push his luck.

"Did Mom think it was funny? Your lists?"

Dean's melancholy little smile is back. "Yeah…yeah, I think she did. She'd always laugh, anyways. An' she had the best laugh. I'd make up stuff that just got more and more ridiculous just so I could keep watchin' her laugh." He sighs, shrugs. "Anyways, yeah…that's Mom. That's what I remember."

It gets quiet after that, and Sam can see Dean's face starting to shutter over as he withdraws. It's rare for Sam to get to see his brother so open and unguarded any more. Over the last few years, Dean's started to change; Sam can tell. Still fun, still charming, still affectionate, at least with Sam (mostly when there's no one else around to catch him being so uncool). But, even though they're not always alike—Dean doesn't usually brood, rarely explodes, and he never gets that kind of burning cold John does when he's focused on something—sometimes now he kinda reminds Sam of Dad. He's been more closed off, the way Dad can be, his deeper emotions pushed farther away, out of Sam's reach. Doesn't show when things get to him, like he used to.

It's actually kind of lonely, sometimes.

"So, what are you gonna write about, Sammy?"

When Sam shrugs, Dean suggests the time they ran out of gas on a back road in central Florida. They'd only walked two miles before an Oscar Myer Wienermobile came barreling down the road, seemingly out of nowhere, and gave them a lift to and from the closest gas station (still a good eight miles away). Sam counters with the night in Montana that Dad got so drunk he started fighting with the motel owner about yetis (Dad coming down hard on the side of 'hoax'). They ended up getting kicked out at two am after Dad had cut down the guy’s “Bigfoot Crossing” sign with an axe. They toss back and forth increasingly ridiculous ideas until they're both laughing so hard they're in literal tears. When John comes back, they can't even stop long enough to answer what's so funny. Dad just smiles, bemused and fond, and shakes his head before heading off to shower.

Sam thinks maybe he can add this afternoon to his Good Memories pile.

In the end, he waits until that evening, before bed, and easily fills up a page-and-a-half about the time, last summer, when Dad was on a hunt out west and he and Dean had spent all afternoon exploring tidal pools in Yaquina Head, Oregon, marveling at the tiny little aquatic worlds they found. He invents an older teenage cousin that tagged along so the teacher won't question why two young kids spent the day alone in a national park.

He gets an A.

From then on, Sam keeps his eyes out in thrift stores for cassettes from the bands Dean mentioned; pockets them when he can to listen to later on the beat-up Walkman knock-off Dean stole for him for his sixth birthday. He likes a lot of it, but he's careful about what he keeps; only his favorites. He stashes them in the bottom of his school bag, in the hollowed-out book that Bobby showed him how to make last year, on a rainy day when Sam got bored with watching old Westerns.

For some reason, he doesn't want Dean to know about them. Doesn't want him to feel like Sam's trying to take something away from him. So he slips them in when he's sitting in the back of the Impala alone, on long trips, and closes his eyes. Lets the albums pour into his ears over the headphones; shuts the rest of the world out. Sgt Pepper's. Pet Sounds. Bookends. He tries to imagine his mom, Mary, singing the songs to him, in a sunny kitchen.

But he can never really pull together a complete image of her; just bits and pieces, blurred-together impressions: yellow hair, the smiling face from the picture (looking kind of flat, like a mask), a flowered dress he'd seen in a shop window. And he doesn't know what her voice sounded like, so it kind of just ends up being a composite of the voices of some of his favorite teachers (along with the mother of a classmate back in Indiana who drove him home once when she spotted him waiting for the rain to stop under the playground slide).

So he gives up on trying to picture her, and, instead, just tries to sink into the music, sees if he can feel what she was feeling when she listened to it. Imagines the conversations they might have: which songs would be her favorites, why she would have liked them, where she was the first time she heard them playing.

When he hears those songs on the radio now, or over the speakers in a restaurant, it makes him feel kind of happy and sad at the same time.

They remind him of her.

(Except for America—for some reason, that one makes him think of Dean.)

#spn fic #sam winchester #dean winchester #weechesters #mary winchester #john winchester #sam's lonliness #motherless sam #supernatural fanfic #my fic

[harveywritings92]

[On Ghost and R/n’s date, they went to a drive-in theater and then he took her to a pub in town, when this drunk guy who was desperate for attention, and was seen creeping on all the women, comes up to their table and stares at R/n who grimaces.]

Drunk, to R/n: h-Hey, I will literally crap my pants. right here, right now, if you go home with me later.

[Ghost was about to tell him to frick off, but R/n, now morbidly intrigued. Looks at the guy and smirks.]

R/n: Go on then. *sips her beer*

Drunks: [face contorts a little, lets out a little fart] *sigh*

[A group of people who were playing pool nearby stop and looks around confused when the smell hits..]

Pool-Girl: Ew! Did somebody shit themselves?

Pool-Guy: *points at the drunk* I think it was him!

[The drunk then sobers up, realizes what he just did and does the crap waddle of shame out the backdoor.]

Ghost: *Snort* Fuckin’ hell, the bastard actually did it!

R/n: I know what a sucker.

#call of duty modern warfare incorrect quotes #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod mw ghost #afab reader #call of duty mw #civilian! reader #tw: alcohol

[xbalayage]

could I request “i hate them. i hate them, with their voice, and their perfect hair, and their deep eyes, and …” from the prompt list with silvio?

Silvio/Reader [His POV] Fluff WC: 968 A/N: This is a sequel to another fic I wrote called Bastard. I suggest reading that one first before this one. :)

I had returned home to Benitoite; I did what I needed to do for the old fart and didn't have anythin' much to report on. Truth be told, I saw and heard a couple things: like that woman definitely being Belle and the previous King was dead or I had finally found Valerio after all these years - but I hate the man enough to not tell him any of it. He can get his own hands dirty and figure that shit out. I'm not his damn dog. And of course he wasn't happy about it.

But it's been a month now, and I don't even get why I've been countin' down the days since I last saw you. I didn't even understand why that bothered me so much. I tried biding my time with my usual pleasures; but just like before, it never quenched the internal longing I kept feelin'. I'd drink alcohol like it was water, I'd chug water till the very last drop, spent time with any ol' woman or lady who'd bend over backwards for my time and attention. I'd rain them with my vast amount of wealth and they'd wag their tails happily, wantin' nothing more than to warm my bed at night.

It was never enough, I felt sick to my stomach and repulsed. I could never take enough showers to wipe their filthy marks from my body, never lettin' them stay past the night either. And fucking try as I might, my mind was still on you.

Ugh, I hate her. I hate her, with her voice, and her perfect hair, and her deep eyes, and ... shit, just get out of my head! You weren't even here and you were annoying the crap out of me! But -- is that what it was? I took a good long look in the mirror, I had a talk with my inner self and I realized something. This was fucking stupid.

I packed my shit and hopped onto one of my ships and set sail back to Rhodolite. I knew where you'd be, I'd bet my entire fortune on it. It took a while but the second my eyes set sight on the land known for their roses, my heart started to pick up in pace. Why's my stupid heart racin' the closer I get to seeing you? What I'm feelin' couldn't possibly ... no, it can't be. While in town, I decided to spend some money into the Rhodolite economy and buy roses. I wanted to buy more but my heart stopped the second I saw you from the corner of my eye. Finally, there you were.

And it's almost like you noticed me too, because those deep eyes met mine; ah shit, why's my face burning up and my hands gettin' all clammy now!? I couldn't find it in me to move, but you made that decision for me as your bright smile raced over until you were right in front of me. You... were right in front of me.

"Hello, Prince Silvio! What're you doing here in Rhodolite?" your voice was as sweet as I kept imagining it for a month straight. But before I could respond, you noticed the bouquet of roses in my hands. "What are the roses for?" Ah, I couldn't say they were for you. How would that make me look?

"It's not like I thought about ya or anythin', don't be gettin' the wrong idea. I just happened to have these with me when I ran into you. And I don't need them anymore. Here." I was quick to push them into your arms so you couldn't say no. They weren't gems or anything, this was the best I could get last minute and they were freshly picked. I couldn't comprehend how your eyes began to shine at the sight of them; I offered an easy smile. I missed you smiling at me like that. "Take care of 'em, will ya?"

"They're so beautiful! But why are you giving these to me?" Damn it, don't make me say it while lookin' at me all doe-eyed! Just when I thought I had the heat on my cheeks under control too. You're just too adorable, huh?

"Like I said, I just had 'em and it was just luck that you showed up. So I thought they'd do better with you than with me. Plus they suit ya, I'm not much of a roses guy. And--" I gave pause, just staring at you for a second, trying to find the words I wanted to say next. I closed my eyes to gather the courage. "I'm sorry, a'right? About.. before. I didn't mean it, and I wasn't tryna make you upset."

You looked at me dumbfounded like that was the last thing you expected to leave my mouth. I can't say I blame ya, I was outta line. I just want ya to forgive me, I don't think I could take another month not being around you. And as if you were reading my mind, you responded with that sickly sweet smile. "I didn't think you remembered or that it even mattered. I didn't expect that of you," you paused to smell the roses before continuing, "I accept your apology, Prince Silvio."

I smiled, genuinely smiled. You've got me wrapped around your little finger, don't you? "So, what do you say 'bout me takin' you out? I'm not in town for long, how about it?"

This heart racing feeling must've meant something because it never stopped the moment I was with you. It persisted the entire time too. My heart felt lighter however, my throat didn't feel as painful anymore too. Heh, is this what love felt like? I wouldn't question it for now - just being able to see ya again was enough.

taglist; @nightghoul381, @yvelk, @celiciaa, @drachonia, @alvieeru, @aquagirl1978, @here-for-gilbert, @widowbunny, @exhausted-courtroom-mom, @randonauticrap, @maries-gallery, @violettduchess, @strawberry-scum, @tele86, @lunaaka

#silvio #silvio ricci #ikepri silvio #ikemen prince silvio #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikepri fanfic #fics. #my fics. #mini drabble event.

[skiesofrosie]

joe toye gets a pleasant surprise

pairing: joe toye x ofc (alice blythe)

genre: fluff, lots of easy shenanigans just 'cause

a/n: this is a little fun anecdote between joe and his love, alice blythe. same universe as all is fair, but matters of the heart. slowly, but surely, working on that joe toye piece. <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Her letters usually come in at noon on Tuesday.

She always starts with a “to my heart” and signs it off with "I'm awaiting for your return into my arms, this little corner of Pennsylvania feels most empty without you.” The in-between is her usually spilling her thoughts onto the page about a new book she’s read, telling him how his ma’s faring, and that her lips are chapped because she’s in drought of his kisses.

But it’s Thursday, and she hasn’t responded to his letter from this week, or the week before.

This weekend marks a rare occasion: none of the men’s passes were actually revoked. Joe wonders if god decided to send a bullet up Sobel’s ass, keep his bullshit to himself for once and let the boys rest. Of course, when he sent the letter to Alice, saying he had some time off, along with enough money for the train fare (saved from all the weekends where his passes were indeed, revoked), he wasn’t betting on any mercy. But it didn’t matter if he had to get stabbed through barbed wire, for a chance to see her.

He sought the map of the stars that were in her eyes, and without Alice, he felt sorely misguided.

“I’m gonna take all you shits down at craps,” Malarkey states, stretching his arms over his head before falling mindlessly into his bed. “Earn a fuck ton, then blow it all in Berlin when we jump.”

Popeye snorts, from his corner. “I would bet 50 bucks that you’re gonna end up on the street in your skivvies ‘cause we end up takin’ everything from you.”

Malarkey shoots upward. “Bullshit Pop, I’m gonna strip your pants and put you there–”

“Yeah, Private Bullshit,” Guarnere chips in, “you’re gon’ be farting up a fuckin’ storm, the dames in Berlin ain’t gonna go anywhere near ya. Even I don’t wanna be near ya.”

“Alright, alright,” Malarkey scowls, laughter drifting through the cot. “None of you are getting tips when I win my six grand, you got it?! Except Muck–”

“Hey Toye,” Guarnere cuts him off, and Malarkey flings his arms in the air in exasperation. “What’re you gonna do, huh? You ain’t say nothin’ about ya.”

Joe merely shrugs, his eyelids falling and his head dizzy, both from a hell of a training and the weight of the question. He’s clutching onto the last letter Alice sent him, smoothing out the crumpled edges, trying to hold on to the remnants of her. It’s not like him to be so quiet. Even as a man of few words, Joe is hardly a stranger to wreaking havoc through the cots with Easy Company. But there’s a hole in his chest, taking the shape of her, and he has none of her correspondence this week to get him through.

Guarnere realizes his foul mood, opening his mouth to speak, but Malarkey beats him to it.

“Your girl didn’t send you one of those, shit, dear John letters or something did she?”

Of all things the mick could say, Guarnere thinks, as he scoffs. And that, provokes a storm in Joe Toye, a flash of lightning in his eyes as he shoots a furious glare at Don Malarkey. One that’s evidently working, because the idiot just ducks his head, cowers away back to his bed with a murmur of my bad.

“What’s wrong with ya?” Guarnere probs, unafraid of the tough guy. “Your knuckles are white holdin’ that letter.”

Joe heaves a sigh, lying down. “‘Lice never misses a week, and she’s been quiet for two.”

It takes everything in Bill to tamper a smirk, a twinkle in his eyes because he knows a very special something. 

“I trust ‘Lice, all my heart, but that’s not like her,” Joe adds, slowly.

When she turned sixteen, her father moved to be an executive for the railroads, all the way in California. And despite the distance, she’s never missed a week in sending over a letter. Joe would know, since he’s the man that would drive her to the post office like clockwork at 0900 every Saturday.

“What a sap,” Guarnere tries to comfort, in Wild Bill fashion. “Sounds like you just gotta trust yerself, then.”

And honestly, he’s right. Joe always wonders if he is giving enough, with the words he tries to string together. To him, Alice has a mind most beautiful in its complexity, and even the books envy the way she knows the world. Yes, she’s told him time and time again that love is hardly based on how well one can speak; that his actions have always screamed louder, like the way he holds her tight with his arms, as if everyday is their last.

“Besides,” she would quip, “you’ve gotta beautiful, dirty mouth and I’m the lucky girl who gets to kiss it everyday.”

But now that Joe’s away in Toccoa, the words he bared in his letters were the crumbs of their interactions. It was most difficult to show how he thinks she trumps the galaxy in her bare hands, and shines brighter than moonlight. He knows it in his heart, he just doesn’t know how to tell it. So he settles for a simple, I miss you the most in the mornings, ‘cause it’s always a shit ton more than the night before, as he signs off his letters.

Insecurities have always plagued his mind, but the worst as they come, is that her patience will run out.

(That she will get tired of loving, and waiting, for him.)

“Yeah,” he mutters, “yeah, you’re right.”

He’s about to slip into his dreams with a tightness in his chest, when a rock hard pillow lands on his head.

“What the fuck?!” Joe springs up, light chuckles ringing around the dim room. He snatches the pillow and tosses it, with a slam on the ground, glancing around the cot hastily ‘til his eyes land on one Skinny fucking Sisk. The fella has the audacity to snicker from where he stands, just a few meters away from Joe’s bed. The clear culprit, ‘cause everyone else is already about to be at peace with their mattresses.

Skinny shrugs, his smile impish. “Thought maybe you could use somethin’ to get outta your head.”

“Sisk,” Joe grits, “you’re gonna fucking die!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The morning of Friday starts with a pit of gloom for Joe Toye. 

But the rest of the cot is rustling, the guys of Easy running in and out the door as they pack their bags, some already drinking whiskey from hidden flasks, ready to tear down the walls of the pubs in Toccoa. Joe has his plan set out–he’s going to eat some real eggs and sausage at a diner, play darts with Luz and Malark, then go back to a little hotel, and sleep for the next two days.

“I’m startin’ to think it’s not just Sobel that hates us,” Liebgott muses. “It’s the whole fuckin’ world that hates us.”

“No Liebgott,” Amy, the new medic, mocking Winters as she dips her weight on Lieb’s bed. “The world just hates you.”

“Yes, yes, and Joe hates the rest of the world too,” Chuck laughs.

He probably does, the Toye Joe thinks. The whole world except Amy Calloway. A frisson of longing bubbles in his throat, in envy of whatever’s floating between her and Liebgott. It’s obvious they’re both too prideful to admit it, but no one can tame an asshole like Liebgott the way she does. It’s the sole connection that they share, and it reminds Joe of his own lover, more than 700 miles away back at home. His person, who is his home.

Fuck, the weekend hasn’t even started, and he’s already feeling sour. Fuck this god damn war. Zipping up his bag, making sure to bring his toothbrush, his underwear, and the photos of Alice; he notices the empty bed of his front neighbor. Scanning the room, he squeezes his brows, as Guarnere seems to be missing in action.

“Hey Malark,” he raises, “where the hell’s Guarnere?”

Malarkey shrugs, a cigarette between his teeth as he drapes his bag on his shoulder.

“No idea, sir Toye. Had to slip out ‘bout an hour ago, but he didn’t say why. Wasn’t at breakfast either.”

“Never fuckin’ call me sir Toye again,” he grumbles, annoyed at the red head. Malarkey flinches at his glare, just scrambles out the cot, his best friend Skip Muck chasing after him. Bill was supposed to be hitting the diner with Joe, but he supposes he’s going alone now. Joe Toye’s got little patience, and he’s not about to waste it.

As he steps out into the open, he finds himself feeling mocked by the sun. In fact, he’s always preferred the rain. The sun pays no mind to the fact of suffering–like the day his father died, each time he steps out smothered in dirt after ten hours in the coal mines, or the painstaking goodbye with Alice when he took off for Toccoa. At least the rain felt soothing; its grayness a piece of sympathy to the hardship on land. He wishes it were his companion now too, as he feels the pain of missing Alice, plainly and deeply.

The soldiers are ramping up, eager to get out of base, as they await their rides by the gates. Little pieces of gravel flick at his uniform as he stands by the dirt road, with Skinny waiting next to him. He can vaguely make out the commotion between Liebgott, Amy and Chuck a few meters away, shoving at the soldiers trying to pick a fight with Liebgott (though, let’s be real he probably started it).

“Gonna hit Charlie’s with Ramirez, take six shots of whiskey, and whatever happens next, I probably won’t remember,” Skinny chimes, when Joe asks about his plans for the weekend. “And then repeat, the next day.”

Joe chuckles, shaking his head as he lights up a cigarette bud, shoving the lighter back in his pocket.

“Gonna seek out a lady?” He asks, casually. “Or you got someone waitin’ on you at home?”

At that, Skinny breathes out a sigh. Tongue poking his cheek as he gazes into the distance, watches the trees sway in a gentle breeze, though his mind is not at all present. Ah shit, Joe thinks, hit a sore spot.

“Sisk,” Joe nudges him, and he winces, clearing his throat as he yanks his brain back in his head.

“No. I don’t.” He finally says, but there’s a tinge of regret that doesn’t slip past Joe.

“What are you,” Skinny asks, distractedly. “What are your plans?”

Frowning slightly, Joe lets it slide, ‘cause the last thing Sisk probably wants is to let his emotions (and his dignity) crack when he’s about to get fucking hammered in a dusty old bar. As he wills a reply, a particular motor car pulls up in the distance. But there’s been a constant rumble of wheels scraping the dirt, the guys cheering out the window as they buzz off, so Joe pays it no mind, back facing the car as he chats with Sisk.

But perhaps, he should have paid a little more attention.

“And I’ll probably just hang back at the hotel, sleep like a fuckin’ baby and–”

“I don’t remember you being such a party pooper, Corporal Toye,” a light voice cuts him off.

His brain short circuits; mouth clamping shut as Skinny’s confused face fades into the background. 

(I’m going fuckin’ crazy–)

A familiar, breathy giggle resounds his ears. “Honey, would you turn around for me, please.”

And he does, slowly but surely, turning his back to the men that were trying to peek their noses into the newfound presence. His breath catches in his throat, though he suspects it’s the same tightness he’s been feeling all week. But his heart is palpitating like it’s about to burst out of his chest. Because when he turns to face her–long red hair neatly styled, that same blue chiffon dress she wore when he realized he was in love, and a splitting grin that outshines the constellations in the sky. Suddenly the sunshine doesn’t feel so bad, when it’s gleaming like gold against her skin, though it is no match for her beauty.

(God, I’m going fuckin’ crazy–)

His body is frozen, and he has to blink a few times to surmise that he’s not going insane, that Alice is there with him.

Guarnere hangs back around by the motor car he picked Alice up in, and merely scoffs because Joe Toye right now, resembles a puffer fish. Skinny’s about to shove the petrified man forward, but Alice, sweet brazen Alice, takes matters into her own hands; rolls her eyes and stomps the road to close the gap between her and Joe, hauling him by his collars, as he stumbles, to seal her lips on his. Now that springs him into action, because Joe has every bit of her soft lips memorized.

A slew of wolf whistles fly through the air, but he's hardly bothered, because she's here with him. And for the first time in a while, he thinks that everything will be okay. He settles into her touch, warm, soft palms sliding against his jaw as he cradles her close, tightening his arms around her waist. The unlikely of this happening, makes him question if this all is real. But when they break apart, noses touching, her striking blue eyes gazes fondly at him, unlike anything he’s ever seen–and he decides that this is, indeed real.

A teasing smile graces her lips. “I’ve known you since diapers, but still you look like you’ve aged ten years.”

Yes, definitely Alice Blythe.

“Sweetheart,” Joe musters, “you’re so goddamn unromantic you know that?”

She chuckles, but her eyes are soft, full of love. “And yet, here you are, lovin’ me to death.”

Malarkey gawks, Muck’s jaw dropping wide open too. Even Skinny’s a little taken aback, nodding his head, feeling weirdly impressed. Everyone has heard about the famous Alice Blythe, seen photos of her neatly arranged on Joe’s bedside too. There’s nothing that gets Joe Toye’s shoulders drooping like when he’s visibly pining for his other half, but nothing would match the sight of Easy’s tough guy, puddling straight into a lovesick pile of mush in the safety of her arms. 

And Joe’s not at all afraid to admit that he gets choked up, whimpering slightly when he says, “I missed you.”

She melts at that, blinking back the threatening of her tears. “Me too. God, I missed you too.”

Looks like this weekend isn’t going to be so bad after all.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

note: hint hint, skinny's story too, hehe.

#band of brothers #joe toye #joe toye x oc #band of brothers x oc #sweet joe x alice #easy company #some nonsense

[little-red-toyota]

I know that this isn't considered a question but hear me outno bs no lies and no crazy talk. But when I was staying in my apartment unit a couple years ago on the verge of homelessness I did the unthinkable the merely impossible, I manifested the souls or the characters of thomas and the Norwegian railway engines into reality. I know you are probably asking well why would you possibly do that or want to do that. Well it's simple really I was was lonely and miserable without anyone who cared about me or even acknowledged my existence. Besides guts who try to hook up with me but that's Besides the point I didn't and still don't want a sex partner to share my life with because I hate sex. But let's get back on topic. I wanted to share my life without someone or something that I loved and cared about . And that was the thomas and Norwegian railway engines. And kid you not ever since 2022 I started hearing their voices now you can blame it on the usual schizophrenia bull crap or you can ponder on the fact that I could be dealing with something more something paranormal. And to sum it up holand is a little trickster with a pranks sort of attitude and always up to something what he and Bingsfos do is chase buttman and the other butts into public libraries and prior to that they Amp the butts up by saying fart over and over as if they were giving them an epic speech and every time Bingsfos goes to Amp up the butts holand says yuck . Out of disgust. And yes he has flirted with me on some occasions holand has at least. But he says my butt looks good. But let's get back to the topic . I even went as far as told the engines to help me flood my apartment complex with water because I didn't get along well with my neighbors and I wanted more than anything to get them back foe all the things they done to me so me and the thomas and Norwegian railway engines all turned on the bath tubs to some of the abandoned buildings and apartments units in the same building as I lived in and flooded the whole building with toy fish and water. It was hilarious and I swore up and down I heard Bingsfos and holand inside scuba diving gear talking about what a funny prank it was. So I thought I just share that tad bit of information with you . They are spirits like it or not and I manifested them to spiritual means. And I hope you can understand why I'm so defensive over them and by the way whenever I text a question to you guys on Tumblr I hear holand say sometimes that we recieved your question.

".............! What the......!"

"I think we should get a restraining order.... I am scared."

A/N: Okay. Now you're getting really creepy. Don't do this. These are my characters, they are like my children, and I am very passionate about them. You don't know them well enough to claim to know their spirits. Whichever spirits you are talking to, it's not my characters. Make your own OCs instead. I won't tolerate this. I am seriously considering blocking you from both my own and the NRS blog. Get help. For your own sake. Seek medical attention. This is more than I am willing to tolerate.

#not really an ask #Please stop... #this is getting creepy... #now we're seriously considering a block...

[somethingaboutcheese]

hiii!!~ :3 i’m not sure if your request box is open, but I was wondewing if you could write me a fanfic where wilbur is in an estabwished relationship with the reader, but the reader has weawwy bad gas that they try to hide (*≧∀≦*) nyah~! that would be weawwy awesome! owo tysm!!!~♡

(also,, you can call me 🫧anon >.<)

pairings: wilbur x reader

description: wilbur comforts reader with bad gas / irritable bowel syndrome

pronouns: she/her

genre: butt clenching fluff , hurt with comfort

warnings: mentions of illness (ibs), insecurity, swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~

wilbur walked into your shared apartment, expecting to see you laying on the couch waiting for him. instead, he was met the distant sounds of your moans. wilbur’s heart dropped to his stomach as he assumed that all of his nightmares came true. he swiftly ran through the apartment, hitting his gangly man limbs on so many things. as he ran to the bedroom, tears started to run down his face. wilbur heaved the bedroom door open only to find no evidence of cheating. his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he checked every room in the house, but only being met with even more confusion. the moans got louder as he approached the bathroom. “surely she isn’t cheating on me in the bathroom?” he thought, but doubt plagued his mind. he cracked open the door only to hear the sound that plays in spongebob when they come across something vile. he peaked his head in to see you gripping the sides of the toilet, butt ass naked, and the color drained out of you. he ran forward, concern on his face as he watched you push out a gargantuan shit. he cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. you cracked open an eye and he wiped the tear that was running down your face.

“everything will be okay, my darling” he whispers comfortingly, but you can barely hear him over this mahoosive dookie.

you cried out in pain as the astronomical crap continued to erupt out of you. he sat there with you, running his hands through your sweaty hair. finally, the number two came to a stop. you immediately slumped over in exhaustion, barely managing to use the bidet. after cleaning yourself up, wilbur picked you up and carried you to your shared bedroom. he laid you down, carefully, as to not hurt your ass. he laid next to you, wrapping his arms around your sleepy body. you cried from the pain you just experienced. wilbur cooed quietly, wiping your tears and reassuring you that he was there.

“wilbur…?” you called out.

“yes, darling?” he responds, hands playing with your hair comfortingly.

“thank you for comforting me, i’ve been struggling with ibf since i was born and it’s been really hard. i love you.”

“anything for you y/n, i love you more.”

you sighed in content and let out a loud, stinky, heart stopping fart.

author’s note:

hey guys! this is my first fic i’ve ever written so i hope you like it!

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #hurt/comfort #wilbur x y/n #wilbur x you #mcyt x you #mcyt fluff #mcyt imagines #dream smp #satire #minecraft #dream

[itchyeye]

Honestly one of my least favorite things about TMA is the pacing. The individual statements are excellent but you can't build a meta story without considering the broader pacing.

Honestly, i don't see the point in making the Stranger and the Dark separate entities when the Dark gets destroyed so quickly in a way that is so useless to the story. I get that they needed to convey that stopping the rituals was meaningless and giving Jon another enemy (that he was perfectly designed to fight because of those eye powers Jonah wanted him to grow) was a way to do that, but surely there was a *better* one? It was one or two episodes for practically nothing...

Also did you find that TMA got more stressful over time with little to no relief? I don't feel the same mounting dread listening to Alice Isn't Dead or Malevolent, and the horror in those isn't exactly light. There are just... breather moments. I feel like those are important. You can't keep raising the stakes and reducing the hope forever.

(While I'm on the topic of hope, I didn't like having all the mystery surrounding the entities in season 3 taken away and having any hope for a happy ending taken away all at once. Pacing wise, halfway through season 3/5 is way too early to let that bomb drop)

imo, anyway

(Wednesday anon)

i agree with you 100% on pacing, the pacing of the entire series is a mess, but i disagree about why the pacing is bad for the reveal bc i actually think it came way too late

the reveal of the entities imo was too slow, we don't get an explanation for the mechanic of the whole world of magverse until mag 111, which is halfway through s3, and there are only 5 seasons

the glacial pace of this reveal is way less noticeable on re-listens, because if you know about the entities of fear from the very beginning, a lot more of the series makes a lot more sense

jonny talks in q+as about balancing the horror and the mystery and while i feel like the mystery was well structured, it was paced badly

and even once the entity reveal happens (in one of the best episodes ofc) the unknowing crap drags oooooooon and on and on and on and on for fucking ever

i'm sure if you like the stranger, it's nice to have two full seasons dedicated to it, but i personally find it to be a very tedious and poorly executed entity so the amount of time the series spends on its ritual and its monsters was a bummer to me

that's not to say that those two full seasons are a wash!!! that's untrue by any stretch, some of the series' best episodes are in s2 and my favorite season over all is s3

but the draaaaag of getting to the unknowing feels almost like living it in real time, and i personally don't care for the finale at all (it's a technical marvel but an audio nightmare, besides not enjoying the topsy turvy circus theme i also can't stand the cacophony of the ritual (which i do understand is the whole point but that doesn't change the fact that i find it painful to listen to))

and yes, absolutely, preventing the dark ritual was HORRIBLY rushed, especially since when basira and jon actually get to ny-ålesund, the ritual was prevented years ago... one of the MANY instances in tma where we get a lot of drawn out build up for sort of a wet fart reveal

it was introduced early on with elias giving basira bad intel in order to get her out of the institute while jon gets marked by the buried, but the audience doesn't know that's connected to the dark ritual until like... six? i think six episodes? later? and then wham bam the whole dark business is over before it even starts

which is a bummer to me because it gives us so little time with jon and basira traveling :( and also the dark is a very mid fear for me BUT whatever tf manuela and maxwell had going on was weeeeeeeeeeeeird (horny tone indicator) and i want so badly for them to be actual fully realized characters bc avatar/acolyte with a ridiculous age gap is my fucking JAM and jonny does it so often...

but i disagree about the stranger and the dark not being meaningfully different entities? maybe i'm misunderstanding you, but while i think the stranger is a thematic mess, the dark is a very concrete tightly executed entity

i love the dark's connection to brackish water as well, i think that's very interesting and very visually engaging

i think the cult aspects of the people's church were introduced late and not very effectively... i mean they were introduced in s2 with basira's statement but we didn't really get into it from a devotee pov until manuela. but also jonny's religious horror flops for me every time :/ the father burroughs arc, the dark, most of the lightless flame, etc just feels flat to me... but chalk that one up to my jewish upbringing maybe?? i love the worship aspect of the entities so it's not like i dislike how jonny writes the horror of devotion, it's just when he talks about organized religion that i sort of tune out

i personally don't find tma stressful! i didn't on my first listen and i haven't found it to be so since. i find a lot of tma disappointing because of the way it builds and builds and builds and then.... flops. but not stressful!

also this is down to personal preference but my favorite type of horror is relentlessly bleak. i love nihilistic hopeless horror! and i think tma really really delivers bleak. the environment, the futile struggle of humanity against the fears, the total lack of interpersonal connection, i love all of it. i think if jonny had stuck to his guns and done a real horror tragedy and committed to the incredible oppressive sense of hopelessness he had built for 4 seasons, jm wouldn't have happened and s5 could have been good (altho i have to say that on principle i find goofy nightmare dnd hike through themed escape rooms to be a dogshit concept for a season, especially as a finale for a series that was so grounded in reality? that had such a solid connection to the bleakness of real life!! of shit jobs and bad friendships and depressive spirals etc. why did we end the world and end up in rick and mortyverse. why would we do that...)

but yeah definitely i can see why the relentless downward trajectory of tma might not appeal to everyone, but it's personally one of my favorite aspects of it

[jennifer check voice] i need [my horror stories] hopeless

#[💌] asks and replies #wednesday anon

[kemafili]

Door to door mood board (arts n crafts by Juckport Snd Kuyashis AKA fart and crap Josef and Andrew and also me)

#artfart #oc #d2d #door to door

[numblikesdonuts]

Dr. Nefario x Reader

-

A/N: Umm… yeah I don’t know what possessed me to make this but here you go.

-

Gru’s lab was dimly lit by only the illumination of two ceiling lamps. It was late in the night, 11:45 to be exact, and everyone was asleep. Everyone, except you. You were Dr. Nefario’s pet. Yes, he kept you in a cage under a desk in Gru’s lab. You may be wondering, how did you become his pet? Well, you two met at Walmart in the garden section, and you were wearing a choker that day. He shrank you into a pocket sized bean and took you with him. You haven’t seen your home ever since.

Anywho, it was night time and you were unable to sleep. The pungent smell of jelly made your stomach grumble, since Dr. Nefario forgot to feed you today. He was too busy fapping off to pictures of Gru in his fairy costume. You were getting crabby since you were hungry as fuck and wanted out of your damn cage. You kept thinking of anything you could get a hold of to satisfy your hunger. As you grab a hold of the bars to your cage, you rattled its opening vigorously, hoping to open it. *CREEK*

It opened! You scampered out of your cage and scrambled to your feet. And then you heard footsteps… ‘CRAP!’ you thought to yourself.

Before you were able to go anywhere Dr. Nefario came into the room and saw you out of your cage. “What are you doing out of your cage, egghead?” You smiled innocently at him “Master, forgive my silliness for I have sinned. Feed me some beans from the can of tin.” Dr. Nefario sighed and walked towards you, “You know, today has been a long day and I could use a break.” He gently grabbed you by the chin, “Is baby gonna be a good pet and give me that good good?” You blushed and knew what he wanted. “Yes, Master.”

Dr. Nefario sat in his chair while playing with fart putty while he waited for you. You soon came back to the dimly lit room wearing a Grimace costume, holding four jars of Gru’s special jelly. You shyly stepped into the light so he could see you. Dr. Nefario grinned and put his putty to the side, then placed his hands together into the weird mad scientist position, “Go on,” he groaned out. You stood straight and placed down the jars of jelly in front of you. It was so eerily quiet- you could hear every move you made in your costume, the glass of the jars being placed on the floor, and Dr. Nefario’s breathing. Your hands shakily reached for one of the jars as you tried to focus, but all you could see was the beaming stare coming off those dark circled goggles. Your hands struggled to hold the jar of jelly since the costume covered your fingers, but eventually you were able to grasp it. You opened the jar and poured its contents in front of you. One jar… two… three… and the last one. There was a fuck ton of jelly in front of you. You looked at its sticky reflection and then at the doctor’s eyes. “Do it.” He said a little impatiently.

You placed your fuzzy purple feet into the slippery, sticky jelly and began to twerk. “Twerk… twerk twerk” you mumbled with each booty bounce. Dr. Nefario nastily chuckled, “Mmm Daddy likey.” You shook harder “Twerk twerk twerk twerk” you heard the clicking of metal being grabbed and handled. You looked to your master, who was now holding his beloved fart gun. He aimed it at you and fired an atrocious fart. He smirked, “Smell it,” he ordered. You took a deep inhale through your nose…. It smelled horrendous. “How does it smell?” He asked with gross pleasure, “Rotten,” you replied.

You slipped and fumbled on the jelly and struggled to compose yourself when you heard tiny footsteps behind you, “Wigga booba??” You turned to see a minion behind you looking shocked, but mostly confused. Dr. Nefario scampered to his feet quickly and hurried towards the minion, “Get back in your cage.” He ordered as he walked to the minion. You headed for your cage and began unzipping your Grimace costume off- “Ah! Leave the costume on…” he demanded. You gulped and crawled on your sticky hands and knees into your cage and watched Dr. Nefario push the minion out of the lab. He turned around and nothing shined brighter than his dark reflective goggles and gross smile. “Now,” he sighed contently, “where were we?”

You crawled back out of your cage, free from minion eyes, and went to Master Nefario. “What shall I do now, Master?” He smiled and walked towards his desk, picking up what looked like a smartphone. “You know exactly what to do.” He pressed his smartphone and “Pony” by Ginuwine began to play. A perverted grin slid on Dr Nefario’s face as he sat back down on his chair. You knew what he wanted. You began to shake your Grimace belly; up, down, and side to side going slow but gradually speeding up. You spun in a circle with your hands in the air and swirled your hips around. “Very good…” His words dripped out of his mouth and he lifted a finger signaling for you to come here. You hopped towards him like a jumping bean, as that was how he likes it. He leaned back in his chair, giving you as much lap room as needed. You turned your fuzzy purple ass towards him and shook it like a trash bag.

“Goddamn, so juicy…” he grabbed a bag of crushed smarties and snorted a good amount up his nostril. “Oh man…” You grabbed his fart putty and put it to his ear. You played fart ASMR with him and you could see the drool escaping his lips. “Mmm stinky…” you whispered to him. “Fart me.” He demanded. You looked at him like he just threw up a bunch of snakes, “…. Pardon?” You asked him. He grabbed his fart gun and shoved it in your arms, “Fart me.” Dr Nefario demanded, getting impatient. You pointed his fart gun at him firing away, “Mmmm” he groaned as he leaned farther back into his chair. ‘Wait… did he just pass out?’ You thought to yourself, “Master Nefario…” no response. ‘Well, back to the cage’ you thought as you went back over there. “At least when he wakes up he’ll give me a treat.”

The End

A/N: If you enjoyed this fan fiction and want to see more, please check out my Patreon! I appreciate all your feedback and support❤️

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #dr nefario #despicable me #literally I don’t know why I made this #dr nefarious

[willy---wanka]

for the love of craig's thicc thighs pls reblog, i had to google 'bird tit' for this

#i've decided i'm doing more shitposts on ms paint #splatoon #pearl houzuki #marina ida #pearlina #farts n craps

[fat-hedonistic-hogs]

19. Nerd ochaco

"N-No! I've never done that! What kind of question is that anyway? Just because I'm gassy doesn't mean I can't control my bowels..." Ochako said covering her face and accidentally activating her quirk on herself causing her to rise into the air and causing some side effects. Her stomach rumbled as she tossed and turned in the air letting out rumbling farts and wet sounding toots.

"Ugh I think I'm gonna... FLLLPPPPRRRPPPPPRRRRLRRRT~" Ochako groaned as her panties began to bulge and sag downwards as the nerdy heroine filled her pants with crap. "Do-Dont look at me! BLLRRRAAAART~ HELP ME!" Ochako cried flailing her flabby bingo wing covered arms in the air as she lost control of her quirk and was stuck floating like a gassy balloon.

#muse: nerd ochako #nerd au #anon ask #ask meme #slob #tw: extreme slob #extreme slob #tw: soiling

[orbch]

Thank yoouu!!

Like, holy crap, it’s getting exhausting watching Starswirl and Rainbow Flash at this point! Screw off with “that’s why she cheated!!!!”. N O

Lightning Speed may be controlling as heck, but he doesn’t deserve this! He just hung out with his best bro and than this shit happens!

Like seriously. Make Starbeam and Plumsweet the main characters, and it would be soooo much more interesting!

Still rooting for nightbeam tho!

I JUST NOW SAW THIS IMBOX.., hello..

its seriously so stressful watching starswirl and rainbow be the main characters bc they actually suck. so much. like the justifying rainbows cheating and then comforting her after school. STARSWIRL. STARSWIRL NO!!! DONT BE A MUNCH NOO!!!!

i would kinda almost understand rainbow being upset abt lightning and nightlight hanging out and lightning ignoring her if she didnt get mad at starswirl for NOT DOING THE SAME THING FOR her. and also she cheated so (fart noise) immediately unjustifiable. if u felt that unappreciated just break up like. tf?

plumbeam should be the main focus atp fuck everyone else 😐🤦 plumbeam. plumbeam save me..

also nightbeam prevails.

#mlpstopmotion #mlpsm adjacent #mlp high school secrets #mlp highschool secrets #mlpstopmotionx #mlphss #im just babbling

[thatyamiguy-blog]

Dirty boy (More harry flipping potter)

A odd fact not known to many, as it turned out your normal run of the mill wizard was actually quite easier to put under trance and implant key words even with only a basic knowledge of hypnotism.  This would be a fact Harry discovered to his delight having gotten interested in it over the course of a summer and trying it out for fun on the train ride to Hogwarts. Of course with him using it on his friend the triggers were just harmless ones, like every time Ron would hear a five sharp knocks on a door he'd bark like a dog, Or Hermione becoming a stereotype ditz if she was offered bubble gum till the flavor ran out. He also quickly removed said trigger once they got to the school and erased the memory of the act of them ever being in place. However, encouraged by the success of his little experiment, Harry would slowly work his way up with more and more amusing/twisted triggers on students he wasn't all that fond of till he came up with the perfect set for one blond haired prat: Draco Malfoy. Getting the blond twat monkey alone to work his mojo hadn't of been easy, but once it was done and Harry had removed the memory of the triggers even being place, it was time to sit back and have some fun.  Still Harry tried to at least be semi fair about it, and promised himself to only use his new found powers if Draco was being a true and utter pain in the backside. which, again, this was Draco we were talking about, only took all of a day from the planting.

"ugh, did somebody cut the cheese?" Draco asked, walking into the dinning area and moving pass Harry, Ron and Hermione. He paused and then leaned down, taking a over the top sniff of Ron and then held his nose. "oh guess not, it's just a weasley!" He said and laughed, prompting his two loyal thugs to laugh with him even if the dim look on their faces meant they didn't get the joke. "really? reduced to making fart jokes Draco?" Hermione asked and rolled her eyes, moving in a bit closer to Ron and then wrinkling her own nose. the red head had skipped a shower after practice that day and well, did smell a bit ripe. "Ha! See? even you think he stinks!" Draco crowed and hooted with laughter. "You know Draco, it's not nice to tease others. Ron will smell fine once he gets a shower in but YOU'LL always just be a 'dirty boy'" Harry said, sipping some pumpkin juice and smirking. "Really? thats the best..you..got..?" Draco scoffed back but suddenly he felt weird and found himself starting to pop a squat. "ah..what are you doing?" Crab asked. Draco went to answer with his mouth, but a blast of ass gas from his rear handled the reply for him and then as his thugs looked on in disbelief and Hermione and Ron and Harry looked on with amusement, the back of Draco's jeans started to puff out as a horrid stench filled the area. "Is he crapping himself?" Ron asked, laughing and pinching his nose shut. "N-No! I'm not a stinky baby pants pooper!" Draco whined and then even as he was clearly fighting himself, he popped his thumb into his mouth and started to suckle on it as he kept destroying the seat of his pants. "I guess Draco's jealous of Ron's stink and wants to top it~ 'Isn't that right baby Draco?'" Harry asked. Hermione was moving back to the other side of the table where the air was a little fresher but had to turn and watch in amusement as now only did the teary eyed blond nod his head up and down, helpless to refuse the command but he also lisped around his thumb making drool run down. "Yesh 'arry. Ous wight." Draco whimpered and as he finished with the back of his pants, he closed his eyes and relaxed his bladder soaking the front. "Gah watch it!" Ron cried up, jumping up on the table before the smelly puddle the blond was making could reach him. Crab and Goyle had like wise stepped back away from Draco in part to avoid the puddle and the smell and to avoid being seen as besties with the pants pooping dork. Harry had been about to unleash his next command but instead decided to call off the torment for the moment as a certain raven haired potions master was storming towards Draco and did NOT look pleased. "Head's up stinky boy, your uncles coming." Harry advised and leaned back, casually munching on a slice of pie. 'dinner and a show..never a dull moment at Hogwarts.' he thought. Sadly it wasn't much of a show as Snape just wordlessly took Draco by the ear and led him off, taking the time to turn around and use a spell to clean up the mess the blond had left behind. "heh, I'd like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation." Ron mused. "Which the smell coming off of him flies wouldn't look out of place either." Hermione giggled, and that set them all off laughing.

it wasn't till they were in the relative quiet of the dorm room (a glare from Snape had sent the few slytherin's who had been sitting in the common room scampering off) That Snape finally spoke up to the blushing and ashamed Draco. "I thought you were done with this childish behavior after we had that talk during the summer young man." Snape said. "I..I wasn't doing it on purpose! Someone muse of cursed me or something!" Draco whined pathetically. this couldn't of been worse for the blond, his body just betraying him like that after that summer while Uncle Snape had been visiting he'd caught Draco purposely soiling himself and bouncing in it! "Considering you've been with your friends all day and no one took out a wand in the dinning room, I think that's highly unlikely." Snape said dryly. "Do you remember what I told you before?" Draco started to full on bawl and rub at his eyes, which combined with his soiled garments made him look like a over sized toddler. "T-That if you caught me messing m-myself like a little boy again y-you'd dress me to fit the role.." Draco sobbed. "Please! I'm telling you, it wasn't on purpose! give me anther chance!!" "It's against my better judgement to do so..but I also don't wanna be the uncle of the only nappy lad waddling around the school. there will be NO more chances though young man, do I make myself clear?" Snape asked. If Draco hadn't of already let all of his wee out in the dinning room, he would of soaked his pants here at the tone of his uncles voice and hiccuped and nodded. "Oh for heavens sake.." Snape sighed and waved his wand, a oversized green soother popping into Draco's mouth and the poor lad found himself forced to suckle on it. he couldn't even seem to tug it out of his mouth and whimpered and pointed at it, looking at his Uncle. "It'll come out once you get cleaned up. and after you're clean, strait to bed. no supper for pants pooper's." Snape said and then walked over, leaving the confused and ashamed boy the less then pleasant task of cleaning up. 'I just know Potters behind this somehow..' Draco thought and due to the heavy load in his seat, he was forced to waddle to the bathroom to clean up. the only saving grace of everything was that Draco was so tiny downstairs his uncle had never been able to notice that despite how ashamed and humiliated he was, Draco was rock hard.

word of Draco's accident spread like wild fire though the school and even though the teachers tried to encourage a forgive and forget policy Draco had simply made too many enemies in the school and was forced to endure multiple taunts, and worse, well meaning teachers calling him up to their desks several times a class and asking if he needed to use the rest room. the consent teasing had a effect of making Draco keep his fat mouth shut for a change and true to his earlier self promise Harry left him alone, though lord knows he longed to test the rumor he'd heard that Snape was prepared to put Draco back in nappies should he have anther accident.

At dinner that evening Harry noticed that Draco was sitting alone, other students had bunched in together as close as possible just to avoid being near him 'in case he went off' again. Feeling a tiny bit of guilt Harry, after clearing it with Ron and Hermione, got up to go and invite the poor git to sit with them. Draco was munching slowly on a piece of bread, resting his head on a fist and staring off with a million mile stare when Harry got his attention. "Hey Draco, I wa-" Harry started but was cut off as Draco yelped and jumped, snapped out of his daze. this got more laughs from the other students and Draco fumed and blushed as he glared at harry. "What do YOU want?" he huffed. "I was wondering if you wanted to come over and sit with me and my friends..you look a little lonely." Harry said, forcing down the urge to make Draco disgrace himself. the blond HAD had a rough day after all. "Do you really think I've sunk THAT low I'll take your pity just like that potter?" Draco huffed and leaned forward. "I don't know how, but I know for a FACT that somehow you were behind what happened yesterday. So thank you, fuck you." and Draco tossed the rest of the bread in his hand at Harry's head. "BYE!" eye twitching Harry clenched a fist and for a second thought of taking a swing at the brat, but again cooler heads prevailed because to be honest, Draco had EVERY right to be pissed with Harry and was on the nose. Still, he couldn't just let that go away totally unpunished and snorted. "Fine whatever. 'Why don't you just sit her and sulk while you suck on your thumb!'" Harry said and turned to leave, knowing even without the laughter that started up that Draco had just started to nurse on his thumb like a pouty toddler. the thumb sucking command would only last for 5 minutes but it was enough to get even more laughter directed Draco's way and a look of disdain from Snape. by the time he was able to free his thumb for his needy mouth Draco would have a extra nick name to go with Potty pants Malfoy: Sucky baby Draco.

with what happened in the dining room proving to Draco for sure that Harry had SOME form of a hold over him, he had planned to go over all the books and scrolls available in the common room to try and figure it out. He was willing to pull a all nighter if that's what it took. However the other slytherin's had other plans. "oi, isn't it past little thumb suckers bed time? it's going on 7:30 after all." Crab asked, blocking his path to the book shelf and smirking. "Bugger off, you know I can keep later hours." Draco said and and went to move around him. "you know.." Pansy said in her smug voice. "I heard that if widdle Draco her makes anther mess in his undies, it's back to nappies for the wholllle year~" Draco gulped and paled a little, noting how Goyle was coming up behind him now and back stepped away for his clearly ex thugs and friends. "I..I mean..G-guys c-come on.." Draco whimpered, realizing just how out classed he was in a physical fight have like a doofus having forgot his wand in his room. "So it IS true!" Pansy said and let out a shrill laugh. "I think you should just get it over with BABY Draco. Snape's coming back any time now and can see you in all your smelly glory again." Crab chuckled. "I..Uh..I don't even have to.." Draco mewed and held up his hands. "oh, you need help  disgracing yourself? All you had to do was ask." Goyle said and unleashed a powerful gut punch that sent spit flying out of Draco's mouth and sank him down to his knees holding his gut, looking up at a sneering Goyle who added. "what are friends for?" the fear had been working his bladder like crazy and Draco had had maybe one too many drinks of milk at dinner because the force of the blow had his poor bladder unleash and for the second in for the second night in a row, he started to flood his pants. "Hahahaha the baby is wetting himself!" Pansy laughed then turned to see Snape standing there. "Professor! you're just in time! Draco wet himself! are you gonna put him in nappies now?" Draco was sniffling and tears welling up in his eyes as he turned to look at his uncle, who strolled over with a look of anger on his face and taking out his wand. "U-Uncle Snape Please I-" Draco started, but then Goyle, Pansy and Crab suddenly turned upside down and were floating in the air, "How utterly stupid do you three believe me to be to think that you could fool me like that?" Snape asked in a quiet voice full of rage. "even if I hadn't of been standing there and seen the last little bit of that, you really think I wouldn't of found the bruise?" he added and started to move his wand up and down shaking the three bullies and making them knock together before dropping them in a heap on the ground. "W-We're sorry!" Yelped Goyle, who was the first to scrabble to his feet. "Won't happen again!" Crab added getting up. "Totally hands off!" Pansy finished and got to her feet. "Oh no, you'll be hands on. If ANYONE else threatens Draco with physical violence, or worse..carries it out, it'll be YOU three I blame and come after. so it's in your best interest to make he stays relatively safe. That said, a little verbal humiliation will do him good, but Hand.Off. Do I make myself clear or do you need anther demonstration?" the three got the point and scrambled off and as Snape went to turn to Draco he got the soaked and smelly boy glomping his waist and whimpering out thanks, getting snot on him. "thank you thank you thank you!" '...I'm getting soft in my old age.' Snape thought dryly and ruffled the boys hair and then lead the way to the bathrooms to get him cleaned up.

[zayeaw]

fake dating/ eren

cw; fluff, attempt at humor, a lil angst and eren's cocky but we love him&lt;3

wc; 1.2k

a/n : lemme just give a huge kiss to @aesrin for sending me this request.

“you’re crazy! my parent’s will never believe that you’re dating me if you don’t even know what subject I studied in college!”

Eren smirks and puts his hand over your shoulder, dumping nearly all his body weight onto you.”I don’t think they’ll believe that I’m dating you either way. I’m too hot for you.”

You push his hands away, rolling your eyes before walking over to your desk. You rummage through a pile of papers and find the document you took a print out of. Eren noticed how your lips part a bit when you’re concentrated.

“did you bring the paper I asked you to bring?” you ask him, fanning yourself with the document you just took.

“the one where we write important stuff about ourselves so that we can memories it and know each other better?”

“yes. That one.”

He nods and puts his hands on his back pocket and takes out a tissue, mind you, a fucking tissue paper which looked like it was folded 10 times. He opens it and gives it to you.

You decided to not make any comment on it because all he’ll do is give you a witty comeback and it’ll boost his ego when you won’t have anything to say back.

“here.” You shove the document you had onto eren and leaned on the desk crossing your arms. ”read it, it has every info you might need about me-“

“nah, I’ve got better things to do.” He says, putting the document away. “ I don’t wanna read about that crappy shit you’ve done in life. Its boringggggg.” He yawns and it took everything in you to not punch him.

He’s cute when he yawns though. Fuck why are you even thinking that now.

“eren.” You say, your eyes darting toward his lips and you pray he didn’t notice it.

“fine. I’ll read it.” He clumsily flips open the file and skims through the first two pages.

“eren!”

He looks up at you and mouths a what?

“ Read It properly!”

He mimics your expression before beginning to read the document properly.

You sigh and unfold the tissue eren handed you.

Yeah ,just the first sentence he wrote made you wanna roll out of your apartment window down to the traffic.

“did you fucking seriously write your bowel timings in here?”you ask him, exasperated

Eren looks at you. “yeah I did, when couples live together they usually know each others bowel timings you kno-“

“yeah and my parents are gonna ask me at what time you take your shit?”

“perfection, (name). that’s called perfection. If you know everything about me there is no way you’ll screw up” he says looking at you smiling with his teeth and you knew damn well he’s playing with you right now.

You read the next line. “Okay what is this crap? i’m lactose intolerant, and drinking lactose products induces fart in me.” You look at him again. “you think this is a joke.?”

Eren looked like he was trying his best to not laugh. “that, infact is not a joke. I get uncontrollable farts when I drink milk. You shouldn’t make fun of my medical condition (name). “ he shakes his head dismissively like you were a child who stole candy.

You decided to ignore what he said and flipped the paper. He was going on talking about how his mom had to remove the ceiling fan in his room because of the smell and you just stared into the paper, reading nothing.

“are you being serious right now?.” You finally say, putting your hand on your forehead.

“I can make fart noises with my armpit.”

You closed your eyes . he’s such a pain in the ass.this was too much you almost wanted to laugh now.

Eren saw how your lips almost turned up into a ghost of a smile. God, he’d do anything to see that look plastered on your face. If he thought you were beautiful before, you smiling just redefined his definition of beauty.

How can he tell you that he dosen’t need to read the document you prepared for him because he knows every single thing about you. That the colour of the top you were wearing is your favorite and you slighty bop your head when you listen to music and when you eat something you expected to taste bad but it turned out good you raise your eyebrows ever so slightly. He also knew that you loved it when he’s being an idiot around you. And he loves the fact that he can be an idiot around you.

These weren’t the stuff you or anybody told him. These were the things he noticed on his own because for the love of god he’s so in love with you. But he can’t let you know can he? How can he tell you that he wants this fake relationship you’ve both had been having for a month now to be real.

You walked over to him and hit on his arm with the paper he handed you before, bringing him back to reality again.” Your homework is to re-write this.”

“no I won’t.” he says, his lips smirking.

“what are you smirking for?” you ask him. You wish he would stop doing that because it was so…distracting.

he considers it for a moment.

“no.i won’t.” he repeats but his expression forced into seriousness now.

“You’re such an idiot.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him.

Don’t smile. Don’t smile. Dont smile.

You smile anyways but he can’t see it so its okay… Right?

“name?”

You turn around to look at him again, sucking in air so that the smile you had before vanishes.

“are we gonna kiss in front of your parents?” he asks you, his head tilting to a side making it seem like an innocent question.

Your face heats up.

Fucking cocky bastard.

You take a moment and then cough. “why would you ask that?”

“ you know. We need it to look smooth so I’m thinking, why don’t we practice it?” he blinks, as if he’s suggesting to eat pancakes instead of bread for breakfast.

You stare at him. “why don’t we practice me kicking your ass because I’m getting an spidey tingle that I might do that a lot in the future.”

“oh so we’re gonna get married too?”

This boy is gonna be the death of you.

he wishes he could take a picture of your face right now because on god it’s so cute, he wants to fucking ruin you with kisses right now. Which he wouldv’ve if..if this was a real thing.

He raises his hands up in defeat. “okay, okay im kidding. Just say that you suck at kissing and move on”

You give him a look and walk past him. “sounds a lot like you have feeelings for mee” you sing

Erens eyes shoot up, his body froze .was it that evident?.

“im just a very good actor. Isn’t that why you picked me to be your fake boyfriend or whatever.” He almost stutters but you don’t hear it.

Your heart sinks a bit but you ignore it “anyways, just don’t mess up the next week.”

“are you doubting my acting skills? Because let me tell you, I can act very well alright.”

You roll your eyes but you can’t help but wonder how different this would’ve been if all this wasn’t an act.

And all eren could think of was how he wished you knew none of his feelings for you is or ever was an act.

Reblogs are always appreciated&lt;3

edit: i'm thinking of doing a part 2 for this bc some of you asked for it. you can add your username in this form (link) if you'd like to be tagged on it hehe

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