#and butterbeans??? fuck man

[linkware]

#poll #watergate salad #food #retro food #idk im rlly craving it but apparently its gross #i miss southern family food like it was so bad but so good #and butterbeans??? fuck man

[bbtagawardsofficial]

Updated nominations list -- bb24 tag awards

Ms. Congeniality - @bathroom-sand; @dani-lickey; @lukeslywalkers; @sophfandoms53;  @padawanduck

Chillest Blogger - @negrotti-natalie; @vetoloser; @charlchen-moonves; @marinette-the-clarinet; @wlwocprincess; @dansfakeveto; @whoblewboobear

Thirstiest Blogger - @skyhawkstragedy; @lupitalover; @whoblewboobear; @kemi-fucking-fakunle; 

Pettiest Blogger - @negrotti-natalie; @always-rolling-my-eyes; @paras-atashnak

Messiest Blogger - @thegaymertrainer; @ih8bb; @bigbrotherbs; @always-rolling-my-eyes; @vetoloser; @notbballstars; @skyhawkstragedy; @scarylook

Funniest Blogger - @kemi-fucking-fakunle; @wlwocprincess; @cecexheart; @daysolston

Gayest Blogger - @taylorhalewon; @versacethotty; @lesbianstv; @wlwocprincess

Hardest Stan - @captain--steve--rogers; @bitterjuries @dayslostson; @skyhawkstragedy

Most Off-Topic Blogger - @dayslostson; @sexologii; @dykelouis

Most Likely to Actually Win BB  - @whoblewboobear; @cecexheart; @paras-atashnak; @cjcdeeezy; @dayslostson; @icancirieclearlynowthegameison

Favorite newcomer @taylorhalewon

Best Selfies - @glisteningwind; @artsy-man-today; @xanex-angel

Best Bb24-Themed URL - @blindside-butterbeans; @flopbb24; @jasmines-fake-accent

Best Content Creator - @hohrobe; @skyhawkstragedy

Best Host - @flopbb24

Favorite Blogger - @whoblewboobear; @dayslostson; @bitterjuries; @cecexheart; @kemi-fucking-fakunle; @skyhawkstragedy; @lukeslywalkers; @always-rolling-my-eyes; @marinette-the-clarinet; @sophfandoms53; @bathroom-sand; @theminionjcfucked

Unbreakable duo/trio - @dayslostson & @bitterjuries;  @flopbb24 and @maxdoesbb; @charlchen-moonves and @captain--steve--rogers

Favorite Gate - paul abrahamian thirstgate; selfie gate; Hoh musicgate

Voting still to come!

#bb24 #bb24tagawards #bbtagawardsofficial #big brother

[mmoxie]

Part 7 - Bifocals

Yosemite was gorgeous, even in February. Bearing south once she hit Lake Tahoe, Dani and Seebs both were transfixed by the endless sprawls of deep, old-growth forests and massive, rolling hills that leaned up past the horizon at points to become true mountains. The absolute tranquility had the old cat's ears flicking, picking out birdsong, and the million colors of the natural world cut through years of cynicism to strike right at Dani's core.

It kept her from beating herself up for at least half the drive. At one point it might have seemed completely insane to drive hundreds of miles on a lark, but... it wasn't as if she was gonna be late to work.

Her radio was acting up, but fiddling with the knob didn't get her anything she recognized. She tried the AM emergency stations, she tried the far ends of the dial- heard a peep at 107.9, but it was gone when she took a sharp turn- and switched to tapes when she was sure she had done her due diligence.

She lingered on the case for Thin Lizzy's Thunder and Lightning. Empty. She resumed her search before she could start berating herself.

"Oh shit, I have Seal in here?" If I ever get to breathe again, I've gotta rewatch the Burton Batmans.

And so, Kiss from a Rose ushered her down into a little place called Fish Camp. Population: 42. She consulted that brochure from the rest stop, and lined up the picture of the general store with the real thing.

"Clean match. Hang tight, Seebs. Gonna go find our guy."

Dani eased through the door, setting off jingling bells above her head. A young person- she squinted, then shrugged; gender had simply left the building- sat on a three-legged stool behind the counter, fiddling with their phone.

"Hey," they offered. The unmistakable grunt of a famous baby covered head-to-toe in peanut butter echoed them from the screen.

"Hey. I need directions. Think you can help?"

"I got google maps." They shook their phone.

"We all got google maps. I'm looking for a guy, supposed to live in town here?"

"Guy, guy, guy... I don't know any guys," the little shit said, eyebrows raised high and innocent.

Dani, be cool. They're like... fourteen. You were fourteen once.

"Alright, well, who do you know?"

The teenager grinned sagely and leaned forward on their stool, phone dangling between thumb and index finger. The upside-down image of a guy with a hat on walking into a low doorframe played over and over.

"That's a reeeeeal good question. I know everyone. Except you."

"Tradesies," Dani said suddenly. "I'll tell you something if you tell me something." Kids fuckin' love the Sphinx. I can do this. I'm not 52 at all right now.

"Nah."

Christ. "Give you ten bucks."

"Fifty."

"Yeah, fuck it. Now, do you know a guy named Butterbean?" Dani picked through the billfold. All twenties. She put sixty on the counter. Probably better to be rid of the cash anyway. Keep whittling it down.

The teen snatched the bills and folded them into a pouch on the back of their phone.

"Sure don't."

Fucker. "How about... Craig? Craig Palmer?"

Fingers with short, cracked, multicolor nails waved in front of her eyes in the universal gesture for 'pay me.'

Sixty more bucks hit the counter. It don't matter. None of this matters. --Oh, dissociating a little. That was new.

"Dr. Palmer lives in the houseboat out on the pond. Everyone told him not to, but now that it's there... nothing we can do about it. Based, t-b-h."

Oh, god. I don't know what they meant. Was that good or bad?

"Based," Dani repeated, tonelessly as she could. The teenager seemed amused by this, allowing a vague smirk as they tapped at their phone. Posting, Dani knew. This one's a poster.

The pond was visible from pretty much anywhere. It was more than a puddle, but not by much- and a houseboat floated in the middle of it, greening on the sides a bit.

A shirtless man lounged on the back deck, sprawled across a woven polyester beach chair. His uneven tan wasn't helping with the "leathery old piece of shit" look. Neither was the ring of white hair around his bald dome, or the square, serious glasses that harshly reflected the midday sun-- or the crazy fucking music he's blaring. What is that? Delicate, splashy guitar, chanting, flute- Looking at her tape case, it would be easy to understand why Dani thought she had heard it all. It absolutely rules. Maybe mom was onto something with this guy.

"What do you think, Seebs?" She sat on the hood of her car at the edge of the pond. Seebs was too old and too fat to run any risk of him wandering off, and so he was napping there next to her.

"No shot at a phone number, and he looks asleep. You gonna stop me if I start throwing rocks?"

Seebs, ever the enabler, did not answer.

And so Dani threw rocks. If a car passed by she changed from overhand to underhand, as if she were just skipping them for fun- and as soon as the engine noise died down, she was pelting high cheddar down on that little boat's stern.

"GOD DAMN IT STOP THROWING SHIT AT ME" came a distant voice. Suddenly her quarry was standing, hands on his hips- he was wearing khakis.

"MAKE ME!" Dani hollered, laughing. She was really getting into the whole throwing rocks thing. She had almost forgotten why she was doing it, and leaned into the euphoria of throwing something at someone.

Outboard motors kicked on, sputtered, and kicked again, and suddenly the Vanna White II was hacking its way along the pond's surface at eight, even nine miles per hour. Behind the wheel stood, she guessed, a man called Butterbean who came highly recommended.

"--Butterbean? What the hell are you talking about? Sure, I remember Jolene, but- huh?"

"She may have just made it up. I don't know, man. Uh- Doctor Palmer."

"Craig's fine, I'm retired." He crouched and led her through a beaded curtain. After a brief confrontation at the shore of the pond, and the invocation of Jolene DuFresnes as a sort of biblical power-word, he had stopped yelling, she had stopped throwing, and they were safely aboard. Even Seebs, after a little coaxing and hoisting.

"Alright, so be square with me," Craig faced away from her, rolling up his sleeves and turning on the kitchen sink. "Are you at the moment pursued by any federal or state government entity?"

"Not that I know of."

"That you know of?"

"I mean, I'm here because I'm in trouble. Trouble I, uh... ran away from. So I have no idea who knows."

"Well, you sound honest. Kind of a whiner, but honest. I've met worse." He pulled a knife from a block beside the coffee maker and ran it across a steel. "--Say, could you get in the door, there? I need the olives."

The houseboat kitchen was a tad cramped. With the sharpening steel, he gestured sharply at the refrigerator behind her.

"You wouldn't believe what they make you pay for rocoto up here. --Oh, and the queso fresco, too. Made it last night. Bottom shelf, green lid."

Dani hadn't said anything since he called her a whiner. She did open the fridge and retrieve the ingredients. For what, she had no idea. A skillet sizzled, and whatever panic she felt about this pushy old man evaporated into the smell of caramelizing onions.

"Can't get alpaca at all, though. Great sweaters, great cuts. But you get what you can get, am I right? So we're usin' goat. They're both ungulates, right?"

He moved with scary precision- not robotic, and not the moving-too-fast-for-safety chef showboating. He just never seemed to flinch, or miss- everything was perfectly measured, whether chopped vegetables or evened-off mounds of spices in plastic spoons.

He seemed to sniff a lot, Dani couldn't help but notice. He had less a mouth, and more a small pink shelf that held up the weight of a thick white mustache. The mustache did all the talking, really.

Oh no, is he allergic to cats? Or is that thing on his lip just getting the better of him?

"Rocotto Relleno," he said suddenly, "is one of my favorite things about Peru. You ever been?"

"No, I, uh... never left the States. Oh- wait, took a trip to Greece in '91. Last... oogh, last time I went anywhere exciting, actually."

"Well, forget about that. We're talking Peru."

He popped the tab on two yellow soda cans, and poured a pair of glasses. He had the pebbly-textured pizza house plastic cups, even in their classic, maybe only color, red.

"Inca Kola. Cousin to the champagne sodas. Little bit of that bubble gum action. Goes down just like a cold beer when you're enjoying your rocotto."

"What are you doing?" Dani finally shouted, loud enough that even while he was on a roll, Craig had to stop and consider. While he did, his record player filled the silence with more of that spectacular guitar picking.

"Acclimating you," he replied simply. "Because- take it from me- you're gonna be living off this stuff. And me personally, I love it. My time in Puerto Maldonado was a wonder. But who knows? You could have IBS. Might need to put you on a different ship, send you out to Bacolod, have you pretend to be a nun instead."

Dani let her mouth hang open, and squinted long and hard at Craig Palmer. He said nothing, but sniffed as he plated up some very fragrant, very red stuffed peppers, oozing with molten cheese. For once, Dani sniffed too.

"Damn, Craig. You talked me into it." What could she say? She had been living off of fun-size bags of fritos and gas station energy drinks ever since her flight from Eureka.

He reached under a wall panel with his foot and hooked his ankle around a hatch handle. With a tug from bending his knee, he unfolded the dinner table, the collapsible leg beneath it thudding to the linoleum floor.

"Alright. First eat, then talk. While you do, I'm going to drop some information on you. Full mouths don't interrupt."

Couldn't argue with that. Dani dug in- and held back a painfully caucasian spicy shriek- and then the goat, the olives, the spices, the cheese, all came to the rescue. Okay, she thought. I'm going to Peru. Say whatever you want, man, I'm in.

-snif- "I worked for IBM back in the '80s. Even then I wouldn't say I was fresh out of college, a season or two had turned. Termed me right before I could quit. --Can't blame them, I was stealing printer ink for resale. Put that money in the check next time, then.

"Turns out if you steal a little printer ink, you go to jail. If you steal a lot of printer ink, a man in a suit comes and shakes your hand, flashes a little badge, and offers you a job. Guy named Goose."

"Gooth?" Dani's mouth was a little too full.

"Last name Cook. Goose Cook, I shit you not. Had it in the little -snif-badge billfold thing they all wear." The more he spoke, the more he became a Brooklynite. "And he says, 'Palmer, I got your number. But all this goes away if you hand in your research. Gesture of good will. Show the economy you don't mean any harm.'"

He paused to take a bite of his own rocoto, and that's when Dani heard a faint, dry sound that she recognized. A fuzzy old bastard's paw pads, sliding across a smooth surface like a cabinet, or the bathroom door, or the knick-knack shelf.

...Or a turtle.

In the low, circular den of the ship, Seebs was padding and padding- curious, deliberate, and quite insistent, with just his front left paw. His pink-and-gray beans scratchily slid across a domed, groovy shell, unable to find any purchase.

"I think they're making friends," Craig remarked, following Dani's gaze. "Don't worry about Mr. Price." -snif- He's good company."

Dani gave Craig a long, searching look, but didn't say anything. This all still felt more than a little strange. She was apparently going to be expatriating soon, but not before taking a Master's-level course on Peru.

"--Vincent Price. That's my boy. Ahem-" -snif- "Hermann's tortoise. Grecian. You went to Greece, yeah? Anyway, this research- it was dangerous stuff. Not exactly nuclear, but... something we didn't- don't- understand. Playing with fire kind of stuff."

Dani couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at that. Phrasing.

"Anyway, I asked for some time, and used that time to draft 'em up some dud blueprints. Looks legit, but... it's a maze with no exits."

Dani was interested now. She had recently gotten into crime, it would be nice to get advice from an expert.

"Anyway, I wasn't as smart as I looked, and back then, I looked like a real drip. They found out, I ran. It was surprisingly easy- apparently it ain't for everybody. I've never been the strings-attached type, so I guess it just comes natural to keep moving until you get to stop. Hence, Peru. A beautiful land, a spectacular culture, and food, my god, -snif- bury me under a pile of huancaina potatoes and I'll eat my way out or die trying. If you gotta go, you go there. Monologue over."

Dani drank, and sat in silence for a long time. The corner of her mouth twitched uncertainly, and she watched Seebs and Vincent Price continue their little orientation. Price had walled up in his shell, and Seebs was asleep on top. That was something like symbiosis.

"I have killed two men," she eventually said. Her voice was low and grave. She had always been a little brusque, maybe even unladylike, but she was coming close to eulogizing, in her own sort of scratchy, grit-teeth fashion.

"One was named Mark LaGrange, of Chevette Arkansas, and he came to me in a moment of weakness. I opened my mouth to ask his pardon for... god, whatever it was, and when I did, I... exploded him."

"You WHAT?!"

"Give me a second, alright. Then there was... alright, so I got a little out of control. This guy, Sean, Mayor Sean, tried to get me into a gladiatorial match with a weird old man. For... man, I'm hoping it's just for sport. They did mention blood a couple times."

"Beats what they used to do."

"...Eesh. I let his friends- god knows how many local politicians, business dudes, apparently a Pepsi guy was there- go. And the old man, too. I was a little bit, uh..."

"Oh, you had your electrochemistry going, sure."

"So I said some pretty crazy shit. And then, well, I made them give up Sean. Made him watch as they all sold him out. Tried to play nice, but... went a little nuts. Something about him just hurt me. It was like..." Vincent Price. "...Dracula, in a cross factory."

"That's... mm. I'll tell you, but I need to keep it to myself for a minute. I need to keep listening." He was about to go in on his second pepper.

"Alright. Well, I grabbed him by the neck, and just... filled him up with fire. I could have done it any other way. Got my leatherman on me. I didn't stop burning him until there was nothing left for my hands to hold."

"This was something you could control. You manipulated the spread of fire, somehow? --Without tools, though." He furrowed his sharp white brow. "There are -snif- implications, there."

"If you know something I don't, you gotta tell me. They remake the Fantastic Four every few years, so I had my own suspicions. But no, it's not 'big emotions.' It's... near big emotions, but I know that doesn't make sense."

"Try me." He sniffed again and suddenly stood, setting his hands on the edge of the sink. He stared out the window. The horizon had little to offer but trees and a general store, but he looked into it as if he'd find something he hadn't seen before.

"It seems to... go off whenever I want to kill myself."

"Huh?"

"Well- wow, that sounds really bad. I'm not-" She pinched the bridge of her nose and started over. "I can be a real defeatist sometimes. I stay distracted and stay content, because if I get in my own head while it's quiet, I'll drag myself through the mud."

"Jesus, that's awful."

"You get used to it. But... when I... got, Mark, I had just been suspended from work."

"For what?"

"Working too hard. So I was outside smoking, and he doesn't know I'm kicked out, and tries to hassle me about work I was dragged away from, because I do it too often, so that I can be told to go home and miss out on three hundred bucks, during which time I will not be able to do the work, so my section falls behind, and they get a shiny new reason to drag me up to the boss--"

"Hey, hey! Look at me." He whirled around and set his hands firmly on the fold-out dinner table, and stared at her, wide-eyed.

-snif-

"Houseboat. Can't have you burning holes in it. Dani Dufresnes, do not sink my house."

She took a deep breath and nodded, and the fire whirling up between her knuckles receded, leaving trails of black soot on her skin.

"So yeah. Work was bad. And I was mad as hell about it! But when Mark came through to rub my nose in it, whether he knew it or not, I sort of collapsed. Mentally. Had a big pile of junk I had climbed to the top of, and when I realized I was going to have to apologize to this piece of work, I just..."

She closed her eyes. "Decided to jump. Heads, they win, tails, I lose. So to hell with them, and to hell with me. I opened my mouth to say I was sorry for the trouble, and when I did..." She curled up her fingers, then suddenly popped them apart. "Full Zilla. I couldn't stop it, and he sure as hell couldn't live through it. --He didn't deserve that. I don't know about Sean, but Mark didn't deserve that."

They sat together for a long time. There'd be the occasional -snif- or twitch of the mustache, but Craig was well outside of his wheelhouse now.

"Alright. That there, propped up behind the old fridge, is Andrew Carnegie. Now, I- I'm not really comfortable trying to trigger this response, if it works the way you say it does. But if you think you can manifest this effect again, I'm here to record it. A-and look out for you. Scout's honor." He even held up the three fingers.

They had taken Craig's car- a '66 Wagonaire the color of honey mustard that shuddered when you took a turn too sharp. The back seat was taken up by a large cooler and a tacklebox, and Johnny Cash was singing One Piece at a Time in the tape deck.

"I got a place," he had said. "Used to do some machine shop stuff out there. Fire marshal got on my ass last Fourth, thought I was setting off roman candles in the ponderosas."

So they got to his place, a dead-end service road made to reach through the woods and connect society to a lone firetower. He sat on the hood with a camera hanging around his neck and an egg salad sandwich in his hand, waiting for anything.

She stared at the mannequin. It didn't have any hands, or any legs, and the head was a shiny aluminum while the torso was crumbling and white.

It seemed a little too pathetic to kill.

But it was quiet, and that helped. Or hurt, depending on how you looked at it. No music, no birds now that it was closer to sunset, just the occasional creak or distant whistle.

The perfect environment to be extremely unwell.

She didn't talk to herself, not really. There wasn't any Dani-within-Dani, mocking the one on the surface. Thirty years of television brain rot made it more like flipping channels. ShameTV, American Misery Classics, Discover(ing you're a murderer) Channel...

"God, I'm so sorry," she murmured.

And then Andrew Carnegie, the refrigerator underneath him, and about twenty feet of brown, wild grass, exploded.

Craig yelped and snapped photo after photo, burning through the film inside until all he got was click-click-click.

Dani sighed and let her arms hang at her sides. How fun. I'm Jubilee for depression.

"You ever gonna stop clicking that thing?"

"What? I-" His mustache twitched, and he looked at the camera for a moment. Something was still clicking, but he wasn't doing it. He sniffed and ran around to the back of the car, popping the trunk after a quick fight with his keyring.

The clicking grew louder. Dani, worried it was a bomb- because Craig Palmer was still a hard man to trust- kept her place.

"CHRIST ALMIGHTY YOU COULD TALK TO GILGAMESH WITH NUMBERS LIKE THAT."

His distant shouting did little to move her, but that wasn't slowing him down. "SIXTY ZEEN. SIX-OH. REDLINED IT. DANI YOU GOTTA SEE THIS."

Well, if she was being called over by name...

She looked over Craig's shoulder at a machine that filled up most of the Wagonaire's trunk. And it still clicked, it certainly did that.

"I've got to make some calls," he was saying to himself. "Sixty fuckin' zeen. Changes everything we know about predictive model- no prediction needed. Didn't figure out everything, did you, Hoyle? Maybe we call this the "reactive" model? "Ignition" model? Well, it's not a model until I actually do the work, but... sixty zeen."

"Craig, what the hell is zeen? None of this means anything. You sound like Brent Spiner for chrissakes."

"Ah, hell. I can't explain it all right now. No, really. Not being a shithead, this shit is just so..." He raised his arms and pushed at the sky, as if he were holding up an incomplete tent. "...beyond, Dani. It's beyond anything we do around here. Hell, we stopped doing it a century ago because it scared us."

"You're talking around it. Help me understand so I can do something about this. I can't unkill those men, and that's a whole separate problem, but if I can figure out what kind of disease I have, maybe I can treat it. Alright?"

Craig sagged and set his hands on the sides of the machine.

"You're not sick, Dani. You're a singularity. Zeens- Zeners, Zn, they're a measure of the pressure that consciousness puts on the space around us. Back in the thirties or so, there were some experiments at Duke about powering lightbulbs with psychic action. Predict the right card, produce a charge, light goes on. That kind of thing. Nobody really loved it- before all else, it was friggin' impractical- and it left the limelight. Dr. Zener's cards showed up in Ghostbusters, though."

It was a lot to take in, and a lot more to take in and understand. So Dani fell quiet, holding her forehead, and heard the old man out.

"Usually to slide over one dimension, you gotta get really high. Really high. Ayahuaska, coke, mushrooms, DMT. High-capacity, high-priority, high-intentioned, high. And then that open-brainedness and intentionality generates about, eh... seven or eight zeen, as you produce friction against the planes."

She wasn't following, and Craig could tell.

"You just produced the psychic energy of over a half-dozen lifelong meditators taking their first steps out of samsara and into enlightenment. And you did it stone cold sober. No wonder he exploded. Dani, you're the three-dimensional shadow of four-dimensional anger. All this crap you told me about- you didn't just bury it down, you liquefied it into emotional sweet crude!"

"Come on, man."

"Listen. Everything that is, is the same shit. Science is magic is spirituality is math, let's all hold hands, blah, blah. Explain it however you like. I like zeens. They give you a sense of scale. But if you're a living rupture between axial planes, then..."

"I'm really trying, here. So I packed away all my feelings until they got so heavy that something broke, yeah, and it's pressurized- and so... all the time I'm keeping a seal on it."

"And when you loosen the seal- Dani, when you want to die, that's when you can't maintain the seal, and everything comes pouring back through."

It wasn't the whole picture, and she could feel that, but there was comfort in understanding something. She was still a murderer, but it wasn't demonic possession, at least. Eventually they shut the trunk, and were chased out of the old firetower road by a forest ranger who seemed to know Craig by reputation.

"Now, you need to lay low if you're going to Peru. Which, again, I recommend. Learning the language isn't hard, and then there's Vinicunca- rainbow mountain, most gorgeous thing I ever saw. Nothing compares, you're gonna love it. So we gotta have you silent running before you ship off. What kind of work did you do before this?"

"I, uh... well, I worked at a grocery store." She frowned and looked at the horizon. They were passing into town... and then through it, just like that. Craig was going to park the Wagonaire somewhere out of sight and walk back, to keep from getting towed.

"That's great. You're overqualified. There's a Turtlebees about five miles east of here. You pick up some shifts there under some comfortably falsified credentials, and before you know it, bam- Vinicunca."

Turtlebees.

Make it happen here.

God damn it.

<-Prev Next->

#IPYIHGU #dani from my bullshit

[belladonna-miranda]

Danger Wildboy: After the Feud

This is it: Team Knoxville have defeated Jeff Tremaine's army with Ehren's 21-point answer about Rock, Paper, Scissors

Ehren jumps with joy over his victory and hugs his teammates in celebration

Meanwhile, Pontius bawls over losing to his best frenemy and congratulates Ehren over his victory

Pontius: Congratulations on the win, Danger Ehren! Now you get to donate to the Special Olympics. Ehren, sobbing with excitement: Thank you, Pontius. I never knew I could defeat Tremaine after a shitty first two rounds. (hugs Pontius while Dave awkwardly watches them) Pontius: Sorry for stealing your boy, Dave, but you managed to defeat my team with just one top answer. Dave: How dare you. Just kidding. (Tears continue to run down Ehren's face as he confesses his love for Pontius. The two Jackasses proceed to share a kiss in front of the rest of the cheering contestants) Ehren: Guess who just lost Family Feud but won my heart after years of ridicule! Pontius. (points to Pontius) Sorry, Dave. Dave, pulling Ehren away from Pontius: Fuck off, Ehren.

Now that Knoxville has defeated Tremaine, he gets to take Ehren, Preston, Dave, Rachel, and Jasper to the after party at Knoxville's place

Pontius tags along despite losing Celebrity Family Feud

Rachel and Ehren taunt Pontius that the ghost of Ryan Dunn's possessing him the next full moon after the game. Why not the rest of Team Tremaine: Wee Man, Butterbean, Zach, DarkShark (Jasper's dad), or even Tremaine himself?

As revenge for tasering him throughout the game, Ehren tasers Pontius and Knoxville and Rachel gelatinizes Pontius's soda. Rachel, Ehren, and Pontius then use their powers to prank the rest of Team Knoxville while The Prodigy's "Warrior's Dance" plays in the background.

Rachel even teaches Ehren and Pontius how to roll a blunt, which the former then smokes

In the end, Dave doesn't care about Ehren hanging out with Pontius instead of him, and Rachel coins the ship name "Danger Wildboyz" because Pontius ditched Steve-O for the shy yet bubbly Ehren

#jackass #ehren mcghehey #danger ehren #chris pontius #danger wildboy

[randpaulsdickring]

Mom and Butterbean suggest that they only meant well… Because they felt like a deserved special treatment that a girl didn’t deserve because there’s only that what I’m sorry did I stay it wrong when I said infant…… Men will not place all of the blame… No we’re going to scare white men so that their children can go be with who they want and then they will shut the fuck up and be mannerly people that kind of thing yeah well unfortunately class is a learning experience and those girls fucking know that I’m like you better fucking not have gone there and they tried to go there so that being said there is a lot of love and a lot of heat from so many places on this planet but don’t find yourself trying to cross places that you don’t need to be because you could find yourself in Syria and you could find yourself in a very unfortunate awkward situation not knowing why you’re going to feel some heat and lust and then you’re gonna feel a gash of blood… But that’s the thing why did you say Akasha that’s the Akasha records is that right why does that feel so far west not America of course and of course I understand there is a lost component there for these guys… What is it is it extra terrestrials because that that’s bogus right right right right I don’t know everybody else in the world says a different story than the United States of America my grandfather did think that some of it was bullshit and then he didn’t know you guys I don’t know what exactly he sees or believes oh but somethings so dark and they say you know that you know you know you know you know you know you know it is so so so dark that I do believe that I know and I also think that if my mother had to tell me through the grapevine through the Orient that that I knew then we have problems and I’m not gonna put up with these American white bastards and I’m not gonna put up with these little assholes prematurely pulling the trigger on me mom what do you know about fresh that you can explain to me right right right right right it’s OK it’s OK just chill the fuck out you know these girls do you have more sophistication I think then some of you are willing to give them credit for yeah of course I’m a little jealous I was it I was an honorable kid man… Sure as fuck was in my own way all these white guys a fuck knows is that heat to you or is that cold I ask for a weird reason oh wait you know what I’m getting distracted and I’m never far from you I’m never ever ever too far…… You wouldn’t be that cold would you you would though and I would know it I want for every man in America to want that kind of story for their daughters and sons that kind of weird stuff like you know what I mean and they’re so lazy they just want to take everything that belongs to everybody else and now Evelyn is connected to what back up Nick don’t you suppose you fucked up here is Evelyn a piece of property does it depend on her behavior… It actually probably does and I don’t see a very good outcome out of that… But is that set in stone no it’s not it’s just that Kelsey and Nick will never change and they will continue to teach Evelyn really nasty ways of being and then they’re gonna be really jealous when they realize that mom and dad destroyed their entire life and a whole future but it’s not her fault because we’re all born innocent Evelyn and God only knows that downstairs knows my rage a little bit knows my cage a little bit… I do know that I don’t want you near Denise Meador or Robert Meador ever I don’t want you near Brandy I don’t want you near atom especially

[thelittlepoetprincess]

𝙈𝙃𝘼 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨(NSFW)

Author’s Notes: I promised another one of these so of course, I shall deliver. Also this’ll be a mixture of fluff and NSFW since these are more of the teasers. Please excuse the grammar, Grammarly was not working today. Hawks, Dabi, Overhaul, and Fatgum. SPOILER WARNING FOR DABI’S DANCE IN THE MANGA. If you like the Dabi or Overhaul ones get in the therapy wagon.

Word count: 1,470 words

Warnings: THE SPICE Quirk play, cockwarming, human fleshlight,consensual somno, public sex, sex with an audience, BDSM themes, body worship, hunting, degrading, and also abuse warning for Dabi and Overhaul.

Keigo Takami~Hawks

Pfft, the mans literally never has time for you, like- ever.

He’s working 24/7 so whenever he’s in the area he’s(quite literally) swoop by and give you a kiss or something then dip.

He also has to cut dates or dinner together short for work, or just make it quick. Quickies very common

The whole feather thing is very much real, it helps him keep tabs on you while giving him a way to let you know he loves you when he’s busy.

Often times he comes home to you asleep on the couch waiting for him, and he feels something stirring in him he pushed down a long time ago: Attachment.

If he comes home and he really needs to work one out of him then he’ll ask you can he use you then carry you off and thigh fuck you, but if he’s feeling frisky he’ll stick himself inside you and just feel you clench for that added bonus.

Commitment scares him, but you’re patient with him and he appreciates it. It show when he finally falls asleep around you.

When days get rough for him, you can tell. His clothes and hair are more disheveled than usual, his feathers are spread out, and he has to remind himself not to hiss when you come close(bird shit).

You insist he talk to you but he denies since he always feels he’s being watched and judged. Then you insist he takes it out on you and he refuses even harder, he’s stressed and doesn’t know how to unwind

Then you go for the wings and he will either: dodge you and scold you for trying orrrrrr. . . 

Fucking snap on you and rock your shit.

“Oh, now your playing with fire, little birdie. Touching my wings is bold, now don’t regret it. You’ve ruffled my feathers and riled me up.“

Touya Todoroki~Dabi

MEAN, MEAN AS HEELL. HE GIVES ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKS FOR YOU!

Toxic relationship built only on sex and a power complex.

He gives no fucks for you but let him catch you even looking at someone the wrong way and he’d burn the fuck out of you both. Then push you out his way so he can burn the fucker fully to a crisp.

Not gentle burns fucking third degree you need a hospital burns. Also he wouldn’t apologize.

Yandere? Fuck no, he doesn’t care that much.

He’d watch you writhe in pain with tears in your eyes and enjoy it. Then snatch you up immediately and drag you back to the base to fuck your brains out.

Why are you dating him? He loves degrading you, pride? None of that here. You are his to use, break, and throw away as he pleases.

He owns you in his eyes, and if you run your fucked when he finds you

Very much breaking down in front of you but don’t touch him, don’t try to help because again: he will cremate you in a second without hesitation.

He likes to see the fear in your eyes, it lets him know he has power over you.

Big Hunter vibes from him, please do run. He likes the games. He’ll chase you down a dark alley way and take you against the wall once you hit the dead end.

The fucking snarls and growls of this mans, dear lord.

He’ll fuck you literally anywhere, the more populated the better. Try being blindfolded and set on a stage in a club full of villains and have him dick you down for all of them to see. He’s fucked you in front of the League on several occasions.

Your so far mind-broken and gone you won’t leave even if you could. Not that he’d let you walk out, you’re his only form of stress relief. Saves him the time of finding 1 night stands then burning them afterwards.

“You wanna leave, huh cocksleeve? Go ahead, I won’t stop you all you have to do is get off of my cock first. You won’t? Then quit whining and let me break you.“

Kai Chisaki~Overhaul

HE TOXIC TOO JUST LIKE DABI

Overhaul is also super busy like Hawks but you spend a certain amount of time with him since he has his schedule specifically planned out.

You live in the base but he doesn't let you nor want you as a part of the whole Eri thing or any of his work. You are not his equal or lover.

You’re less of a partner and more as a stress reliever, you're like a concubine basically.

He has you take a disinfecting bath before he sees you just to make sure he doesn’t get sick.

Your routine is very strict and you’re guarded, rarely ever changes unless you request it or there’s an emergency.

He's really fucking mean to you and uses his quirk on you to keep you in line, he'll break you and fix you just like he does Eri just to discipline you.

He also fucks you very brutally, like just for no reason fucks you hard. Everyone just let’s it go because better you than them.

The only time other members are nice to you is when they’ve fucked up and you need to either take the blame for them or ease Kai’s anger so they don’t end up dead afterwards.

Your knocked out after every session just because he's very rough with you and doesn't care, and if you don't preform to his standards he'll break you and put you back together.

He has a bad habit of fixing you just to keep going as well.

You’re a kept woman of the Yakuza, so pretty much whatever you want is given to you on a silver plater.

You are not his first lover, and you more than likely won’t be the last.

You clean up afterwards as well. Even more so if it’s in his office.

“What’s wrong? Can’t take another round? That’s alright, I’ll just fix you up good as new and keep going. You know better than to complain, right? Good pet.“

Taishiro Toyomitsu~Fatgum

He’s a good boy, he brings you food all the time and let’s you know when he’s doing something dangerous.

Whatever you wanna eat, name it and he’s got it. Has all the popular food joints on speed dial and gets discounts literally everywhere.

He loves it when you snuggle into his hugs, but he gets worried he may accidentally lose you in his fat you would love this actually

He has no problem fucking you when he’s not patrolling, no one visits the agency often so you two have his entire office to yourselves.

This man is into food play, no surprise there. Eating off you, yes. You eating off him, yes. Food with sex, yes indeed.

The biggest cuddlebug on the planet, he’s so used to being unattractive by most standards that once you two started dating he was so touch-starved he wanted to hug you ALL THE TIME

He’s not-so-surprisingly a good combat teacher.

He’s very vanilla and gentle, he doesn’t want to hurt you but he’s a BIG BOY so no need for the extras to make it super spicy.

All giggles, you guys have tried BDSM before, it doesn’t work he’s too goofy.

The agreed safeword is. . . . meatpie. Yes. He’ll back off and you’ll be laughing to yourself about it just enough to relax once more while he gets ready to praise you like a goddess.

Butterball, butterbean, and love muffin are his go-tos for nicknames. Though when your wearing that outfit he loves so much he has a habit of calling you “Devil’s food cake”, making him want to sin in all the sweetest ways possible.

Into Cock-warming, a lot. Not to mention teasing him will result in a harsher than usual upward thrust from his hips, he’s a bucking mess.

Body positivity king, there is not a day that goes by where he does not praise your figure for hours on end.

Literally fought someone one time because they objectified you and then had the audacity to say you weren't a whole fucking snack in front of him.

Kinkiest thing he’s done: Used you as a human fleshlight, it was only once but secretly neither of you can get rid of the thought.

THE DILF VIBES FROM HIM. Everyone says Kiri and Tamaki are his hero-children, you see it. It’s lowkey highkey attractive adorable.

OH THE AFTERCARE. I’m talking fresh warm baths with your favorite scents, massages for your whole body, and food. Endless amounts of food, cuddles, and praise.

“My little butterball, you look so good. I’m gonna push all the way in now, okay? Heh, no butterbean, I’m just halfway in your little hole. You know the safeword, just say the word if it’s too much.“

#keigo #keigo takami lemon #keigo takami smut #bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha x reader #bnha hawks #hawks #wing hero hawks #boku no hero academia hawks #mha hawks #dabi #mha dabi #dabi x y/n #touya #bnha dabi #dabi smut #dabi lemon #overhaul #bnha overhaul #overhaul lemon #kai chisaki #kai chisaki lemon #mha overhaul #overhaul smut #fatgum #Taishiro Toyomitsu #BMI hero #bnha fatgum #mha fanfiction

[airxn]

[ Points at Airin. ] Buttercup. Butterbean. Lil' mustard fuck.

               He's just a guy man.

give airin or xavier a nickname!

#Airin Response. #Ask. #interminal #( just a guy )

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Audacity

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Incubus!Jeff Hardy/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirsty Crew, happy Valentine's Day! Tagging the broskis @toxiicpop,  @oraclegazes and @hardcorewwetrash as is my custom! This was written for @helplessly-nonstop 's Winter Writing Challenge, utilizing prompt number thirty two: “May God bang us all.” “Well, he may not bang us, but I will definitely bang you.” Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: Contains mentions of typical incubus behavior, vague and absolutely inaccurate summoning rituals, blood in general and a hint of sacrilege. Stay safe!]

Catchphrases were sort of your thing. Witty quips and one-liners were all but your bread and butter. They had served you well in your life. That is, until now.

You stared at the...whatever it was in your apartment, the thing that seemed to be slowly solidifying into a vaguely masculine form. Your finger was still stinging from nicking it with that steak knife, but you pushed it away for the moment.

Your creative brain was having a real bear of a time parsing what it was seeing, and your words failed you as the...well, probably-male figure shook his head and stretched his arms out with an obnoxiously loud yawn.

“‘Bout fuckin’ time.” He groaned. You were abruptly pinned to the floor, a set of curious green eyes boring into your own. “You summoned me, yeah? Well, whatcha’ want?”

“I uh. Pardon?” You asked weakly.

Those eyes narrowed. “Playin’ coy, huh? Nice try.”

“How...How did you get in here?”

His right eye twitched and he settled back on his haunches, making an irritated noise while he gathered the long, dark hair out of his face. “You've gotta’ be shittin' me. I'm askin’ for a circle redesign, this is the third fuckin’ prank call in a hundred years!” He griped, hands working behind his head to tie his hair back. “Finally have the chance to work all my kinks out and it's just some slack-jaw sittin’ in their livin’ room!”

“Hey!” You yelped. “Excuse the hell out of me, buddy! If someone decided to magically appear in the middle of your living room, I'm sure you'd be pretty slack-jawed yourself!”

“I'd get a shovel, if we're bein’ hypothetical,” the man(?) replied, prowling around you on all fours. His baggy pants dragged on the floor. They looked strikingly similar to something you would have worn during an emo phase (which you may or may not have had in your younger years). “I'm not exactly big on hospitality.” His right shoulder blade and arm were covered with a tattoo that looked eerily like a network of large, hole-riddled veins. Your overactive imagination swore up and down that it was glowing faintly purple and shifting more than could be explained away by his motion.

A discordant jangle caught your attention and you glanced down, noticing for the first time that he was wearing a collar with a long length of chain attached. Try as you might, you couldn't seem to locate the other end of the chain. You hurriedly got to your feet and sidestepped out of the loop he was making around your ankles. “Listen, I don't know who you are or how you got in here, but if you leave now I won't call the police.” You gave him what you hoped was a stern look.

“You summoned me, y’ dumb--look at the damn floor.” He retorted, gesturing at the area he had appeared. Specifically, the area of thick rug where you had been absently dragging your fingers through the luxurious pile of fibers and enjoying a lonely steak dinner.

You had cut yourself accidentally while trying to slice off another piece from the steak, the serrated blade of the steak knife easily parting your skin. Blood had started to dribble quickly, splattering onto the plate and the rug when you bolted to your feet to grab a paper towel. And when you had returned…

“That,” The man stressed, pointing at the messy circle and lines you had drawn into the velour of the rug, “is my circle. You gave a human blood offerin’ after drawin' the circle, kinda’ old school but whatever. So I'm here now. Here to fulfill your needs.” He spoke slowly, obviously mocking you. “You get all that?”

“Well no, not really. I...h-hey, let go!” You exclaimed when he snagged your wounded hand.

He proceeded to ignore you and smear the tiny amount of blood left on your finger with the end of his nose, looking back up at you after several moments of silence. His pupils had shrunk to pinpoints in the green-blue of his irises. “You have no idea what you've done, do you.” It was sort of a question. Maybe. You shook your head. “Augh. What the fuck.”

“Get fucked Sunshine, your shitty attitude and vague explanations aren't helping whatever situation I'm in right now!” You snapped, entirely through with his griping.

“You brought me here, okay? I only show up for one thing.” He said after a long pause where he seemed to be trying to formulate a sentence. “I don't look like this normally. I look like this because that's what you wanted. I’m here only because you asked...or, demanded. Bein’ summoned can get to be a gray area after a while. Do you at least know what I'm here for?”

“I don't understand any of this so, no.”

He put his face in his hands, yowling down into his palms in what was clearly frustration. “Alright butterbean, no sense beatin’ around the bush. Since you're a damn dumbass. I'm here to fuck you.” He snarled finally. “I'm summoned to fuck. You specifically. You designed my body. That's how this shit works. It's made to be appealin’ to you.”

I'm here to fuck you.

You were entirely at a loss, staring at him in disbelief.

You designed my body.

You inhaled sharply, trying to keep your eyes from wandering. He still seemed to notice, if his little smirk was any indicator. “You like what you made? It's all yours to play with. Every inch.” He undulated his body, hands laced behind his head in a smug pose. “You're lookin’ hungry. Why not let me satiate that appetite of yours?”

“I...I am just so confused right now.” You said weakly.

“Don’t think. You're alone on Valentine's Day and I am the answer to your heart’s call.” He murmured.

“I mean that's great and all but...hey, how do you know I'm alone?!” You exclaimed, folding your arms across your chest.

He raised an eyebrow at you, then glanced pointedly down at the solitary plate on the carpet. “Really?”

“Good God you're rude. Supernatural entity my ass, I've met sixth graders with more maturity.”

Those green eyes flashed dangerously. “Your God's got nothin’ to do with me an’ that's just how I like it.”

“Well well! The personalized fuck machine has daddy issues. Who could have guessed?” You shot back, confused when a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Mm, I like this. Sharp little knife of a thing, ain't you?” He advanced, forcing you to step backwards or risk being within reach. “Who made you that way? Doubt you came out the womb spittin' venom.”

“I trained in the mountains. Sat under waterfalls and wrestled bears.”

“Aha, you're so quick. It's been ages since anyone's given me this level of sass.” Your back hit the wall and his hands pressed to the space over your shoulders, loosely caging you in. “I can’t hurt you. I'm only here for one thing. Sure I like playin' with my food, but I won't do anythin' you don't consent to, my little blade.”

The term should have been insulting, and yet, it seemed almost...endearing when he said it. Affectionate. As though he believed you were dangerous and actually respected you for it.

“So what do you want me to do? What's your heart's desire in the bedroom? Your softest wish, the one you ain't told nobody?” He whispered the words, his voice low. “Whatever you want, my beautiful, sharp-edged summoner, it's yours.”

“Whew, you say some wild shit.” You managed to reply after a moment of mentally fanning yourself. He was so close, his chest nearly touching your own every time he took a breath. You felt warm and a little giddy, dizzy from the attention he was lavishing upon you.

“I say what I need to.” His fingers brushed your cheek. “An' I wait for the go-ahead on everythin’ else.” He grimaced suddenly, hand flying to the collar around his neck. “Fuck you, that's how it's always been. No need t' strangle me old man.” He snarled under his breath.

“Who are you talking to?” You asked in bewilderment.

“The oh-so-merciful one holdin’ the other end of the chain.” He coughed out the words, air wheezing in his throat. You could see that the chain was pulled as tight as it could go. “He gets wound up about nasty things like me. Wants me to be ugly about this an’ I--”

His voice abruptly cut off and he clawed at the collar, seemingly unable to undo the simple buckle you could plainly see.

You reached out your hand to him without thinking and strangely, he took it and pressed it to his cheek. ‘Thank you’, he mouthed. His luminous eyes were pained when he released you.

Your fingers snatched at the buckle beneath his chin, the sharp metal punching into the skin of his throat. His eyes widened as your other hand came up and started to feed the free end of the collar through the buckle. It was harder than you thought it would be; jagged spikes laced the inside of the leather like shark's teeth, digging in and refusing to let go. “Hang on, okay?” You muttered, wriggling the strap with all your might.

“What are you-?” His breathing hitched and he fumbled to grab your wrist. “Y’ can't, wai--” He pleaded, shaking his head.

You glared at him, your eyes narrowed. “Listen, if what I'm doing is wrong, is an affront to the big man or whoever it is that's choking you out right now, well…” You paused, finally loosening the buckle enough to pull the strap free. Those spikes tore out of his neck and you flung the collar across the room with all your might. “Then I guess...may God bang me for my insolence, or whatever. May God bang us all.” You finished proudly, dusting off your hands in a self-satisfied manner.

“Well,” The man in front of you drawled as he straightened up, his teeth flashing in a lazy grin, “He may not bang us, but I will definitely bang you.” The wounds on his neck had started bleeding lightly, like they were nothing but scrapes instead of the deep punctures you knew them to be. Hands slammed into the wall over your shoulders and he leaned in close. “The name's Jeff, little blade, an’ it seems I owe you a debt of gratitude.” Those vibrant green eyes fell to your mouth. “I could never remove the collar myself, and no one has ever been particularly interested in releasin’ me from it.” Jeff's breath ghosted across your lips. “I assume you'll accept payment up front?” He whispered.

When had your hands landed on his shoulders? Your palms pressed down on the flesh beneath them, fingers fumbling at Jeff's skin. What an ordinary name.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Jeff dropped to one knee in front of you. Firm hands grabbed your hips and he began pressing kisses to your stomach right above where your skirt began. “Let me please you?” He murmured against your shirt, a growl rumbling in his throat. “It's the least I can do, y'know.”

…

Their fingers were smearing the blood that had started to pool in the divots of his shoulders and collarbone. Jeff bit the satisfied snarl down into a safe little growl, his neck tendons snapping taut beneath this unfamiliar skin. This precious little dagger of a human had no idea what they were doing to him; a concealed blade that slid its way between his ribs to prick his long-cold heart.

He inhaled sharply through his teeth when their hands moved up into his hair, tugging it gently at the roots. They still reeked of sadness and frustration, tastes bitter on his tongue. “Why the hell not,” They mumbled. “Go on ahead.”

Jeff was an incubus. For as long as he could remember, as long as he had been collared, he had been driven forward by a bone-deep desire to conquer, claim, intimidate. With the leash gone though, it was as if everything became smooth. He could see past the tunnel vision of what he was made for and venture tentatively into the new realm of what he could actually do.

And this human had made it possible.

Jeff jerked the metal snap on their jeans off with one twist of his fingers, sending it flying outside the halo of light from the lone lamp. They gasped, their hands grabbing his own.

Jeff could have pulled away. Easily. Overpowered them easily. Taken them easily. Something stopped him, the knife point piercing him just a bit more. Their eyes were startled, knuckles whitened with the effort of stilling his hands.

“Be gentle, okay?” They said, “Don't hurt me.”

Jeff was seized with a strange sensation. He didn't want to hurt them, that was the odd part. But hurting so often seemed to go hand in hand with acts like this, leaving him at a loss. He let them cup his face and he sucked their wounded finger into his mouth, making them inhale as he laved the sensitive skin with his rough tongue.

“Show me.” He muttered, quickly returning their finger to his mouth after he spoke. He felt them press down on his tongue, a light pressure that turned into a stroking motion. They seemed to be marveling at the texture more than anything, which was amusing. “I imagine you’d like this tongue in at least one other place, yeah?” He prompted, grinning at the way he could feel their pulse start to race. “Lay down, little blade. Show me what you like.”

They obliged after a little more coaxing, their shyness nearly too endearing for Jeff to handle. He wanted to fuck it out of them, but at the same time he loved it so much he never wanted them to stop. The way they curled up, the way their body trembled and heated under his touch...it was intoxicating.

When they finally, finally helped him peel their jeans off, Jeff was certain that he was dreaming. Their thighs fell open for him without another protest, his sweet little blade unfurling the most delicate petals he had ever encountered. Awed, almost dazed, Jeff slid his fingers over them, collecting the slick that had gathered. They whimpered, the noise rippling down his spine in a shudder of want.

Jeff covered the insides of their thighs with kisses and nips, tormenting himself with the knowledge that they were right there but they needed him like this. Needed these lip-presses and bites far more than anything else at the moment. They had laid down on the very edge of the circle of light cast by the lamp, their face and upper body illuminated by the soft glow. He watched them bite down on their own knuckles, eyes closed and head tipped back.

He couldn't refrain any longer.

Jeff buried his face in the apex of their thighs. They cried out at the first stroke of his rough tongue, their free hand raking through his hair. Jeff growled against them and made no effort to hide the noises of his satisfaction, of their own wetness. He alternated between lashing their clit and soothing it with the smooth back of his tongue, the differing textures more than enough to make them knead at his scalp and mewl like a helpless kitten.

“Tell me how much y’ like it, my darlin’ summoner.” He whispered, looking up at them and then slowly, slowly easing his tongue into them. The textured surface rubbed against their inner walls, urging forth a half-choked noise of desperation when he withdrew it. “Tell me whether I'm bein’ too rough, okay?” Jeff continued, thrusting his tongue back home to punctuate his request.

He set a pace that made his body ache, trying his hardest to be gentle while fucking them with his tongue. As deeply as he could reach, as slow as he could force himself to go, the flat of his tongue pressing upwards towards their pubic mound while his hand rubbed circles on their belly. Jeff closed his lips around their clit every time he fully sheathed his tongue in them, enfolding the sensitive nerves in the heat of his mouth.

He wasn't sure how many times they came. They kept twitching and begging for more, their cracking voice a melody sweeter than any pleasure he had ever experienced. Hands in his hair, thighs gripping the sides of his head like they would die if he moved from between their legs...Jeff was certain this beautiful little blade had been rammed home into his heart.

He continued his breathless assault, his cock stiff and rubbing fruitlessly against the fabric of his baggy pants. Jeff took a selfish moment to grind his pelvis against their wet heat, his legs quivering with the desire to bury his cock in them and claim them until the sky pinked with dawn. But he shook it off, returning to working them over with his fingers and tongue. “One more for me? Can y’ maybe give me one more?” He murmured, chuckling at the whine of breath they let out. “It’s jus’ one more, little blade, I know you got it in ya’.”

They propped themselves up on shaking arms, their ability to still move surprising Jeff. He was even more surprised when they beckoned him up, up their body to their mouth. The kiss they gifted him was hungry, sweet, breaths panting into his mouth as they licked timidly over his tongue. There was nothing timid about the way they ground their hips against his own, though.

Jeff choked on his breath, grunting while they rocked their heat against the rigid line of his stiff cock. Their slick soaked through his pants and he let them push him onto his back, let them grind against the obviously display of his need. This was new. He had never abstained from penetration.

They continued to shift their hips back and forth over his clothed cock, the press and slide of them absolutely maddening. It was a tease of a fuck, a pantomime that threatened to kill him with every hypnotic motion. Jeff’s hands fell to their hips, fingers digging in as he bucked up against them. He indulged in the newness of this fuck-tease for what felt like a lifetime, his pants saturated through with a mixture of their slick and his own. It eased the friction, urging him on more and more to hold their hips and force them down. He could feel the head of his cock prod their entrance every now and then through the fabric, that taunting little hitch that made them gasp and croon.

Jeff had never thought that not penetrating someone could be this exhilarating, the muscles in his thighs straining against the desire to come. His body teetered halfway between frustration and completion for a short eternity, their fingers covering his own on their hips all the catalyst he apparently needed.

Jeff's head fell back, his breath caught in his throat and when they bent down to kiss him, he moaned into their mouth while coming all over the inside of his pants. They just kept kissing him, their own body shuddering at the sensory overload of his previous ministrations. Jeff silently wrapped his arms around their shoulders and pinned them to his chest, their ear pressed to where his heart would be thundering.

But something like him had lost its heart a long time ago.

…

When you woke up, you kept your eyes shut against the sunlight. You felt…

Strange.

It was a mixture of headache and low level buzz under your skin. Your whole body was tender, half-numb but too sensitive all at once. The sheets twisted in your fingers as you pulled them up over your head, blocking out a little more of the light pouring in through the window.

What a night, you mused. Bits and pieces of it played back, making you blush and bury your face in your pillow. Hell of a way to spend a lonely Valentine's Day, wet-dreaming yourself into a coma!

When you opened your eyes though, you were met with the hysterical proof that last night had not, in fact, been a dream. You yelped in dismay as you stared down at the dark red marks on the insides of your thighs, headache forgotten while you floundered to get out of your bed. Struggling into your bathrobe, you rushed to the living room as fast as you could.

A sheet of paper laid in the middle of the very obviously disturbed rug. You cringed as you took in all the lines that looked suspiciously like they had been clawed by fingers, all the areas that were pushed in a different direction than the rest of the carpet. That was what you got for splurging on a such a plush velour rug, you supposed.

You crept to the piece of paper (which appeared to be a note) and after hesitating for another moment, you knelt and picked it up gingerly.

My beautiful little knife,

Leaving before the reality sets in is pretty much my forte, I'll apologize for that. Normally I'm thrown out as a fantasy until the poor soul's belly starts to swell with the fruits of my labor. Now that you freed me, well…I'm not really sure what trouble I can get into, but I am sure you're going to see me again. Promise I'm not going to spend my free time ravishing morons in their living rooms. Unless it's your living room, of course. You're too sharp for me to be able to stay away for very long.

Happy Valentine’s and all that crap,

Jeff

“Oh.” You breathed, your fingers tracing over the messy circular pattern he had drawn in the lower left corner of the paper. “Damn. Alright then. Thank you, overly-expensive fuzzy rug.” You continued aloud, petting the fibers beneath your knees as a grin slowly snuck it's way onto your face. “Happy Valentine's Day to me in-fucking-deed. May God bang us one and all.”

#jeff hardy #jeff hardy/reader #incubus!jeff hardy #winter writing challenge #thirst party saturday #on a thursday #happy valentine's day! #may god bang us all #i had too much fun #knife metaphor

[wideworldofwhump]

What are your favorite whumpy fic paragraph(s) - either from what you’ve written or what you’ve read?  Feel heartily invited to send me an ask!

Here are several of mine:

Psych:

Where There is Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth by dragonnan Warnings: cannibalism, extreme violence, blood and gore

His eyes stayed on the other man while he created another inch of space between them. Every shuffle away made his throat tighten even more. He wanted to run but all he could manage was another step. And then another. The stairs were only a few feet away now. Shawn's heel rolled over something on the floor and he nearly stumbled – his manacles clinking as he lost traction for several seconds. Falling against the wall, he looked first towards his captor. The giant had stepped deeper into the shadows and was now kneeling – still seeming to be oblivious to the stealthy escape. With impending doom avoided again, Shawn glanced down at what had tripped him up. It was long and rounded with a large knob on one end. A bone. There was no need for a degree in forensics to identify it as human.

He pulled his lips down and swallowed before stepping over the bleached white length. Now, instead of watching Tiny, he kept his eyes fixed on his path. There were more bones scattered nearby. Most appeared to be leg bones, though some shorter ones suggested they'd come from arms. Then he spotted what was clearly a skeletonized foot still strung with tendons. He had to swallow several more times as he moved past the remains.

Shawn jerked at the sudden clatter behind him – pivoting his head and squinting while he simultaneously began to pick up his speed. Tiny still wasn't looking his way but he'd stood once more. Something long hung from his right hand. It looked like a... cleaver.

His heels bumped the bottom stair and he fell backward against the concrete before he managed to spin around and scramble upwards – using hands and feet to tear his way to the top – no longer trying to be silent. His manacles continued to interfere as he slipped on the smoothed edges, rapping knees and shins and only keeping himself from a brutal fall out of desperation. His gasps had a voice as he reached the door and slammed into it – the terrified sobs for breath shaking out in a thin scream as he wrenched at the knob... and found it locked.

Sherlock:

The Tiger and the Shark by dragonnan

Warnings: rape, noncon, violence

“Isn't that an irony, then? Having spent so much time on one side of the microscope to suddenly find you've become the smudge on the slide. I wonder what they'll find under magnification?”

Sherlock clenched his jaw – rounding on his brother only to find that Mycroft, too, had vanished.

The knock that followed jolted a lurch through his middle – though he gave no outward sign of startle. “Come in.” Soft spoken and presenting a far more relaxed state than he'd last exhibited with company – he held close to the wall and faced the door – eyeing the space left open alongside the DI – noting John a bit further back and offering a truly miserable act of nonchalance. The eyes that darted – the fists held tight to his sides – the pacing walk all spoke of a man on the edge of blind fury. A comfort or threat, Sherlock hadn't the time to analyze – though he was aware of the empty swell within when the door began to shut him away.

“Don't-!” His hand shook – outstretched towards the polished wood and glass. He blinked at his shaking fingers – trying to recall when he'd lifted his arm. Lestrade, in rare comprehension, left the door open several inches. No surprise when John edged to within a hand's-breadth – meeting the flitting gaze of his friend. Sherlock nodded, once. Without pause, John slipped into the room – only approaching until Sherlock went stiff. Wordless, he sat in one of the chairs instead – never once speaking.

Rather, he allowed Lestrade to launch into a droning monologue – detailing the pursuit of his captors – their vanishing from the grid expected and of non-information. Clearly they'd prepared for a departure that would avoid interference from Scotland Yard. The monotone sharing became background. If questions were asked, they were unheeded. Sherlock studied the tremor in his fingers and only, truly, returned to the room when the only remaining occupants were himself and John.

His friend sat across from him – bundled hands showing white at the knuckle.

“What do you need, Sherlock?” Sincere – soft – attentive. Well wasn't that just like John Watson – a dichotomy from the man who could likewise be furious, hard, and stubborn. And, in many ways, Sherlock needed all of those sides. He wouldn't settle for less.

His reply, just as soft, carried a thread of something he was not yet ready to face – though the reflected pain in John's eyes showed his attempts at redaction were unsuccessful.

“Take me home...”

Iron Man:

Not the Hero Type by dragonnan

If monsters chased him in the dark he could at least see where to place his feet to run away.

Maybe that was why he hadn't been paying attention. Or, maybe he'd been looking for this. He didn't know. He rarely cataloged his reasons for anything. He fired from the hip and most of the time it struck dead center. But when he missed, oh it was a spectacular miss.

And here he was. Unlikely candidate for a crime that went well beyond the trappings of mundane. Pathetic, perhaps. Laughable, certainly. Painful? Yes. Definitely. If his charm hadn't been enough to boot him from the Super Friends this little encounter would more than suffice for a dishonorable discharge. Worse, even, than that, he'd used up most of his bitching allotment to instant replay the previous evening. Maybe now wasn't the best time to compare and contrast the military's finest man of the American cloth with the washed up husk of occasional alcoholic part time ghost in the machine currently bleeding standard issue B positive on the concrete.

Half his age and twice his height, Stuart Little and Tiny Tim were pawing the trinkets they'd collected from his person after that yellow flag moment minutes ago. They'd gone all out on their little urban Robin Hood cliché too. Their mothers and/or parole officers would be so proud. In addition to the tire iron they'd also managed a suitably dark and litter infested alley. All that was missing were the ra... oh, never-mind. One of the cat sized squeakers was just crawling from the dumpster about six feet downstream.

“Where's the cash?”

Tony lolled his leaking skull left-wise; bringing himself up to speed that one of the fine young gentlemen had wandered back to his side of the alley sometime in the last few... hours? Yeah, that was a concussion.

“That's the-green stuff, right?” Slurring. Kinda took the edge off his response but hopefully the all teeth grin helped it along.

Yup, sure did. Helped it right into a fist planted somewhere to the right of his appendix.

“Umph! Mmm... stellar delivery.” He coughed, noting the flavor of freshly diced liver on his palette. “No, really,” he wheezed, pushing slightly more vertical against his wall. “Watch a lot of Lamont Peterson?” He cocked his head. “Nah, you strike me as more of a Butterbean fan...”

Strike – got it in one as the second wallop emptied lungs and sarcasm but had the satisfaction of a yelp and gouged knuckles as his assailant stumbled backward, staring. Not just a glorified pacemaker and dream chaser, it also slices and dices. Though smoothed and polished for that nonabrasive comfort and style, the casing of his arc reactor was still metal. Very hard and very undentable by human knuckles no matter how large they were. Maybe still lacking in verbal comebacks, Tony still managed a wincing wink through his scrambled gasps.

Doctor Strange:

The High Cost of Dying by dragonnan

“Shit! I told you to watch the door, asshole!”

And look at that, he'd been spotted. So much for trying not to raise a fuss. “Uh... hi.” Jaunty tip of the hand – going for that 'oops, I've just stumbled upon a crime scene; don't mind me, I'm just here for a package of Ding-Dongs' vibe.

Shotgun, who'd been rocking foot to foot, jerked a look over his shoulder before hefting his weapon a bit higher – a bit more threateningly – towards the frozen clerk. “Come one, come on, hurry the fuck up!!”

Handgun, darting attention back and forth between the cash register and the newcomer, jerked his chin and wildly panned his gun up and down.

“Nice tie jewelry. Hand it over! Along with any cash you got and that watch! Now!”

Stephen didn't move. “Yeah... sorry. See, I spent most of my cash on a hot dog and the little I have left is going towards either an orange Fanta or a Raspberry Nestea. I haven't completely decided yet but I'd sorta been counting on some time to browse.”

“I don't give a fuck! Empty your pockets or I put a hole through your fucking head!”

Stephen pursed his lips – mulling that over. The clerk had begun to move, now, jerky pecking at the register keys – stalling, possibly – terrified, definitely. Shotgun hunched his shoulders and checked the door again – gun drifting towards the cold case before re-centering as he focused back on target.

Meanwhile, Handgun took three wide steps forward – finger jabbing at the attractive shiny.

“I said give me that fucking gem, Pops!”

“Or you'll blow a hole in my head – sorry, fucking head – as I believe you'd articulated.” Still no move to follow through with those orders, however, and Handgun seemed to be realizing his threat wasn't as imposing as he'd likely hoped it would be. Shotgun, meanwhile, was snatching the meager afternoon take from the open cash drawer – weapon now aimed at a 90 degree angle towards the flickering fluorescent panels above.

Stephen flexed his fingers, palms outward. “Hey, you kids want to see a magic trick?”

Sweeping his arms in an arc, he conjured double shields; taking the moment of stunned shock to knock Handgun's weapon away with the edge of one burning ring – a follow-up swing taking Shotgun out of the fight with a blow to the back of the head – then spinning back towards Handgun-

Explosive force slammed Stephen down to his knees – golden shields fracturing into sparks. Unarmed, Handgun – mind skittering to the irony of that observation – spun and bolted – door jangling at his hard exit. On the floor, at his back, Shotgun groaned but otherwise didn't move.

A freezing drizzle of sweat made a long streak along Stephen's jaw. He couldn't, quite, seem to catch his breath. He was hunched on his hands and knees but couldn't comprehend the action of standing.

He felt a ripple travel from shoulders to waist – the cloth encasing his torso constricting – shivering mild panic through his chest and he fought not to tear the not-a-cardigan from his body – god, he couldn't breathe! Trying to push himself up, he trembled at the stiff ache throbbing through his midsection. His brain analyzed the symptoms even as he struggled to understand why... he was going into shock. His arms folded beneath him; dropping him to his side and he felt the first real bloom of heat in his back. He couldn't reach it with his hands but he could feel another sensation – wet – and understood, suddenly, what had happened... just not

“How... h-ho-how... what...?”

A shaking, terrified voice responded. “I'm sorry – God I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn-I didn-I didn't m-mean – please, oh my God, don't die – please don't die – oh my God!”

How to Train Your Dragon:

Asgårdsreia by dragonnan

Leaning forward a little, Hiccup dropped Toothless back towards the waves so that the approaching ship's sails could block out most of the brightness.

With a violent jerk, Hiccup hauled Toothless into a tight arc – breaking away from the ships – heart hammering as a flurry of arrows skimmed so close he could feel the tickle of feathered fletching against his cheek.

“Dragon hunters!” Gods, and he'd nearly flown right into them! Not only that; with the sun at their backs, they'd have seen him well before he'd have been able to recognize them. Stupid!

Toothless weaved and rolled as bolos shot towards them – roaring as one wrapped itself around a back leg. “Come on, buddy, we have to get out of here, now!”

Though the bolo wasn't heavy, the swinging weights hanging below them hampered their flight – Toothless shaking his leg to try to free himself as they grasped towards the clouds. More arrows shot towards them as well as several nets and Hiccup leaned hard to the right – forcing Toothless into a barrel rolling plunge to avoid the attacks.

Hiccup grunted as an arrow shot between his left side and inner arm – slicing a groove just above the gauntlet and nearly striking Toothless in the head. The sting of pain shifted into the background as they rocked hard to the right – then left again – swooping through the spaces between projectiles.

A yell shattered over his teeth as something solid smashed against his left leg.

Toothless immediately began to plunge as all control was lost – their flight a nauseating blur of black and red. Hiccup swallowed and sobbed air – his leg refusing to work the pedal. He unlatched the straps keeping him in the saddle – digging his right hand into pommel as his body lifted up from his seat. Left leg slipping loose from the pedal, fighting the forces pushing him back, he strained towards the dented mechanism.

Only a few meters from the waves, he caught hold of it with two fingers, and pulled!

There was a sharp, belly dropping, whoosh of regaining lost height. Hiccup's body slammed back to the saddle – his upper half in a precarious tilt half off the side where he white knuckled the damaged pedal.

“Go, bud!”

Toothless dodged a few more arrows and flattened out – wings extending as he rapidly picked up speed.

Cowboy Bebop:

Play Me Some More of that Old Blues by dragonnan

Tipping his head back, he stared up into the cobalt sky. There were no more answers above than below. If there was a God up there, he apparently found amusement in continuing this tragic comedy. His hands had stopped shaking, and he looked down at his palms. A small patch of skin on the outside edge of both trigger fingers was roughened; the result of firing handguns too many times. He wondered where his weapons were now.

A shadow covered him, and he glanced up. An old woman stood over him, holding out a single woolong note. “Go ahead, you look like you could use it.” He grimaced, then smiled abashedly, taking the bill. He started to thank her, but felt his throat tighten, cutting off speech. It made no difference; she'd already vanished into the crowd.

Sighing, he gathered his feet under himself. The trip up was a lot harder than the trip down had been. He had to lean against the building for several moments, sweating heavily and panting, while he waited for strength to return to him. Eventually, he pushed away from his support, forcing his wasted limbs to carry him onward.

Twenty minutes of struggle found him gasping under the shade of an awning. His thoughts had managed to solidify during his wavering walk, and the sequence of his former life played before him like a scratchy film. There was no sound, for he refused to hear it just now. Instead he saw only the grainy images of people he'd once known, and in a state of drunkenness, would have referred to as friends.

His eyes darkened as their faces were replaced by a flash of liquid light, reflections off a length of steel. The eyes that had always seemed cold, even when they were comrades, now glowed with the red anger of insanity. The voice burst in his head before he could stop it.

“Why don't you just DIE!”

He grasped his head, as if doing so could repress the memory. He'd known it was over then. Hell, he'd known it was over that day, that day he'd first seen her. Maybe there'd still been something of optimism in him; yeah, even that late in the game. Three strikes and you're out, right? Strike one; he meets the woman of his dreams. Strike two; the woman of his dreams happens to be the girlfriend of his best buddy. Strike three; his best buddy finds out. A bad situation for anyone, but a lot worse if the people involved happen to belong to a high profile syndicate. Even so, he'd thought, he'd hoped…

“I'm leaving… I want you to come with me…”

Blood and ashes, all that remained of that dream. His eyes tracked the movements on the street. So far, no one had even noticed him. Well, that hadn't changed from before. He'd had a habit of going unnoticed until he wanted to be seen.

A burning pain in his gut reminded him that the last meal he could remember eating had probably been a plate of sautéed bell peppers. How many lifetimes had passed since then?

He felt in his pocket for the money card, and found the woolong bill instead. Well, shouldn't let that go to waste!

Forty-five minutes later, he leaned on one arm against the side of a wall and retched violently. No solid foods, he'd forgotten that, and his intestines now felt like they were crawling into the back of his throat. But, God, those carnitas had tasted so good! His stomach jumped again and he heaved, nearly collapsing with the sudden wave of exhaustion. Pushing away from the wall, he tripped over a crumpled box and nearly lost his footing. He opened his mouth to curse, but the words were high-pitched and reedy. He clenched his teeth instead.

With his stomach voided he felt weak, and saw that his hands were trembling again. It had been over an hour since he left the… what had that place been anyhow? Shaking his head, and regretting the motion, he sat down on the box that had nearly tripped him up a few moments ago. An unfamiliar sensation was washing through him while he sat on his box. Always, always before he'd had a goal. Granted, that goal had cost him dearly, but it had been something. Since he'd left the syndicate, all he'd wanted was to recapture that moment of perfection he'd found with her. He never wanted to face down his enemies, had never wanted to meet for that final bloody showdown. Yet, it seemed… he shook his head. He never believed in destiny, fate, or any of that `profound' crap. What happened, happened. And now, it seemed, his survival had happened… again.

Supernatural:

The Big Stink by dragonnan

He wasn't sleeping. Typically, he logged a good four hours, which was better than average compared to most of the guys in his trade. But that had been before. And before. And a lot before.

Alcohol; handy shut off valve, it usually gave his bed times a soupy sorta blank. If he had nightmares, they were the old and familiar. But lately... lately it seemed his chosen sleep aid was closer to sugar water. Any spirits the bottle contained seemed to flow right out of the glass and into his brain; all sorts of herpy-derpy haunting going on. Enough times waking up in damp linens with Sam giving him that tetchy constipated Gomer look.

He smacked his lips and flinched at the rotting elk flavor. Dear God, it was actually worse!

“Holy fucking shit.” He moaned before ripping free of the bed and high stepping across Sam's mattress, and Sam, on his way to the bathroom. Forget the brush, he snatched the Crest and creamed his mouth with a third of the tube.

While he was busy moving the thick paste around his teeth, Sam shuffled through the door and made for the toilet.

“Told you to lay off the bourbon last night.”

“Ish nah the ruh-run!” Dean spit the first mouthful as Sam flushed; grimacing at the tube in disgust.

“Dude, what the hell sorta shitpaste is this anyhow?”

Sam snatched the tube away and fished out his toothbrush. “Still got that funny taste?”

“What do you think?” Opening his mouth wide, Dean leaned in close to the mirror; hanging his tongue out while he tried to see the back of his throat.

Sam watched from the corner of his eye as he brushed – raising his eyebrows as Dean pulled his lips up from his teeth. While Sam rinsed and spit, Dean left the bathroom in search of something more astringent than mint.

The aforementioned bourbon bottle was crowded for space on the little table between their beds. Barely an inch left at the bottom, Dean polished it off and then nearly gagged at the corrosive taste explosion. “Oh, hell, no you did not...”

“I didn't what?” Sam wandered from the bathroom towards the half fridge. Nothing in there but yesterday's pizza, so pizza for breakfast it was.

“What did you put in here? This tastes like week old skunk piss!”

“You probably have a cold, Dean. Messes with your tastebuds sometimes. Look, we'll pick up some Sudafed this afternoon and you'll be fine.”

A little too relaxed about the whole thing, if Dean hadn't been there to see it happen he'd swear his brother's soul hadn't made it back into his body. Touchy subject, that one. Not that Dean made a habit of dodging touchy subjects unless it was his touchy subjects. God that sounded dirty.

“Breakfast?”

He turned his head; tasting the fog of foul that turned right along with him. Sam was holding out a slice of cold Meat Lover's with extra bacon. Dean's throat bobbed in warning and he cut to the right without a word.

A second later, the delicate sound of gagging drifted from the open bathroom.

[chimchimchoo]

Fly Me to the Moon :: Ch 7

Genre: Pure fluff crack

Word Count: 1,369

Pair: Yoongi x Jimin

Collaborated with @tayvengeance

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

“CHEER UP THIS SAD, EMO BOY!”

02-222-3333

Jimin stared at the note on the bathroom wall for a solid 5 minutes before he pulled out his phone and typed in the number.

authors note: we do not own any of the pictures, for better formatting so it’s more comfortable to read, check it out on AO3! AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14944508/chapters/36107328 Twitters: Tae’s Sujin’s <3 - Tae & sujin

Chat With Mochi_Moves:

2016.02.12

15:30

Mochi_Moves:

hey

sugar lips

c:

SUGA:

hey baby boy

do you even like it when I call you that?

I’ve never asked.

Mochi_Moves:

You can call me anything you like

but if you ever call me butterbean

i swear we’re ending this right here and now

SUGA:

why the fuck would I call you butterbean

what the fuck does that even mean?

butter doesn’t come from beans.

Mochi_Moves:

i’ve heard couples say it

(believe it or not)

i think i gagged a couple of times

SUGA:

not this fucking couple.

we’re classy.

I just send you one of these

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LHIKf0f9E40

and I 100% know I got u.

Mochi_Moves:

and this is why i love you

my oojy coojy woojy moojy poo-poo

SUGA:

WHAT IN FUCK.

Mochi_Moves:

what’s wrong honey bunny buckles?

SUGA:

hi I don’t appreciate this name experimentation

you got going on

keep sugar lips

pls

im begging u

Mochi_Moves:

sure thing sugar lips

it suits you best anyhow

SUGA:

:)

wow I love you

:) :) :) :)

so Valentines day is a shit fest holiday but it’s coming up

in like 2 days, and we’re dating.

So like were you expecting anything that day?

Mochi_Movies:

well

i mean

i was thinking of spending valentines day

as a pre-date

for our 3 month anniversary c:

it’s back to back

and i’m planning the big night this time

SUGA:

[:

whatcha planning, love?

Mochi_Moves:

i’ll tell you when the day gets closer

it’s still in the works

c:

SUGA:

Well

if you want

on valentines

we could get a hotel room

and spend the day alone together

Mochi_Moves:

should i

should i bring a polaroid camera?

SUGA:

;)

we might use it

Mochi_Moves:

alright, i’ll bring it c;

SUGA:

This is me on my way to make a reservation at the

Lotte hotel around here

Mochi_Moves:

wow, look at my man

i love him so much???

be careful with those good looks

someone can easily snatch you away

:c

SUGA:

But how can someone snatch my heart

when you already have it

Mochi_Moves:

what country did i save in my past life to get myself a man like this

SUGA:

Weren’t you Mother Teresa?

Joan of Arc?

Gandhi?

any of those lives could have landed you me in this one

;)

Mochi_Moves:

don’T MAKE ME CRY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DANCE ROOM MIN YOONGI

SUGA:

I LOVE YOU

:D

Mochi_Moves:

you’re lucky everyone else is grabbing food rn

SUGA:

oh you look delicious

wow

Mochi_Moves:

I know

i’m a full course meal that gets served at the queen’s palace

made by the most skilled italian chefs

c:

SUGA:

damn right you are

wow

and I get you all to myself.

I’m spoiled rotten

how did I deserve such a royal meal?

Mochi_Moves:

that’s just what we do

spoil each other rotten

i love it c:

SUGA:

Baby all I want to do is spoil you rotten

What do you want? I’ll get you anything you want

for valentines day

Mochi_Moves:

actually, i don’t really want anything

i already have everything i want

as disgustingly cliche as that sounds

it’s 100% true

SUGA:

well then i guess the only package you get to unwrap is mine

;)

Mochi_Moves:

SUGA:

OH MY GOD

I WAS JUST JOKING

Mochi_Moves:

but

i wasn’t

SUGA:

………

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LHIKf0f9E40

Mochi_Moves:

c:

start running to that hotel sugar lips

SUGA:

tsk tsk, too impatient, Jiminnie.

gotta build up to the moment.

Mochi_Moves:

ahh

ill try

c;

SUGA:

come with me to book this fucking room

…

and let me kiss you~

Mochi_Moves:

hmm

i guess the dance team can live without me for a few hours

give me 10 minutes

<3

SUGA:

Who said I’d let you go back to dance practice

;)

Mochi_Moves:

oh

OH

well by all means

i’m calling out sick

hoseok hyung can deal

and make that 5 minutes

c :

SUGA:

You’re so damn easy to please

i love it

yes

come to your favourite hyung~

Mochi_Moves:

actually make that 10 minutes

i need a coffee

wouldnt want me to fall asleep on you now would you?

can i grab anything for my sugar lips?

SUGA:

you know what I like :)

Mochi_Moves:

yes i know i know you’d like me

but what about something to /drink/

SUGA:

you can grab me a glass

because you’re the hydrating drink of water

that I’ve been craving all day

;)

Mochi_Moves:

oh my god

tall black coffee it is

and probably a condom

if that lust doesnt chill

SUGA:

I was gonna save the sex for valentines

but if you really want

;) ;) ;) ;)

Mochi_Moves:

mm

the condoms gonna be on hold

its gotta be special like you said

it can wait c:

SUGA:

good.

also

should there be music?

is there a song you wanna have sex to?

have you ever thought about this Jimin?

Mochi_Moves:

music??

but dont people always say that the voices alone

are music to their ears??

or was that just straight up poetic

SUGA:

I mean

in my dreams

when you moan my name

it puts fucking Bach to shame

Mochi_Moves:

oh my gOD

SUGA:

So is that a no on the music?

Mochi_Moves:

what about a piece with your piano?

id love nothing more than something of yours

what about

first love?

SUGA:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JyHaRCMbx6A

what about this piece Namjoon filmed for class once

It’s called I Need U

Mochi_Moves:

wow

look at my beautiful man playing a beautiful song

i love it

its perfect

SUGA:

HAVE I NOT SHOWN YOU THIS VIDEO?

Mochi_Moves:

NO CLEARLY NOT

WHAT KIND OF BOYFRIEND ARE YOU

SUGA:

We filmed it that one day I had re-bleached my hair

before I dyed it silver

Because he said I looked like all innocent in all white

but

I Need U

yeah

I kinda wrote it

with you in mind

there’s no lyrics or anything

but the song is about idk

i guess how you help me live my best life?

Not to sound emo or anything

but

It’s like I need you because my crippling depression and

anxiety will take hold of me and you kinda ground me?

Idk I put a lot of emotional weight on you.

I’m sorry

but I’ve never been able to love like this before.

So yeah, another song for you.

How many songs have I made for you now?

Mochi_Moves:

Min Yoongi

never apologize for writing songs

if it expresses yourself better

and makes you happier

in fact

keep writing more

write as many as your heart desires

because shamelessly

i love it when you write songs about me

c:

SUGA:

Jiminnie

i’ll write you an album

20 songs

all 5 minutes long

no

2 albums

fuck, as many as it takes

I’ll write you songs until I physically can’t write anymore

Mochi_Moves:

for every song you write

i’ll create a choreography for it

just for you

SUGA:

Power couple.

that’s us.

Mochi_Moves:

just your typical disgustingly cute and Gay™ couple

SUGA:

so uh…

not to break up this charming conversation

because it is

and i love you

but

how’s that coffee coming along?

Mochi_Moves:

its tall (unlike you)

and hot

c:

SUGA:

*and hot (like you)

I think that’s what you meant

Mochi_Moves:

yes of course

i’d figure you knew

so i didn’t need to remind you

the tall fact

however

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

SUGA:

yah

you’re the same fuckin height

shut your beautiful mouth

Mochi_Moves:

dont tell me how to live my life

SUGA:

It’s been like 11 minutes

where is my chim chim

:(

I need u baby

and that coffee

but mostly you

Chim Chiminnie

Chim Chiminnie

Chim Chim Cherrie

Yoongi’s as lucky as lucky can beeeee

Chim Chiminnie

Chim Chiminnie

Chim Chim Cheroo

I don’t know the rest of the song

but I sure do love you~

Mochi_Moves:

sorry

i ran into kookie on the way

did you just sing mary poppins??

anyway where are you

im at the hotel

but i cant find you

:c

theres just a bunch of tall business men here

and one short guy

oh wait

there you are!

SUGA:

fuck you

I’m inside

Mochi_Moves:

c:

#fly me to the moon #personal #bts #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bangtan boys #bangtan fic #bangtan fanfic #yoongi #jimin #suga #hobi #hoseok #namjoon #rm #v #taehyung #jin #seokjin #jungkook #yoonmin #fluff #fluffy crack

[testicularmanslaughtrr]

I'M NOT CRYING YOU'RE CRYING SO *deep inhale* a couple....fuck years ago? At least two, I commissioned @kinomatika to draw my best friend and mines characters. It was the first thing I ever commissioned with like real money, and it was the actual FIRST piece of art I got for a character. So cue to today. I have wanted this piece done for a while now. After just molding and modeling a weird bizarre life for these losers I've wanted a nice family portrait to see just how far we've come. And like honestly I could cry. I know that's stupid "Cale it's just a picture Cale they're just characters" but you weren't there man. YOU DON'T KNOW THE WHOLE STORY. That aside Kino is like my first real art senpai. They were one of the very FIRST artists I followed and have continued to follow to this day. NY one regret is I have not been able to help support them more in their career but I do WHENEVER possible. I literally now have like 6 pieces done by them??? So like I know long rant but this means so much to me to finally have and I can never actually explain. And long story short I'm gonna literally fucking frame it and like cry every time I look at it so just GO AWAY STOP LOOKING AT ME The loser on the left and the Butterbean are my characters Paul and their son Judah The handsome devilish man and the girl looking like she's trying to set you on fire are @stepping-sideways characters Dimitri and Lilith

#Kinomatika #my ocs #not my ocs #Judah and Paul are mine #Lilith and Dimitri are vincents

[kinseyxsharpe]

The Key

A few weeks had passed since Kinsey opened the letter from her father that lead her to the bank where she found his will and a key.  After going to Michael Andrew’s grave Kinsey had gone home in complete shock.  Her blue eyes had looked over her son and wondered how her father could have ever taken himself away from her.  Most suicides were planned because the person didn’t feel like they had a choice, battles raged in their heads, and the only way to make it stop, to make it better, was to stop the battle.  But from her father’s letters that she had recently read Kinsey felt that he had a choice.  Why had he chosen to leave? That question was the first, middle, and last thought on her mind since then.   Lifting one of her favorite coffee mugs to her lips Kinsey thought about it again when her son ran up to her with a big bright smile on his face.  Running her right hand through his hair she smiled down at him, “Slow down there little one. Where ya going in such a big hurry.” It was almost noon and the brunette had woken up only thirty minutes ago.  She’d been staying up late, sleeping in late, and Everett had really stepped up to the plate when it came to Mitchell.

 “Boston!”  Mitchell screeched with an adorably goofy smile spreading across his features.  Kinsey’s eyes grew wide as she looked at her son.  He looked exactly like his grandfather when he did that and it always caught her off guard.  It was like she was getting a little piece of her dad back and then Mitchell’s features would change again.  The moment would be over and Kinsey felt a pang in her heart. Ahh Boston. Kinsey looked down at her phone, saw the date, and remembered that she was meeting Mr. Schmidt in the city to go over everything in her father’s will.  She had promised Mitchell that she’d take him with her as well as told Everett he wouldn’t need to worry about watching him that day.  “Momma Boston right?”  Mitchell spoke again this time his voice was softer, questioning.  Despite how much Kinsey was trying to hide her overwhelming feelings from the three year old he still picked up on them.  Moments like these broke Kinsey.  Shattered her. Taking a deep Kinsey put her coffee down, gathered the little boy in her lap, and smiled.

 “Boston baby boy.  We’re still going into Boston, I promise.”  She was making a lot of promises lately and Kinsey was sure she was ruining the word for both Mitchell as well as Everett.  Once she assured her son that the two of them would be going on an adventure in the city the adorable smile of his returned to his cheeks.  Wiggling out of her lap the boy ran towards the door and began putting his shoe on as best as he could.  “Daddy will be so proud of you for getting your shoes on by yourself big boy.”  Kinsey smiled, felt a twinge for a needle in her arm, and quickly shook the thought away.  Staying clean was becoming hard as her emotions took over.  She didn’t want them.  Emotions fucked Kinsey over and was the main reason she’d become a drug addict to begin with.  Now that everything with her father was resurfacing it was hitting her harder than she could have ever imagined.  Pushing herself up the brunette began busing herself with getting ready and within ten minutes they were up and out of the house headed for Boston.

 The summer heat of Sloane as well as Boston had settled into the two cities and took the breath out of Kinsey’s lungs as she stepped out of Jeep. “Fuck.”  The slender woman said through clenched teeth and she rounded towards the other side of the car to gather Mitchell up before heading into the law firm.  Once inside Kinsey was greeted by an unfamiliar woman who took down the brunette’s name and instructed the duo over into the waiting area.  Putting Mitchell down on the floor to play with a few toys she had remembered to bring Kinsey pulled out her phone.  The fingers on her left were now able to work a little better despite still having no feeling in them.  Kinsey had taught to teach herself again how to type, hold things, and work without being able to feel anything.  Texting was getting better, nothing else was, but texting was getting better.

 [txt: Everett] We made it here safe, just waiting for the lawyer to come out for us. This place is fucking huge as shit though.

[Incoming txt:] Good.  Maybe we should make him our lawyer?  Have someone not in Sloane working for us. What do you think?

[txt: Everett] I don’t think it’s a bad idea.  He almost won the case dad had against Trent.  But then ya know Trent happened.  But from what I remember he’s a great guy, good at his job. I’ll bring it up to him once I figure out what I’m here for.

[Incoming txt:] Alright.  If you need me I’m a text away and can be in the city quickly.

[txt: Everett] This is why I love you.  Alright babe his secretary just came and grabbed us.  I will text you when I can. Love you.

 Kinsey smiled up at the heavier set secretary as she reached out for Mitchell’s hand. “Grab your toys butterbean.”  Her voice soft as Kinsey helped him put the toys into the book back she was carrying. “Alright.  Let’s go meet Mr. Schmidt!”  The secretary gave Kinsey a forced smile before turning on her heels to walk down a long hallway.  On either side of them were closed doors with different name plaques on them to indicate who belonged in that room.  It freaked Kinsey out that all of them were closed and no conversations could be heard on the other side.  Everything felt disconnected in a way until she saw a door open with a man standing on the outside, a smile on his face, and he opened his arms in greeting. “Uncle Matty?”  Kinsey asked gently looking the familiar male who she had grown up knowing.  

 “The one and only dear.”  The male said wrapping Kinsey up into a warm familiar hug. “I thought you knew I was your father’s lawyer a long time ago but he was always good at hiding certain things wasn��t he?”  The question lingered between the two as her blue eyes looked up at him with disbelief.  Uncle Matty wasn’t actually her blood relative but had been her father’s best friend since she could remember.  He had visited on holidays, weekends, and his family even took a few trips with the Andrew’s party of two when they were all younger. “Thank you Silvia, I’ve got it from here.”  Mr. Schmidt said with a grin ushering Kinsey and Mitchell into his office. “Take a seat right there and Mitchell is more than welcome to play on the floor while we do everything. Would you like that sport?”  Mitchell instantly nodded his head reaching for the backpack on his mother’s shoulders.

 “Here you are darling.”  Kinsey quickly took the bag off handing her son the toys as she fixed herself in the large leather chair that was settled in front of the large wooden desk that her uncle was sitting behind.  “I didn’t, I didn’t even know you were a lawyer.  I was completely dense for a long time sadly.”  Her words were spoke with a truth she’d never said out loud before. “Dad never told me and I never questioned.  But it looks like you are one of the best around.”  A smile spread gently tugging at her cheeks.  Her body was tense and even though she was trying to keep her breathing under control she felt as if the world was going to be pulled out from underneath her. “I was shocked to get the initial letter from you then everything that was in his safe deposit box.”  Kinsey stuttered. “It’s a lot to take in and I understand everything in it except the key.”  Her blue eyes searched the older male’s face as the lawyer watched her son play on the floor.

 “He truly looks like a little Michael.”  Mr. Schmidt said out loud before looking back at Kinsey. “Well we will get back to that but the first thing we have to do is discuss the issue of your name and identity change.  It causes issues with awarding the money to you.  Do you still have all of your original documents?”  It was true that Kinsey had changed everything about herself when she left Sloane the first time including how she looked.  She had paid a lot of money for plastic surgery and never thought there would have been anything left to claim by being Ophelia Andrews. But when she had the chance to burn everything to get rid of any trace of Ophelia the woman hadn’t been able to take it.  The only thing she had left of her father at that time in her life had been those documents and she wasn’t going to part with them.

 “I still have everything.  I even brought it with me so it won’t be an issue, I’ve even gone as far as linking a few things between the name Ophelia and Kinsey. Most people know who I am now so there is no reason to hide who I used to be.”  Kinsey’s words came out mechanical because she had rehearsed them for hours the night before in the mirror of her home.  “There won’t be an issue getting the money transferred to me.  And I want a majority of the funds to remain in the off shore account until I need them.  The home in California can be switched into the name Kinsey Haight as that will be my new name within a few short weeks. And I would like you to tell me where this key goes to.”  The brunette leaned over lifting the silver key and placing it on the males work desk. “I need to know where it belongs to.”

 “Kinsey.  That key is the last gift your father would like to give you.”  The lawyer said as his dry hands pulled at the top drawer of his desk pulling out another note.  “This is the final note and he wanted me to read it to you.  So here goes nothing.”  The male cleared is throat while he unfolded the paper and began to read the words out loud. “Hi again Ophelia.  This will be my last letter I promise and by the end of it you will understand everything. I started working for Trent’s dad before you turned one and had put my life into making sure I did everything for the casino.  I would do it all over again to make sure you lived the life you had. But when I lost my job everything was ripped from my hands.   I had pled with Trent, begged the man night and day to give me another chance.  He of course refused until one day I promised him something he liked.  I promised I would leave him alone forever if he returned my home to me.  The home you grew up in.  I wanted the memories back.  I wanted our old life back.  Trent said he’d return the home only if I was dead.  So.  I made a decision that ensured you’d get the home back.  I told Trent that if he meant his words that I’d do exactly as he said. I gave the Foster’s everything from my time to my life. And all of this for you.  Please forgive me little mouse and move into my last gift to you, your childhood home.  Live there.  Raise your children there.  And live the life you deserve to live.  Love you always your papa.”

 Tears streamed from her blue eyes as Kinsey listened to the words and stared down at Mitchell while the lawyer folded the paper up. “I.  I don’t really have too many words to follow that letter Uncle Matty.”  When the little boy noticed his mother was crying he walked over to her, crawled into her lap, and rested a hand on her cheek. “I wove you momma.”  He said gently and Kinsey bawled pulling her little boy into her chest. “I love you too baby boy.  So so much.  I’m going to grab the letter and the key.  I remember where it is.  Please send whatever I need to sign for it to me in the mail.  Right now I need to go home and be with my family for a little bit.”  Kinsey gathered Mitchell up in her arms while she picked up the backpack full of the boys toys, grabbed the letter, key, and headed towards the door before stopping.  Turning back to the only person she could ever look up to as a dad she whispered. “Actually hand deliver it and stay for dinner.  I lost my dad and I don’t want to lose his oldest friend either okay Uncle Matty. Just call me before and I will get something whipped up for you.”  And with that Kinsey walked away from the room, down the hall, and towards her car.  She didn’t know that a letter, box, or key could fuck up everything she had worked so hard to push down but in the end three little objects sent Kinsey spiraling back into a place she didn’t know if she could get out of again.

#Kinsey Sharpe Drabbles #mine #writing

[randpaulsdickring]

That being said I do hope that some of you girls aren’t naïve enough to believe these narcissistic pieces of trash… Just a piece is a John… A John oh he’s just trying to pour out the American children… I’ll pour them out he didn’t want to make them whores wait wait wait is this about blowjobs is this about white women is this about Asian women is this about incest trash I think they probably all this stuff is hitting me in that way for a reason and then you guys don’t want empathy because my god if we had feminism then we have reliable witnesses

I believe that John is wearing nastier stuff than Nick and I believe Nick is a very gullible small minded easily influenced human being he’s too easy to abuse and toy with I don’t ever have to tell him the truth I don’t ever have to help his family I don’t ever have to try to kill Dennis willcutt so that that piece of shit doesn’t traffic you’re a little inbred daughter… I said daughters plural so that I wasn’t acting like such a cold heartless bitch it is what it is

But we’re not gonna have any more Asian holocaust stuff so we need to let these Americans know where they stand and I feel like John and his family are enough of a threat to the average American woman and the average American man that they need to be definitely taken care of

Sure if there’s a senator who’s giving me a wink… There sure as fuck isn’t a David Rigney in any kind of power

That would’ve been a real nice time to be friends with the Africa zone Butterbean take notes