#3. it makes him the gross kind of car guy. fucking unforgivable

[asmo-cosmetics]

mammon??? mammon obey me???

#ignore this lmao #tldr i saw a bad take on tumblr dot com and i want to leave that person alone but i want to talk about why their take is bad #that mammon fucking mc in his car post. oh boy. #1. obviously mammon is not a dom we all know how i asmo-cosmetics feel about this #2. even if he was he would be the world's gentlest soft dom especially with mc #bc the whole point of mammon as a character is boy who is bad at expressing his feelings but holy shit does he love you #so casting him as this sexually aggressive daddy character is just gross #especially bc #3. it makes him the gross kind of car guy. fucking unforgivable #it just gives me the ick SO fucking bad #because like listen. i'm not a prude i could see something like that being hot. but it's MAMMON #the idea that mammon having sex at all but especially with mc would be able to focus on positively anything else #for more than seconds at a time #is BONKERS #like if it's a throwaway playful comment about how much he loves the car and you better be careful #fine okay that's cute #but him genuinely being so preoccupied with the car that it's affecting HOW he's having sex with you and putting care for the car - #- above care for his sub?? #gross. gross. my mammon would never #overall 0/10 post very rank straight woman vibes emanating from here #honestly might write ab mammon getting fucked silly in the car out of spite #AUUUGH. anguish #also it's 3am which might explain why i am so touchy about nothing rn #gn folks

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

secret son part 3

A/N: please let me know what you think! If anyone has any requests please send them to me! 

Summary: Matt is performing for his schools talent show, which Myra will also be present for.  

It’s excruciatingly hot in the car, sweat dripping down Richie’s face making his body feel clam and gross, while he’s almost panting like a dog. It’s not summer yet, but it’s June and that means that it is summer in Richie’s mind, but even he hadn’t been able to predict this type of weather. 

The sun is shining scorching hot, burning almost anything she touches, not a giving way to even a slight breeze, and it fucking shows. Normally, the trip from their house to Matt’s school is only a half-hour, but today, it seems all the odds are stacked against them.

Everyone collective decided to go on a trip this weekend apparently, causing a blockage of cars as far as Richie can see it, and they were late to begin with. Eddie’s gripping the steering wheel between his fingers like a vice, vibrating and his face a dark shade of bloody red, but that might not have anything to do with the heat. For a moment, his mouth turns into a sneer again, opening his mouth to yell at the drives before them, but then he shakes his head and takes a few deep breathes.

Richie contemplates calling Myra again, to let her know that they’ll be late so she can let Matt know, but that will most likely send her into another tirade, and that is the last thing they need right now. As they stop for the third time in 3 meters, Richie vows to buy Matthew a phone, whether it be against Eddie’s wishes or not.

The twenty-first annual middle school talent show is hosting its show tonight, and Matt had asked Richie and Eddie to show up. They said yes, of course, both of them more than excited to see their son perform on stage, even if the show itself will just be a bunch of middle-schoolers, dancing and parading.

Their son, a voice repeats in his head. Not deter by the atmosphere hanging around him and his boyfriend, Richie’s heartstrings pull together, making Richie feel breathless for a second. Cause that’s what Matt is to him now, his son. Maybe not biologically, but in every way that it counts.

Matt called his pops a few times as a joke whenever Richie would mirror Eddie’s ministration, like warning him to be careful in the park, or not to go with strangers, a testimony to how many times he had overheard Eddie say it, and a habit developed from there.

Sure, Matt still calls him; ‘Richie’ sometimes, mostly when Myra is around, or when they’re taking playful jabs at each other, but all in all, Richie has become pops. The name suits him, Eddie told him, but it still seems a little unreal to Richie, that he trashmouth Tozier, is a dad to a wonderful kid. Said kid also wants to spend as much time with him as possible, spending every week and weekend with them, expect a weekend every two weeks with his mother.

That’s a fair deal in Richie’s books, considering that it was Matt who wanted the arrangement to be like that, but Myra had to audacity of claiming that Richie poisoned his mind against her, and that he was the one manipulating Matt to make these claims. He hadn’t expected her to forfeit like that straight away, but he also hadn’t expected her to do everything she could to make Matt have to go to her. She fought Eddie for full custody, ignoring all of her sons own pleas to her.

She lost, but the whole thing resulted in Eddie being more aggravated to her, for trying to take away his son, whereas before, he was content to leave her be as long as she didn’t interfere in his life.

‘Motherfucker’, Eddie mumbles under his breath angrily, a grunt-like sound originating from him as he watches the car in front of them skid to a halt again, his face turning more sour by the minute.

Experience has taught Richie that he best lets Eddie rage inside his mind for a little way, at least until he has inwardly yelled at everyone and everything in his mind, before attempting to talk him down.

They’ve both gotten much better at that, both Eddie and Richie. Richie so he can stop his motormouth running a mile a minute, spouting out whatever comes to mind to stop the situation from exacerbating, usually leading to the situating exacerbating, and Eddie has accumulated hos behavior, not lashing out at people who don’t deserve it.

‘Hey fucker,’ Eddie seethes when they reach a crossroad, a car coming in from the left and cutting them off, even though that won’t make him get to his destination any faster, the flow of traffic still blocked like Eddies mom’s underwear.

‘Was that so worth it asshole? What you gonna do now? Speed away?’

Richie places his hand on Eddie’s arm that’s still wrapped around the gear stick that’s off no use, rubbing what he hopes are comforting circles on his upper arm.

Eddie’s eyes turn to his, a sigh escaping him as he takes his hand of he wheel, one of them interlocking with Richie’s hand.

‘You’re right, you’re right Rich. But I don’t wanna be late to my sons performance. You know how Myra is going to have him agitated, and I wish we could be there to calm him down.’

Richie does know, which is why it sucked balls that Matt was going over to her house this weekend of all times. Compromising had been no use, Myra kept insisting that it was her time and they weren’t going to take that away from here, even when Eddie promised her that Matt could go the weekend after.

A call from Matt’s teacher had informed them that Matt was in fact not present during rehearsals on Friday after school, and that told Richie and Eddie all they needed to know.

Contacting Matt was off no use, since he had no phone and Myra refused to let them interact with one another. Again, Richie made a mental note to gift Matt an iPhone or something alike, and no one was stopping him.

‘I know Eds, but that guy is not responsible for that. Stop reacting to other people in daily life like you do during our sexy times.’

The punch to his arm is hard, but he sniggers regardless.  

Taking another peek out the window told Richie they were getting nowhere, so he exhaled harshly, preparing himself for the worst.

‘Okay, do your best Eds, give it to the speeding brake like I gave it to your mom every night.’

Richie expects a retort back, an angry fuck you maybe, or a middle finger, but instead he is gifted the sight of speechless Eddie, his mouth open in shock.

‘You’re serious?’ He asks, even though Eddie has already made up his mind, and is fastly shifting into speed gremlin mode.

With his head thrown back, Richie releases a loud groan, rumbling from all the way in his chest. ‘Yes, now hurry up before I regret it, lay it all on me Jesus.’

A menacing smirk that threatens to overtake every other feature in Eddie’s face, Eddie presses a short kiss to his mouth, pulling back before Richie even has a chance to reciprocate, and speeds off to the emergency lane on their right side.

Eddie is a monster while driving, which is why it’s Richie that drives most of the time, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The clocks ticks on unforgivably, striking three pm exact when Richie looks at it, and let that be the exact time when the show is supposed to start.

They’re too late to wish Matt good luck, but at the very least he’ll see both of them in the audience in their designated seats, right next to Myra. If he doesn’t, Richie fears that he might panic.

Driving on the emergency line is highly illegal, but Eddie brushes that aside as he propels his way to the parking lot.

It takes the barely five minutes after that. They got honked at countless of times, but they made it on time, so Richie counts it as a win anyway. Jumping out of the car before it has even come to a complete stop is dangerous, but discarded on the side when they rush inside the school.

The show has started, but Matt was not the first one on, thankfully, so all they’ve missed is the speech that the principal always gives at the beginning of these kind of events, and a kid who thinks she can play the flute, but really all she’s doing in blowing air into the instrument.

Richie claps animatedly anyway, her moment over when they get in, since he knows what it feels like to be laughed at for something you like the do, and she’s also a kid, so she deserves a pass.

Eddie claps too, snorting when he sees the absolute ridiculous movements his boyfriend is making.

‘What the hell are you doing Rich?’

‘I’m just granting this little girl what you and the rest of the losers deprived me off. Validation for my talents.’ Eddie whips around lightning fast, his laugh loud and uninhabited while he raises his middle finger to Richie.

‘Do those talents include humor?’ While they’re talking, both of them carefully tiptoe around other parents and grand-parents, trying to find a way to get to their seats. He nearly steps on someone toes, offering them a short apology and hopes they except it, but he is too busy avoiding every one else to see if they’re angry or not.

‘Well yes of course Edward. You as young lad should have seen the absolute hidden potential that was harvesting in me.’

Eddie laughs so loud that his knees nearly buckle, several people shushing him even though there’s no one left on stage, and they’re waiting for the next person to make an appearance.

‘Oh please, you’re still not funny now what makes you think you were then?’

In their haste, the knowledge that they would have to spend the entire late afternoon with Eddie ex-wife had disappeared off into the background, but then Richie makes eye contact with her, and it back with much vigor.

Richie wants to slouch, dread already pulling him down towards the ground, but he refuses to let Myra drag him down, and he has Eddie with him anyway, so it’s not that bad.

As soon as their eyes meet, Myra, like a cliche, turns her nose up and looks away, acting as if she is the one that is ashamed of them. There are two empty seats next to her, who will be occupied in a second by them, but Richie still searches for another vacant spot, without luck.

It’s ridiculous anyway, since the seat were granted two weeks before today. It’s a mystery to Richie who organized the seating arrangements, but man did they fuck up bad.

Eddie, who is walking in front of him, reaches out to grab Richie’s hand, squeezing two times for strength and asking Richie for protection, despite him not needing any. His not fearful of his former wife, but she gets under his skin, and not in the good way that Richie can, make him struggle to remain his composer.

Remorsefully, Richie says goodbye to his sanity, a polite and cheerful face covering him like a mask, even when all he really wants to do is yell in her face.

He stills Eddie by placing two of his large hands against his arms, effectively stopping him from walking any further, and moves to stand closest to her.

Someone else has made his way on stage, this time the kid is dancing, and his music is loud enough that Richie can speak in a normal voice, which still means he has to keep it down.

He ploughs down in the middle seat, right in between Myra and where Eddie will be in a second, like a wall between the two of them. Eddie shoots him a grateful smile, sitting down in his chair much more gracefully than Richie, with his hands in his lap.

‘Hello Myra,’ Richie greets her, to establish to her that they were not planning on being rude to her. If anyone was going to start a ruckus, it would be her.

‘Richard’, she greets, followed by ‘Edward.’

Hearing his full name sound absolutely ridiculous to Richie, but he ignores to avoid creating an argument, god knows Myra only needed one slam word and she would blow off.

‘Myra’, Eddie too nods at Myra, Richie bites his lips to stop himself from making a fool of the situation, but by the knowing look in Eddie’s eyes, he knows that Eddie knows what he wanted to say.

After the boy, there are two more children, then a group, and then a little girl comes up. Boredom is starting to take it’s toll on Richie, who can’t sit still if it could help save his life, so his knew has been insistently bouncing since the dancing act.

Eddie helps somewhat by hooking his leg under Richie’s, their ankles linked while his hand plays with the bracelet on Eddie’s wrist, made by Matt when he was being babysit by Ben and Bev.

The girl is shaking all the way through her body, the microphone she’s holding swaying dangerously. Her face is ashen white, and she looks about two seconds away from vomiting, which Richie can relate too. Being on stage is scary, especially when you’re that young, a pang of sympathy for the girl embracing him in it’s warm hold.

The song she has chosen to sing was let it go from frozen, but she only made it past 1/4 of the song, when she forgets her lines and makes up her own lyrics.

The lyrics do not make any sense, she’s mostly naming things she can see, ranging from things like curtains, to teachers, the mortification on her face revealing how embarrassed she is.

It’s that that makes Richie stand up resolutely when the final note dies out, leaping to his feet to applaud her as much and as loud as he can.

‘This is I folks, the best act of the night. Nothing can top this. The way that she improvised is a talent that is rarely seen in anyone ever before.’ Richie whoops, preening when other parents join in on the applause, and the little girls face lits up like a Christmas tree.

He’s only half kidding. He’s going to find Matt the best no matter what, call it a part of fatherhood, but the girl was really inventive, and she did not give up. Besides, seeing the tears in her eyes blinked away is enough to make Richie smile in delight.

When everything dies down and he retrieves his seat again, a woman taps him on the shoulder. She’s holding a camera in her hands that she puts away and grins.

‘Thank you. That was my daughter, I can’t tell you how happy this will have made her.’

Richie is touched, but he also can’t take credit for something he has nothing to do with.

‘It was all your daughter ma’am, she’s a natural.’ Eddie presses a kiss to his cheek, conveying what he’s not saying out loud; ‘I’m proud of you.’

‘Are you always like this?’ Myra inquirers curt, her face stuck in a permanent sneer. Eddie tenses beside him, but he won’t allow her to ruin the afternoon before they have even seen the person they came for.

‘What do you mean Sonia?’

‘My name is Myra.’

‘Same difference. Am I always this awesome and funny and caring towards others?’ He’s not being serious, but to Myra that doesn’t matter. She opens her mouth to say something else, but Richie has already turned his back sideways to here, his entire being focused on Eddie when the latter taps on his arm.

Eddie is staring at the stage however, and when Richie follows his gaze, he sees why. It’s now Matt’s turn, the boy scorching over every head in room, until he finally spots Eddie, Richie and Myra and grins from ear to ear.

He never told Eddie nor Richie what his act would be about, saying that it was supposed to be a surprise, so Richie has no idea what to expect.

His clothes, a yellow t-shirt with a cat on it, and blue jeans that look a bit to dirty to be knew does not seem like something Myra would have let him wear. If anything, Richie was expecting to see  him in something not unlike a suit.

His suspicion is conformed when he hears Myra complain next to him. ‘That’s not what I dressed him in.’

‘Hi, my name is Matt, and today I’m going to be telling you a bunch of jokes my pops taught me.’

Even though Richie will adamantly deny it, and Eddie will confirm it to anyone who asks, Richie starts crying.

He hasn’t even heard any of the jokes, but he already loves them and he loves him.

‘Jean goes on a walk with grandma in the park’, Matt begins his story, ‘and on the way back from the park, he sees a banana peel. When he goes to pick it up, his grandma tells him that he can’t do that, because everything that’s on the ground is dirty and he shouldn’t touch it. Two days later, Jean and his grandma go back to the park, and his grandma trips over the banana peel. When jean’s grandma asks him to help her up, Jean says that he can’t do that, because everything that’s on the ground is dirty, and he can’t touch it.

It’s not even that funny, but Richie loses his shit regardless. The laughter pours out of him relentlessly, making him shake from trying to hold it in.

When Matt thanks the audience for listening, indicating that his act has come to an end, Richie still can’t stop cackling. Eddie is in the same state as him, holding his stomach like it’s hurting and actual tears stream down his cheeks. They’re a stark contrast to Myra, who’s sour look has only worsened, and is just clapping politely like the rest of the parents.

Matt has never been prouder of himself, bowing once and then waving while he gets of the stage, just like Richie does.

When he gets himself under control, a few children later, Myra is has yet to stop her dead glare which is pointed his way.

‘Pops? He calls you that? You are not his father, you’re nothing but filth that has corrupted my Eddie bear and my son. A boy should spend more time with his mother, not with a confused father he thinks his’, she chokes over the words. ‘gay.’

Richie is stricken, hurt despite him knowing that that is just the person Myra is. A hurt emotion that he tries to keep under wraps at all times peaks it’s head up from the darkest part of his soul, but before it has any chance to come up and out, his head is turned, and Eddie connects their lips.

It’s a bit messy, Eddie having knocked his lips on the first area he could find, causing the kiss to be a little off balance, while he brushes at the nap of Richie’s neck. Richie replies by setting his arm on top of Eddie thigh, not high, just above the knee.

They’re in the same position as they were in when they shared their first kiss, and it makes Richie a little dizzy with love and devotion.

Eddie pulls back first, chuckling when he sees the hazy look Richie’s eyes have, and then steels his expression to address Myra.

‘I’m not confused. I’m gay, and yes Matt calls Richie pops, because he wants too, not because we asked him too. Why don’t you wake up Myra? Neither Richie not I are trying to replace you. You’re his mom, no one can do that, but if you continue to be disregard him, he might not be as friendly in the future.’

Then, Eddie stands, pulling Richie up with him, who still dreamily is unaware off what’s happening, his brain not being up to speed yet.

‘Come on Dickwad, pull you head out of your ass, we’ll wait outside until Matt comes.’

He shifts his gaze to Myra; ‘I’ll see you in two weeks.’

Outside, Richie laughs breathlessly. ‘I can’t believe you just did that in front of all these people.’

It’s still insanely warm, but it gets ever warmer when Eddie leans up, and presses his forehead to Richie’s.

Suddenly, Richie is transported back to many summers ago, when Eddie and him were still kids and they had yet to confess their feeling for one another. They shared a moment like that one too, where it was so hot yet they still huddled together.

Richie had thought then that that would be the peak of his life, smelling the scent of warm water and grass, and Eddie colon that stuck to every piece of clothes item he was wearing.

He was wrong, adding Matt to the equation, made it only better.

They must have been there for a long time, but Richie was unaware of that, until he heard Matt call out to them.

‘Dad, Pops, I missed you.’

He leaps into Eddie’s awaiting arms, just small enough for Eddie be able pick him up, while Richie envelops both of them in his arms.

‘We missed you too bud.’ We’ve missed you our entire lives.

#reddie #reddie fluff #reddie imagine #eddie kaspbrak imagine #richie tozier imagine #eddie as a parent #reddie as parents #richie as a dad #My writing #eddie x son

[shultzing]

OBNOXIOUS

Twelve days later guyssss. My mind is still spinning and I still haven’t figured out what to make of all of this. I keep on realizing that every time I try to talk to anyone about him I’m just like OMG I LIKE HIM SO MUCH GUYS HE’S SO CUTE I’M DYING I’M GONNA MARRY HIM and I never say anything substantive about why on earth i’m talking crazy talk and using the M word w/ a guy i just met. I just get really fucking overwhelmed and can’t think of anything except dumb shit, like his laugh. But I’m also thinking about like, if this relationship does turn out to be of any importance at all, I’m going to want to remember these early days, you know? So yeah, I’m going to talk about what I’ve learned about James in the past two whirlwind weeks.

he is such a giver. He’s always looking for ways to help. From volunteering 4 days a week, to giving away his personal belongings to friends in worse positions, to identifying needs and making plans for how to meet them...the other day we realized we were both independently plotting how to get a bike for our friend, S. Like, we had both been thinking about her/concerned about her to the point where we had each started trying to identify how we could get a bike for her.

he is so patient. whether it’s people being pissy with him at FNB bc they feel jealous/threatened or it’s his family members who have disappointed him in unforgiveable ways that he stills finds the energy to be invested in or just inept co-workers, he always has a sense of humor and very sincere, un-condescending empathy. He doesn’t take it personally, he sees opportunities in every challenge, and he laughs a lot.

he is like made. to. care. Like he’s a ridiculously nurturing person and falls into that role so naturally all of the time. He pays attention to signals, he listens, and he offers to help in any way he can. for example, something so simple/minor but so him was last night coming over and thinking to ask me specific Qs like, “what have you eaten today? when did you eat?” and when he learned I’d only eaten once, making suggestions of things he could get me based off of stuff he remembered me mentioning before, asking what my favorite orders were, when I declined and made leftovers instead (am not trying to take advantage of him, ok!!) he was like eat. more. you need to eat more, you have to work in the morning, finish your food. He’s around all of the time (always on my schedule, always coming to me) and the other night he was spending the night (fyi, we haven’t had sex yet but that’s noyb/another story for another time) and like if I wake up in the night for any reason he always wakes up too like, “what do you need? you need some water? how can i help you fall asleep?” He was laughing last night about how to get me to fall asleep faster (I had to be up at 5 this morning for work but wasn’t tired,) and he get’s real stern and is like, “Quit fucking around and go the fuck to sleep.” The cutest bully ever. For our first date, he offered to drive to me and pick me up to take me to a restaurant that was 5 minutes from his house but 30 minutes from my house. So like, turning his 5 minute drive into an hour and 5 minutes even though I HAVE A CAR just bc he is that much of a sweetheart.

we have the best conversations. I couldn’t be happier with them. I think we both prioritize the same things in life (family, community, self-improvement, meeting goals, laughter) and so we naturally connect on what to talk about and how to talk. We laugh like constantly. Every conversation is something to laugh about. And he’s so colorful and animated so all of his stories, anecdotes, analyses are just so entertaining to listen to. We’ve talked about seriously painful stuff, we’ve talked about deeper/more controversial stuff, and we’ve talked a whole lot of shit about how crazy life is. We even had the conversation I’ve been dreading this whole time, the, “I am a socialist and you are a capitalist” conversation that I thought might be a dealbreaker or at least get tense. Nope. It was lovely. Honest, funny, blunt, open, warm. He asks endless thoughtful questions. He pays attention to all of the effort i put into living well and being a good person/good to him, and he hypes me up constantly, like CONSTANTLY telling me how grateful he is to get to know me, how much he appreciates xyz traits I have, etc. 

He is the best possible company i could imagine. Like he is hilarious but also insanely kind but also super tenacious/assertive/stubborn. He’s mischievous and focused and always full of ideas of things he wants to do, places to go, activities to explore, and he’s always so enthusiastic and optimistic and warm. 

He is such a gentleman! Such good manners/self control, so trustworthy, so safe and respectful and understanding.

He’s such a softie. I sent him a cute text yesterday and he sent back that he read it twelve times, teared up, screen-capped it and sent it to his mom, who apparently also cried. I guess it runs in the family. Apparently that screen cap got me promoted from her saying, “Take it a day at a time, James,” to “she sounds like a keeper.” so, good deal. 

All of his lost-boy childhood stories knock me out. And then all of his stories about how he pulled his life back together and turned himself into who he his now also knock me out. I’m in awe of all of it. I asked him to send me a pic of the time he had his skull cracked/eye socket broken/rib broken from the weeks before he got clean and i just. stare at it and. it is the strangest fucking feeling.

His pet names KILL ME. I had no idea i was a sucker for that shit! first of all, he’s born and raised in Hampden and legit casually calls people Hon all the time, so like. Precious and amazing. But his other names? So cuteeee. Like when he’s pretending to be mad at me it’s, “Calm your tits, woman!” or “Woman, are you trying to kill me?” but if he’s telling me what to do then I’m kiddo? Most of the time he calls me babe (”Do you mind if I call you babe? That’s how I think of you in my mind.) but there are probably like 5 others that he’ll throw in now and then. 

Not to be gross or anything but he’s also so sexy and playful, he makes me feel like I weigh 5 pounds bc he really throws/pushes me around a LOT but WOW am i into it. that’s all i’ll say about that here though.

He’s a pray-er! I didn’t know how endearing that would be to me, but he often says things like, “i was praying about it and...” or will tell me he’s praying for me. He said the other day he had been praying that God would give him a sign that he was on the right path and he said that’s when God put me in his life and named me Angela so that it couldn’t be more obvious that he was supposed to take it as a sign. Crazy talk? Obviously. And obviously I told him, if he asked God to give him a sign about what path he should be on and then started volunteering at a socialist organization and dating a socialist woman, what kind of sign did he think he was getting? 

He’s a readerrrrrrr he actually reads books for fun and seems like he knows a little something about every topic on earth. He also used to write and got 3/4 through writing a book when he was a young adult.

Ok so hopefully that makes my whole predicament seem a little bit more understandable? Like yeah, we have been dating for less than two weeks and yet yes, we are already in a labeled/monogamous relationship and yeah i have seen him 5 out of the last 6 days (sometimes 2x a day if i’m lucky!) but like i am sooooo happy with him and he is so happy too and we are both just like enjoying the fuck out of every possible second and like recognizing how bizarre and magical it is to have something this good just fall into our laps out of the blue and trying to accept it and enjoy it for what it is? /

3/27/2019

“Do you want to do couples yoga with me sometime?

“Depends, are you gonna make fun of how weak I am?”

“First of all... I’m going to make fun of you any way.”

#JAMES #personal

[fillthisoutlater-blog1]

An Introduction to Online Dating

One time years ago, shortly after a particularly devastating breakup, I decided to go out on a limb and take a chance. After months of feeling sorry for myself over gas station snacks and marathons of Gossip Girl, in a moment of admitted weakness, I peeled myself off of my futon, picked the Funyun crumbs out of my cleavage, and joined OkCupid.

I had heard the horror stories, but at first, it really wasn’t so bad. The messages trickled in slowly, a Hey sexi! here, an obvious copy-paste there. Then all of a sudden some guy is asserting that he has the biggest boner on the internet and a married guy is trying to get me into a threesome. And this guy wants to know how much I can bench, and that guy is just wearing a towel hanging from his ding-dong (so much hairy side-butt.) It’s confusing and scary and there are a lot of Bro-man Polanski’s wielding dead fish and clenched abs. Those pictures amused me the most, the headless torso shots, like you’d walk into a date with this guy and have to circle the bar lifting up shirts. Now, I recognize the nipple rings, but the chest hair is throwing me off. I was expecting a six pack on a spray-tanned hotdog, but what I’m getting here is more Chewy meets The Thing. Tell me, are you HawtLover69? Do you know where I can find him?

I tried to be more proactive, scrolling through pages of eligible bachelors like looking through sexy resumes. I found myself being too critical, scanning through dudes thinking Fuck your t-shirt, You look like Elmer Fudd, because it’s so easy to do when you have a potential mate’s self-professed best qualities listed in front of you like a menu. At this point in my life, I felt entitled to some stellar hunk of a man, my very own Romeo, if Romeo was a scientist cowboy lawyer with meaningful tattoos and a nice beard. Also, minus the whole tragic death part. Not about that shit.

So when I got a message from a cute, kind of geeky looking dude that made me laugh, I was quick to respond. We exchanged messages all night, and he seemed funny and charming and harmless, so when he asked me to get a drink, I thought, Why not?

We decided to meet later that week at a bar in his neighborhood. The day of, I was pretty nervous. This was my first online date, and for all I knew he was really a philandering robber baron or Anthony Wiener in a wig. I spent an hour digging through my closet, trying to find something cute to wear. Should I wear a skirt? Do I have to wear heels? I can’t get away with my good sweatpants, can I? A pile of discarded clothes was growing on the floor and I decided that someday I would be fashionable and attractive, but tonight I was going to wear the floral dress and flats like I always do when I’m making an effort and the black leather bomber jacket that made me feel like an international jewel thief, as long as my cat hadn’t peed on it again. (She would reserve that for when I got home.)

A tangle of cords, products and powders later, I felt ready, invincible. I looked good, I had managed to put on both perfume and deodorant, and I was ready to be swept off my feet. I left with enough time to sit in my car for a last minute glance at my date’s profile, in case conversation got really strained and I needed material. I hadn’t been on a date in a long time.

I walked into the bar and out back to the patio. I spotted him immediately. He was wearing a dark shirt and jeans and, in person, looked like a blond Squiggy. He saw me and waved, so I walked over to his table and sat down.

It started slowly. We stumbled into conversation, exchanging inquiries about each other’s days. Then he asked me if I had gone to a recent music festival.

“Yes,” I said. “I did. Did you?”

“I went,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And it was terrible because you couldn’t see anything from the VIP section.”

“Oh, you were VIP?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m with one of the bands.” He paused to let this sink in.

Hesitantly, I asked, “Which band?”

He told me, and I replied with the requisite level of feigned admiration. (Also, he was their merch guy.)  He proceeded to tell me all about his encounters with various famous people, how Bill Murray screamed in his face one time and how he had sushi with Michael Cera, who was a complete bore.

“And this one time, we went to this strip club, because, you know how touring is.”

I didn’t actually know how touring was, unless you count the time I drove to Kenosha to watch a friend’s band play at a smoky VFW and drank Natty Lights in the parking lot because we were underage, but even then I was back by curfew.

“Well, we’re in this strip club, and they’re playing Elliot Smith of all things, and this girl is just stripping and crying, like really crying.” He frowned empathetically. “It was really fucked up.”

“Oh, that’s… Okay.”

He looked at me searchingly. “Are you nervous?” he asked. “You seem nervous.”

“Nervous” was not exactly what I was feeling at the moment, but I responded with, “Oh, it’s just my first online date.”

“I see.” He paused, looking me over. “I’ve been on a lot. They’re usually not great. Although this one time, I was going out with this older chick, I mean, she wasn’t really old or anything, not like anything gross, and from the pictures, I thought I was going to meet her and her friend, and you know, have a threesome.” I nodded. I knew how it was. “But then this guy comes, and he like, sucks my dick while they watch. I mean, I’m not gay or anything, but yeah, he just sucked my dick. Just sucked my dick while they watched.”

At this point, my date was loudly repeating the phrase “Sucked my dick” in a somewhat crowded bar while rats were running frantically in and out of the bushes.

“Have you been to Europe?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I said, relieved.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Stockholm, London…”

“Oh, London,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “I lived in London for a year. There’s no reason to ever go to England.”

“Well, I enjoyed it,” I said. He smirked.

“I love San Francisco. My sister lives out there. She lives with her girlfriend. I mean, I know she’s a lesbian and she’s dating my sister, but I think this girl is my soul mate. She’s really great and she’s just so beautiful.”

“Wow, okay.”

“I do stand-up,” he said. “I mostly just talk about my dick, though. It’s a great dick. What do you do?”

“I work for an IT company,” I said.

He looked at me skeptically. “Is that a 9 to 5?”

“Yes, it is.”

“That sucks. I can’t imagine working a 9 to 5. I work at a sushi restaurant, which really affords me a lot of freedom. Just today, I walked all across the city, just because. Can’t do that with a 9 to 5, can you?”

I considered bringing up weekends, or the fact that night exists, but I just smiled and shrugged. He continued motor-mouthing his way through his exciting and unique adventures with little pause for air, so I fell into a habit of picking at my nails and nodding a lot.

The bartender came out and cleared his throat.

“The patio’s closing. Everybody has to move inside.”

We walked into the bar and I paused, facing him.

“Want to go to another bar?” he asked.

“Well,” I said, “I should probably get going. I have work in the morning.”

“Your 9 to 5?” he asked, sympathetically.

“Yeah, my 9 to 5.” Aww, geez. 

He followed me out of the bar and onto the sidewalk. For one brief but terrifying moment, I thought he was going to kiss me, but he pulled me into a strong and lingering hug.

“Now what?” he said, giving me what I’m sure was intended to be a seductive glance but looked more like he was about to sneeze. 

I paused, and said, “How about we run really fast in opposite directions?”

He grinned and started to count down.

“3…2…1…GO!”

And with that, he took off running down the street and I hurried to my car and sped away. I wondered if he had returned to the spot where we were standing and was astonished that I was gone. I also wondered if he was punking me and using this as material for his standup. Then I wondered if there were any drive-thru liquor stores in Chicago that also sold tacos. Maybe tacos that had liquor baked right in them. Vodka tacos (vodtacos?) with wine in the salsa. And they’d come with a copy of Titanic and like, six or seven cats, because if this was dating these days, I was just going to wrap myself in a bathrobe, get really into knitting or fly-fishing or something, and call it good. 

I pulled onto my street, threw the car in park and sighed. What an unforgivable waste of cute underwear.

#creative writing #creative nonfiction #creative #long stories #online dating #dating #nightmare dates #disaster dates #bad dates #humor #humorous #humorous writing #funny stories #funny story #chicago #breakups #please help

[nochuu-bun]

there’s no star in heaven but the light that you bring ㅣshort yoonmin

A/N: omg guys thank you so so much for over 200 notes on cravings like holy shit i didn’t expect that to attract that much attention <3 <3 

so as a thank you present, I present to you the introduction of a new fic i’m working on. It’s mainly taekook but the intro is yoonmin <3 

enjoy and thank you once again lovelies!

Yoongi scrubs his hand over his eyes, taking a momentary reprieve from the harsh fluorescent light of the supermarket before he resumes glaring at the rows and rows of brightly packaged lollies.

It was about eight o’ clock at night, and Yoongi was running late; really, really late for an important event. He wasn’t a particularly patient person as a matter of fact, and the mere action of standing in front of a supermarket shelf trying in vain to pick the right type of confectionery was not his idea of a great Saturday evening.

He’s still deciding between butterscotch candies and a rather garish looking packet of lolly snakes when there’s a ping in his right pocket.

hey hyung, you still coming over?

Yoongi curses, typing a hasty reply that doesn’t reveal how utterly useless he is at keeping the time.

of course, there’s just a shitload of traffic rn. i’m only ten mins away though.

Another soft ping announces the reply. cool, drive safely hyung <3

:)

After he stows his phone away, Yoongi stands there for another two minutes before declaring ‘fuck all’ and grabbing the lolly snakes, striding down the aisle.  

He throws the packet unceremoniously onto the counter, tapping his foot impatiently as the clerk  scans the item, and punches in the numbers at the pace of a college student the morning after. When he’s handed the plastic bag with a dull ‘have a nice evening,’ Yoongi grabs it and sprints for what he’s worth to his car outside, leaping into the seat in record time.

‘Fuck fuck fuck,’ he sings, ripping open the package and simultaneously reaching behind him for the white box sitting on the backseat. The lollies end up making the whole thing look like a 5 year old decorating disaster but Yoongi’s too done to care and the box ends up strapped to the seat again as he revs the engine and tears out of the carpark.

By the time he swerves into the apartment parking space, he’s already the allotted 10 minutes late and it’s with a record speed that he jumps out of the car, grabbing the box and dashes up the stairs two at a time. Honestly, it’s the fast he’s run since his mandatory P.E. days.

Apartment 1306. Yoongi fixes his wayward hair and takes a deep breath (because the unwanted cardio was making his heart beat way past normal geez) before knocking. There’s the sound of the door unlocking before a boy peeps his head around, grinning.

‘Yoongi-hyung!’ The boy launches himself into Yoongi’s arms and it’s all the older boy can do to stop the box from toppling out of his hand as he embraces his best friend, chuckling.

‘Hey Jiminnie. Sorry I’m late.’

Jimin looks up at Yoongi, eyes sparkling adoringly and Yoongi’s traitor heart melts. ‘It doesn’t matter. You’re here now right?’ He takes Yoongi’s free hand and leads him inside, closing the door as he goes. ‘I made roast potatoes and steak.’ Only then does the older boy realise that Jimin is wearing an apron that says Kiss the Cook over a fluffy sweater and the whole scene is so domestic that Yoongi has to mentally slap himself before he turns into a pile of gross goo.

‘Shit that sounds amazing.’ And it smells great too. The strong smell of rosemary wafts through the air as Jimin opens the oven and places the tray on the table, shucking off the gloves.

‘You bet your ass it does.’ Jimin nods approvingly at his work and then focuses on Yoongi. ‘What’s that?’

‘Oh this?’ Yoongi looks down at the box in his hand and suddenly an odd feeling of shyness washes over him. ‘It’s um…I uh…’ Wow, maybe you get kudos for trying.

He clears his throat, suddenly aware, suddenly really aware of Jimin’s breathing, of Jimin’s eyes locked on him, just Jimin in general and it was throwing him so much off his game it was terrible.

So with the eloquence of a toddler he just holds out the box, trying not to look as stupid as he felt.

‘Happy Birthday.’

Jimin carefully opens the box and Yoongi has to physically force himself to keep looking at Jimin because dear god his cheeks were so flushed. What if he didn’t like it? Maybe the lollies were obviously a shitty choice. What if he was allergic? What if he thought Yoongi was a complete sap oh my god this was such a bad idea-

‘I- I love it.’ Jimin’s voice is so quiet that Yoongi has a half-mind to think that he actually hates it before Jimin sets down the cake and tackles him into another bone-crushing hug. ‘I love it so much, thank you.’

‘It’s nothing,’ Yoongi says gruffly, patting the soft mop of hair pinned to his chest. ‘C’mon, your roast is getting cold. Let’s eat.’

Jimin takes another peek at the cake, beaming omg you got me lolly snakes that’s so cute/oh shut up there was nothing else on the shelf that looked even remotely appealing or unartificial before putting it into the fridge.

The roast is excellent as per usual. They make small talk, Jimin about his new job as a contemporary dance teacher at the local school, gushing over the little kids and I know I just need the money for housing and tuition fees and shit but I can’t help loving the children they’re just so cute.

Yoongi inserts some stuff about his own life, part-time composer, full time financially-fucked uni student. Same old. He promises to let Jimin onto his newest tracks (even though he knows that he needs to seriously brush up on basically everything before he’d let a single soul listen to his music).

After they’re finished and cleaned up, Yoongi and Jimin find themselves sprawled out on a picnic blanket they’ve spread out on the roof of the apartment. Jimin’s licking the last bit of icing off his fingers, dirty plates stacked next to them as they indulge in star gazing or as Yoongi likes to call it: we’re just eyeballing flaming balls of gas but secretly likes it because well, he’s actually a whipped idiot.

‘Tell me a story,’ says Jimin suddenly. ‘You haven’t told me one in a while.’

‘What kind of story?’

‘Nothing sad. That’s my only requirement.’

‘Well…’ Yoongi thinks hard, creating, pulling apart, putting together. 

‘What if I told you that angels were real?’

Jimin immediately jumps to attention, thrumming with subtle excitement at the prospect of a new story. ’They are?’

‘Yup. I mean, apart from the one here right now-‘

Jimin scrunches his nose up in disgust. ’Oh my god that was so gross don’t ever say that again.’

‘I was talking about me.’ Yoongi chuckles as Jimin swats him half-heartedly and then settles back down beside him, staring up at the stars. ‘I’m kidding. But not about angels being real.’

‘Oh really?’ Jimin reaches a hand up, picking out the tiny little glittering dots in the sky. ‘Tell me more.’

‘Well they’re really powerful. And scary.’

‘Thought so. Are they nice?’

‘I don’t really know. To us maybe.’

‘You mean, humans?’

‘Yeah humans.’ Yoongi manages to find a constellation, tracing it with his eyes as he continues to talk. ‘I wouldn’t know though, I never met one.’

‘Has anyone?’

‘Not that I know of. But I know a story about them.’

Jimin props himself up on his elbow, palm squishing his cheek. ‘Go ahead then Hans Christian Anderson. We got all night.’

‘Well-‘ Yoongi cleared his throat and locked onto one particular star shining brightly against the velvet sky.

‘There was once a warrior named Taehyung. He was strong, and brave and the most trusted soldier out of the Heavenly Host. Until he did something unforgivable.’

‘What did he do?’

‘He fell in love.’

#yoonmin #au! #angels #wellahintoftaekook #getkeen #yoongi #jimin #bts #btsfics #bangtan #min yoongi #park jimin #bangtan sonyeondan #slight vkook #there's literally not that much there well

[nice--is--a--four--letter--word]

Good Omens

Good Omens

Episode 1

You’re an angel I don’t think you can do the wrong thing - Az looks so genuinely happy at that and they’ve literally just met

A demon can get in to a lot of trouble for doing the right thing

If I did the good thing and you did the bad one. No. It wouldn’t be funny at all

I do not sully the temple of my celestial body with gross matter

Most of the great triumphs and tragedy in human history are caused not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad but people being fundamentally people

Everyone knows the best place for a clandestine meeting in London is and always has been st James’s Park. They say the ducks are so used to being fed by secret agents that they’ve developed pavolvian reactions to them. The Russian cultural attaché’s black bread is particularly sought after by the more discerning duck.

When they’re crossing the road Crowley does the thanks wave to the car that stopped

Godfathers. Well I’ll be damned

It’s not that bad when you get used to it *glowing smirk* Az’s face just drops

Az might have taught warlock sign

No one’ll notice anything. It’s reality angel

So the humans beat me to it, that’s not my fault

Crowley knows what Az smells like, Az has a new cologne that his barber suggested

Would I lie to you. You’re a demon it’s what you do

Episode 2

You can’t have a war without War

What he does is put the fear of god in to them. More accurately the fear of Crowley.

Crowley’s very bendy, all long and thin and sauntering

Hey this is Anthony Crowley, you know what to do, do it with style

He stands by the phone letting it go to voicemail and picks up when he hear it’s Az

What do you mean it feels loved

I like spooky, big spooky fan me

Guns in the right hands give weight to a moral argument

Az says hell at they real guns

You know Crowley I’ve always said deep down you really are a nice

Shut it. I’m a demon I’m not nice. I’m never nice nice is a four letter word I will not have -

Excuse me gentlemen, sorry to break up an intimate moment. Can I help you

Excuse me ma’am we’re just two supernatural entities looking for the notorious son of Satan. Wonder if you might help us with out enquiries

You’ll wake having had a lovely dream about whatever you like best

Angels aren’t occult we’re ethereal

Az can feel that the areas different, Crowley can’t, Love

Get in angel

They both have a human network, they’re just shadwell

Bebop - The velvet underground, if you lined up everyone in the world and asked them to describe it not one of them would say

Episode 3

Eden - Aziraphale, angel of the eastern gate

3004 bc Mesopotamia

Crowley looks more shocked about the flood than Az, he trying to justify it

Not the kids, you can’t kill the kids. Mmhmm. That’s more like something my side would do

Are you going to say ineffable

That unicorns going to make a run for it. Oh you’ve still got one of them

Rainbow invented

33 ad Golgotha

Crawly -> Crowley

Bit too squirming at your feet ish

Crowley gave Jesus a tour of the world and looks sympathetic at the nails

8 years later Rome

What kind of questions that still a demon what else am I going to be an aardvark

Crowley has little sunglasses

Crowley’s working, Az is trying a new restaurant - Crowley’s never eaten an oyster, Az looks shocked

Oh well let me tempt you oh I guess that’s your job isn’t it

Wessex 537

Knights, Az is part of the round table, Crowley is the black knight spreading forment of discord, Az is formenting peace and they’re working in damp places cancelling each other out

Crowley says they should just pretend they’ve done it and stay home, Az is against it

Globe theatre 1601

Az likes grapes

No one wants to see hamlet

Shakespeare wants the audience to interact and make the actors feel appreciated

Oh he’s not my friend we don’t know each other we’ve never met before

Shakespeare nicks a line from Crowley

No rest for the well good

They’re both going to Edinburgh to do little things so they toss for it so only one has to go - They’ve done it dozens of times before - the arrangement in a little sing song voice - Az doesn’t want to talk about it

It’s take a miracle to make anyone come and see Hamlet. Yes alright I’ll do that one my treat

1793 Paris

Az really doesn’t speak french

Az was supposed to be openingbg the bookshop and he did but he was peckish and came to France to get crepes looking like that

Az was reprimanded for too many frivolous miracles so he figured he’d just stay there and let himself get discorperated the idiot

My lot do not send rude notes

1862 St James Park

Sauntered vaguely downwards

Stay out of each other’s way, lend a hand when needed

Asking for holy water - for if it all goes pear shaped, I like pears - walls have ears no trees have ears ducks have ears do ducks have ears must do that’s how they hear other ducks

Az thinks the holy water would be a suicide pill

Fraternising - Crowley is betrayed

I don’t need you. And the feeling is mutual obviously.

1941 London

Az was trying to double cross the nazis and got triple crossed back - Crowley knows, someone knows how, and steps on consecrated ground to come save him

You can’t kill me. There’ll be paperwork

You don’t like it ? No I didn’t say that, I’ll get used to it. What does the j stand for. Nothing it’s just a j

You won’t enjoy dying. Definitely won’t enjoy what comes after

You’re wasting your valuable running away them - Kill them, they are very irritating

Probably where Crowley gets he idea for nicking holy water from a church

That was very kind of you. Oh shut up. No paperwork for a start

1967 Soho London

Shadwell was in prison and got taught lock breaking

Crowley’s definitely got contacts - Az ‘hears things’

You told me what you think. A hundred and five years ago.

I can’t have you risking your life. Even for something dangerous

“The holiest”

Should I say thank you. Better not.

Az is so trying to push him

Maybe one day we could go for a picnic, dine at the ritz

You go to fast for me Crowley - double meaning

Crowley really fits the time.

Dog tried to scare a cat with the red eyes and the cat went for him

This is going to sound so stupid but I lost my book and it all just got a bit much

School is a repressive tool of the state

When Az is up trying to report the missing Antichrist he pretty much throws Crowley under the bus, he ends up not telling them who he is but they don’t care and just want the war to happen

Az doesn’t remember which of their rendezvous points are which code

Az is an awful liar

Great postulant mangled bullocks to the great plan

Unforgivable that’s what I am

I’m not personally up for killing kids. You’re the demon I’m the nice one. Crowley’s trying to convince Az to kill the boy

Crowley wants to go off together - Az looks kinda hopeful but he shuts him down

Friends we’re not friends. We have nothing whatsoever in common I don’t even like you

We’re on our side. There is no our side not anymore it’s over

Crowley is way more in love than Az

Az’s voice is breaking but Crowley’s the one that’s hurt

Episode 4

Az is talking like twice as many steps as Gabriel with the jogging

Az has to catch his breath after ‘jogging’ for a couple of hundred meters

But there doesn’t have to be a war

Of course there does how else would we win it

Tie up stuff down here, report back to active service and ... lose the gut. Come on you’re a lean mean fighting machine, what are you

.... I’m ... soft

Now don’t think of it as dying. Think of it as leaving early to avoid the rush

Fight outside bookshop with gay guy at end - it’s all Az’s fault. Crowley loves him

Episode 5

Somebody’s killed my best friend. Bastards

I shouldn’t litter should I - No ones keeping score anymore

Pathetic excuse for an angel

There are celestial wages

“It’s on fire or something”

Right now that’s somebody else’s problem

Dog is just as scared as the kids

Episode 6

Ninety years and not a scratch now look at you

I am having a moment here - Crowley’s mourning the Bentley -You were a good car - I need to get over the car thing

We are here to lick some serious butt. Kick Aziraphale it’s kick butt for heavens sake eugh I can’t believe I just said that

Negative, like black holes. I don’t think they’re exactly human

They’re saying it’s the end of the world. Yes I can hear that

He is not what he says he is

I believe in peace bitch

I believe in food and a healthy lunch. Famine puts up the biggest fight

Tougher. Smarter. More dangerous

Book girl - like who

Crowley the traitor. That’s not a nice word. All the other words I have for you are worse

Dads don’t wait till you’re eleven to say hello

You don’t have a side anymore. Neither of us do. We’re on our own side now

Even if he didn’t know why I was in trouble I would

Dick Turpin was a famous highwayman. Everywhere it goes it holds up traffic Oh I regret asking

The holiest yes

It’s not that we don’t trust you Michael but obviously we don’t trust you

How many nipples you got ?

Don’t talk to me about the greater good sunshine I’m the archangel fucking Gabriel

Shut your stupid mouth and die already

I don’t suppose that anywhere in the nine circles of hell there’s any such thing as a rubber duck

There never was an apple in Adams opinion that wasn’t worth the trouble you got in to for eating it

They’re all domestic and happy

Heaven and hell against... humanity

Right, time to leave the garden

I like to think that none of this wouldn’t have worked out if you weren’t at heart just a little bit of a good person

And if you weren’t deep down just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing

There were angels dining at the Ritz