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tyler-lawson · 1 year

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Like a Walk on the Beach

It was spring break, all of the partiers were on the beach constantly drinking and enjoying the sun. But, drinking in public was banned by the city council this year, particularly drinking on this beach. So, we were buzzing up and down the beach on 4-wheelers, snatching anyone we wanted to.

My partner pulled off to talk to a small group, and I kept going, because I saw a perfect target. Walking down the beach, a bottle in one hand, the other gripping the front of his blue jeans. He was waddling like a duck with his pants down beneath his butt, his blue CK boxer briefs on full display under his white and blue shirt.

I pulled up next to him on the left, the bottle in his right hand.

"Hey, there. What's in the bottle?"

"What bottle?" He asked, trying to hide the bottle on his side.

"Don't play stupid with me."

"I'm not!" he objected, dropping the bottle his feet. "I don't have anything." He said, offering his hands up to me, before realizing that he had let go of his pants, and they were starting to droop a bit more.

"Whatever." I snorted, pulling out a pair of cuffs and grabbing the offered hands.

"Hey, what the hell?!"

"Sir, you are under arrest for drinking in public and being publicly intoxicated." I said, cuffing his left hand and bringing it down behind his back.

"Fuck you, dude. I didn't do anything." He swore, pulling his right arm tight against his chest.

I pulled his hand up high behind his back, twisting it painfully. "Sir, give me your other hand." I ordered, bored.

"Ah, fuck. Stop." He cried.

"Give me your hand." I said again, casually kicking his legs apart a bit and bending him at the waist. He leaned forward a bit more, and started to become off balance. He flailed his arm and I caught it, forcing it behind his back and slamming it into the cuffs.

"Alright sir. You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights?"

"Fuck, ow. Yeah. What are you arresting me for?"

"I already told you. Drinking in public and public intoxication. You got anything on you, anything going to poke me, stick me, stab me?"

"No."

I frisk him, moving my hands down his shoulders and onto his arms. I grip his arms and go back up to his armpits, then down his ribs. Up his abs, behind to his back and down, lifting his cuffed hands up. He bends over in response, sticking his boxer-brief clad butt out further. I oblige and continue down to his ass, his hips, and his groin. I feel his crotch, and then down to his pants. My hands dive into each pocket, extracting his phone, wallet, and several other assorted bits. I stick those on my 4-wheeler, and return to the search. I go down both legs, pulling his pant legs up to check his socks and shoes.

I walk him over to the 4-wheeler, and bend him over the back, letting the small crowd of onlookers get some good shots of his underwear-covered ass bent over and in cuffs. I inventory his stuff, do a bit of paperwork and call it in.

"Dispatch, this is 21-9. I have one for the cages."

"Copy, bring them on in."

I pull him up to standing again, turn him around, and sit him on the bitch seat of the 4-wheeler. I lock a collar on his neck, with a chain leash, and pull it up over my shoulder. I tug it so he is leaning against me, and I know that he has not fallen off. I gun the 4-wheeler, and drive him to the holding cages.

On the beach, we set up a set of 4 chain link holding cells, that are currently packed with guys cuffed in their swim suits and beachwear. They are so packed it is standing-room only. I pull my captive off the back of my 4-wheeler by the leash, and have him waddle-walk with his sagging pants over to a cage. I push him up against it, his pants having fallen so low his package is revealed in his underwear. It pushes through one of the diamonds in the chain-link fence, showing him off to his cellies.

I unlock the cage and push him in.

(Inspired by a lovely conversation with @saggysammy)

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wherelibertydwells · 2 years

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The occupation of Ottawa was a defeat, not a victory (which should be easier to see now that it is not the Current Conservative Thing), because it left the powers that be stronger, and the powers that would be weaker. The regime fortified itself against any future clever democratic uses of eighteen-wheelers, and field-tested new tools of financial suppression. The participants and organizers were left with legal problems. The audience went home with their hard-ons and have forgotten the whole thing. They did see more “proof” that the regime is what they think it is—as they thought.

Almost every conservative action is a defeat by this standard, which is why only losers are conservatives. For instance, traveling in Austin, I noticed that the streets had been largely cleared of homeless encampments (which have been pushed into the nearby forests). Most people take this as a conservative victory. It is actually a defeat.

It is a victory in the ordinary sense of the term—an action which gets what the actors want. It is a tactical victory—but a strategic defeat. At a party the other day, I spoke to one of the people who orchestrated this “victory,” and explained why I saw it this way.

In general, victory on an issue-based political rebellion is a strategic defeat, because it reduces the energy of support. Aristocratic support is crucial for any serious rebellion. Severe disorder in aristocratic cities produces rebellious thoughts among aristocrats, who start to question truths they had previously held sacred.

The first stage of these rebellious thoughts is the “unprincipled exception.” In the 1980s, it violated the principles of many aristocratic New Yorkers to vote for “tough on crime” Republicans. Seeing the results of their own principles in their own lives, they did not react by becoming Republicans—they reacted by voting for a Republican. They did not change their principles—they created an exception to those principles.

There are three fates for such an exception. It can stay what it is; it can go away; or it can expand to become a genuine change in principle. Because electing a Republican mayor created a tactical victory that gave the voters what they wanted, the exception went away—its troubling cognitive dissonance was no longer needed. Had the issue persisted, the exception would have stayed as it was or expanded.

Instead, after thirty years the progressive citizens of a mostly-safe, mostly-orderly New York looked at themselves and asked why they tolerated such unprincipled policing. Finding no answer, they rolled it back. Inertia no longer protected the consequences of the exception and the conservative boomers in Queens and Staten Island who had allied with the exception were moving out and dying off. And the new consciousness was specifically programmed against policing against “broken windows” and “stop-and-frisk.” In the end, the tactical victory was lost and became near-impossible to repeat.

The general lesson we learn from this is that, for a rebel, all true victories are total. He who makes half a revolution digs his own grave.

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ao3feed-undertale1 · 4 months

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History Repeat Itself

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/52270273 by IchiroTheHallow “ I’m The Villain “ “ When The Humans Betrayed Me; They Made A Mistake “ “ If You Hurt Him, I’ll KILL YOU… “ “ Azzy No- “ “ How Are They Here?! “ “ Pharaoh… “ “ Rai! “ “ You Think You Are Above Consequences “ Words: 59, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English Series: Part 3 of Characters As ____ Fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga), Undertale (Video Game), Yu-Gi-Oh! Session Zero Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Categories: Multi Characters: Mutou Yuugi, Yami Yuugi | Atem, Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler, Honda Hiroto | Tristan Taylor, Kawai Shizuka | Serenity Wheeler, Mazaki Anzu | Tea Gardner, Bakura Ryou, Yami Bakura, Bakura Ryou's Father, Other Character Tags to Be Added, Sans (Undertale), Asgore Dreemurr, Toriel (Undertale), Duel Monster Characters, Chara (Undertale), Flowey (Undertale), Human Souls (Undertale), Dreemurr Family (Undertale), Asriel Dreemurr Relationships: Mutou Yuugi & Yami Yuugi | Atem, Bakura Ryou & Yami Bakura & Marik Ishtar & Yami Marik, Bakura Ryou & No. 96 Black Mist | Dark Mist, Blue-Eyes White Dragon/Kaiba Seto, Ishizu Ishtar/Kaiba Seto, Kawai Shizuka | Serenity Wheeler/Otogi Ryuuji | Duke Devlin, Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Asgore Dreemurr & Toriel Additional Tags: Nonbinary Bakura Ryou, Bakura Ryou-centric, Yami Yuugi | Atem Has Own Body, Yami No Game | Shadow Game (Yu-Gi-Oh), Yami Yuugi | Atem Comes Back, Thief King Bakura is Called Akefia, Yami Bakura Comes Back, Teacher Toriel (Undertale), Sad Asgore (Undertale), Good Parent Asgore Dreemurr, Asgore Dreemurr Remembers Resets, Papyrus (Undertale) Remembers Resets, Flowey Remembers Resets (Undertale), Napstablook Remembers Resets, Alphys Remembers Resets (Undertale), Bakura Ryou As Chara Dreemurr, Reunions, Ancient History, Frisk Is The Player, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Narrator Chara (Undertale), Nonbinary Chara (Undertale), Chara (Undertale) Has Their Own Body, Protective Chara (Undertale), He/Him Pronouns For Bakura, Protective Asriel Dreemurr, Human/Monster Society, Human-Monster War (Undertale), Mythical Beings & Creatures, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Spoilers - Undertale Pacifist Route, Spoilers - Undertale Genocide Route, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magic, Divorced Asgore & Toriel Dreemurr, Ghost Chara (Undertale), Yugitale, Original au, Out of Character, Work In Progress read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/52270273

#ao3feed #ao3undertalefeed #fanfic #undertale #undertale-fanfic

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fmhiphop · 1 year

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Carolyn Bryant, The Woman Behind The Lynching Of Emmett Till, Has Died

In in the late summer of 1955, the mutilated body of 14-year-old Emmett Louis Till was pulled from the Tallahatchie River in Mississippi. This came after the boy was taken from his great uncle Moses Wright's home several nights before by white men intending to lynch him. To understand why he was killed, we must examine the cause. And it all began with a woman by the name of Carolyn Bryant, also known as Carolyn Bryant Donham. Emmett Till was born in Chicago, Illinois, on July 25, 1941. Till was sent to visit relatives down south in August 1955. During his stay, he was accused of whistling at a then-21-year-old Carolyn Bryant. She would later admit to lying. However, at that time, even being accused of speaking or looking at white people in the “wrong way,” resulted in harassment or worse—death. Unfortunately, Till was a victim of these social rules. On the night of August 28th, members of Emmett's family saw him taken by Roy Bryant and JW Milam. During the time he was missing, he was beaten, shot in the head, then tied to a metal fan with barbed wire, and tossed into the river. The next day, they were arrested and two days later, Till was discovered. According to many historians, these events would later spark the start of the Civil Rights Movement. Direct Aftermath On September 3, Mamie Till Mobley, Emmett's mother, held an open-casket funeral purposely to expose the horrors of lynching. Thousands of people came to see the body. Millions of people also saw Till's bludgeoned face on the cover of Jet Magazine. A grand jury indicted Milam and Bryant following Till's burial. Later that month, Jet magazine and The Chicago Defender published photos of Emmett's body. The trial began. Mamie flew in to attend. During these legal proceedings, Moses Wright stood and pointed at the defendants, confirming their presence at the scene of the crime. An action that took a lot of bravery given the time period and setting. On September 23, a jury of all white men acquitted Emmett's killers. They deliberated for only 67 minutes. Multiple Europeans publications covered the trials. In November, the pair are officially free after a jury refuses to indict them on kidnapping charges. A January 1956 issue of Look Magazine published Milam and Bryant's confessions to the murder. For their crimes, the pair received a reported $4,000. In 2008, Bryant penned a memoir titled, I Am More Than A Wolf Whistle. The book was set to be released after Bryant's death in 2036, but details of the memoir was leaked by author Timothy Tyson after he interviewed her. The entire thing became accessible to the public in 2022. In the books, she claims she was grabbed by Till, but in the interview with Tyson, she took back the statement saying she made it up. In fact, over the last 60 years, she's changed her story many times. Generational Impact And Trauma In 2022, a grand jury, nearly 70 years after the fact, decided to indict Bryant. However, after seven hours of deliberation, the jury found there wasn't enough evidence to indict Bryant on kidnapping and manslaughter charges, further salting the wounds of many Black Americans. In an interview just a few days ago with Till's cousin and best friend , Rev. Wheeler Parker Jr. said now that Bryant is gone, all hopes of accountability are off the table. Even though no one now will be held to account for the death of my cousin and best friend, it is up to all of us to be accountable to the challenges we still face in overcoming racial injustice. Decades later, Black people are still being lynched by so-called vigilantes and police officers. In addition, , they are being subjected to inhumane treatment via mass incarceration and stop-and-frisk laws. Naturally, Bryant's passing has made many people emotional. Some people are expressing sorrow over Emmett's short life, while some are celebrating Bryant's death. And though most parties involved in the case are all gone now, the tragedy and injustice is still felt among the different generations of Black Americans. Written by Kimberly Stelly | Letterboxd | Instagram | Twitter Follow and like FMHipHop on YouTube, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, and Spotify! Read the full article

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sansthecomedian · 2 years

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How’s it goin’?

*good question

*ill let ya know what mode of transportation cousin it uses once i get my mitts on another one of those addam families comics

*imma guess he's a car guy like my bro but three wheelers are the way to go~

*you humans sure gotta lot more comics cartoons and movies on the surface

*alphys and undyne have been digging their claws inta all kinda shows fer movie night

*any papyrus-asgore-flowey-and-frisk-friendly suggestions would be welcome

*gotta make sure tor dont shut it down if it gets too highstakes

#sans speaks #anon ask

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ploptech · 2 years

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september 9th, 2022.

sometimes when i look at you i feel as if i am waking up, for the first time, in a very, very long time. the crust in my eyes has rendered me visionless, i rely on your guidance. noise, cars on the free way; vibrations from disasters and 16-wheeler semi trucks frisk me. i feel like a video game character when all all of my belongings are extracted from my self, i find myself in this rut often; pangs of jealously are starting to make me feel lousy.

codes and keys- death cab for cutie...

#my poem #my writing #prose poetry #bad poetry #original poem #poem #poetry #spilled poetry #poems on tumblr #love poem #spilled poem #poems and quotes #prose

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eljesala · 4 years

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Since I have now, JUST NOW, watched the movie entitled The Greatest Showman, I was just wondering...

Has anybody from the fandom ever thought of creating an AU of this with Sans and Frisk as a trapeze performer? A cringey idea but RECONSIDER IT because-

#frans #frisk #sans #frisk x sans #sans x frisk #the greatest showman au #the greatest showman #frisk wheeler #frisk!trapeze #trapeze frisk #performer frisk

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1-800-roflmao · 3 years

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Wash Day Delight Pt. 4

Rating: General Audiences

WARNINGS: None

Fandom: Undertale (Video Game)

Relationships: Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Papyrus (Undertale) & Reader, Papyrus (Underfell) & Reader, Papyrus (FSG) & Reader, Papyrus (Swapfell) & Reader

Characters: Papyrus (Undertale), Reader, Edge (UF Pap), and Mentions of Other AU Skeletons

Additional Tags: Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), reader is poc, Reader has curly hair, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Friendship, Wholesome, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, I'm Bad At Summaries, Not Beta Read, Romance if you squint, Subtext, Let Papyrus be Sassy, Edge Is The Unwilling Dad Friend, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Humor, Slice of Life, Teasing Edge Is Fun, Papy is Best Boi

*Split this chapter into two. Will be posting both today. Morning thoughts and Papy has a great idea! Tried avoiding using y/n as much as I could, but had to this chapter.

PREVIOUS || FIRST || NEXT

She would say morning came too quickly, but in all honesty, this was technically her second time waking up that morning. Somehow, in spite of the tireless workout she had been put through the night before, she had woken up at the usual time right before her alarm--that was NOT set cause she turned that off with plans to sleep in today--would have gone off. She’d spared a single, groggy glance at her phone’s clock. The notifications lining the screen not even registering in her mind. No, she’d get her well earned sleep in had been and without further adieu, she had put the phone back down, rolled over, and snuggled back in for another few hours of sleep.

That had been earlier. Now, she blinked awake as light from the mid-morning sun sneaked through the slim openings of the curtains just behind her bed. Blearily, her eyes followed the rays path across her form, her bed, and eventually over the floor where it seemed to highlight her shed clothes along with the open bathroom. Right… she had forgotten to brush her teeth in her haste to sleep. Rolling her tongue and opening and closing her mouth, she winced as she felt her cheek move against the now very cold wet spot on her pillow. Well, at least that second round of sleep was apparently heavy and content.

“Eugth…” Not that it made waking up in your drool anymore pleasant. Trying to sit up resulted in even more groans as her muscles protested. Yup, there were those core muscles that had been oddly silent yesterday acting up today. Her arm she had tried to push up on had not been too much trouble, but her shoulder had twinged and she had gone back down. She had managed to at least roll on her back and away from the drool pool though. Positives. Focus on the positives. For a few moments, she just let herself completely relax into the mattress and pillows, just breathing--in and out, slow and even, again and again until all her tension dispersed.

“They really did me in,” she mumbled as she began to roll her wrists, “But I’ve got too much to get done to be lyin’ around here all day feelin’ miserable.” Too much considering her now very awake mind realized she had forgotten to wrap her hair, but thankfully she had splurged on satin sheets and pillowcases, so it shouldn’t be too bad. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, she didn’t get her wrap sweaty… “Still gonna wash it.” By now, she had started stretching and working her shoulders with careful, slow rolls and reaches. The more she moves, the more she’ll loosen up and actually be able to function. She just couldn’t overdue it.

As she moved onto her legs, she couldn’t stifle a little moan of discomfort as she lifted one limb at time to carefully draw her knee in towards her stomach before extending again. It took time, but eventually she was able to push herself up into a sitting position. Muscles in her back, abdomen, and surprising what felt like her butt that she hadn’t been aware of protested, but a few more deep breathes calmed them. Seeing her phone laying on the sheets near her, she guessed earlier that morning she hadn’t bothered to put the phone back where it went exactly, but current her was very thankful for her sleepy self’s carelessness.

Picking up the device, she decided to take a moment to rest before continuing her war against her body. Besides, she could remember that she had messages to reply to. Tapping the screen, she input her pattern and tapped on the messages app. The first one she opened was Coffee’s. “Oooh,” she cooed as she looked over the drawing once again with fresh eyes. Last night, she remembered thinking the hairstyle was cute, but now she could see the little details he included, like his choice of including a custom undercut design. Could her barber achieve that? She’d have to ask, but for now.

(to JavaBoi)

Flooffie: Good morning!

Flooffie: Sorry about not replying last night

Flooffie: This hairstyle is so cute

Flooffie: And the undercut design is SICK!

Flooffie: In a good way

Flooffie: I’d love to wear it, but I’ll have to check in with my barber about the undercut.

She waited a moment to see if he’d answer, but no little dots popped up so she guessed he was possibly still sleeping or he was busy. Most likely the former. Leaving that conversation, she sent a quick message to her barber asking how complicated a design he would be willing to do on an undercut. She hadn’t expected an answer, but no sooner had she went to click the back button, his answer popped up. His answer surmised that he had done more complicated pieces, but it all depends on the design. “Makes sense…” she mumbled before forwarding the doodle to him. It took him a moment longer to reply this time, but his answer had her beaming: “Sure, just get a better reference. Bigger too.”

(to JavaBoi)

Flooffie: I feel like I’m spamming you. Sorry!

Flooffie: But I got with my barber and he said he could do it

Flooffie: Just he needs a better ref

Flooffie: Could you draw it bigger?

Flooffie: I’ll treat you!

She included some pleading and heart emojis for good measure, even though she was sure he wouldn’t mind one bit. Moving on, she opened up a certain someone’s convo, eager to see how he reacted to her last text. A little laugh bubbled past her smile as she saw his reply, full of exclamation marks and a little pause between two of the replies.

(11:33 PM) Papaya: ….

(11:40 PM) Papaya: !!!!!!!

Papaya: TOUCHE! ALTHOUGH I HAD TO GOOGLE WHAT YOU HAD MEANT

Papaya: MY SKILLS AT PICKING UP THESE IDIOMS IS IMPROVING

Papaya: WHO CAME UP WITH THESE THINGS? WHY? WHY NOT JUST SAY WHAT YOU MEAN?!

(11:45 PM) Papaya: YOUR LACK OF RESPONSE MUST MEAN YOU HAVE FINALLY GONE TO BED

Papaya: GOOD

(12:01 AM) Papaya: SWEET DREAMS, (Y/N)

Her amusement at how Papyrus could continue a conversation with no one there was overshadowed by the warmth the last text brought. It was such a simple little thing. It’s not like he had even called her a pet name, but it still had her flushing and turning her face away from the phone like that would somehow ease the heat. Maybe it was because she could see the timestamp and knew he had taken the time to pick up the phone again after setting it down for a while just to send that message. Was it narcissistic to think she was his last thought before he fell asleep? “It’s too early to be this flustered!” she whined, the fingers of her free hand playing with ends of one of her braids, “All over a text that might not have any deeper meaning…”

After her little grumble, she did her best to ignore the sting the words brought. One more deep breath, she turned back to her phone and the texts, allowing a small smile. There was no sense in making herself miserable. It was still a dear friend thinking of her after all.

(to Papaya)

Flooffie: Morning Papi! Hope you had sweet dreams as well

Before she could start her next message, she saw those little dots pop up and chuckled. Of Course he was up already.

Papaya: GOOD MORNING!

Papaya: I DO NOT REMEMBER MY DREAMS, BUT I’M SURE THEY WERE GREAT!

Flooffie: Just like you, eh?

Papaya: OFCOURSE!

Papaya: UM… HOW ARE YOU FEELING THIS MORNING?

Papaya: NOT TOO SORE I HOPE

She snorted at that before replying.

Floofie: Like I got hit by a 18 wheeler in the fast lane and somehow survived to regret it.

Papaya: ….

Papaya: APOLOGIES

Papaya: BUT ARE YOU COMPARING YOUR PAIN TO GETTING HIT BY A SEMI?!

She could just feel his panic and knew he would start fretting through the text. She felt just a little guilty laughing at his reaction. Thankfully, it wasn’t too difficult to calm him down and assure him she was simply exaggerating. No, he didn’t need to take her to the hospital. No, he had not broken her. At Least as far as she knew he hadn’t.

Throughout, she had slowly worked her way to the edge of the bed and now sat with her legs hanging off. In between texts with Papyrus, he opened a few of the others. One was Edge checking in with a reminder that she shouldn’t over exert herself. She went to send a little thumbs up, but paused and instead juggled between two responses. Which would mess with him more? Biting her bottom lip, she finally settled on one and quickly sent it: “Yes, Daddy~”. Knowing Edge, he was up, but wouldn’t look at the message until he had a moment, so she closed the convo. She could see the damage later.

More puns and jokes which she graced with appropriate responses: groans at the especially bad ones and chuckles at the ones that were actually clever. She of course made her approval known with quick little texts and gifs; the bad ones received the same treatment. None of it was mean and to tell the truth, it only fanned the flames for these gremlins as she had learned. They seemed determined to dig up the worst puns they could manage. By the time, she finished replying, she had made it to the bathroom and was finally taking care of her dental hygiene.

Her phone now dinged instead of buzzing with each new text. Most of which were from Papyrus she assumed. Toothbrush in her mouth, she picked up her phone and opened the texting app again as she resumed brushing with her other hand. She had been correct. A line of texts from her friend popped up on the screen and they ranged from bringing up his question about idioms from last night to checking in that she was actually taking the time to rest. She thanked the stars that her phone wasn’t on the larger side as it allowed her to hold and type with one hand.

Flooffie: Decided to make today wash day since people are INSISTING I rest. Was due for one anyway.

Papaya: WASH DAY? YOU HAVE A DAY DEDICATED TO WASHING?

Papaya: I THOUGHT HUMANS PRUNE IF THEY ARE IN WATER TOO LONG?

She let him get out all his ponderings and ramblings, which took a good minute, before she finally jumped in. Although she’d love to convince him it was a secret, sacred holiday and ritual that humans have to partake in a few days a year for… reasons, she fought down her inner prankster and cursed Cash for his influence on her.

Flooffie: It’s nothing elaborate… kinda?

Flooffie: It’s just that people like me tend to have a lot of hair and it takes time to properly care for it.

Flooffie: So, we make a day of it. Chill and relax, pamper ourselves, etc

She was a bit surprised he hadn’t replied immediately and had actually finished with her dental routine by the time he finally texted back.

Papaya: SO IT IS A DAY DEDICATED TO YOUR HAIR?!

Oh, she hadn’t seen this much enthusiasm from him for her hair in a good bit. As his texts came through, she felt touched he wanted to learn more and she was happy to inform him, best she could over text anyway. There was another long pause in between his text. Just long enough for her to reach for her shower handle as she decided to finally take a shower and get started on her day. Her phone dinged and Papyrus changed all her plans.

Papaya: WHY DON’T YOU HAVE YOUR WASH DAY AT OUR HOUSE?!!

#reader is definitely feeling it the after effects #morning thoughts #fluffy feelings #she needs to be careful playing with Edge #gonna bite her on her butt one day #fluff #papyrus #undertale #undertale au #poc reader #curly haired reader #underfell #fellswap gold #swapfell #papyrus x reader #papyrus x you #papyrus x y/n #ut fanfic #fanfiction

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mibel · 3 years

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I’ve been dying laughing at this concept for days:

-frisk falls into the underground while riding their tricycle

-Grillbys is a truck stop roadhouse

-the underground is like mad max

- monsters have to use human souls for gas

-they want to get to the surface for the highways, (Route 66?)

-undyne has a 16 wheeler, spear of justice plays when kids gesture for her to honk the horn

-Papyrus and Sans have a shitty ass pickup truck but Papyrus wants to be a Real Big Rig Trucker like Undyne

#undertale #undertale au #truckertale #life is a highway #illustration #my art #sans #papyrus #undertale fanart

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roleplayfinder · 3 years

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hi! im bored and looking for ppl to rp with! i mostly do literate and i can get pretty wordy depending ok the plot and au! im 19 and id prefer someone at least 17+! im looking to rp Peter Parker rn! bu i also play Virgil Sanders, Mike Wheeler, Frisk from Undertale or an Oc! im 100% open to multifandom rps as well! if anyone would like to you can message me! and i mostly used discord and ill give you that in dms! :)

#eighteen and over #seventeen and over #marvel #marvel roleplay #marvel rp #sanders sides #sanders sides roleplay #sanders sides rp #undertale #undertale roleplay #undertale rp #stranger things #stranger things roleplay #stranger things rp #oc #oc roleplay #oc rp

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omgjasminesimone · 5 years

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Juvenile Delinquents Part 1

Logan x MC (Ellie)

Summary: Ride or Die AU. Logan’s day started out routine, but it ended with mugshots.

Next Part: Part 2

Word Count: 1600

Logan sighs as he drums his fingers on the steering wheel. He hates the waiting, it makes him anxious, too much time to think and allow his nervous energy to build up.

He switches on the radio to have something to drown out his buzzing thoughts, flipping through several stations before settling on 90s West Coast hip hop.

“Logan, it’s time.” Kaneko’s voice comes in clearly through Logan’s earpiece.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Logan replies, revving his Devore’s engine before peeling out of the parking lot at top speed.

In short order, he catches up to the rest of the crew. Kaneko, in the just stolen sports car they’ve been targeting. Mona drives her own convertible to his right, Ximena is in a pickup truck to his left, and Toby is just in front in his favorite Italian import car of the year.

Logan falls into place in the back, completing their diamond formation.

“No one saw you pretty boy?” Mona asks. He can faintly hear the Lebanese traditional music playing in her car through his ear piece.

“Nope. Got to the parking lot without anyone tailing me, and peeled out quick.” Logan answers, unable to mask his cocky tone.

“That’s my boy.” Kaneko praises.

“Uh oh.” Toby mutters.

“That can’t be good.” Ximena replies.

“I’m picking up cops on my scanner boss. Coming up on the 405 South fast.” Toby informs.

“Damn it. Everyone, take the next exit.” Kaneko directs. They all merge right to exit the freeway.

“Shit, they’re expecting us boss.” Toby is still in front, so he’s the first to see the police spikes set up across the asphalt.

“Bet they’re not expecting this.” Mona mutters, engaging the modified spike proof tires Toby installed and driving through the spikes, dragging them along after her car.

The others quickly fly out of the opening Mona has created, and the police give chase.

They use all their usual tricks to try to shake them, but the Mercy Park Crew has been very active lately, and it seems the police have been studying up on their tactics.

“God damn it, I’m running low on gas.” Kaneko informs his crew.

“What do we do boss?” Ximena asks.

“Logan, I need you to peel off, let them catch you to buy us some time.” Kaneko directs.

Logan blanches, gripping his steering wheel tight. “But then I’ll have a record. They’ll have my prints. Know who I am. I’ll be fucked.”

“You’re 17. It will be a juvenile offense, while the rest of us will definitely get prison time. You’ll get off easier. You’re the only one who can do it.” Kaneko explains.

“But-“ Logan starts.

“Logan.” Kaneko interrupts, and his tone informs Logan he’s not asking.

Logan sighs, peeling off from the others as he takes a right on La Cienega. “Will you make sure someone picks up my car when they impound it?” Logan asks.

“I’ve got you Logan.” Ximena promises.

“Thanks.” Logan replies, turning off his headset as he leads some of the police away on a high-speed chase. He circles back and runs a red light, causing one of the cops to crash into the ones still pursuing the crew. But he’s going so fast that he can’t make the next turn, slamming into a pole.

Logan groans as he tries to remove himself from his dented in car. There’s a lot of damage, but he knows the crew will be able to fix it.

“Get out of the car with your hands raised!” A cop yells, and Logan can see he’s pointing a gun at him through his rear-view mirror.

“I can’t! The door is dented in!” Logan shouts back, raising his hands so the cop can see he doesn’t have any weapons.

Several cops approach, guns raised, to remove him from his vehicle. As soon as he’s out, they cuff him and force him into a patrol car.

…

Logan toys with the bandage wrapped around his forehead to stem the bleeding from his head hitting the windshield as he surveys the police station.

It’s busy. Phones ringing, cops dragging resisting criminals to cells, people being processed with fingerprints and mugshots.

It seems like there’s so much going on, that if he could get his wrist out of the hand cuff chaining him to the bench, he could make a run for it. He experimentally tries to squeeze his hand free, but the cuffs are too tight. He sighs. Guess it’s time to face the consequences of his actions.

“Oh my God Jason, you don’t have to forcefully restrain me, I’m not going anywhere.” An airy voice complains.

It’s a girl who looks to be around his age. She’s pretty, with long brown hair and matching brown eyes. She looks too innocent to require the tight grip the detective has on her arm, dressed in a Langston College sweatshirt and jeans.

“Yeah right, like I’d fall for that, again.” Jason replies, forcefully pulling her over to get fingerprinted.

Logan leans back against the wall, closing his eyes as he tries to drown out the loud cacophony of sounds so he can think. What’s his next step after this? He’s got ID on him with his real name, so they’re going to know who he is, and have his prints, and be able to track him back through foster care records.

Will they try to force him back into a group home? He’ll just run away, again, so hopefully they don’t bother.

Is Kaneko going to let him back into the crew? Seems like that would be an unnecessary risk that Kaneko’s not going to be willing to take. But Kaneko can’t just cut him loose either, he knows too much. He doesn’t think Kaneko would hurt him, but he might send him away. Back to Michigan maybe? Logan doesn’t want that.

“What are you in for?” The pretty girl he noticed earlier asks.

Logan is startled to find her sitting beside him on the police precinct’s cold metal bench. She hadn’t been there a second ago.

He looks her over, measuring whether or not she’s harmless. She quirks an eyebrow at his silence. “Hablas ingles?” She asks.

“Yeah, I speak English.” Logan replies. He doesn’t know much Spanish, despite his father allegedly being Salvadoran according to his birth certificate. All his foster parents spoke English, so he only picked up the Spanish basics once he realized people were always going to look at him and assume he speaks the language.

The girl smiles at him, and when she speaks again, he notices a peek of silver in her mouth, a tongue piercing. Guess she’s not as clean cut and innocent as he first clocked her to be.

“So, what are you in for?” She repeats.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to ask people that in here.” Logan responds warily, and the girl lets out a laugh.

“So, I take it you’re a first timer then.” She quips cheerily.

Logan glances down at the pink nail polish adorning the girl’s fingers, the charm bracelet on her delicate wrist. As he looks up into her innocent looking face, a few freckles dotting her tan skin, he has a hard time wrapping his mind around a girl like her being in a place like this.

“And I take it you’re not.” Logan finally replies, and her lips turn up in a grin as the two teenagers stare each other down.

“Fucking hell, Eleanor. Again?! Really?!” An officer interrupts, storming up to the teens.

The girl, Eleanor, he supposes, rolls her brown eyes. “Calm down Dad.”

The Detective’s face becomes red with anger at his daughter’s flippant attitude. “I will not calm down! You’re out of control. Drugs, Eleanor?! Really?!” He yells. The other cops desperately try to ignore the scene he’s creating.

“Prescription drugs.” Eleanor stresses. “It’s really not that big of a deal. If Ingrid wasn’t such a snitch, everything would have been fine.”

“Is this a cry for help Eleanor? Selling prescription drugs at school? I can’t get you out of this, not this time. Ever since your mother died-“

“This isn’t about Mom. This was about making enough money so I could pay LA rent and not have to live with you anymore! You treat me like a child, you’re overbearing!” Eleanor yells back.

“Maybe I would treat you like an adult if you acted like one!” The Detective yells back. His daughter shoots him an icy glare in return, and Logan watches as he closes his eyes before taking a deep breath, trying to compose himself. His attention turns to Logan.

He uncuffs Logan from the bench, gripping his arm and leading him over to be fingerprinted. “Hands up.” The Detective orders gruffly, and Logan reluctantly complies. The Detective frisks him, coming upon his wallet. The Detective rifles through it, quickly finding Logan’s license. “Logan Sanchez?”

Logan nods, and the Detective writes the name onto his paperwork. He takes Logan’s wrist, forcing his fingers to the ink pad and then rolling each finger over the fingerprint paperwork.

“Wheeler, mugshots. You know the drill.” Another cop calls. Eleanor hops off the bench, smiling cheekily as her mugshot is taken. Her father shakes his head as she blows the camera a kiss for her last frame.

The cop she called Jason grips her upper arm again, leading her away. She turns back toward Logan. “See you inside!” She says with a wink before Jason tugs harder, forcing her to walk.

Her father frowns as he turns to look at Logan. His look conveys his belief that Logan is going to be a problem. He grips his arm, rougher than Logan thinks is necessary, and positions him in front of the camera.

Unlike Eleanor, Logan doesn’t smile for the camera.

taglist: @choicesarehard @ifyouseekheart @brightpinkpeppercorn @regina-and-happiness @drakexnadira @flyawayboo @fairydustandsarcasm @alesana45 @umiumichan @maxwellsquidsuit @lahelable @god-save-the-keen @mrsmckenziesworld @paisleylovergirl @iplaydrake @sinclaire-made-me-sin @choicesgremlin @lovehugsandcandy @desiree-0816 @cora-nova @justdani14 @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @badchoicesposts @client-327 @riverrune @liamzigmichael4ever @princessstellaris @mrskaneko @anxious-arliah

#choices fanfiction #ride or die #logan x mc #logan rod

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avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

Undercover - Chapter 3

Undercover: A Winterhawk Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1589

Rating: E

Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo - taken captive, @clintbartonbingo - kidnapping

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, action, blood, wounds

Synopsis: You go on an undercover mission with your boyfriend Bucky and Clint Barton. When you and Clint have to pretend you’re in a relationship feelings become confused.

Chapter 3

You sat at the small table with Bucky on one side and Clint on the other the three of you slowly making your way through the pizza on the table. You still felt a little off. Sluggish more than anything. Like you still need sleep and your brain wasn’t quite keeping up with what was going on around you.

You also felt really out of place in this dingy pizza place. For some reason you couldn’t quite explain even to yourself, you’d let Clint talk you into dressing for the mission before you went out to eat. So you sat between them in a black, figure-hugging, slip dress, while beside you Clint wore black suit pants and a tank top and bucky was in a pair of black jeans and henley. You looked like a trio of goths who had just come back from an all-day orgy where you’d gotten extremely drunk and were still hungover from it.

To be fair, Bucky’s body armor and the rest of Clint’s suit was hanging in the back of your van. Clint was a disaster and it was just better not to risk pizza grease on his suit, while you were all pretty sure that going out in full body armor might blow their cover.

“So, we’re trying to get to the source of the weapons. We’re not finishing the transaction.” Bucky said.

“Gee thanks for telling us our job, Cap.” Clint snarked.

“Don’t call me, Cap.” Bucky shot back.

“Then stop acting like you’re the boss of this mission.”

“I am the boss of this mission.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Oh my god, I’m gonna clunk your heads together. We’re in public you dumbasses.”

Thankfully both men were smart enough to look sheepish. You picked up your coke and glared at them both over it. “Besides I’m the boss.”

“Yes, boss,” Clint said with a salute.

“We know what we’re doing. It’s gonna be fine. Just take your spot and keep watch. Plant the tracker on the trucks and the cars.

Bucky nodded. “Right.”

“Now, eat your fuckin’ pizza.”

“You have been hanging around Bucky too much.” Clint teased.

Bucky frowned and his hand went to your knee. You ran your fingers over the back of his knuckles. “I’m trained for this.”

He nodded. “I know…. It’s just…”

“I know.” You said and kissed his cheek.

Clint sat back and wiped his fingers on a napkin. “Alright. Guess I’m ready. How long have we got?”

You looked at your phone. “An hour. Guess we should head over.”

The three of you head back out to the van and the boys got dressed before you drove over to the site. You did a slow drive by and Bucky scoped the area for somewhere for him to sit. “Okay, I’ll be on the corner of that building there.” He said pointing. “I’ll put the trackers on the vehicles and get back up there while everyone is inside.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You agreed as he got out of the van. “Be careful.”

“I’m more worried about you two. Don’t take anything from them. Just do the exchange and upsell. That’s it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You said and kissed his cheek.

“You’re infuriating you know that?” He asked.

You smirked and nodded. “We’re almost done. Then we can go home and chill. Few days tops.”

He gave a brief nod and stalked off into the shadows as Clint pulled out. “Really stresses him out being on a mission, huh?”

“Yeah, lot of unresolved issues I guess.” You said. “Wish he’d just quit. Go to college or something?”

Clint snorted. “College? What would he study?”

“Astronomy maybe? Or like electrical engineering.” You said.

Clint raised an eyebrow. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”

“I know. I’m super smart.” You chuckled. “He won’t do it though. He has too much guilt over his past and he won’t stop trying to right it.”

Bucky had moved quickly into position, setting up the sniper rifle in the corner that was cloaked in the shadow of the building behind it. He watched as you and Clint pulled up and were frisked by security. Then as they moved to the back of the van and took out the Kree tech. There was some talking in the carpark that seemed to take way too long. Bucky started to wonder if he’d get a chance to place the tracers when a black 18 wheeler pulled into the parking lot. He watched as it pulled into a loading dock and then set his sites back on you and Clint. One of the men with you gesticulated wildly in the direction of the truck and then everyone moved inside.

Bucky counted to ten, just waiting to make sure you didn’t all come back out again and then made his way down the fire escape. He didn’t like this bit and honestly wished there was someone else here to help. If there was a firefight on the ground he could hold his own, but he liked having eyes on everything happened.

He guessed maybe that feeling was intensified for Clint. He hated being in the middle of things. He could do the spy stuff but he liked being the eyes. This mission was really a mess the more he thought about it. They should have brought Natasha. Hill even. Unfortunately, they’d been on their own missions and Clint was the only spy left.

Not that he wasn’t actually liking him being there. It was nice having him around. Like Clint had said. It was like old times. Clint was an annoying shit but he was a good person and quite funny really. He had a way of making it so Bucky didn’t worry too much about something. Sometimes Bucky needed that.

Bucky made his way into the parking lot, keeping to the shadows. He kept his eyes peeled and listened for movement. If he got caught doing this, the mission was blown and everything they’d done so far would be a waste.

He put tracers on all the cars and under the body of the truck. He figured the truck was the important one but it couldn’t hurt to have everyone followed. When they were all in place, he hopped the fence and made his way back to his spot on the roof. He was about halfway up the fire escape when there was a gunshot.

It came from the site and he wheeled around to see if he could catch sight of what happened. The truck started and pulled out while at the same time the group came out with what looked like you, unconscious and slung over one of their shoulders.

For the briefest of moments, he wasn’t sure what to do. If he went up he would be able to see what was going on. He would probably even be able to blow out the tires of a few of the cars but he didn’t want you in a car accident and he had no idea where Clint was. On the ground, he could take chase and it might be quicker to get there, but he wouldn’t be able to see everything. For some of the time, he wouldn’t be able to see anything at all.

All that passed through his head in a matter of seconds before he leaped over the railing of the fire escape.

It was a 6 story drop and super serum or not, he knew the landing would hurt. He used his prosthetic to catch himself on the stairs two floors above the ground. It wrenched his shoulder painfully, but was nothing he’d not felt before. He landed heavily on the ground jarring his legs. He’d been thinking about that more lately. He was a person, not a thing that could be tossed aside if it broke. Now though, now all he could think about was you and Clint. He had to get to you.

He ran flat out, but it wasn’t as fast as the cars pulled out. He didn’t know which one you were in. They were all the same Ford Taurus with tinted windows and he couldn't see the license plate of the one you'd been thrown into before he'd jumped.

When he leaped the fence the last two cars were pulling out. He pulled out his handgun and fired taking out the back tires from the car in the rear and the rear windshield of the one in front.

He ran to the car whose tires he blew out. The driver and two passengers all jumped out and started firing on him. He dived for cover behind the wall that surrounded the warehouse and fired three shots. They took out two of the men and clipped the other. He was about to run over and knock the guy down. Best out where they were taking you from him when he heard a shuffling and the door opening behind him.

“Buck…”

Clint’s voice was strained and raspy. Bucky wheeled around and saw him. He leaned against the door with his whole weight. It was the only thing keeping him upright. His hand was pressed against his side, but it didn't hide the huge red mark that was blossoming on the side of his shirt. Bucky ran to him, the guys in the car completely forgotten and arrived at Clint’s side with enough time to catch him. “They knew who we were.” Clint coughed. “We gotta get her back.”

// NEXT

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