#I've been using this shitty cheap one for a year

[llycaons]

I think one thing that drives me crazy about living with these specific other people is that they think nothing of watching videos with full volume in common areas and I would N E V E R do that like I don't want to say anything but it's part of the reason I rarely go out and stay in the living area. also they literally own the tv so what am I going to tell them, put in headphones? for their tv? at 4pm? on a sunday???? they turn it down when it's late even on weekends which I appreciate but I feel like it makes for such an exclusionary and unwelcome environment

#ever since making the decision to move I've been so much happier considering such things #it would also be nice to have a full fridge again instead of half. and oh boy. think about the freezer space #the big couch there isn't even mine! mine is the shitty cheap one! #it's also bc her bf is staying with us for weeks since he's in between rotations and also he smashed his ankle real bad #and I may need to move anyway depending on where he gets placed for his residency #but it's not just this #like I feel like we were friends for a while esp out of shared experiences and need #butI hear how she is with her actual friends and it's really clear she's mostly being polite at this point with me #and I think I do the same thing...2 years was a good run to live together tho #cor.txt

[lvlyghost]

Hello do you take requests cause I had this idea in my mind but I suck in writing

how bout a ghost x reader where he had a bad day and takes it out on his beloved reader who he's been in a really long relationship with, by starting an argument and maybe saying some really mean and bad things that break the reader. Like the reader is only a shell of herself and completely ruined by ghosts words and just crying or sitting completely still staring off the wall or just staring at nothing just being numb.

What would be interesting is Simons reaction when he realizes the damage that he's done, maybe he would cry/break down idk when he sees the usually happy reader being so dull and almost lifeless yk

But Pleasee don't do this to our hearts and write some comfort and a happy ending please I couldn't handle too much angst❤️😭

The Weight of the World

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: You promised to always lean on each other but sometimes love isn't enough.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

TW: heavy angst, literally got some mid anxiety writing this🥴 swearing, self-doubt, hurt-comfort and slight fluff towards the end. lmk if i missed any.

A/N: finished this in one sitting lol, also not proofread and poorly edited, i've been having a shitty week so expect more angst lol. meet me in therapy. Enjoy anon!🤍🌟🫶🏻💕

Masterlist✨

You hesitate right outside Simon's studio, the place where he secludes himself from everything and everyone. Ever since he came from his last mission he seemed to be on the edge constantly. The usual softness that he reserved specifically for you was... absent.

Still you wouldn't let that stop you from approaching; having dating him for a few years now let you know so much of that. You knew when he was hurting. When he was sad, angry, jealous or even happy. Little to no people could say that.

Somehow this was different. He wasn't even letting you in, constantly keeping you at arms length and that hurt. How were you supposed to get to him this time? Get him to talk to you?

To look at you again with that same glint in his eyes, the spark that you ignited in him and that won't fade away even years after.

The sound of a chair creaking startles you, the same time the timer in the kitchen goes off. You walk back, turning the oven off, and sticking out the apple pie you so happily baked for both with hopes that you'll get him loosen a bit that dark cloud that's been looming over Simon these past few days.

The door of his studio is yanked open the heavy stomp of his boots resonating across the small apartment you two share, then his bulky frame appears just to grab the keys to his black motorcycle.

"Simon!" You call him, burning your hand in the process. He stills halfway through the living room, waiting for you to say something else. Wetting a cloth hurriedly and wrapping it around the burnt skin.

"I made something for us... maybe," standing behind him you leave a reasonable space between the two. You swallow down hard. "Thought we could have it together and just, you know spend...-"

"I don't have time for that now." His voice is cold and monotone. "Don't wait for me."

"But Si-" he turns on his heels, eyes hard and unyielding. He approaches slowly, making you gulp. "What's gotten into you, Simon?" You fight back the tears, this was the man you loved so dearly, the man you knew loved you back; there was a reason for the golden engagement ring on your left hand. "I..-"

"Fucking hell would you stop that? Please just..." he notices the wetness in your eyes. "I can't do this. Not anymore."

"Whatever it is I promise we can work it out together!" your lips quivered. "Just talk to me!"

"I don't need to talk about anything girl!" He seethes, one finger pointing at you. "Think some cheap counseling with you will make things right? Bloody hell no. Neither some homemade bread, this isn't fucking working and it won't until you learn how the bloody world works."

It breaks your heart into a tiny million pieces, breathing becomes a challenge and the injury in your hand can no longer be felt. Simon's words were worse than any physical pain. Where was the man you loved? The man who used to lift you up and kiss you on the forehead? The man whose hands couldn't stop roaming your body late at night? The man who'd helped you reach out for things he probably put away in the highest shelf so you'd ask for help. That same man that had proposed to you no long ago, right before he was deployed to a special op God knows where. The fabric of his mask moves when he keeps talking but you don't listen. You can't. Just like you can't stop the tears dribbling down your cheeks and the tremble of your hands. Simon's jaw clenched, brows furrowed as he takes a step back and leaves.

You walk sluggishly to where the dessert awaits. It's when your knees buckle that you finally let out a loud cry.

-

Simon knows he isn't a good man. He's done quite questionable things that he could never say out loud. He knows he's fucked in so many ways. But he also knows that there's one thing that kept him from spiraling further down into an abyss of death and self-loathing.

You.

The woman he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl that didn't care about his past, the bad moments and his complicated persona. You who would selflessly love him without asking for something in return. What had you seen in him in first place? Even now after three years he can't wrap his head around the fact that he has someone who waits for him.

Simon knows how much he loves you, but what he doesn't know is how—or in what earth—he deserves every part of you.

You've been avoiding him ever since that horrible night. Words he can't take back. Looks that haunt him every time he closed his eyes. He hears you cry when you go to sleep or when you're taking a shower. Muffled sobs and wails that will come for him until the day he dies.

You avoid him like a plague, when he walks in. After all he's the one to blame. He wanted to ask you to tear him apart maybe that'd feel less painful.

The last remaining of sanity that was left in him came crashing down when he began to notice how you stared off in a haze, numbly looking at the window. He was losing you. Destroyed the one good thing he had. So, a few days later, despite his own demons. Despite the things that broke him all irreparably during the last mission in Moscow, he comes to find you. Sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes set on your left hand.

The engagement ring was gone, forgotten someplace unknown. Simon felt the panic wrenching his guts.

It's all on him.

He whispers your name, calls you softly. Slowly sitting in front of you, the coffee table creaks under his weight. Words get caught in his throat.

"May I take your hand?" He pleads, not getting an answer. Simon sighs, lowering his head as silent reigns yet again. "I don't deserve you." He murmurs, eyes bored into the floor. "I... I ruin everything I touch. Just never thought I'd ruin my girl."

Your eyes flutter shut, wet tears clinging to your eyelashes. Simon watches as you stand and leave without a word, he follows close behind to your shared room.

"Love..."

"Don't call me that!" the hurt in your voice... the resentment in your eyes, he's earned it.

Simon reaches out for your arm, grabbing you firmly but gently, mindful not to harm you.

"Right I deserve that." If there's one thing Simon regrets it's being the reason that your eyes no longer shine. "What I said... what happened I...-"

Shaking your head and biting down your lip.

"You never gave me the chance, I thought we said we'd always find a way."

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry baby." in an instant he's pulling you close, although you want to push him away, scream at him, slap him for the calvary he made you go through. "I'm not good with words, and I'm no good person." You feel his body shaking with anxiety as your eyes widen in shock. "I tried... I can't forgive myself for my mistakes."

"Simon..." he hushed you, cradling your head with his big hand. "I can't sleep knowing I can't protect you from what's out there, couldn't bloody protect that kid in Moscow, or my family."

You guide him to the bed, sitting down side by side and holding onto each other.

"Said I would always be with you Simon, why the hell did you push me away?! Have I not given my everything to you? We promised to always make it work!" He grabs your face staring intently into your eyes. "What happened there?"

He blinks, deciding how much to say. There was no need for you to know the entirety of it. He wanted to shield you from the horrors of this world, and he would as long as he lived.

"A young lad whose life's was cut short because I wasn't there on time. How can I come back to you, be happy when someone else just lost their kid..."

"That wasn't on you! Simon Riley you stop that now." He inhales, cinnamon and vanilla flooding his senses. It's you all of you. "Stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. We do that together, yeah?" Your chest hurts from how hard it's beating. "You've done far so much. You won't lose me."

A rumble in the sky and cars passing by outside your home is all you hear. Brown eyes like honey stare back into your soul.

"You took it off..."

"I burnt my hand, it wasn't healing properly. And you know what?" He quirks a brow. "It wasn't homemade bread. It was an apple pie, you silly."

"You'll never forgive me for that one won't you?" He doesn't chuckle but the air feels lighter.

"No. Probably won't." Simon takes your burnt hand bringing it to his lips, they're soft against the marred skin.

"But we're still getting married, yeah?" He asks.

You smile fondly, humming when he kisses your forehead, tears have now dried.

"Yeah. We're still getting married."

#cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #call of duty #simon riley imagine #cod simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #call of duty ghost simon riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw ghost #cod fanfic #cod angst

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for coming out as bi to my girlfriend and voicing my concerns to her

I (18M) have been dating my girlfriend, L (20F) for three years now. our relationship has been great so far, we were attracted to each other from the start. she has always been very flirty and tbh that's how she won me over at first, because teenage hormones are gonna teenage hormones y'know, but when I got to know her better as a person I realized my feelings for her weren't just sexual - she is kind, gentle, overall really sweet. I was, and still am, attracted to her in every way. L is also openly bisexual, fully out, and idk I've always felt so safe around her because she doesn't judge others, I think she's so beautiful inside and out. she has been my first girlfriend ever so I always do my best to be supportive and make her feel loved.

a few months ago I realized I'm bi. I thought, hey, since she always speaks about her own bisexuality I think I can tell her I'm bi as well. she was, as usual, very non-judgemental but she said something that I didn't like, something like "you see how much I love and trust you? someone else would've been like OMG YOU'RE PROBABLY JUST GAY AND YOU WANT TO CHEAT ON ME WITH A GUY". I was,, confused bc 1. I think supporting your partner when they come out is the bare minimum, 2. she is bisexual herself and I don't think shes gonna cheat on me with a girl, I never acted like I was great for supporting her and 3. I know I'm not gay because L can do whatever she wants with me so I dunno what that comment was for. I've enjoyed my intimate encounters with her too much to be gay and she knows this.

I was a bit annoyed but still grateful that she was supportive. I noticed our sexual activities increased after that and a part of me wondered if she was trying to make sure I'm not gay. which made her look like a bit of a hypocrite because she never had to "prove" to me that she's not gay. not complaining tho - I just found it odd? I think it's a weird double standard, but then again I know women are always putting up with double standards so I feel like I can't tell her abt how strange her comment was. I just don't want L to think I'm not attracted to her and I started feeling like an asshole for telling her I'm bi.

but she got actually upset over something else that has nothing to do with us being bi - when we first started talking, she was dating another guy. I knew this, so I was respectful, I thought that L being flirty with me was some kind of joke until she told me she was serious and she couldn't stop thinking about me. L didn't cheat on him, she broke up with him before she started dating me, and recently I told her "hey... I won't be that guy one day, right? I trust you and I know you won't cheat on me, but I remembered how our friendship first started and if you ever stop loving me I would like to know before you feel ignored enough to start flirting with other guys". she got very visibly upset, she said I was right, said she felt cheap and like a whore and ???? NOT AT ALL WHAT I FUCKING MEANT. I was trying to tell her I want us to have communication, because I love her and I want our relationship to work out.

I feel like a shitty person and boyfriend, first for telling her I'm bi even though it wouldn't have an impact on our relationship, then for trying to voice my concerns and accidentally making her feel that way.

I've apologized a few times and we're good now but she introduced me to her best friend and,, this girl just started talking abt how she will guide me so I can properly take care of L? it made me feel really stupid. I felt like a child tbh. we are bi but not poly (I respect those who are, just giving you context) so idk why she felt she had to insert her friend into our relationship. am I really so bad that my girlfriend has to ask her friend to teach me how to be good to her? I would understand this if L had some sort of disability but her friend just talks to me about BDSM and doms/subs and like ??? I feel like L being a sub has fuck all to do with our argument, but I still feel terrible. pls help me make sense of these things. I want to know if I am the asshole.

#aita #am i the asshole

[poraphia]

"I see you standing on the sidelines."

pairing • lvjy!enemies!wilbur x singer!enemies!reader 1063 words • 8.6.23 containing • lowkey enemies, cursing, cheeky insults my masterlist ~! ღ Soot's Pretty Princess ღ on Tumblr

♡♡♡

What do I think about Wilbur?

It's funny you should ask. To put it quite plainly,

He's a total dickhead.

The best way to describe him is like a mosquito buzzing around your head, and everytime you take a swab of smacking it away you end up just completely missing. You're so annoyed that it would serve your reputation best to just stop attempting any form of defense and let it happen.

Wilbur and I have been in a "battle-of-the-bands" heat for as long as our music careers started. However, years before, we were great friends, a perfect pair even, that is until some.. Complications.. Between us occurred.

"You look like you're about to piss yourself." Wilbur snorted.

I rolled my eyes, taking a swig from my water bottle. Every relentless mock, eye-rolling boast, and shit-eating grin felt like nails to a chalkboard. "You never learn when to piss off, do you?" I groaned. He quirked an eyebrow before scooting his metal chair closer, scraping it against the worn wooden planks.

"Not really." He smirked. I looked at him to the side of me, my head not turning to face him. His legs straddled the back of his chair as his arms draped alongside the frame. His lips were pressed flatly, but curled at the ends topped with those signature dimples and squinty eyes.

I inhaled a sharp breath before averting my gaze.

"Lovejoy is on in ten minutes!" A man with a clipboard waved an arm around as various crew members attended to their duties. Will's head perked up to catch a glimpse of the preparation. I looked around as well, that is until his eyes trailed back onto me.

"You gonna come out and watch me play, darling?" He nudged. I properly turned my head to face him now with my ankle resting on top of my opposite knee. I scoffed, pointing at him with my half drunken water bottle.

"Watch you?" I remarked, shaking my bottle as I talked. "I should be looking for some earmuffs right about now, really. God forbid I listen to what trash you've written up since the last festival." I sat back, continuing my rant. "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you bitched about another one of your failed rela–"

I was cut off as he held the end of my bottle. I paused, looking at him strangely. His eyes, deep pools of chocolate, stared into mine, shooting a fluttering system in my veins. Stubborn to not express my bashfulness, I grit my teeth and stared at him right back, unfazed.

"Y'know," he started. His grip on the bottle depleted. His fingers now trailing to my hand, gently tracing patterns onto my skin. His face brushed past mine with lips leaning close to my ear. Softly, he whispered. "You should listen closer to the lyrics... You may learn something."

Before I could process what words he uttered, his band members called for him to grab his instrument. He retreated his grasp and then walked past me, instinctively making me turn around to watch the man approach his fellow band members. The scent of his cologne breezing my face.

At first, I rolled my eyes. Was this just some cheap trick to get my attention? And what is there to learn when it comes to listening to the lyrics? I've heard enough of his shitty music to know it's about how much he missed his failed attempt at a girlfriend.

Or rather-- crush he ultimately rejected me for.

Through loud blaring speakers, the stage crew introduced Lovejoy and soon enough the harmony of the bass and guitar echoed throughout the stadium, following the steady heartbeat of Mark's drums.

Truly, I tried my best to ignore it. However, every single time, without fail, I find myself wandering to the offside of the stage, hidden behind the black curtains to not be seen by the thousands of people, but close enough where I can see the glistens of sweat shining on Wilbur's skin.

He was in the midst of singing Portrait of A Blank Slate, the featured song of his latest EP. The crowd jumped and screamed the lyrics back at him. At least, those who knew the lyrics anyway. My arms crossed as I watched the lanky man let his guitar dangle by the strap. He caressed the microphone stand with one hand, another gripping at the handle.

His eyes glanced to the side, before returning back to the crowd, only for his eyes to flash back at me again. What once was a straight, concentrated look on his face turned into an expression of eagerness, as if his want for attention has been satisfied. He took his hand off the microphone stand and started tracing his chest, opening more of his already unbuttoned collar.

I stood there, shell-shocked. The excitement of fans blared somewhat louder than the booming sound devices, but his eyes kept on me. He continued his theatrics, having to almost peel his own gaze off of me to continue performing for the crowd. His hands moved gracefully in juxtaposition with the erratic tune.

His eyes fluttered close, back to concentrating on what strings to press, what lyrics to sing, and what queues to initiate. But my mind was flooded with questions the more I listened to what words he spoke into that microphone. The pleas of wanting to stay with someone, the idea of being perfect for each other, the bitter taste of someone breaking the subject down.

Soon enough, the song came to an end with its final chords and strums. The crowd erupted in a loud cheer, but Wilbur—

Oh, Wilbur.

With one sneaky, watchful glance, he drank in my searching eyes, looking for some sort of answer. My face, dusted in a flustered pink to highlight my cheeks. My mouth was open ajar, but no words could sound out of my throat. With a satisfied smile, he turned back to the audience.

I had to give him the win on this one.

That fucking bastard.

♡♡♡

a / n ~ hihi this is my first official fanfic on tumblr hope u likey

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot oneshots #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur hc #lovejoy #will gold #lvjy #wilbur x reader #fanfic #lovejoy concert #mcyt headcanons wilbur #poraphiafanfics

[mostlysignssomeportents]

An excerpt from The Bezzle

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me next in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Today, I'm bringing you part one of an excerpt from Chapter 14 of The Bezzle, my next novel, which drops on Feb 20. It's an ice-cold revenge technothriller starring Martin Hench, a two-fisted forensic accountant specialized in high-tech fraud:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

Hench is the Zelig of high-tech fraud, a character who's spent 40 years in Silicon Valley unwinding every tortured scheme hatched by tech-bros who view the spreadsheet as a teleporter that whisks other peoples' money into their own bank-accounts. This setup is allowing me to write a whole string of these books, each of which unwinds a different scam from tech's past, present and future, starting with last year's Red Team Blues (now in paperback!), a novel that whose high-intensity thriller plotline is also a masterclass in why cryptocurrency is a scam:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865854/redteamblues

Turning financial scams into entertainment is important work. Finance's most devastating defense is the Shield Of Boringness (h/t Dana Clare) – tactically deployed complexity designed to induce the state that finance bros call "MEGO" ("my eyes glaze over"). By combining jargon and obfuscation, the most monstrous criminals of our age have been able to repeatedly bring our civilization to the brink of collapse (remember 2008?) and then spin their way out of it.

Turning these schemes into entertainment is hard, necessary work, because it incinerates the respectable suit and tie and leaves the naked dishonesty of the finance sector on display for all to see. In The Big Short, they recruited Margot Robbie to explain synthetic CDOs from a bubble-bath. And John Oliver does this every week on Last Week Tonight, coming up with endlessly imaginative stunts and gags to flense the bullshit, laying the scam economy open to the bone.

This was my inspiration for the Hench novels (I've written and sold three of these, of which The Bezzle is number two; I've got at least two more planned). Could I use the same narrative tactics I used to explain mass surveillance, cryptography and infosec in the Little Brother books to turn scams into entertainment, and entertainment into the necessary, informed outrage that might precipitate change?

The main storyline in The Bezzle concerns one of the most gruesome scams in today's America: prison-tech, which sees America's vast army of prisoners being stripped of letters, calls, in-person visits, parcels, libraries and continuing ed in favor of cheap tablets that bilk prisoners and their families of eye-watering sums for every click they make:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

But each Hench novel has a variety of side-quests that work to expose different kinds of financial chicanery. The Bezzle also contains explainers on the workings of MLMs/Ponzis (and how Gerry Ford and Betsy DeVos's father-in-law legalized one of the most destructive forces in America) and the way that oligarchs, foreign and domestic, use Real Estate Investment Trusts to hide their money and destroy our cities.

And there's a subplot about music-royalty theft, a form of pernicious wage theft that is present up and down the music industry supply-chain. This is a subject that came up a lot when Rebecca Giblin and I were researching and writing Chokepoint Capitalism, our 2022 book about creative labor markets:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

Two of the standout cases from that research formed the nucleus of the subplot in The Bezzle, the case of Leonard Cohen's batshit manager who stole millions from him and then went to prison for stalking him, leaving him virtually penniless and forced to keep touring to keep himself fed:

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2012/apr/19/leonard-cohen-former-manager-jailed

The other was George Clinton, whose manager forged his signature on a royalty assignment, then used the stolen money to defend himself against Clinton's attempts to wrestle his rights back and even to sue Clinton for defamation for writing about the caper in his memoir:

https://www.musicconnection.com/the-legal-beat-george-clinton-wins-defamation-case/

That's the tale that this excerpt – which I'll be serializing in six parts over the coming week – tells, in fictionalized form. It's not Margot Robbie in a bubble-bath, it's not a John Oliver monologue, but I think it's pretty goddamned good.

I'm leaving for a long, multi-city, multi-country, multi-continent tour with The Bezzle next Wednesday, starting with an event at Weller Bookworks in Salt Lake City on the 21st:

https://www.wellerbookworks.com/event/store-cory-doctorow-feb-21-630-pm

I'll in be in San Diego on the 22nd at Mysterious Galaxy:

https://www.mystgalaxy.com/22224Doctorow

And then it's on to LA (with Adam Conover), Seattle (with Neal Stephenson), Portland, Phoenix and beyond:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#bezzle-tour

I hope you'll come out for the tour (and bring your friends)!

Between 1972 and 1978, Steve Soul (a.k.a. Stefon Magner) had a string of sixteen Billboard Hot 100 singles, one of which cracked the Top 10 and won him an appearance on Soul Train. He is largely forgotten today, except by hip-­hop producers who prize his tracks as a source of deep, funky grooves. They sampled the hell out of him, not least because his rights were controlled by Inglewood Jams, a clearinghouse for obscure funk tracks that charged less than half of what the Big Three labels extracted for each sample license.

Even at that lower rate, those license payments would have set Stefon up for a comfortable retirement, especially when added to his Social Security and the disability check from Dodgers Stadium, where he cleaned floors for more than a decade before he fell down a beer-­slicked bleacher and cracked two of his lumbar discs. But Stefon didn’t get a dime. His former manager, Chuy Flores, forged his signature on a copyright assignment in 1976. Stefon didn’t discover this fact until 1979, because Chuy kept cutting him royalty checks, even as Stefon’s band broke up and those royalties trickled off. In Stefon’s telling, the band broke up because the rest of the act—­especially the three-­piece rhythm section of two percussionists and a beautiful bass player with a natural afro and a wild, infectious hip-­wiggle while she played—­were too coked up to make it to rehearsal, making their performances into shambling wreckages and their studio sessions into vicious bickerfests. To hear the band tell of it, Stefon had bad LSD (“Lead Singer Disease”) and decided he didn’t need the rest of them. One thing they all agreed on: there was no way Stefon would have signed over the band’s earnings to Chuy, who was little more than a glorified bookkeeper, with Stefon hustling all their bookings and even ordering taxis to his bandmates’ houses to make sure they showed up at the studio or the club on time. Stefon remembered October of ’79 well. He’d been waiting with dread for the envelope from Chuy. The previous royalty check, in July, had been under $250. The previous quarter’s had been over $1,000. This quarter’s might have zero. Stefon needed the money. His 1972 Ford Galaxie needed a new transmission. He couldn’t keep driving it in first.

The envelope arrived late, the day before Halloween, and for a brief moment, Stefon was overcome by an incredible, unbelieving elation: Chuy’s laboriously typewritten royalty statement ended with the miraculous figure of $7,421.16. Seven thousand dollars! It was more than two years’ royalties, all in one go! He could fix the Galaxie’s transmission and get the ragtop patched, and still have money left over for his back rent, his bar tab, his child support, and a fine steak dinner, and even then, he’d end the month with money in his savings account.

But there was no check in the envelope. Stefon shook the envelope, carefully unfolded the royalty statement to ensure that there was no check stapled to its back, went downstairs to the apartment building lobby and rechecked his mailbox.

Finally, he called Chuy.

“Chuy, man, you forgot to put a check in the envelope.”

“I didn’t forget, Steve. Read the paperwork again. You gotta send me a check.”

“What the fuck? That’s not funny, Chuy.”

“I ain’t joking, Steve. I been advancing you royalties for more than three years, but you haven’t earned nothing new since then—­no new recordings. I can’t afford to carry you no more.”

“Say what?”

Chuy explained it to him like he was a toddler. “Remember when you signed over your royalties to me in ’76? Every dime I’ve sent you since then was an advance on your future recordings, only you haven’t had none of those, so I’m cutting you off and calling in your note. I’m sorry, Steve, but I ain’t a charity. You don’t work, you don’t earn. This is America, brother. No free lunches.”

“After I did what in ’76?”

“Steve, in 1976 you signed over all your royalties to me. We agreed, man! I can’t believe you don’t remember this! You came over to my spot and I told you how it was and you said you needed money to cover the extra horns for the studio session on Fight Fire with Water. I told you I’d cover them and you’d sign over all your royalties to me.”

Stefon was briefly speechless. Chuy had paid the sidemen on that session, but that was because Chuy owed him a thousand bucks for a string of private parties they’d played for some of Chuy’s cronies. Chuy had been stiffing him for months and Stefon had agreed to swap the session fees for the horn players in exchange for wiping out the debt, which had been getting in the way of their professional relationship.

“Chuy, you know it didn’t happen that way. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about when you signed over all your royalties to me. And you know what? I don’t like your tone. I’ve carried your ass for years now, sent you all that money out of my own pocket, and now you gotta pay up. My generosity’s run out. When you gonna send me a check?”

Of course, it was a gambit. It put Stefon on tilt, got him to say a lot of ill-­advised things over the phone, which Chuy secretly recorded. It also prompted Stefon to take a swing at Chuy, which Chuy dived on, shamming that he’d had a soft-­tissue injury in his neck, bringing suit for damages and pressing an aggravated-­assault charge.

He dropped all that once Stefon agreed not to keep on with any claims about the forged signature; Stefon went on to become a good husband, a good father, and a hard worker. And if cleaning floors at Dodgers Stadium wasn’t what he’d dreamed of when he was headlining on Soul Train, at least he never missed a game, and his boy came most weekends and watched with him. Stefon’s supervisor didn’t care.

But the stolen royalties ate at him, especially when he started hearing his licks every time he turned on the radio. His voice, even. Chuy Flores had a fully paid-­off three-­bedroom in Eagle Rock and two cars and two ex-­wives and three kids he was paying child support on, and Stefon sometimes drove past Chuy Flores’s house to look at his fancy palm trees all wrapped up in strings of Christmas lights and think about who paid for them.

ETA: Here's part two!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/17/the-steve-soul-caper/#lead-singer-disease

#pluralistic #the bezzle #martin hench #marty hench #red team blues #fiction #crime fiction #crime thrillers #thrillers #technothrillers #novels #books #royalties #wage theft #creative labor

[memestockpile]

the old guard (2020) feel free to change as needed.

and i'm just so tired of it.

that couldn't have been cheap.

i just really suck at taking selfies.

you look okay.

i have something for you.

admit it, you missed us.

we can do some good.

some good means nothing.

you haven't aged a day.

they reached out to me, and i'm reaching out to you.

the world isn't getting any better. it's getting worse.

keep it respectful.

look at me. look at me. you're gonna be okay.

everything happens for a reason, boss.

you can't tell me you don't remember what it was like.

a little blood can look like a lot.

hey, look who's up.

didn't think you were coming back.

plane's fueling. pack your bags.

this isn't real. none of this is real.

you shot me.

you've got questions, kid. i get it.

sometimes you gotta work with people you don't wanna eat with.

god doesn't exist.

i am not jumping from a plane!

you really want to do this, kid?

we're done. i said, we're done.

you're very good.

i got people that love me. people that are gonna worry.

this place has been abandoned for fifty years.

we fight for what we think is right.

more like misery loves company.

the love of my life was of the people i've been taught to hate.

nothing that lives lives forever.

i think you should get some rest. come with me, i'll show you.

it's just a bad dream.

just you and me. until the end.

i don't want this. i don't want any of it.

i know you're scared. we'll keep you safe.

we're all you've got.

you're still in this shitty game with me, you hear me?

welcome back, asshole.

it hurts everywhere.

wait for the signal.

what is he? your boyfriend?

you're an incurable romantic.

there's a tv, [name].

i brought you a change of clothes.

i thought you were the brains of this outfit.

the only way is forward now.

you will know what it is to lose everyone you've ever loved.

we're not meant to be alone.

i believe this can change the world.

as much as i like watching you sleep, i'm glad you're awake.

we should go back there.

you come from warriors.

it's not what time steals, it's what it leaves behind.

you're one of us now. we would do the same for you.

humanity can screw itself.

what kind of ceo rolls around with his own personal army?

you selfish piece of shit!

i've seen it, [name]. i know all the good you've done.

no man left behind.

we don't get a say in when it ends. we never have. but we can control how we live.

let's get this motherfucker.

go big or go home.

i always go first.

you shouldn't have done that.

you reminded me there are people still worth fighting for.

you are priceless.

give me your hand.

you're a good kid, [name].

i'm gonna miss you.

i hoped for less, but i expected more.

have a little faith.

it's nearly impossible to disappear in the world we live in today.

#roleplay meme #rp meme #askbox meme #ask meme #roleplay #inbox rp meme #inbox meme #ask #meme #askbox #rp inbox meme #tumblr rp #rp #tumblr roleplay #askbox rp #roleplay sentence meme #sentence starter meme #rp sentence meme #sentence starters #sentence meme

[horselessheadperson]

LITANY AGAINST FAST FASHION: A SHORT GUIDE

2 disclaimers:

I'm not an expert, these are just my ideas. The more you can add on or correct the better, please reblog

The first responsibility in fixing these issues (there are many, it's not a single problem with a single solution) lies with the people making the big money off of this. If you feel like you already have a system for making clothing and textiles work for *you* and you don't feel up to changing anything, that's absolutely fine and you should feel good about yourself for finding something that works.

Having said that, here's the main problem as I see it:

DUE TO FAST FASHION, WE'VE ALREADY PRODUCED ENOUGH TEXTILE/GARMENTS TO LAST US FOR GENERATIONS

The term "fast fashion" really comes from the rapid circulation of collections high street brands go through. H&M famously advertises they have "something new every time you visit", you can always find new pyjamas at Primark, Pull & Bear prints new shitty tshirts every day. Obviously, not all of those clothes actually sell well and then continue to get worn until they are absolutely beyond repair. Most of those garments end up in landfills. Even the stuff that sells usually doesn't survive past a couple uses and gets thrown out.

=> What can I do in the face of this?

Cherish every bit of textile you have. Even dishcloths. Remember even though sewing machines exist every label, hem, and embroidery is hand-crafted onto your bit of fabric. Was it under $50? Then it's likely someone suffered to bring this to you. This is obviously not your fault and this is not meant to inspire personal guilt, but it might inform the way you handle fabrics. Wash something instead of throwing it out whenever you can and follow the instructions on the label. Choose the right kind of fabric for your needs so you don't have to continuously get new stuff.

Learn how to repair and/or alter stuff. This is a big one HOWEVER I feel like this advice is often thrown around without mentioning that a lot of clothing these days isn't made to be repaired. Some socks are so thin and flimsy they won't take to darning and some shoes aren't meant to be cobbled. Most hems don't have enough spare fabric to lengthen a pair of trousers these days. Once you learn about these techniques though you'll be able to more or less tell which is which before buying. I feel confident in my repairing abilities now so I only buy clothing that's sturdy enough to take a few repairs. Again, if that's above price range, don't feel bad.

BUY SECONDHAND. This is the single best piece of advice anyone can give to avoid the fast fashion trap. Always look for a secondhand option - charity shops, bespoke vintage stores, refurbished design, heck, even ebay. Buy something that has already been through circulation and don't add to the demand for new products. The way quality has declined over the last ten years, this also means you'll likely get much higher quality.

Learn to make your own stuff. This is basically a last resort as it's costly and takes a lot of effort and resources. If you're at all interested in fashion though, it's very much worth it to at least look into one or two fabric arts to pick up on the side. You'll have full control over the materials, cut, size, and finish of the garments you make yourself. If nothing else doing this will help you appreciate how much a piece of fabric or a garment is really worth in terms of labour and expertise.

Wear a piece of clothing until you can't repair it any longer. Then, turn it into rags or use it as scrap material for small projects if you do any crafts. After that, donate or re-sell what you can. No, not everything that's donated gets sold, but it's still the most responsible way to get rid of textile products you don't need anymore.

Buying more expensive garments isn't always better. I've had €500 shoes that went bust after two wears and I've had cheap tshirts that lasted for years. When you need a longer lasting item, say, a coat or a pair of boots - do some research, check second hand options, and stay critical. Don't buy based on brand. A good example is Doc Martens, whose boots have famously more or less gone to shit the past 5 or so years.

Remember, fashion is both a verb and a noun. Enjoy!

#fashion #fast fashion #clothing #textile art #textile industry #textiles #sewing

[annaholak]

Inktober, Tiffany Aching, Barbie, and a General Life Update

The Plan: Read the Tiffany Aching books during the summer, re-make her, and use her as the main character for my next Inktober.

The Reality: while I was finishing Cupid Cafe my landlord decided to sell the apartment I've been renting for over a decade. It was an extremely shitty one (no heating, broken air-conditioning units, dark, moldy, etc), but it was dirty cheap, and the best I could afford.

It was sold in mid-June, and the new owner (surprising no one) wanted to raise the rent. I don't know how the rental market is wherever you live, but here (in Athens, Greece) it's a right nightmare (Airbnb has a lot to answer for...). I couldn't find anything in the same price bracket that wasn't basically a tiny basement-turned-into-a-studio. I was panicking. Heavily.

In the end a (really good) friend came to my rescue. She convinced her mom (who had moved to her vacation home during the pandemic) to rent me the city apartment she was rarely using anymore. With the same money I was paying for the previous one. A fucking life saver let me tell you.

It's a much bigger, and generally much nicer, one than the previous shithole I was living in. I finally have enough space for an actual studio. It's also in a much nicer neighbourhood. One I normally would not be able to afford. Lots of green spaces, and very pet friendly (I don't have a pet at the moment, but I'm greatly enjoying meeting all the happy puppers on their walks, whenever I'm out and about).

I moved in in mid-July. I'm still working on it, as I've been going through a lot of the things I had in storage, deciding what to keep, donate, or throw away, and that takes time. The studio is still a mess, but here is a sneak peek of my current working space (the walls were supposed to be lilac, but I'm not complaining - Peppa-the-pig pink it is):

Anyway, back to Inktober. As you can imagine I had hardly the time to read anything during the summer, so the Tiffany Aching idea will have to wait. I also felt extremely uninspired by this year's Inktober prompts. I dug around a bit and found a prompt list I actually like. It's the Mystical Witchtober one, hosted by agingerly aianaiya isabee Madie Meri Marigona Suli Aria and Talita on Instagram. Here's the prompt list (by isabee):

As I was going through the things I've had in storage I found some of my childhood Barbie magazines and sticker albums. So I'm thinking of riding the nostalgia wave, and turning my Witchtober into a slightly Barbie-esque, and a bit late 1980's/early 1990's themed, witch-vampire romance.

I will be working on it at a rather leisurely pace, since I'm still busy working on my new space, and also recovering from a recurring freak throat infection I've had since mid-August (was it strep? was it mono? Who knows? Not my doctors). I've been through two rounds of antibiotics and I'm still not completely well, so please be patient with me.

I think that's all for now. Stick around for a very soft and pink Witchtober. And worry not, I have a lot of Wyrd Sisters things planned once this one is over.

P.S.

Oh yeah, I've also somehow managed in the middle of all the chaos to acquire a new boyfriend. Which hasn't happened in a while. So that's nice.

P.P.S. (bonus for still reading this essay of an update)

I made last year's Wyrd Sisters Abroad Inktober into a zine for the Comicdom Con in May. In true ADHD fashion it was written at five a.m. the morning it had to be at the printer's, after the third all nighter in a row. So typos were inevitable. But the fact that this was the only typo that made it through to the printed version, had me giggling uncontrollably once I discovered it (a couple of months later, it took me a while). Enjoy:

#funny magrat bonus at the end #I think sir terry was having a laugh #oh the irony that is my life #long post #long time no see #personal #new studio #wyrd sisters #inktober #witchtober #barbie

[reality-inflicted]

This is a photo with more personal than artistic value (not saying that any of my photography has any of the former, but one can on the rare occasion hope that someone likes what I like). Somewhere in Nashville, Tennessee there is a little park. That park has, or at least it did about ten years ago, a little stage. On that little stage was the most askew little bench I've ever seen. And I loved it. I've never read a book about photography. I started out with a cheap ass little PoS-camera – i aimed it in the general direction of what I liked and I pressed the button. The camera did the rest.

After about a year or so i took money that I really didn't have and bought a small camera that I would bring with me on a trip to China. The plan was to write an article on the trip and to get it published and at least get some of the money back. I did actually manage to sell the articles (there were two of them), but the photos weren't taken with the new camera that I'd bought. On the second day of trip I got absolutely shit-faced in a drinking contest with a retired Major in the Chinese army and consequently lost the camera somewhere in a dark alley. Not a great success. I eventually bought a new camera for more money that I did not have. The last time I saw that it popped up was in a random plastic bag, a forgotten memento of forgotten times. I'd somehow managed to keep the camera though, which was a bit of a step forward I guess. As I geared up to go on my trip to the US, during which this photo was taken, i bought yet another camera I couldn't really afford. True to form I got shitfaced yet again on my second night, this time in San Francisco – a city notoriously unforgiving for drunken tourists. The camera, together with my headphones and some cash vanished. Luckily I'd managed to transfer the photos I'd taken previously onto an external hard drive (now sadly defunct and the photos – again – lost to time). I still had to buy another camera that I couldn't afford to document the remainder of my trip.

I have since lost that camera as well due to being shitfaced. As can be deducted I've had a very long and not very glamorous relationship with alcohol, however I am happy to report that I haven't lost anything to being shitfaced for quite some time now, which is always a bonus. I'd been toying with the idea of cutting down on the drinking before I went on the trip to the US (it will be ten years come December next year) but it would take about four or five more years before I finally felt shitty enough to go through with it. Alcoholism takes many forms – I was in no way drinking every day. But when I did it was always difficult to contain oneself to "just a few beers" resulting in increasingly self-destructive behaviour. What finally pushed me over the edge was the realization that I'd become that which I despise the most – my father. When he got drunk he turned into an absolute asshole and I started to see the same tendencies in myself or, rather, I came to accept that I showed those tendencies and I. Really. Did. Not. Like. That. One. Bit.

So I quit. I didn't drink a drop of alcohol for almost three years. Not that it did any good for my inherent ability to loose things. I still forgot headphones and laptops, but – increasingly – I noticed that I could find them again. In the hangover is a quiet despair, a disgusting apathy, that prevent you from handling even the easiest of tasks.

Today I have the occasional beer. Or a glass of wine with dinner once in a while. I can handle that – I know that some people can't and I place no judgement in that. I like to think, however, that I am at least a little bit of a better, albeit a bit more lonesome person. But that is ok. I like being alone. Like the bench above, all crooked like.

#original photography #original photographers #photographers on tumblr #artists on tumblr #realityinflicted #photography

[moriartyluver]

ARE YOU MINE PROLOGUE

"SHERLOCK GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"

The ravenette sat down on decaying, dusty sofa with a sigh.

"Yeah whatever," He rolled his eyes "You guys know this is my place anyways, don't get too cocky, (name)"

"Isn't this your mother's basement?" John asked from across the room.

(Name) chuckled "I'm surprised your brother hasn't forced you out yet."

Sherlock's brother, Mycroft, was about 7 years older than him and currently working for some government office, although Sherlock described him to have a much more important job than his brother would admit. He even saved him as "The Government" on his phone contacts.

"Oh believe me, come autumn, I'll be gone thanks to that idiot," Sherlock muttered angrily

"Anyways," James interrupted "We did pretty good at that last gig. I think we made about two hundred pounds in total, right (nickname)?"

"It was a children's birthday party. We were playing at one of those soft play centres." She said, narrowing her eyes

"What's wrong with that?" John questioned, his hands wrapped around a couple of drumsticks.

(Name) turned to face him with a glare. "Don't you get it? We have a serious issue with our band image, you dumbfucks."

"Hey no swearing! My mum's up there!" Sherlock warned "And for your information, we are not changing the name!"

"How are we calling our band 'The Baker Street Boys' if our lead singer and guitarist is a girl? It's stupid!" Scoffing, (Name) stood up. "See? When I started this band, I wanted to do something, y'know? Follow my passions, be a little rebellious and make a name for myself, for us!" She said, picking up her brown electric guitar "Instead, we're playing for little kids and using cheap ass instruments like some third rate garage band! Our other guitarist is a mummy's boy who tells people off for swearing, our drummer doesn't even like rock music and would much rather listen to some Frank Sinatra or The Beatles than literally any rock band or something with a little flavour for once, and our bassist doesn't even play the bass! Not to mention the shitty name!"

"The Beatles isn't that bad..." The drummer muttered to himself.

"Oh shut it John." (Name) snapped "My point is, that we don't act like a real rock band! We're just some losers who play instruments and have no purpose in the music industry! I mean, have any of you been on tiktok recently? It's full of wannabe popstars making shitty music and trying to sound like every other artist. I don't want to be following every other quote unquote artist who just makes songs that even rival Dixie Damelio in lack of creativity!"

"She has a point." James agreed with a nod

Her scowl shifted to a determined smile "I have a few ideas on how we can up our game a little and actually be influential, like The Sex Pistols-"

"Yeah but they kind of fell apart pretty quick." Sherlock pointed out "Their singer couldn't sing, their bassist probably killed himself and their guitarist was illiterate."

"And they still made better songs than whatever bullshit you've been cooking up, Sherly." (Name) argued back, pulling out a little notepad from a pocket in her red leather jacket. "Anyways, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I have a few ideas so we can actually make a name for ourselves. First of all, John, stop dressing like a grandpa and put on some eyeliner or something. Same goes for you two," She said, looking at James who was sat cross-legged on the floor, and Sherlock in the sofa. "Sherlock, you dress like a roadman and that's when your mother isn't dressing you. Stop letting her buy you hideous clothes. James, your outfits put Harry Styles to shame. Get rid of those damn shoes."

"But my shoes make me look taller..!" James frowned

"Stop being a whiny bitch." (Name) glared "Second off, we need to start writing out own songs. I've mostly got that covered but I'd like a bit of input every now and then." She turned a page "Number three.." She trailed off "Right, we need to start expanding ourselves a little more. I know we're all loser introverts but if we socialise, we make connections. If we make connections, we can get gigs at proper places and possibly get better venues. I might look into getting a social media manager but I'll just open a tiktok account for the band when I get home, an instagram would work too."

"I thought we didn't want to be tiktok artists?" Sherlock asked with a raised brow

(Name) shook her head "That's different, Sherly. It's just free promo, super easy. It's not like we're singing 'ABCDEFU' or something. I'll just record band rehearsals or announce gigs and stuff. We can probably get at least a few thousand followers. I'll make a spotify too while I'm at it." She took her guitar bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "Alright, band meeting's done for now. I'm gonna go back home before my parent's start wondering where I am. Thankfully, it's not that late though.." She looked at her watch. It was only 3:35pm. She'd come home later before and now that it was summer, it wasn't getting dark as fast. She turned on her heel, walking towards the basement door "Bye!"

Upon returning home, (Name) had noticed it was quiet. Too quiet. She shrugged it off though, returning to her bedroom to hide her guitar under her bed or something, but when she had swung the door open, she heard some whispering, and found her parents stood in her room, all her hidden albums and vinyl's and other music stuff scattered around her now mess of a room.

"What the hell..?" She murmured, stepping over the Arctic Monkeys CDs on her bedroom floor, dumping her cheap guitar on the ground

"Care to explain all this, young lady?" Her father asked, holding up a vinyl in his hand. His voice had an angry undertone which made (Name) chuckle nervously.

"Why are you looking through my room?" She asked, thinking of excuses to defend herself

"That's not your business." Her mother chimed in "Since when did you have all.. this? What else have you been doing?"

(Name) swallowed, approaching her parents in an attempt to take back her record player from beside her father. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Her father clenched his teeth, pointing to her guitar on the floor "Don't tell me you're some sort of musician now! What else have you been hiding?"

"Oh nothing," (Name) said sarcastically "Just some heavy drugs, obviously. Now leave me alone!"

"Can't we at least talk about this? What about university? You know you can't make a living out of this!" (Mother's name) exclaimed, pain evident in her voice

"Can we skip to the arguing now if you aren't gonna leave? It's just a hobby I swear, and besides, being in a band's the only thing I like anyways!" She yelled, gathering a bunch of albums in her arms

"You're in a band? A rock band? With who?!"

"None of your bloody business." She stated coldly "Can't you just leave? This is so counterproductive!"

"The only thing counterproductive is this little fantasy of yours, (Name)." Her father opened up an album, inspecting it as if it was something illegal "You're smart. I don't see why you're wasting your time like this! And with rock music of all things!"

"It's not just rock." (Name) muttered "There's some Lana Del Rey mixed up somewhere here too.."

Her father opened his mouth to speak as he stepped back, but before he could utter another word, a harsh crack could be heard echoing throughout (Name)'s bedroom.

"What was that..?" (Name) whispered, then her mouth flew open in realisation as she looked down at her father's foot "Dad! You have got to be shitting me!"

Her father himself was surprised, but instead of admitting his mistake, he tried to make it seem as though it was intentional, a way of teaching his daughter a lesson. "Y-Yeah.. well that's what you deserve for lying to your parents!"

He had stepped on her guitar, breaking it fairly easily. She had known it was cheap and terrible quality, but the guitar did it's job ad that's all that really mattered, but now it was broken. How could she be a guitarist if she didn't have a guitar anymore?

"(Name)-"

Her parents tried to call out to her, but she was gone. (Name) walked out the room, grabbing her bag and jacket before slamming the door, tears welling in her eyes.

It had been half an hour since she left the band meeting, so reasonably, there was the possibility that the others were still at Sherlock's place, considering they didn't have parents restricting what hobbies they could and could not have. She ran to Sherlock's house, which was only a few minutes away, knocking on the door and wiping her tears with her sleeve.

"(Name)? You're back?" Sherlock said, answering the door

Another voice, with an American accent, followed. "(Name)'s back?"

She smiled as the rest of the band crowded at the door. "Yeah, change of plan. We're going to town now, I need to pick something up from Q's"

"I thought you said Q's cost too much?" James asked curiously

For those of you unfamiliar with British shopping culture, in city areas, there's usually a big shopping centre in the middle, a bit like a mega mall but alot more scattered. Most just refer to it as a 'city centre' or more simply 'town' even though it doesn't make much sense. The streets are busy, with the occasional musician playing a guitar or something and the smell of cigarette smoke is everywhere. These shopping centres are quiet useful, especially in big cities like London, because you can find pretty much everything, everywhere.

Q was a music shop in 'town', run by a German bloke called "Von Herder", but naturally, it was quite expensive, especially because of how good the instruments sold there was, and as an unemployed teenage girl (that's debatable considering she's 18), (Name) couldn't afford to buy a certain guitar she had been dying to buy since she had seen it months ago, hence the surprise of James.

"I'll negotiate my way to a lower price, I'm sure it'll be fine." (Name) smiled, althought she doubted she could.

Sherlock shook his head "No you're not. We have that money from the gig, I think two hundred quid should be enough, after all, you broke your last guitar. I think you deserve it." He offered as they all walked towards the bus stop

"Oh no, really," (Name) waved her hands in protest "It's fine. We said we were gonna split the money equally anyways. I don't want you guys missing out on money too!"

"Yeah well, we only got all that money because of your skills." Sherlock argued back "If you don't have a guitar, we can't make more money and The Baker Street Boys are done for without our lead guitarist."

"Fine," (Name) sighed, before pausing in her tracks "Wait how the hell did you know I broke my guitar?!"

Sherlock had been known for being good at reading people and his deductions were almost always spot on, so (Name) shouldn't have been so surprised

He put a finger to his chin, faux thoughtfully "Hmm... let's see." He mocked "You come to my house again after leaving half an hour prior, and you looked like you were trying not to cry, but your sleeve was stained. Not to mention, most obviously, you want us to come with you to town to buy a guitar?"

Rolling her eyes, (Name) hit Sherlock's shoulder as they, along with John and James, boarded a red bus "Yeah yeah whatever, maybe was a bit obvious."

After about an hour of looking for Q's amongst crowds of people, (Name) eventually found it, although by now, she had spilt up from her fellow bandmates because James had pushed Sherlock into a Victoria's Secret lingerie display and (Name) had ran off, pretending not to know them.

She walked into the store, a nirvana song blasting in her headphones. She looked around for the guitar, browsing around as she attempted to decide which colour she wanted. She picked up a dark red guitar, and it had felt as thought it was meant to be. In fact, she could hear a harmonious piano melody playing in her head.

Wait.

The sound of those piano keys was actually not in her head, but was coming from a grand piano on the other end of the store..?

Taking off her headphones, (Name) looked in the direction of the music. It was Tchaikovsky's Swan lake and whoever was playing it didn't even miss a note. It was, in a sense, perfect. Even (Name) couldn't play guitar that good. Surely, whoever was playing must have been a professional piano player.

At the piano however, she something even more beautiful than the music the stranger was playing. A young man with (very soft looking) blond hair and unique red eyes, concentrating on the keys as his fingers moved in sync to the melody. He looked like he was written by Lana Del Rey, which was rare.

(Name) smiled, walking towards to stranger in an attempt to make some small talk, seeing as Von Herder seemed to be busy behind the counter.

"Wow, you're really good.." she muttered in awe

The stranger perked his head up with a polite smile, almost radiant. "Thank you."

His voice matched his appearance and piano skills, just as elegant as he was. Clearly, he was raised in a wealthy family somewhere in London, probably one of the rich areas like Kensington or Chelsea.

"No, I'm serious. Tchaikovsky is rolling in his grave out of jealousy right now." She said, somewhat nervous "Like if he came back to life and saw you out doing him with his own song, he'd kill himself and die again because of how jealous he’d be, that's how good you are."

The stranger's smile widened in amusement and she could've swore she heard him laugh a little. "That's certainly an interesting way to put it. Do you play any instruments, too, by any chance?"

"Well obviously, if I'm in an instrument shop, I'd hope so." (Name) nodded, gesturing to the piano. "I'm a bit of all rounder. I can do piano, drums and base, but I'm more of a guitarist myself."

"That really is extraordinary.." He complimented "I myself can only really play the piano. I've played a bit of violin too but it wasn't to my taste, honestly speaking."

"You still play really good though. Are you a professional or something?" She asked curiously

The blond shook his head, still smiling "It's just a hobby of mine. I'm more suited to mathematics but I admire the beauty of the piano..the intricate mechanisms..the sounds it's makes..it's an art, if you will."

"Yeah, I get that. It invokes emotion in people, I mean most social movements and revolutions were influenced heavily by music, like anarchism and stuff." She trailed off, then spotted Von Herder back at the counter "I..uh..play in a band. It's not very good but I want to make changes like that too..y'know?"

Surprisingly, he nodded understandingly. "I'm sure you're band is much better than you give it credit for. Do you have a name yet? Perhaps I could-"

"Oh lord, not you again..!" A German voice exclaimed upon spotting (name) "What did I tell you, girl? I'm not trading you the guitar in exchange for an autograph!"

(Name) groaned "That was James idea, not mine, Herder!" She turned to the stranger who had been cut off "We're called The Baker Street boys but Sherly — he's the other guitarist — and I keep arguing about it because I think it's stupid that we're called the Baker Street boys when I'm clearly not a boy, so every time anyone asks, I just say we're called the coke whores even though I don’t do coke and I don’t think anyone in the band does, actually maybe Sherly does I don’t know. I told you the actual name though so that was kind of stupid."

"I see..That's a...lovely...name." The blond smiled, although (name) could tell he was a little taken aback by h the abundance of information. He looked over to the counter. “Are you familiar with Mr Von Herder?"

(Name) nodded, picking up the guitar she intended on buying "Yeah, the band and I come by here sometimes to look at the instruments. James, my friend, bought a bass here last week, but I think he's sick of us by now. Speaking of, I should probably buy this before he accuses me of an attempted robbery." She walked towards the counter slowly, waving at the blond

"Nice talking to you, stranger!"

A/N: omg first chapter. I only started working on this fic yesterday but the ideas been marinating in my brain for a while icl. At least a few months. Anyways maybe that stranger will get another appearance who knows 👀

#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #mtp william #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #—are you mine 🎸

[lixxen]

FNAF Security Breach Uniform Designs

For the last ten years I've been absolutely obsessed with FNAF. Lately I've been obsessed with the idea of what the Pizzaplex uniforms would be and how awful they probably would be (plus I wanted to cosplay a worker). So I decided to do a deep dive and create the most obnoxious uniforms ever.

I may actually make these very slowly and cosplay them at conventions. I was slightly inspired because of an artist on here does an xReader fic and I didn't see them in a specific uniform really, maybe besides a few accessories. So here we are. The most ugly FNAF uniforms you will ever see and I WILL expand to jackets and name tags on a later date.

(Explanations and designs UTC)

So, to preface I wanted to say that I am majoring in PR and social media management, so I have a little bit of an idea of how branding and marketing works. I've also have worn the most ugly uniforms in minimum wage jobs, so I do know that corporate companies do not care if they put their employees in the most ugly thing as long as it is on theme.

Things to consider:

What did uniforms for establishments in this category looked like over the years?

Are you doing specific uniforms for specific areas of the Pizzaplex?

What color pallets are branded to each character?

What aesthetic are you going for?

Establishments

For establishments, I chose Disney (theming being important and a big establishment that would hide skeletons) and Chuck E Cheese (animatronics and specifically the time frame). I did a deep dive on Chuck E Cheese and their uniforms in the 80-90's, which led me to doing a ton of Ebay and WorthPoint searching along with watching old taped birthdays from the 90's.

I personally believe that Fazbear Entertainment wouldn't stray from the bright and manufactured look that they have going and are very cheap, plus the glamrock phase was in the 70's. And companies tend to be very late to trends. So we can take these the fact that they would be ugly and bright uniforms that are severely outdated and put that together.

With this, you get something that looks like this (all being CEC besides the screencap of the movie trailer):

I used the idea that each area of the Pizzaplex would have its own uniform, much like Disney. So I assigned each of these uniforms a different animatronic's area (Roxy's Raceway, Mazercize, Superstar Daycare, Monsty's Wild Golf, and then for Freddy I did Rockstar Row). I did one general staff shirt, which is also very ugly.

Color Pallets

This was very simple. I just chose colors from the animatronics/their sign logos and then made a simple color pallet.

This process was easy enough and I made sure to give myself a few colors for some of the ones that had multiple shades or similar hues.

I didn't do Bonnie, only because he wasn't in the game. BUT, I do have a design in mind for him. And it is actually the least ugly one.

Uniforms

Each uniform comes with a polo and either a full cap or visor. You will wear them with either black or khaki colored pants or shorts, held up with a black belt. Black shoes. Then you will have a matching apron. The aprons I have not designed yet, so they will come with the others I am going to design.

Here are my ugly designs.

I hope y'all remember that they're supposed to be god awful and poorly drawn. I am not spending a ton of time perfecting them. I debated on putting the logo on the arms also, so that is an alternate design.

They're supposed to be ugly, not make sense other than theming, and just be obvious copy paste designs made just so they have a little bit of differentiating.

If anyone wants me to go deeper into it, I will. I'll make more shirts and make them even worse.

Please guys they're supposed to be poorly drawn and obnoxiously not good designs. I am using my shitty knowledge for bad

#five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's security breach #fnaf sb #fnaf #fnaf security breach #glamrock freddy #glamrock chica #montgomery gator #monty gator #roxy wolf #roxxane wolf #fnaf roxy #fnaf chica #fnaf monty #the daycare attendant #daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sundrop #moondrop #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf moondrop #fnaf dca #fnaf sundrop #fnaf freddy #fazbear entertainment #uniforms #fnaf uniforms #help

[silvermoon424]

Sorry for bothering you, but how is Google search shitty? I've been mostly using Bing for the past couple of months since I gave my Chrome book a break and I've kept hearing about how Google Search is shit. Any reasons?

There are better posts about it out there that I’m too lazy to look up on mobile, but basically, Google’s search engine used to be THE service it was known for. You would search for something and get great results. But for years now, it’s gotten shittier and shittier. You’re not getting top-notch articles from quality sources anymore on the first page, you’re getting slapped-together bullshit that stretches its word count from content farms. These articles feel lazy, cheap, and useless. A lot of them also feel paid for by corporations if you’re looking for products to buy.

This is why “x product review/media recommendations/etc + Reddit Google search” has become such a meme. In a lot of ways Reddit really has become one of the last places to easily find authentic reviews or recommendations for things because Google can’t be relied on to return quality results on its own. Idk about Bing or DuckDuckGo, maybe they’re better. But Google has definitely fallen WAY off.

#enshittification #google search fucking sucks now #google search

[fereldanwench]

so i feel like garbage yay

this cold is one of them deep head congestion colds and i just feel lethargic and gross

and im very VERY cranky because i got sick from a goddamn trip i didn't want to take in the first place and there's shit i need to do (like go to the post office to get my forwarding address changed because i can't do it online because USPS is garbage) and now cant

i also really wanted to walk up to the little entertainment district thingy near us and have fun with the husbando this weekend but nope can't do that now either

but you know WHATEVER what's done is done

but on the lighter side of things, the new updates for cyberpunk look like a lot of fun and i love the emphasis on, like, rp immersion with the ncart system and personal radio. one of the things that's kept me in the game for so long is just exploring night city and taking it all in so having yet another way to do that is very exciting

and the motorcycle overhauls!!!!!!! doing wheelies is one of the best things about riding bikes in games IM SO GLAD THEY FINALLY ADDED THAT

also just paid rent today which normally would not be a good/exciting thing, but it was so nice to see a much lower number there than what we'd been paying for the past few years. and for a place that suits us much better, too

and i think we should be getting our new couch today which I'm sososo hyped about. we got rid of the ones we had a little over a year ago bc they were really cheap and made from that shitty vinyl material that started cracking and flaking everywhere, and replacing them was just a really low priority since the old living room had basically become husbando's office/man cave during the height of the pandemic.

but now we have a proper living room again! and I've always wanted a couch that has a chaise lounge piece (since in true bisexual fashion i can't sit normally and need plenty of flopping space) which is what we got. so i guess if i nothing else this weekend, i can enjoy cuddling with my cats on our new couch :3

#t: wench.txt

[kendrixtermina]

Giving Doctor Who a New Chance, Part 2: Wild Blue Yonder

While the idea of Donna not being able to restrain herself from making a pun is great, I kinda don't like the cheap pun in the prologue, its just making everything too light & silly

It just doesn't work if you know the historic Newton was pretty cranky, not cheerful & like other things about him that could've been better used, also this ignores the whole latin roots of the word gravity

i dunno was the show always this un-serious and it's just a while since I've seen it? like there was some silly-ass shit but not in this immersion-breaking manner

I do appreciate Donna's concern for the poor, poor TARDIS

haha they're snapping right back into doing the investigation routine

I think with "I say things like that now" the Doctor means he's more open & honest but Donna of course took it as meaning that he also likes dudes.

David Tennant can still communicate a whole lot with his expressions

It's a nice scene of them panicking together but still comforting each other in their panic

and of course Donna wants to speak to the manager

hm, liking this one so far. it has a couple of mysteries & nice creepy ambiance

it's a nice parallel in the differently lit room, Donna wondering what will happen to her family & the Doctor wondering what will happen to the TARDIS, this low-level fear of the world going on without them - the Doctor saying how much he likes Wilfred & lamenting that the TARDIS is all he's got left etc. It's an eerie little dialogue I like it.

The shapeshifters are having an "AI can't draw hands" problem. Worry not, humans too struggle to draw hands. In this we are alike

I wonder if they are repeating stuff or talking to ach other. Is it two entitites or just one?

It was bound to happen and just ignoring it would be wonky in its own way but just having some of Chibnall's decisions mentioned reminds me of how he was SUCh. a BAD. WRITER like making big destruction happen without weight or stakes. With the past writers when something major went poof you "heard" it the next few seasons, but Chibnall torched the whole backstory, Galligrey AND a big chunk of the universe without any real narrative weight

Like it just happened and there wasn't really - like, the characters didn't react to it, it wasn't given meaning. It's not just that he made changes I disagreed with but that the execution was So! Bad!

Still, I have often been fond of saying "there are no shitty ideas, only shitty executions" or " a competent writer can make any idea work" - so, like, no matter how shitty the idea, a better execution can salvage something. in this short time RTD managed to make this character express some actual feelings & attach a personal meaning to the event- so the backstory reveal means Gallifrey "got complicated", the widespread destruction of the flux is another thing to feel guilty of... see, see? It isn't so hard! Character! Having! Emotions! I don't envy RTD for having to try his best to salvage this mess while being respectful /professional/ non-petty.

The average 15 year old fanfiction writer is a better writer than Chibnall! Ok. enough ranting now.

I like these quiet episodes that just let the characters marinate in their feelings a bit in a closed loop environment. another thing I've messed: atmosphere! the bland, nondescript settings for so long

The Doctor's response here is probably a mix of caring alot about Donna specifocally & just general done-ness

I like the creepy atmo of this thing & the concept of the creatures not quite understanding how existing works & gradually figuring it out

Pouring one out for the long-dead spaceship captain

it was an interesting twist how the actual Donna couldn't actually make sense of the information from the metacrisis, but still gets a sense that a lot of heavy stuff has happened from the way he's asking. I think he kinda wish she knew so he could get a hug from somebody who knows.

that was a good one, overall, pretty creepy.

They're really going with this idea of the world being in constant wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey flux, hm... like it was always there as a sort of excuse but they're kinda making it a more explicit part of things.

I love how the Doctor & Wilfred are SO glad to see each other & it rly calls back that bond they had at what, for the Doctor, was a pretty difficult time. I got feelsy.

OK that was a good one. I always like the creepy, abstract ones.

And of COURSE the earth has been hit by some misfortune while they were away. OF COURSE.

#doctor wh #donna noble #fourteenth doctor #wilfred mott

[ideahat-universe]

TimTams

So I've been playing emulated games for a few years now. Loving it honestly. My pattern is playing a Pokemon Romhack and then a RPG that is not Pokemon.

Sometimes it's another monster tamer/collector but not always.

What it is, is constantly exciting and fun and there's no shortage of games to play. But that doesn't mean I'm not interested in adding more to the queue. One of these days I'll be able to afford the Steamdeck and when that happens I'll be playing some Monster Tamer games that Steam has on offer.

So I went shopping. I found the ones people mentioned during the Palworld toss up, Nexomon, Coromon, Monster Sanctuary.

I get to Temtem, and I see this.

What the heck happened???

I thought this game was good? A better alternative to play than Palworld which was a cheap knockoff that didn't deserve our time and attention?

Did any of that sound familiar?

Those seem familiar too.

It almost seems like people make Monster Catcher games and if it's mildly popular it gets compared to Pokemon and is called a "Pokemon Clone" and after the hype dies down everyone goes back to playing the latest Pokemon game, they don't even bother playing any other Monster Catcher game unless some Youtuber asshole makes a video about it with the label "it's Pokemon but better!"

I made that article where I said Palworld was mask off Pokemon and I stand by it and I can stand by it because Palworld is basically everything Pokemon doesn't really want to be, but secretly was for the years the devs couldn't figure out just what should and shouldn't be canonical in the Pokemon world.

But I just want to make the PSA that you shouldn't call things the X killer. Because that basically never happens. Franchises kill themselves. They don't typically get killed by a competitor.

A competing brand does something that the standard is lacking but the leading brand is also delivering a low quality product that people are discontent with and willing to move on.

Not to get political but the Bud Light effect that conservatives wear on themselves as a badge of honor is really more about how beer sales in general have been on the decline

Don't believe me? Here's an article from 2019 that more or less says that Domestic Beer sales were starting to slip.

People still drink beer though. In doing this research I noticed a rise in Craft beers so what's really happening is that leading beer brands that were the face of cheap, shitty beer that everyone drank because it was ubiquitous were now being reconsidered and the end result was that Bud Light was already a beer that people didn't like, they just used the boycott as an excuse to stop drinking beer, drink different leading beers (and liking it more than Bud Light!), or indulging in craft or different types of alcohol altogether.

So if we circle back to the beginning where we talked about "Pokemon Killers" the reality is that Pokemon can only kill itself and it will kill itself once there are poor sales resulting from being the face of mediocrity that everyone is willing to jump ship from.

The problem being is that even with Pokemon being mediocre it's not bad enough for people to rebel from the brand.

Look at the people in the comment section of that video. Does that look like an audience of people who are ready to stop drinking Bud Light?

I don't think so!

Really think about that trailer, no game play so it's worthless beyond telling us what the setting will be, Mega evolution will probably return but Mega Evolution is a controversial power up given that depending on the Pokemon, you could be subjecting them to an immense amount of pain just to win a fight (and competitively only a couple of Mega Evolutions really matter and you never need Mega Evolutions to win a fight in the campaign).

And lets be honest. If its just the same turn based system with very little else added on the side for flavor, you won't be getting out of this new game that you wouldn't get from a Pokemon Romhack (That includes Mega Evolutions).

Except, ya know. The Romhack is free. If you're a poke-maniac you own physical copies of gen 1-5 so you have the legal right to dump your game and patch it however you like.

You can do that or maybe even buy Palworld, or Nexomon, or Digimon, or TemT- Wait. Maybe not TemTem.

I mean that Magnakamen video does a decent job at explaining why a poke-maniac will never abandon Bud Light, but how about me?

What do I think?

Well, I don't play MMOs and given that this game came out as an MMO at around 2020 is ridiculous, because by 2020 it was already evident that MMO is a reaper genre. Most games in that genre die, forever.

Hey, you came up with a really cool idea for a Four Swords style game. You made it an MMO? DEAD FOREVER.

Hey, you came up with a really cool idea for a snowboarding game. You made it an MMO? DEAD FOREVER.

Hey, you came up with a really cool RPG that is like WoW but with a bunch of quality of life stuff in it. Wait, it's a WoW killer? DEAD FOREVER.

When you make an always online game that needs to have other people playing it for it to be fun you are asking for the game to die forever someday.

Ross Scott is going to court over this but that's a subject for another time, but the fact that the Temtem devs made a Monster Tamer MMO is actually quite dumb.

I get why they wanted to do that though they wanted to make a balanced competitive scene. Competitive Pokemon but not rife with cheaters and overburdened with hundreds of Pokemon that are unplayable in anything above RU, but making a game that is designed with competitive players primarily in mind is like making healthy cereal.

Just eat an apple forehead.

If you make a game with competent AI or possibly AI that can be modified by the player to suit their tastes, you don't need strong competition from some stranger who hacked their team together. You would play competitive for fun. You'd get your favorite creatures and then you'd pit them against your friend and his favorite creatures. Not a stranger, someone you know. When you play a competitive game with friends that's when those games are fun.

When you play competitive games with strangers. You become Tyler1.

That looks like fun right? Just sweating profusely over every little thing someone is doing in a competitive match and just ranting about the game balance and how the game is being ruined by the players, the devs, or both? And then if we aren't having this eternal struggle about how the game is being balanced the game is just dead?

Yeah, that's what really did TemTem in. Not the semantic bullshit that Mangakamen was complaining about that only someone who isn't ready to give up drinking Bud Light would come up.

What really killed TemTem was that making an MMO is a bad idea and making a game based around fostering a competitive environment is also bad.

It's okay though! TemTem is also becoming Vampire Survivors with TemTem Swarm. Not making a good single player TemTem, just making a spinoff TemTem.

Hm, we won't be adding TemTem to the queue.

#fandom #controversy #pokemon #rpgs #temtem #Youtube

[lowlights]

hi laura! wishing u a speedy recovery (electrolyte powder was very helpful to me btw)

I'm wondering which pedro boy would you pair with this sweet prompt: ❛ i haven’t laughed like this in a long time. ❜

Hi J!! Thank you so much. Adding electrolyte powder to my grocery order as we speak....)

Ok I could have picked like...all of them. But.

I'M GOING WITH FRANKIE. (Santi is in the story just barely, but this pic was too good not to use.) To be clear: this is their characters, not them. Thaaaaaanks. Also I straight up stole most of this idea from @flora-screeches but they gave me permission ok I'm not a thief I swear.

Frankie x f!reader. Both drink alcohol, everyone curses in this. It's all cuteness, ok? Very short.

*

"Morales, get your ass over here. You said you'd buy the first round," a voice calls out over the muted commotion of the half-packed bar.

You whip around in your seat. Surely, it isn't-

"Francisco?"

The man you're staring at stops in his tracks, still turned away from you. The hair is longer, more unruly, but you'd recognize that broad back and casual swagger anywhere.

He turns around slowly. "Holy shit."

Your suspicions are confirmed the moment you see him, but there's no question for anyone watching that you two know each other when you barely make it to you feet before he's crashing into you.

God, no one hugs like Frankie does. You squeeze him tightly in response to his crushing embrace.

"It's been -"

"More than ten years, I-"

"Still in the military?"

"Nah, I'm out. Are you still working for -"

"Hell no, left them in the dust."

"Still with what's-his-name?"

"Left him in the dust, too. What about you-"

"I got a kid. Four years old."

"Wife? Girlfriend?"

"No to both."

"Francisco."

"You're the only one who calls me that, you know."

More crushing hugs.

You introduce him to your friends, but they can see immediately that they've lost you for the night. Frankie pulls you over to the other side of the bar, where Santiago gives you an equally strong hug. He introduces you to a bevy of faces that you don't recognize, and you're too lost in Frankie's adoring gaze to bother remembering names.

You catch up over rounds of cheap beers, cuddled into the small corner booth while the rest of the group plays pool next to you. Not that you really notice what anyone else is up to.

During the second round of drinks, you ask about the Miller brothers and Tom. "The idiot brothers will be here later," he says. You don't push further.

A few rounds later, he tells you what happened in Colombia. You know he leaves a lot out. You hold his hand.

A couple of rounds later, you spill everything about your shitty string of break-ups. "Fucking losers, all of 'em," he assures you with an arm slung over your shoulders. He doesn't mind when you snuggle in.

When the alcohol imparts enough liquid courage, you turn to him and ask the question you've had for fifteen years.

"Why didn't we ever...you know...?"

He quirks an eyebrow at you over his glasses. "Why didn't we what?"

"Shit, are you gonna make me say it?" You roll your eyes at him.

He grins. "Yep." Damn him.

Taking a steadying, sobering breath, you give in. "Why didn't we ever get together?"

He looks at you with as much seriousness as you've ever seen. "Because I'm a fucking coward who thought I missed my chance."

Oh god, you really want him to kiss you. He looks like he wants it, too.

Santiago's voice breaks the spell. "Hey, lovebirds, someone come play pool with me. I've kicked everyone else's asses. Let's go!"

Frankie whips his head around and curses. "Oye, cabrón!" You slap his chest playfully before pulling him out of the booth and over to the green felted table. You both feel the effects of the alcohol as you try to get your feet under you.

You pick up a cue and chalk it excessively. "Alright Santi, Francisco and I are on the same team because I'm garbage at pool even when I'm sober. And I'm far from sober," you tell him as you gesticulate with the top of the pool cue.

A wide smile breaks out on his face as he racks the balls. "I had no idea, baby. You seem just fine to me. In fact, why don't you break?"

"Terrible idea!" you exclaim with a giggle, although you move into position. Frankie crowds up behind you and you can't help the shock of electricity that shoots down your spine.

"Now listen, you wanna hold the cue between your fingers like this, and aim right there. Want me to show you?" he says seductively, words just a little slurred.

You shrug him off of you. "Sir, you are distracting me."

He hums in your ear, "Oh, I like that," before moving around to the other side of the table. Fuck, he looks so pleased with himself.

Focus. Focus on something that isn't the way Frankie smells or the stupid glasses on his face. Focus on how you don't remember the last time you saw him without a hat on and damn, you just want to grab handfuls of that hair. Focus on anything, anything at all.

You pull back to break, but suddenly Benny Miller walks into your field of view just as you rocket the cue ball off and-

"Well, if this isn't a blast from the past- OOF!"

-right into his groin.

You drop the stick and run over to where he's crumpled on the ground. "Benny, oh my god. Are you alright? Shit, I'm sorry!"

"Honey, that's a hell of a welcome after all this time!" he groans, curling over into a ball.

Frankie kneels down next to you both. "Nah, he's fine! He's been kicked more than once in the balls."

A long-lost memory resurfaces in your brain from a night you haven't thought of in years. "Francisco, do you remember the time with that girl who-"

The flash of humor in his eyes tells you he knows exactly what you're referring to. "That chick that Benny brought to karaoke! The one he called Hannah Montana on stage and she got so mad that she kicked him in the balls and yelled-"

"Don't disrespect Miley!" you both finish together, dissolving into a fit of drunken laughter.

"Jesus, what did I do to deserve getting razzed twice tonight?" Benny wonders aloud as he gingerly stands up. "I just got here!"

You and Frankie look at each other. "Razzed??" you ask in tandem, leading to more giggles. Santiago helps both of you up, muttering about how you both can't hold your alcohol for shit. You shuffle back over to your booth and collapse into each other, still chuckling.

Frankie hugs you against him as you both catch your breath. "Damn, I haven't laughed like this in a long time," he says with a sigh. You don't know if it's a happy sigh or a sad sigh. Maybe it's both.

"Me either, Francisco," you say with a hopeful smile.

He pauses. "Can we just-"

You speak at the same time. "I don't want to go another-"

Then his lips are on yours, and it's the soberest you've felt all night.

You both share the same thought:

Finally.

*

Oye, cabrón! = Hey, asshole!

#frankie cuteness #i needed it ok #frankie morales #francisco #drabble #fluff #alcohol mention #triple frontier