#put spaghetti in it meme

[comradekatara]

10 year old air nomad kid: hey laghima wanna come do a prank with us? ^_^

guru laghima, also 10 years old: pranks are the coarse amusement of an idle fool..........every so-called “joke” is yet a boorish distraction from the path to true enlightenment.

air nomad kid: man i knew u would say some bullshit like that. why do i even bother –_–

#guru laghima #idk if he’s a meme to anyone else but in our household #ever since my brother and I watched lok together #every time zaheer mentioned guru laghima we’d start cheering and clapping and laughing #I love that he was also referenced in the yangchen book #it felt like a little gift just for me <33 #anyway. I bet he was the most insufferable kid dksndfkfk #all the other air nomad children putting spaghetti in the monks’ shoes #meanwhile he’s releasing his earthly tether emptying to become wind

[halftheway]

open arms fans everybody clap and cheer for @arieava this fic would be so much shorter and so mucj worse without their brilliant input and constant moral support

#ari asleep time to lovepost #truly and sincerely i could not do this without him! so much of this fic is me leaning on his ideas and i credit him all the time #but i cant say enough how different this entire au would be if i didnt have ari to rubber duck with. to throw spaghetti at the wall with. #to come up with silly memes that turn into series-altering plot points with. #i put my heart n soul into this au and so does ari! open arms would not be Half as good without him #and also there would be a lot of typos. so many fucking typos.

[usagik]

Me when my new follower isn't a bot

in bonus here a song that i like (play it while you look at the picture for maximum experience)

(i love this song)

#bots #tumblr #follower #victory #ms paint #art #(this is true art) #human #meme #putting as many tags as i can to get fame #aaaaaaaaaaah #muse #inner peace #if you like the song listen to muse #i can write literal novels in the tags wow #once upon a time a kid named timmy ate an entire bowl of spaghetti with bolognese sauce and cheese then he died the end

[magicalgirlmindcrank]

god I love the meme of putting "u know how it is with spaghetti" under pictures of blood/gore but i feel it almost does a disservice to the original

[genericpuff]

the last few episodes of persephone moping around have felt like less of a self-reflective moment for her to grow and change and more rachel griping about criticism and surrounding herself with yes men

this isn't gonna be in any way a formal essay like my usual sort, more of a slam post honestly, so fair warning that i'm gonna be a little salty here

EPISODE 263 SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!

but seriously, it's been a pity party of greek proportions because this constant "woe is me" shit with persephone that's constantly met with "no queeen you're amazing and perfect" has been going on for DAYS (real time and comic time)

literally every episode since the comic returned has had some segment of either persephone or hades (or both) being upsetti spaghetti over their current situation because oh nooo persephone made the deal with erebus and had to sacrifice something. even though they both knew that was gonna happen and yet she did it anyways. so she just continues to lock herself away in her mansion and spout adorkable quips while her husband, mother, and colleagues deal with the mess she caused.

and of course there's the constant inclusion of apollo spitting straight facts about persephone being a terrible queen and person, but of course because it's apollo saying it, it's not meant to be taken as gospel, essentially clapping back at the words of the critics who call out persephone for being a shitty and toxic protagonist by putting those words into the mouth of a literal rapist.

and yeah episode 263 had a lot of the same shit, to the point that you could literally swap out the names of the characters and the words they were speaking and it applies exactly to rachel and the corner she put herself in u.u it's been a thing for a while now that apollo has just felt like a mouthpiece for LO criticism but as mentioned by users within the subreddit during the discussion of this newest episode, it's never felt more apparent than now.

so yeah enjoy this satirical text edit of a sequence from the newest FP episode, which I honestly can't tell is meant to satirize the critical community or Rachel's reactions to the critical community because the weird reality this comic and its community exist in has just become that wack that it's hard to believe it's not directly from The Onion sometimes LMAO

-and as much as i find myself empathizing with the pressure that rachel is surely under right now - no one should have to be subject to the screeching howls of the peanut gallery - i can't help but be reminded of the memes and tweets she's put out that basically outright say "persephone is supposed to be celebrated for being a shitty person, if you can't handle her at her worst you don't deserve her at her best 💅"-

-and how often she's ruined her own day looking for critical groups or people with the "wrong opinions" that were minding their own business, or how much she's stifled her own community's attempts to discuss the story openly by having her mods ban anyone with even so much as a question regarding persephone's integrity.

so yeah, as much as i can empathize with her from one creator to another that being under this amount of pressure and scrutiny must be immensely frustrating and exhausting, beyond that one similarity i just can't empathize or relate to this mindset of almost learned helplessness that's taken a firm grip over her writing. this is the story she wants to tell and by all means no one is entitled to make her stop, but if she's gonna keep using her greek myth "retelling" comic that's trying to be "feminist" as a mouthpiece for her own griping over criticisms that are largely on-point and justified - to the point of putting the words of her critics into the mouth of her token villain like she's playing some single player barbie doll "act out that fight that sounded cooler in your head" game - then she's gonna keep getting called out, full stop. i figured she didn't have any nose left to rip off in spite of her face but apparently not.

look, i get it, there are some opinions and behaviors within the critical community that even i'm not on board with. there are people who absolutely take shit too far on both sides of the fandom, and i think both sides need to do more to hold themselves accountable for how they interact with each other, the comic, and rachel herself. i make it a point to keep my shit in my own house, i'm not entitled to rachel's attention and frankly it's the last thing i want because i have a lot of fun here and i don't want that to be potentially ruined or dampened! but if you come into my house and complain about the decorating, then i legitimately don't know what to tell you. i used to love LO and i'm so sad for my past self knowing fully well they're not gonna be able to wholeheartedly enjoy this comic forever due to how manipulative and shitty the storytelling has become. a story that i once connected to as an AFAB who was a victim of assault and abuse and generational trauma.

if persephone being the true main villain in her own story was ever meant to be the point of Lore Olympus, then it's taken way, way too long to get to that point, and rachel herself definitely doesn't seem to be of the mindset that that's what she's become with all of her blasé meme'ing on a plot arc that she's still expecting us to take seriously. persephone was never a very complex character to begin with - being an easy self-insert for the audience and rachel to project themselves onto and relate to - but at least in the beginning she felt like she had so much legitimate potential, she was naive but put her best foot forward and clearly wanted to make a life for herself, made by herself.

now she's just mean. jaded and mean. dependent on the constant validation of others to the point of being manipulative. an absolute shell of a person who can only grow a spine when she's punching down on people weaker than her, completely incapable of standing up to the people who are a legitimate threat to her. it's not empowering, it's not subversive, it's just another pick me story about women pitting themselves against other women and never taking accountability for their own behavior, mistakes, and deliberate actions meant to hurt others, often teetering on the line of straight up narcissism all for the sake of a "boss babe" moment.

anyways, if you want an actual well-written and GOOD scene of an empathetic female protagonist struggling to find their footing in adulthood being called the fuck out for their learned helplessness behavior, go read Tamberlane, it tackles this topic much better through its main character who keeps using her brokenness as an excuse to never do better, it slaps and it's so real.

#the only thing i could possibly enjoy from these episodes is minthe coming forward #and leuce #and tori #other than that they're just a bunch of nothing #no plot #no yeehaw #just boohoo #and not even in the good way where you know the 'boohoo' is gonna lead to some good yeehaw #the shitty and toxic way where the 'boohoo' is a personality trait that everyone else has to bend themselves around #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #Instagram

[pixelkind413]

Ok so apparently I dreamt this up but I thought there were memes about Johnathan Sims from The Magnus Archives just fucking hating you the second you start talking about yourself.

It would be shit like this:

WITNESS: so I was eating spaghetti-

JOHNATHAN SIMS: Ridiculous. The strangest part of this account is that the witness managed to restrain their idiocy long enough put pen to paper without eating them both and dying from it. I had Martin do some research and while he did confirm spaghetti is real, any claims of someone eating such a thing are the reason recreational drugs should be illegal. I believe this statement is worth less than the paper it is written on, and I hope the witness dies in a trash compactor forever

And at some point it devolved into memes about the word "I" immediately evoking John Sims' overwhelming disgust and disdain. There might have even been jokes about him being vehemently anti-pronoun, but like all of them, not just neopronouns, literally all pronouns.

My friend who finished Magnus Archives tells me its funny because of his character arc, but like. I just finished the one with the spooky tree and the spiders apple I've barely even started. I dont even know why I was dreaming about it.

#the magnus archives #magnus archives #john sims #I've barely started listening to it please dont bombard me with spoilers I just dreamt about it one time

[mesperyiandevotee]

🏴magictrioinitiate-deactivated

Reblog if your name isn't Alfred F Jones.

🃏thekinglovesplayingwithmyballs follow

WE'LL FIND YOU JONES

🐺a-squared-omegaverse follow

As if he couldn't just lie, if he even is on this hellsite.

🏴magictrioinitiate-deactivated

He wouldn't cuz heroes don't lie.

🏴notafjonesprommy-deactivated

A hero would lie to protect his secret identity ;)

🎻sayakamikideservedbetter follow

THIS IS THE POST! ON MY DASH! I FEEL LIKE I'M SEEING A CELEBRITY!!

🗿givemegumgumdumdum follow

NO NOTES???????????????

🦪clamoutjamout follow

so i got like really hella drunk last night and out of what must have been a mix of desperation and hubris, I sent an email to Mr. Romano, askiNG FOR AN INTERVIEW OVER ZOOM TO ASK QUESTIONS FOR RESEARCH FOR MY HISTORICAL EROTICA WIP AND HE SAID YES???????!!!!!!!!!!!!!

🍖hannibalservedmemyownballs follow

Doesn't he like never talk to historians and w/e? Holy shit what kind of magical persuasive powers did your drinks give you and can you send me some?

🦖little-arms-big-hugs follow

I wouldn't say *never*. He's given interviews before, he just has a really low tolerance for disrespect compared to his brother. But with his temper I wouldn't be surprised if his gov asked him to not accept as many interviews anymore.

🍖hannibalservedmemyownballs follow

True, true. I still want to borrow some of OP's persuasion magical drinks.

🦪clamoutjamout follow

my mom sent me a bottle of that liquor mr Latvia made and i didnt look at the proof before drinking like half the bottle (mixed with pop).

also... I finally pulled up my big girl panties and read what I wrote to mr. romano...............

... im going to kms.

🦖little-arms-big-hugs follow

Forget persuasion powers, I want whatever healing magic you have that drinking half of MR. LATVIA'S balsam didn't kill you!

🦪clamoutjamout follow

#we're almost there folx! #RIP OP #nation person mention #alcohol mention

9,879 Notes

🌄cabininthewoodscore follow

UM. HELLO????

🤠redbreadrebellion follow

Yeah, Ch*rchill pushed hard for those two to get together, it's no secret. What about it? It doesn't mean they actually got together turn off your shipping brain.

🏴tw1stedm1nd-deactivated

Sure and America definitely didn't talk about it in an interview

🌄cabininthewoodscore follow

😭😭😭😭😭 The link just goes to a 404 page NNNNOOOOOOOO WHYYYYYYY

#usuk ship real is the only conspiracy theory i'll believe

132 Notes

🐸enby-froggy follow

did anyone else see h/bomber/guy's new video??? PLEASE someone put that man in witness protection or something before K*rkland gets him

🍝spaghetti-breaker follow

wasn't he originally supposed to talk about that one bbc pirate show?

🐸enby-froggy follow

spaghetti-breaker He was but he ended up going off-track after he found some reddit post that led him down a rabbit hole of research. tl;dr: K*irkland yo-hoe-hoeing isn't just a meme

🦐butisbugsshrimp follow

I'm more worried about dickland's teaboo white knights getting him tbh

🍯kidsishrunkthehoney follow

Lmao looks like he saw it!

#wait a min i gotta search something #THE VIDEO IS ALMOST 3 HOURS WTF #now i gotta watch

983 Notes

🪃callmyanxietyboomerang follow

dylan's collab with mr canada was just them trying to out-do each other with all the gay jokes sjflsfjsifhsifjsij someone make one of those 10 hour videos with just the cuts of that please? 🙏🏼

🪃callmyanxietyboomerang follow

SOMEONE DID FUCK YEAH!!!

#canada nation person #vintage baker man #someone send me the video i refuse to download tiktok

97 Notes

🎲dev1ld1c3 follow

If we try hard enough, do you guys think we can convince Mr. Denmark to do a girl month donation goal?

🛸area51searchandrescue follow

Tbh I'm surprised he doesn't have a subscription goal like that already

🔦berwaldsfleshlight follow

There's a rumour he's trying to convince Jones and Beilschmidt to do it with him first before he makes the goal official

#pretty sure those two dont need convincing

73 Notes

#hetalia #i made this instead of writing #if i make edits like this or the fake tweets assume i'm procrastinating updating my fics #i already forgot what i put for the links #no rickrolls this time #fake tumblr dash #dashboard simulator

[anopenbookunderlockandkey]

The 118 Sauce Chat

Eddie: I definitely make spaghetti sauce extremely wrong but I’m not going to stop

Chim: please elaborate on the wrong way to make spaghetti sauce; it sounds highly entertaining?

Eddie: 1 chop onion and put in a pot

Eddie: Add 1 or 2 cans of diced tomatoes. Whatever makes the ratio of onion look right.

Eddie: Add a ridiculous amount of frozen peas. Peas should make up a notable portion of this sauce.

Eddie: Add frozen corn also if you wanna be real fancy. If I have bacon I’ll ad that too. But I very rarely have bacon.

Eddie: Cook on HIGH

Eddie: While sauce is cooking, grab the nearest bottle of mixed spices that isn't obviously for desserts. Add some. How much? I dunno, enough that you feel like you've added seasoning so it's technically cooking. (For me this is most often a mix called Moroccan, but it could be anything. Buck reorganised my kitchen recently so tonight it was something called Pizza Topping.)

Eddie: If you happen to have green herbs lying around, add those too. Whatever you have on hand that's green

Eddie: Let the sauce boil on HIGH until all the water is gone. Stir occasionally so the saucepan will be easier to clean later. Serve on cooked spaghetti noodles with no cheese

Eddie: Today I added a new step called "while the sauce is cooking, duck out for 15 seconds to text the group chat about spaghetti sauce, then get distracted and forget you are cooking." This adds a novel Extremely Burnt edge to the flavour profile.

Chim: I am not Italian, or of Italian descent by *any* stretch of the imagination.

I am also not one of those "cooking purists", who believes that everything must be done in a specific/ traditional way (unless you are making a cooking video with the title "how to make x" in which case if you don't specify mid video that your way is not traditional god help you).

I am a firm believer in "If it tastes good, then it is correct for you".

Chim: Except in this case

Bobby: This hurts every cooking bone in my body. The latent ancestors in my soul. The judgmental elf in my brain just bit a cyanide capsule

Hen: Why? The spices.

Using a different spice mix every time, based on what is ready at hand just ... hurts

Eddie: *sends SPICE IS SPICE meme*

Ravi: absolutely deranged, Eddie. Food crimes.

Bobby: Hey Eddie, looks like you forgot to mention the part where you obviously sweated the onions, because nobody would make spaghetti sauce that had straight up raw onions boiled in tomato juices.

Bobby: RIGHT????

Bobby: Please Eddie

Eddie: I don’t know what sweating the onions means

Hen: It means. It means you cook em a little in a pan with a bit of oil first

Eddie: A pan? How many dishes do you want me to have to wash here?

Hen: I mean you can also do it in the same pot you're making the spaghetti sauce in! The important thing is the onions get a little cooked before the wet stuff goes in, so they're not so wet and limp and boiled....

Eddie: Honestly this depends entirely on whether I remember to chop an onion first or I find the can opener for the tomatoes first. The ingredients go in in whatever order they go in.

Ravi: Eddie, who hurt you???

Eddie: A pack of wild chefs herded my mother off a cliff

Chim: Theres probably a hit out on you for this

Eddie: What kind of stupid idiot would waste money assassinating someone who's so clearly going to accidentally poison themself for free at some point

Bobby: hi Eddie, big fan of your firefighting, this is the sauce equivalent of the running up a metal ladder in a lightning storm to try to pull up a 6’0” tall man instead of lowering him to the ground

-Athena

Eddie: Athena, that is the meanest review my cooking has ever received

Chim: congratulations you found the worst way to do it! this feels like a spaghetti recipe made by AI before it got really sophisticated

-Maddie

Eddie: this group chat’s hate mail game is insane

Ravi: at this point please just eat every ingredient raw… please

Eddie: Do I look like Tony Abbott to you

Buck: As a former Committer of Food Crimes, I have decided to make this sauce this weekend after I have a chance to go to the store. I will report back.

Eddie: Excellent, I look forward to vindication.

Hen: No one's going to vindicate your boiled onion in cinnamonny tomato juice on noodles, Eddie

Eddie: Not cinnamon. Cinnamon is a dessert spice. You use the nearest non-dessert spice.

Ravi: cinnamon is absolutely not a dessert spice

Eddie: Yes it is! It's for muffins and pancakes and fruit pies!

Chim: Cinnamon powder is absolutely a dessert “spice” and Eddie if your cooking is this bad I can’t imagine your baked abominations

Eddie: I put lemon juice in everything I bake that isn't bread

Written for the only two gremlins (endearment) who find this as entertaining as I do @professionalprocrastinator22 and @gravelyhalversobbing

Inspired by:

#things i decided i could make about 911 #Eddie diaz commits food crimes #Buck is his accomplice #buddie fic #911 fic #911 fanfic #text fic #incorrect 911 quotes #911 abc #911 fox

[hamlos]

Valentine's day {2/3} <[Smg3 pov:]>

Smg3 put the phone on the table. He began to meet people who decided to gather in his cafe and take orders. Smg3 decided to give a small discount today for those who come with their love. Mario also came to the cafe and sat down at the table, putting the spaghetti on as if they were sitting opposite him and were his love of life.

3:Mario? What the hell are you doing?

Mario: I'm going to celebrate Valentine's Day with the love of my heart and life. Mario points to spaghetti; probably SMG3 is even glad that Mario is acting less irritable and more stupid right now. He decides to give Mario a discount so that he doesn’t cry like a little baby or something.

3:Oh yeah, this is adorable, Mario.

Mario:Can I eat it now?

3: Well, then I’ll cancel your discount.

Mario: No, please don't do this to me. Waaah, you are cruel!

3:You literally tried to kill me and SMG4 several times this week, and you call me cruel?

Mario: Canceling discounts is much worse than attempted murder.

3: Oh my God, listen, Mario, could you tell me why you’re not trying to destroy anything today?

Mario: Oh, um.

3:Did someone tell you to be less destructive? Are you planning something? Who else works with you? maybe smg4?!

Smg3 noticed that for some reason the cafe became a little quieter. A couple of visitors noticed how Smg3 was almost screaming, and he immediately became very quiet and calmly began to stand next to Mario.

Mario: Oww, Mario can't tell.

Smg3 looked at Mario again and then, looking around a little, continued talking quietly, but to himself.

3:This is definitely all planned by stupid SMS 4, but why?

The door to the cafe opened again, and Luigi was there. It didn’t look like he came for coffee or anything; it felt like he was worried about something and was looking for someone. Luigi looked at Mario and quickly approached him, while SMG3 decided to leave Mario, but when he saw Luigi approaching Mario, he decided to eavesdrop on their conversation a little.

"Luigi: Bro, it seems _____ is a testament to us _he has some other idea instead of a cafe."

"Mario:oke doki"

Mario ate the plate along with the spaghetti and quickly walked away from the cafe with Luigi. SMG3 was just glad that Mario didn’t order anything. Because he didn’t know then what to do with this poisoned spaghetti, no one here in the cafe even eats any damn spaghetti with poison. But Smg3 was also worried about what Luigi said. Could it be true that Smg4 is preparing something for him? or for someone... Smg3 just hoped that this was all some kind of joke or that Smg4 would just give him a friendly gift or something. Smg3 gradually began to feel strange; it seems that the power of the meme guardian is working on him again. Apparently,  Smg4 is already somewhere near his cafe. He decides to go to the table to take orders and just wait for Smg4 to arrive. He hopes that this idiot will not cause trouble in his cafe.

<[Smg4 pov:]>

During this time, Smg4 managed to meet a couple of his friends and even Mario and Luigi, who seemed to be walking from the Smg3 cafe. It was there that Smg4 was going right now because he knew that almost every friend and acquaintance of friends of his was there. Even if there was no big reason for it, they definitely came there and tried to destroy something there or drink.

Because of their common strength with smg3, he began to feel his presence, which did not surprise smg4. He already knew that smg3 was there; it would have been stranger if he had not felt it.

He opened the door of the cafe and walked in. There seemed to be a small ringing of bells above his head. It seems that SMG3 hasn’t gotten rid of all the New Year’s decorations since that time, or maybe he just decided to add them as a warning to the visitor?

Smg4 adjusted his handbag on his shoulder with valentines and looked towards the tables and then straight to the cash register, but for some reason Smg3 wasn’t there; had he gone somewhere?

<[Smg3 pov:]>

Smg3 went into the pantry for a while because, for some stupid reason, he got very nervous when Smg4 arrived. Smg3 decided to look at himself again in the mirror that he put in the pantry because he was going to put it somewhere in a better place, but he didn’t think of it yet and left it here. He looked at this mirror image of himself and was horrified. Oh my God! Did he really always look that stupid!? What is this strange black jacket, those punk boots, and those white pants? This is just a terrible outfit for someone who would meet this day with someone. No, wait, what? You don’t celebrate this day; you drive it out of your head. On the contrary, why should it suddenly bother you now? stupid day for the weak-minded. Smg3 nervously walked up to the door and tried to look serious, as if he didn’t care about the presence of Smg4. Who cared about him at all? You took and pulled the door handle; it instantly opened, and you left the storage room and began to confidently walk to the cash register, feeling that Smg4 was almost here. You opened your eyes and focused on looking cool—oh my God! You again closed your eyes for a while and then quickly opened them again. You saw SMG4 in a very delicate white and blue suit, with dark pants and a dark blue jacket, just like yours but not as cool.

3: Why are you wearing this sh*t?

4: Why are you dressed like a damn punk? Did you even look at the calendar today?

3: Oh, you know, I don't care what day it is.

I just want you to leave me alone and order something.

To some extent, SMG3 lied.

4: Don't worry, I’m not here to buy 20 boxes of coffee today.

You noticed how he quickly turned around and took something out of his small bag; you saw something pink, and you got nervous.

I'm here to just congratulate everyone on Valentine's Day, including you, even if you don't like this day.

He carefully took the entire valentine and placed it on your ordering table, and of course it was a valentine in the form of a heart. Oh my god. You seemed to feel some kind of panic but tried to keep a calm face. You obviously couldn’t do it; you were easily embarrassed, and for some reason, SMG4 was happy when he embarrassed you. This makes you even more furious and embarrassed. Smg4 was again delighted by your reaction and sweetly put his hands to his mouth, covering his smile and closing his eyes. You only wanted to cover your face with something a note book or your hands but you were in such a terrible panic and internal hysteria that you forgot how to move your hands.

3:WHAT THE HELL, GET OUT OF MY STORE!

You couldn't come up with anything better than to just try to look angry and outraged by this, which is a very big lie to yourself, but you need to not lose your reputation as a villain even more because of this idiot. You took the bomb, and you activated the bomb. Smg4 noticed it and decided to quickly run away, but you still threw it in the end when he had already opened the door, and you were still able to throw it outside the cafe. And not as usual, there was an explosion and a frightened scream from Smg4, but you know for sure that he is fine. Again,  the feelings of the guardian of memes are working on you.

What an idiot...

Опубликовать

#smg3 #smg4 #smg34 #smg4 fanart #smg4 smg3 #my art #smg4 fanfic

[omegalomania]

some kind soul uploaded the full q&a that fall out boy did the other night! here is a highlights reel of things that grabbed me while i was watching for those who don't have time to watch:

they have a rapport with the interviewer and have hung out with him a bunch. patrick says they spent like 30 minutes making fun of couches last they hung out lmao

pete describes working with neal avron as being held like an enchanted forest creature with him standing inches from pete's face and saying "what. are. the songs. about." and pete going "oh my god he's looking into my fucking soul rn"

when asked what their favorite meal is, andy says "mom's spaghetti" and doesn't elaborate, patrick says "sushi" and doesn't elaborate. pete says that he's like the joker and he's a simple man and today he had a full english breakfast and he didn't know what to do with half the stuff that showed up.

pete talks about discussing the name of "the beatles" with elliot ingham (their photographer) and says he finally understood that their name was a pun. he says about this "i'm not the sharpest tool in the shed" and doesn't realize he's referencing a meme. the crowd immediately fills him in that it's a lyric by smash mouth. andy clowns on him for this right after: "he's NOT the sharpest tool in the shed"

the host says that pete seems very intellectual. pete says "i PROMISE you that's not true."

when asked about formative musical influences andy and patrick both cite familiar names (andy namedrops drummers for bands like slayer and metallica, patrick says his dad being a folk singer was a huge influence and the 1989 danny elfman batman score). pete says joy division but says he's a visual person and most of his influences are movies.

there's a moment where patrick and pete banter and pete points at the host and says "he just told me i'm smart, i'm trying to live up to it!!" and patrick says in this very small high pitched voice "please be nice to pete!"

anyway pete says his biggest influences are "all the twilight movies except for the one where they introduce [i have no idea what he says here because the crowd promptly goes apeshit]" and also lego batman.

for newer artists patrick says he really likes the new zulu record and the new incendiary song. he says he also likes MSPAINT, alvvays, and another band i couldn't catch the name of

pete says he likes all of patrick's recommendations and says he also likes games we play. andy doesn't give any artists but says patrick gave a "great list" because he's VERY jet-lagged. he's keeping it together as best as he can tho lmao

when asked about if they would ever do a fashion runway show like they did in 2013, patrick says he was embarrassingly short for the whole thing. "i'm at like, bellybutton level." so he says he doubts they would ever be invited back to do something similar "unless they want a bunch of hobbits"

someone asks about producing and patrick gets really in depth with what producing is like and uses "from under the cork tree" as an example - "nobody puts baby in the corner" was barely adjusted from demo form but "sugar we're goin down" had totally different verses at first until they got better direction from the producer.

when asked about what their favorite video to film was, pete says youngblood chronicles WASN'T a lot of fun to make because it was like 9 months with fake blood in your hair and clothes that haven't been washed oNCE. he also didn't love doing the prosthetics for "love from the other side"

the host asks if they've seen the last of us and pete says yes but points at andy and says "he hasn't seen the last episode though so no spoilers!!!" which i thought was very sweet. he then follows that up with "just watch the fuckin episode so we can talk about it!"

patrick and andy said they shot a music video recently that was a "blast" but it's not out yet. pete calls it "very fun, very funny." the crowd starts cheering and patrick hastily says "YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT! you're under NO obligation to like it! but if you do then that's good :)"

patrick says one of the best parts of being in a band is that they all have imposter syndrome but in different ways so they can build up each other's ideas even if they don't believe in their own.....

pete's very nervous about the lyrics to this album cause he's not sure they'll be relatable since he has a lot of "insane fears day to day about not existing." he went to a lot of places that were terrifying to him and he was like "should i talk about this to my therapist" but his therapist said "put this in your lyrics"

"heaven, iowa" was the song that took the longest to come together on this record. this is followed by a rly long anecdote from patrick that im putting in another post cause it honestly made me howl.

when asked about who they'd most like to collaborate with, andy without hesitation says "ourselves" and nothing else. pete says he wanted a kid cudi feature on the album but it didn't work out since he was either busy or ghosted them fldjflkdf

when asked what song are they tired of playing that they can't cut from the setlist and they DON'T want to answer. patrick says some songs have really high notes that are demanding physically for him but that's as specific as he gets lol

pete's like "well we've got this punk song we end all our shows with from one of our earlier albums and it gets very chaotic and sometimes it's a bit of a fancy crowd of people who are like 'i like centuries, i like some of their other songs....i write sins...' and before we start the song i'm like. oh god this is gonna be bad."

when asked about the songwriting process, patrick says: "pete sends me lyrics, i mine them for stuff i like, and....i hate starting answers like this i feel like i've been saying this all MONTH. so i have ADHD - " [crowd fucking goes wild]

when asked about which projects they're proudest of outside of fall out boy, patrick turns to andy and says "andy is very quiet about being in like thirty bands" but andy says he's proud of "all of it"

patrick remarks that he's heard some love for soul punk but is also super grateful he gets to do film and tv scoring now too! he says he likes that when he's talking to people and they ask what he does and if they don't know bands or anything he can say he likes scoring for film and tv and their eyes glaze over and there are no follow-up questions LMAO??

pete is proudest of the bands on his record label!

for favorite songs on the new record, patrick says he likes "what a time to be alive" and says the lyrics are "so tremendously pete"

pete likes "baby annihilation"

when asked about the most difficult song to play live, patrick said headfirst slide wasn't really that difficult even though he expected it to be. he says a lot of songs on mania were very challenging to play live, like young and menace. pete says "what a catch, donnie" was very hard for his "little brain" to play

at the end pete shouts out the host for being fantastic since they've hung out like 3 times now and he thinks he's a great dude to hang out with. andy inexplicably follows this up with "you look like a DAMN fine cup of coffee" and doesn't elaborate but patrick thinks that's his way of saying thank you too

#fall out boy #*making poasts #SORRY THIS IS LONG BUT THERE'S A LOT I HAD TO LEAVE OUT #go watch the whole thing if you can they talk about producers and stuff for a good long while its rly interesting!!

[hows-my-handwriting]

Hobie Brown Headcanons

long post ahead. will put as much as i can under the cut but i will have a.... loose table of contents.

and im not feeding you everything. i need more content to drip feed you later.

the inspo is driving me crazy but the hands are refusing to write.

the table: backstory food british animals

lmk if ppl want this to be split up into individual posts per category. cuz its l o n g

BACKSTORY:

Not based on the comics. purely my own attempt at writing his backstory and his particular villains.

Hobie's Doc Oc was a university professor pressured by Osborn's regime to produce weapons. Hobie had met the guy while crashing a university class, but nothing more than that. Octavius snapped and took the revolution to the extreme. he built a WMD and planned to use it on the city. Hobie talked octavius down and disarmed the weapon.

Hobie's lizard was his close friend and bandmate who got jealous over their lead singer's affections towards hobie. they were close friends until hobie started drifting away. curtis was bitter and never really forgave him. the final straw was when hobie returned in full, having just abandoned his spider suit. the band is back together but curtis still has hard feelings. he knew vaguely about hobie's connection with spiderman but thought that it was some kind of special deal or friendship which was just another nail in the coffin. he turns himself into the lizard and attacks hobie, demanding answers and refusing to listen.

the above is just an excuse to hurt hobie really bad >:3 i love my angst and my beating my muses up. i wanted to break his ribs.

electro was a civilian who just happened to get struck by lightning. he is the sole reason hobie has insulated all of his gear and one of the reasons all of his spikes can shoot excess electricity like one of those funky little electrode balls. hobie took one look at this guy and immediately got to work.

Kraven was a bounty hunter hired and possibly engineered by osborn and fisk to hunt down hobie. classic kraven activities. he tried to drown hobie in the thames. hobie managed to escape but couldn't breathe or eat properly for a week after the attack

hobie's ship was hauled from the local junkyard. It was originally just used as a figure head to lead the charge from the government locked dam blocking off water. it somehow survived so he uses it as his hq.

hobie is immune to his scorpion's venom after being stung so many times and stealing samples of it to build up an immunity. yes it hurt. yes it sucked. but it worked. (loosely inspired by a fanfic)

the above are not in chronological order. mostly.

FOOD:

Hobie's world doesn't have a lot of spices. it's a closed state unless importing 'important' materials like lumber, steel and other sciency stuff, food is a lower priority or just a restricted luxury. the spice trade has regressed to something like the 1600s where foreign spices are held by those in power purely as a status symbol. the common man might have access to salt, sugar and cream, but anything else- especially anything spicy- is a luxury item.

hobie would love spicy food. i just dont think he's gotten much exposure to it. day one out of e-138 he opened a bag of spicy chips in the cafeteria, touched one and exploded.

exotic/foreign fruits fall under this same category but for more legit reasons of travel and lack of safe storage. so for example: mangoes, oranges/citrus, kiwi, pomegranates.

boba would freak him the fuck out. he has no idea what those little jiggly things are and its only made worse when one of the kids inevitably shows him the hamster 'is it worth it' meme. he becomes scarred for life.

if you take too long to take a bite out of whatever you're holding and hobie is hungry, he will just lean over and take a bite out of it. sandwich? bitten. spaghetti? stolen off the fork. chocolate bar? wrapper and bar, gone.

his favorite flavor of cake is chocolate or caramel. sue me im projecting onto him

BRITISH

he holds out his pinky when holding cups. it's just an unconscious thing that turns conscious once someone calls it out. in which case he sticks it out even further

flips the police and the royal family off regularly with the one fingered or the two fingered version. will only respect the french for inventing the creative two fingered fuck you, but nothing else.

has a winter fit that is just like a pile of whatever sweaters he has and two scarves. and long socks that make the space in his tight boots even more tight. sometimes cuts off circulation to his feet.

loves going to pubs and just chatting with people. also loves picking fights with the drunk people. Particularly the irish. he thinks their accents are funny and has long arguments with them while they're both speaking absolute gibberish.

knows french but only the insults. has an arsenal of french insults he will just whip out of his back pocket and drop on someone's head.

not really a british thing but i bet he doesn't know how to ride a bike. he was a) too tall and b) not willing to get his entire skeleton rattled by riding over the cobbled streets of london.

wimpy's fan. (its like the british version of mcdonalds but less popular and less famous. according to my research).

ANIMALS

Hobie keeps pigeons. he built a little house when he was bored and was surprised to find three pigeons hiding from the rain underneath it the next day. he didn't really intend to keep them but they nested and he kept bringing them food and water. he did name the brown one hobie jr.

hobie has a cat. again, not really 'has' but rather 'it broke into his boat and wont leave'. he didn't name her because he can't think of a good one. for the longest time he had no idea she was living in his floorboards but later discovered a hole in the side of his boat and found a crawlspace just large enough for a kitten.

he is freaked out by snakes. not as in a fear of snakes. but rather in utter disbelief that they can be the size of a human person. he's read about and probably seen the average snake, about the size of an arm. but anything larger than that will make his jaw drop right off of his face

he did have a symbiote dog for a short time. the dog was badly hurt and the passive symbiote had merged with its body to try and help it. he offered it a place to stay and rest and it happily agreed. it followed him around for the short while they had together and one day went off on its own.

he still sees that dog around (affectionately named 'spider-mutt') and offers it head scratches or belly rubs but they always part ways sooner than later.

loves opossums. thinks they look funny.

part two? maybe....

might add more to this as my brain keeps turning.

#atsv #hobie brown #hobie brown headcanons #this has been accumulating for #since the movie came out #i lost my mind #still losing it actually

[promptsfromthecrypt]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒  𝐌𝐘  𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋  𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑  𝐇𝐀𝐒  𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐃 : 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐      ♡      𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎  𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜.

per  request  in  high  demand ,  here’s  a second  list  of    absolutely  batshit ,  out  of  pocket  things  my  original  character  has  said.    triggers  and  nsfw   will  be   present  in  this  specific  meme.

“ there aren't enough men crumbling at my feet. ”

“ knocked loose pit , but it's just me shaking my ass for dollars to ARF ARF! ”

“ i need to girlypop in the pit so bad. ”

“ i wanna beat my father with his own bones. ”

“ he is so mean and unfriendly , i have GOT to fuck him. ”

“ cream cheese wontons , my beloved . . . ”

“ it's okay to not have a valentine on valentine's day. i didn't have a father on father's day. ”

“ can i put ‘ gives great head ’ on my resume? ”

“ there's either a latte or vodka in this mug. ”

“ the sluttiest thing a man can do is wear jewelry. ”

“ sometimes you're just a 25 second ryan kirby scream away from mental clarity. ”

“ this bitch will be like , ‘ i’d rather die than have a complex thought ’ , and then text me at 2am to tell me the deepest introspective shit i’ve ever heard. ”

“ just know that if i ever slept with you , it was an act of self–harm. ”

“ if loving sluts was a crime , i'd do life. ”

“ i crawled out of my coffin like this. ”

“ some of you didn't grow up a stigmatic and it shows. ”

“ life update : cheeks still fat enough to be clapping when i breathe. ”

“ hey , sorry i've been radio silent. i self–isolated to be quirky. ”

“ ask me what's in my fanny pack. yes , it is spaghetti , and yes there’s also garlic bread. you never know when a bitch will get hungry. it’s my first aid kit. ”

“ when you're mean to me , do you stop to consider i have a huge rack? ”

“ i’m aware he’s committed several atrocities , but have you stopped to consider he’s my babygirl? ”

“ i don’t have mental stability. i have a fat ass. it’s an equal trade off. ”

“ having a soul connection with a man is so embarrassing. i need to be lobotomized. ”

#rp meme #rp memes #rp ask meme #rp ask memes #ask meme #ask memes #sentence starter meme #sentence starter memes #ask prompt #ask prompts #genre: comedy #type: miscellaneous

[evegoldenwoods]

Sometimes you spend waaaaay too long on a thing and end up unsatisfied, but also you can't not post it having put all that effort in. And thus.

Anyway, this image brought to you by me thinking "what if that meme about Italian people being upset about non Italians breaking spaghetti in two to cook it, but with aria and cas?"

#friends at the table #counter/weight #Aria joie #Jacqui green #cassander timaeus berenice #Fanart #My art

[erin-bo-berin]

i love your whole dad!steve concept it truly makes my heart burst! set in the singlemom!reader verse, could you do something where it’s steve’s birthday and the reader surprises him with an adoption certificate asking him to adopt the baby?

That would be the CUTEST THING. Oh yes, I’m so excited for this! I have to use this gif because imagine how stunned and surprised and just shocked in general he would be. My heart 😭 (also, fun fact: I ended up including my little fur baby’s name in here)

“Surprise!”

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shi- uh crap out of me!”

Steve put a hand to his chest, eyeing the toddler in your arms, glad he’d caught the swear just in time. These days, she was repeating anything she heard so he’d tried to be extra careful what he said when he was around her.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” you smiled, putting the little girl in your arms down so she could greet him too.

She went flying the short distance between you and Steve, running over to him to hug his legs.

“Happee birfday daddy!” she squealed, wrapping her small arms around his legs.

He smiled, bending down to pick her up.

“Thank you baby girl and mommy,” he said looking over at you, the smile lighting his face.

“I got you pwesent,” she said, beaming up at her daddy.

“Did you now? What did you get me? Hmm, a tie?”

She shook her head emphatically.

You raised a brow, amused, “You? I’m a tie?”

He stuck his tongue out at you, playfully.

“Let’s see,” Steve resumed his guessing game with his and your daughter, “Is it…a book?”

“No!” she grinned.

“Is it your favorite stuffed bunny named Hoppy?”

“No, silwee!” she giggled.

Still working on her pronunciation of the word, “silly” came out much cuter and funnier than it should’ve, causing Steve to laugh with joy.

“Is it a million kisses for daddy?” he asked again, then started attacking her face with kisses, giving her numerous ones all over her face.

The little girl squealed with joy. It was one of her favorite things her daddy did, was give kisses.

“Mommy have pwesent,” she finally said when Steve stopped, pointing towards you.

You held a print out caked shaped design that the toddler had “painted”. But, at the top, you’d done a little activity with her. You’d dipped her entire finger into different paints and made a few “candles” out of her finger prints at the top of the cake. It had turned out adorable.

“What is this?” Steve asked, taking the picture, looking at it.

The smile hadn’t left his face yet, but it grew even brighter as he looked at the picture.

“Did you do this for me, sweetie?” he asked.

Your daughter nodded with a smile.

“Mommy hepped.”

“Mommy helped?” he translated.

“Yesh.”

“Well, I love it,” he kissed the top of her head, “Thank you so much princess.”

“You welcome, daddy.”

“The kids, Robin, Eddie, Nancy and Joyce all dropped off their presents earlier,” you chuckled, nodding to the pile of wrapped presents and gift bags on the couch, “The living room looks like Christmas currently.”

Joyce and Mrs. Wheeler were hosting a cook out party for Steve at the Wheeler’s house this weekend for everyone to gather and celebrate your boyfriend, but most of the gang had decided to drop off their gifts for him early, on his actual birthday. Today, he was celebrating with you and your daughter.

“Well I guess that means someone is going to have to help open all those presents. Who should it be?” Steve tapped his chin, thinking.

“Meme! Meme! Meme! Pwease, daddy?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, of course you can.”

He kissed her cheek.

“What’s for dinner? It smells amazing in here,” he said, following you further into the kitchen.

“I fixed spaghetti since the munchkin requested it,” you said, sparing the little girl an amused glance, “I hope that’s okay.”

“Pagetti!” she cheered.

“Well, then I’m in luck because your spaghetti is my favorite,” he smiled, giving you a kiss as well.

“No,” your baby whined, trying to pull Steve’s face away from you.

She was currently going through a bit of a jealous phase where she wanted Steve’s attention at all times.

“Hey, now that’s not nice, sweetheart. There’s enough of daddy to share okay? See, look. I can give you a kiss as well.”

He kissed her cheek, then her forehead to prove his point.

“Now, can you say sorry to mommy?”

“I sowwy,” she frowned, not liking to upset either one of you.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” you soothed, running a hand over her hair.

“Go get cleaned up, dinner is almost ready, okay?” you told Steve.

“You heard what mommy said. Let’s go wash our hands okay?” he bounced her in his arms.

“Oh I got a present for you, too, but I’ll give it to you later, if that’s alright?” you said.

“Oh,” he smirked, “That’s more than alright.”

“Steve!” you huffed, hitting his chest playfully, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Alright, but can it be arranged? It is my birthday after all. I deserve some dessert.”

He gave you a grin, with a suggestive little wiggle of his brows before he walked out with the little girl, heading towards the bathroom.

“Besides cake, I mean!” he hollered.

You laughed, shaking your head at the audacity of him.

•

It wasn’t until after yours and Steve’s daughter was down for the night that you got the chance to give Steve your present.

True to his word, he’d let her help him open his gifts. She was a mess after the spaghetti dinner though, so bath time came first. Per Steve’s request, you and he gave her a bath together. She absolutely loved the extra attention, having both mom and dad with her for bath time was a rare occurrence. It was usually one or the other.

While Steve got her into her pajamas, you drained the bathwater and cleaned up the bathroom, not leaving it for later when you knew you’d be too tired to deal with the mess.

With hair still wet from the bath and in fresh pajamas, Steve set her in his lap and let her help him open presents. He let her pick which one to start with and it was off from there. You had a kick watching both of them, the toddler just as excited as Steve was. You appreciated how he included her in so much; you appreciated it more than he probably knew.

It wasn’t until the last few presents that her energy drained and the tell-tale signs of her sleepiness kicked in. She was yawning and rubbing her eyes, beginning to fuss at the mention of bedtime.

She fell fast asleep just before the last present and after opening it as quietly as he could—even though it didn’t disturb her the slightest—Steve carried her to bed and tucked her in.

He was tidying up the floor when you walked back in the room, picking up the pieces of wrapping paper and tissue paper from gift bags that had been carelessly thrown by an excited two and a half year old.

You hid the gift behind your back as you entered, biting your lip nervously. You were afraid that he might not like it as much as you’d hoped he would when you’d first received it. It was a medium sized rectangular gift box, wrapped in birthday wrapping paper, but it was what was inside that was the true gift.

Steve was chuckling to himself when you first entered and now he looked up, seeing you, filling you in on what was amusing him so much.

“I can’t believe Henderson got me four cans of Farrah Fawcett hairspray. What a kid.”

“Steve? Why don’t you sit down?”

Sensing your somber mood, he sat on the couch.

“What’s up?”

You sat down next to him, revealing the present from behind your back.

“Happy birthday.”

“Sweetheart, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he smiled, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you into him before kissing your temple.

“I know. But I wanted to. Go ahead, open it.”

He tore into the wrapping paper at a much more normal speed than that of the excited toddler earlier. He peeled away the wrapping to see the gift box you knew was underneath. He peered at you curiously before lifting the lid.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper was a small stack of papers. Steve’s brows crinkled in confusion as his eyes scanned over the paper on top.

“What’s this?” he asked.

He looked back down at his gift, his eyes widening when they landed on the word “adoption”.

“Is this…?” he started, not quite sure how to finish his sentence.

“It’s adoption papers. To legally adopt baby girl. Make her a Harrington,” you finished for him.

He stared at you, blinking. Then he set the box aside, taking your face in his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks gently.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

You saw tears in his eyes. You also saw a smile on his face. He was so happy and that erased any nerves you’d felt before he’d opened it.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

He kissed you then, holding your face firmly in his hands, trying to convey his gratefulness, his happiness, his love, in the single kiss.

As if that hadn’t been enough, he made sure you knew his answer when you two had parted.

“I’d love to adopt her.”

It was the best birthday Steve had ever had.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #stranger things blurb

[jokersfangirl84]

Words Get In The Way

A Frankie Morales x Reader Fic

Chapter One

Pairing:. Francisco "Frankie" Morales x Female Reader

Summary: You and Frankie Morales have been best friends for a couple of years. Over time your feelings for him have deepened but you're unsure of how to tell him due to the fear of him not reciprocating. He comes over for your usual Friday night dinner. This is the night you are planning on making your confession. But... there is an obstacle. Someone else in the picture....and he has his own news he has to break to you...

Word Count: 4700+

Rating: M. There’s a little bit of spice, a few mentions of cock & pussy & sexual innuendo but it’s all being imagined. It's all mostly fluff. There is profanity but nothing filthy. I'd still advise being 18+ before reading.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse (female mistreating male). A bitchy girlfriend. Bullying. Some vulgarity. A couple of F-bombs.  Heartbreak. Hearing bad news. A little sadness and thematic elements. A few spicy scenes where you have fantasies.  No actual sex.

Author's Notes:  I feel like I made this a little sadder than anticipated. There is still sweetness, humor, spice (just a little), fluff. There is one character who isn't very likeable. I’ve worked on this for 2 months. I finally mustered up the courage to post it. I hope whoever reads this enjoys it & it leaves you wanting more. I hope it leaves you intrigued. Also, no offense to anyone named Erica. I only chose it because I have known a few people with that name who were....let's just say....not so nice.

Side Note: I LOVE me some Frankie Morales, Pedro Pascal's character in Triple Frontier. I chose him because I feel like he would be perfect to have as a male best friend & who would protect you & take care of you. Plus the character's whole look is perfection.

Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this! I hope you enjoy!

Feedback is welcome!  

Reblogs are loved and appreciated!

Chapter 2 coming soon!

Below are the links to Chapters 2 & 3! Enjoy!

**********************************

It was Friday night, and your closest guy friend Francisco "Frankie" Morales was coming over for your usual weekly hangout. It had become a ritual: dinner, a movie, and conversation, and always at your place. The dinner menu was routinely his choice. This week his request was homemade spaghetti and meatballs with a side of garlic bread. When he mentioned it, you were relieved, as it was one of your favorite and easiest meals to prepare. You considered it your "specialty".

  You were in your bedroom finishing getting ready when you heard sizzling sounds coming from the stove. Making a beeline for the kitchen, a sigh of relief escaped your throat as you noticed your homemade sauce had not, in fact, boiled over. There were only a few drops of condensation that had fallen onto the hot stove burner.  As you stirred the sauce lovingly you were pleased with its bright crimson hue; its scent a delightful mixture of tomatoes, basil, garlic, and onions, its consistency thick and perfect. The homemade meatballs you had added were soaking up the tomatoey richness beautifully.

"Exquisite!  He will love this" you said as you took a taste test.

After checking the noodles, putting the bread in the oven and setting the table, you opened a fresh bottle of Merlot, pouring yourself a glass. Your cheeks were already flushed, and not just from the alcohol. You felt this way each time you heard Frankie's voice, saw his face, even hearing his name made you fall to pieces. Your heart fluttered at the times he looked at you with those deep dark eyes of his, flashed his incredible Joker-esque smile, laughed at one of your silly jokes or memes, even when you knew he was only laughing because you were.

You thought back to the day you two had your first meeting. Your friendship began four years ago when you had met him in a crowded bar. Some young blonde-haired, blue-eyed drunk guy kept offering to buy you drinks. While you kept politely declining, he persisted. At one point he even grabbed you, trying to make out.  When you pushed him away, causing him to spill his beer, he became enraged. He threw the bottle on the ground, shattering it to pieces. He raised a hand as if he were about to strike you. It was at that moment when Frankie intervened, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and grabbing the guy's wrist mid-air. He warned him to leave you alone, and when he refused, Frankie threatened to get physical.

"Who the fuck are you?" The drunkard asked, slurring his words.

"I'm her boyfriend"  was Frankie's  response. "That's who the fuck I am.  I don't take too kindly to assholes who put their hands on my girl".

Your girl. Your mind ran circles around those words. That's what you had wished to be from the moment he, a total stranger, had referred to you as such, even if it was for the sake of protecting you from a drunk creep. Especially during the instant Frankie threatened to break the guy's wrist and knock his teeth down his throat after he had called you a bitch. Still fresh in your mind was the look of fury in his eyes, although you could barely see them under his cap, and the sucking sounds slipping through his gnashed teeth caused by his increased breathing.

"I'm cool. Everything is cool," said the drunkard. "I'll leave her alone."  

He put both his hands up and slowly backed away as Frankie loosened his grip on his wrist.

Frankie had turned to you and smiled, introducing himself and offering a handshake, which you accepted. His hand was massive, completely engulfing the small daintiness of yours. You were surprised at how soft his skin and fingertips felt and how they were not at all calloused as they caressed the back of your hand. You were struck by how ruggedly handsome he was and how cute you found the curls sticking out from beneath his cap.

"Thank you", you said to him as you told him your name. "That whole scenario wasn't necessary but I appreciate it.”

"Beautiful name", he responded, taking his cap off, running a hand through his thick hair and putting it back in place. "Of course it was necessary. Guys who think they can treat women any way they want, and get away with it, piss me the fuck off. It's sickening."

Oh my god. I love you and I don't even know you.

A few moments later the drunk guy returned, attempting to  punch Frankie. But he was so sloshed, he missed, and his fist hit your cheek instead. You still cried out though you barely felt anything

"What the fuck!" Frankie yelled. What seemed like less than a second later he balled up his fist, slugging the guy smack dab in the nose, knocking him to the ground. Frankie sat on top of him, punching him repeatedly. The drunk screamed in pain as blood gushed from his nose.  Patrons began to surround the two men, trying to stop the assault.

“Motherfucker! Don't...you...ever... put...your...hands...on...a...lady!" he screamed, saying the words after every punch.

You knew the drunk guy didn't intend to hit you, and you thought maybe Frankie was overreacting, but still you sat on your barstool watching this madness unfold. This man, who you had just met, was assaulting another man because he had put his hands on you.  You were experiencing so many thoughts and feelings you didn't know how to sort them out.

Why is he defending me?  Where did he come from?  Is he always this triggered and violent? Why do I want him to take me into the bathroom and fuck me like an animal?

  The bald, muscular bouncer finally pulled Frankie off the guy, holding him back by his arms.

In no time at all the police showed up, asking the patrons questions about what happened. The drunkard whined like a child and insisted he did nothing wrong as he was helped to his feet by patrons and holding his hand to his gushing nose.

"I was only defending my girlfriend" was Frankie's nonchalant response when the police asked him if that were true. He nudged his head towards you. Police arrested him, which you felt was undeserved. You explained to them what had actually taken place and that he was only protecting you. To convince them not to take him to jail, you tried flirting with the cop who was shoving him in the back of the squad car.

Frankie shot you a confused glare. The fuck are you doing?  He mouthed. 

You winked at him quickly and glanced back at the cop, batting your eyelashes.

"Alright, alright, lady. Stop it", he huffed. "Cut it out before I arrest you too for bribing a cop".   He took the handcuffs off Frankie and pushed him towards you.

"What I suggest you do is take him home, make him sober up, and make sure he never shows his face in this establishment again. If he does, I'll throw him in the slammer myself."

"Yes, Officer. Thank you. I just don't know what I'd do without him" you said, speaking in the most little-girlish voice you had ever used. "He's my whole world."

Frankie gave you side-eye, furrowing his brow.

The cop snickered, shaking his head as he climbed into the car and drove away.

You and Frankie stood in silence for a moment outside the bar, both of you trying to think of the next thing to say.  He kept shaking his hand out, the one that had collided with the drunk's face.

"Do you think it's broken?" You asked.

"Nah. Just a little sore. How's your cheek?"

You had actually forgotten about being hit. "I can't feel a thing."

He grinned. "Good. That pretty little face of yours deserves to be flawless."

You shivered, unsure of whether it was from the cool wind picking up or him complimenting you.

Damn, I knew I should have brought a sweater. You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing your hands up and down your arms.

Frankie must have noticed.  He removed his tan jacket he wore over his grey T-shirt and put it around your shoulders. You shuddered; never before had a guy done this for you. He put a hand on your back, guiding you in the direction to start walking with him.

"Come on. Let me walk you to your car."

Once you located your car he opened the door for you, shutting it once you were fully inside. This was also the first time a guy did such a thing for you. You rolled down the window, allowing him to rest his forearms on the door and stick his head inside.

"Would you like to hang out sometime?"  you asked. "I mean, as friends?"

Please say yes. 

"Fuck yeah, Darlin'. I'd love to be your friend." He smiled, his eyes lighting up. You both pulled out your phones and exchanged numbers.

"Text me when you get home," he instructed.  "I don't want to have to kick anyone else's ass tonight."

You weren't sure what exactly it was about you that made him so protective over you, or why. He didn't even know you. Perhaps he was just that type of person. If that were true, you definitely wanted to get to know him better. You turned the ignition and put the car in drive.

"Oh wait, what about your jacket?" You asked before pressing the gas pedal. "Would you like to have it back?"

"Nah. Keep it," he said. "I like the way it looks on you."

You still had that jacket. Sometimes it was used as a blanket instead of the dozens of blankets you owned as it gave you the warmth that they couldn't. Sometimes you wore it when you hadn't seen him in a while and you were missing him dearly, or when you needed to feel secure. His scent still lingered in the fabric.

The sound of the oven beeping made you snap out of your flashback, your eyes shooting open, looking around, trying to figure out what just happened. You hadn't realized your eyes were closed and that you were smiling. You always smiled when you thought about first meeting Francisco Morales. Sure, almost getting assaulted by a drunk stranger wasn't exactly a fond memory, but finding a new best friend was. A male best friend who treated you and knew you better than most of your female friends. A guy who was aware of what kind of mood you were in just from seeing your expression. A guy who knew all your likes and dislikes, and knew what made you laugh and what made you cry. You knew from the moment you saw him, although a little rough around the edges, that he was a good person with a heart of gold.

Frankie was the person you called when you had been out drinking too much and needed a ride, or when your car broke down. What he was doing never mattered; he would always drop everything and come get you. The distance was never an issue. If you were sick, he was always there to take care of you.

Your feelings for him had deepened over the years. He was on your mind day and night, consuming your thoughts. You wanted to be more than friends. You always imagined being the girl on his arm, spending every waking hour with him, sleeping in the same bed, cooking him breakfast, making his coffee. Although, there were a few nights he stayed when you asked him to come over because you had a fear of being alone after watching too many murder shows. Ever the gentleman, he always slept on the sofa.

Never were you intimate with Frankie, but boy was the desperation vehement. You wanted so much more than the occasional pecks on the cheek, hugs, and playful slaps on the ass he gave you. You constantly thought about how it would feel to have his lips touch yours, and every inch of your body, feel his breath on your skin, feel him inside of you, run your hands up and down his back, scream his name, have him talk dirty to you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. You had been wanting for so long to tell him your true feelings but the worry it would change your friendship status stopped you.

Your phone began playing "Thank You For Being a Friend", the Golden Girls theme song. Frankie was calling you.

"I'm on my way. I'll be there in 15 minutes or less. Can I bring you anything?"

His voice always sent shivers down your spine.

 “Just your amazing self.”

"Okay Babe," he said with a giggle. "Oh, by the way, Erica is coming with me".  

Fuck. You let out a long, annoyed sigh.

"No, Babe. Don't start that shit. You know I have to bring her."

His voice became deep and serious, knowing you were not fond of her.

"You don't necessarily have to."

"Baaabbbe...." 

 "Alright. Fine. If she's nice, I'll be nice".

 He let out a small laugh. "Fair enough. See you soon".  Click.

Fucking Erica. Erica was his girlfriend of six months, with whom you did not get along. She was loud, obnoxious, self-centered, always made snide comments about your cooking, the decor in your apartment, and your taste in fashion. You tried to be nice to her but it seemed like that bothered her even more. You thought, maybe she was only jealous of your relationship with Frankie, which was a question you had asked him several times.

"She's jealous of everyone", he told you. "Don't take it personally."

You leaned against the counter, downing your glass of wine in one large gulp and pouring another. It took all the liquid courage you could get to deal with Erica.

The doorbell rang. You finished setting the table and ran to answer the door. 

Frankie stood in the doorway, his hand pressed against the brick frame. Wearing his usual jeans, black hiking boots, light blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; a few undone buttons at the top, with a faded red T-shirt underneath and his signature cap, your heart fluttered when you saw him. You loved how his beard was thicker than usual; the grey ever so discernable.

Oh damn! Why must you look so good!

"Hey Babe!" He greeted you with his arms wide open, wrapping you in a bear hug. You adored these hugs; they made you feel safe, warm, loved. He smelled delicious and clean, like fresh lavender and chamomile.

"Damn you look beautiful", he said, stepping back and looking you up and down. "New dress I assume? What's the occasion?"

You were wearing a mint-green short-sleeved sweater dress, black flats, and small emerald earrings with a matching headband.

You shrugged. "I thought I'd try something different than the usual leggings and over-sized T-shirt".

"Maybe that's what I like," he grinned, his eyes darkening.

You playfully slapped your hand on his chest. "Oh you, stop it!"

You both stood in silence for moment, staring at each other. He leaned forward, his eyes darting up and down from your eyes to your lips.

Please kiss me!

He pecked you on the cheek instead and turned his eyes to the kitchen. "Is dinner ready? Fuck it smells delicious. I'm starving!"  He flashed a smile and rubbed his hands together as he made his way to the food.

Dammit!

"Wait, where's Erica? Didn't you say she was coming with you?" 

You kept looking towards the doorway, waiting for her to come in. You felt a shred of hope that maybe she decided to skip this night.

"She's still in the truck finishing up a call."

"The longer she stays there the better." You muttered under your breath.

"Hey!"

Oh shit. He heard that.

The sharpness of his tone made you jump. Glancing at him, you saw he was already sitting at the table, a heaping plate in front of him, pointing his fork at you.

"Didn't I tell you to be nice?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. Wait-what happened to your face?" You ran over to him, noticing now that he was in better lighting, he had visible scratches on his cheeks and nose, a cut on his bottom lip, and a gnarly purple bruise under his left eye.

"Did she do this to you?"

You reached out to touch his face. He gently pushed your hand away.

"Don't overreact", he said. "It's not what you think. She likes to fuck rough sometimes. That's all." 

"Hell yes I do."

  You and Frankie both looked towards the front door. Erica had let herself in, strutting her way in your direction. Her long, shiny black hair was draped across her cleavage, accentuated by her tight black dress. She had porcelain skin, professionally done makeup, flawlessly sculpted eyebrows, and bright green eyes that contrasted with her plump red lips.

She walked straight over to Frankie, basically pushing you out of the way, straddled him, and began making out with him, sticking her tongue down his throat, moaning the fakest moans you'd ever heard, grinding against him, grabbing his hands and placing them on her ass.

The sloppy sounds of their tongues made your stomach churn. You tried not to watch them and focus on your dinner but it was too much.

"Really?" You said, exasperated.  "At the dinner table?"

  Erica kept her mouth on Frankie's while she put her hand behind her back and flipped you off.

You felt the anger racing through your veins. You kept telling yourself not to let her get to you. You stood up from the table and made your way into the kitchen to get another bottle of wine. You kept glancing over at them while you opened the bottle. God, they still were all over each other. Although now Erica had her whole mouth on his neck, sucking on it like she was a damn vampire. He had his eyes closed, a small grin across his lips.

Oh, to be the one doing that to him.

Frankie's eyes caught yours. He could tell you were getting annoyed. "Come on now, Erica, stop," he said, trying to push her off his lap. "Our dinner is getting cold."

"Oh, look what Miss Betty Crocker has made for us, Darling," Erica said as she took her seat. "Spaghetti. How redundant."  Her sarcasm cut through you like the sharpest blade imaginable.  You ignored that comment by offering wine to her and Frankie, trying to be as nice and polite to her as you possibly could.  

"We don't drink the cheap shit," she spat.

You cut your eyes to Frankie, who shook his head at you, his way of telling  you to keep your mouth shut. He knew you were ready to pop off.

"Well....you might not drink it, but I know he does. I know tons about him that you don't."

Erica glared at you. "I could say the same thing. Such as.....how good of a fuck he is."

Frankie dropped his fork onto his plate. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

"Ladies, knock it off," he growled. "How about we have a nice dinner together for once? Is that too much to ask?"

In unison, you and Erica both replied no.

The three of you ate in silence. The only noises being made were your utensils scraping the plates. You kept your focus on Frankie. You watched him enjoy his meal while lazily picking at yours. You watched him stuff meatballs into his mouth, slurp the noodles, and sop up the sauce off his plate with pieces of garlic bread.  He ate like it was the best meal he'd ever had. He kept closing his eyes and saying "mmmm" after every bite.

Oh god. Those slurping sounds made your blood race. You imagined that's what it sounded like when he was eating your pussy. You imagined his cock making those sounds as it vigorously moved in and out of you. He began licking sauce off his fingers. You wanted it to be you he was tasting after his fingers had been inside of you. You had to bite your lip to keep from moaning aloud.

The sound of Frankie's cell phone ringing made you snap out of your trance. He took it out of his pocket, glancing down.  "I have to take this. It's work."  He got up from the table.

"Behave, you two," he said, pointing to you and Erica as he stepped out onto your apartment balcony, closing the sliding glass door behind him for privacy.

As soon as Frankie was out of sight, Erica turned her attention to you.  If looks could kill.....

"You and I need to get something straight right now." Her tone was haughty and spiteful. “He is not your boyfriend." She arrogantly waved her finger in front of your face. "He's mine. He belongs to me. I have him."  

She moved her face closer to yours, snarling.  Her green eyes devilish. Haunting. Sinister. You wanted to look away but you couldn't.

"I know you want to fuck him. For that I don't blame you. But it's never going to happen."    She tossed her head back, flipping black hair over her shoulder. "You've been friends for, what now, years?  And he hasn't even kissed you?  Face it, Sweetie. There's a reason. He doesn't want you."

You blinked furiously, trying to hold back tears. You cleared your throat. "You may be right. I might not be the one he wants. I have no idea how he really feels about me." You wiped a small tear away forming in the corner of your eye. "What I do know is that he doesn't want someone who treats him like a punching bag."

Erica clenched her jaw. "I'm sure he'd rather feel pain than nothing at all."

You opened your mouth to reply but Frankie opened the glass door, calling for Erica to come see him for a moment while still holding the phone to his ear. She gave you a look of satisfaction and joined him on the balcony.

Around ten minutes later they both returned, making their way to the table where you still sat. Erica had a huge smile on her face while Frankie looked disappointed. Without giving you a chance to ask what was going on, he turned his gaze to you.

"I have to relocate."

Your eyes widened.

"Relocate? Where?"

Frankie hesitated before answering.

"New York City."

You lived in Los Angeles.  Your heart began to pound.  "New York City?!  Seriously?  What....was your answer?"

"I accepted."

You opened your mouth to speak but he put his hand up to keep you from ranting.

 "I have to do this, Babe. You know I have no choice in the matter."

"Tell her the other good news", Erica piped in arrogantly.

He exhaled deeply. "I'm taking Erica with me." His tone was full of regret.

Your heart shattered like a rock through a window.

Nope. He doesn't want me. I'm not the one.

 "I'm happy for you."  The tears made their escape, flowing like rivers down your cheeks. You put your head in your hands.

Frankie scooted closer to you and put an arm around your shoulder.  

"It's gonna be alright, Babe", he said softly. "We'll still chat every day. I'll text you, call you, video chat, FaceTime, do whatever I can to stay in contact with you."

You shook your head. "It's not the same as having you physically here."

"Babe, I know how upsetting this news is for you. I'm not happy about leaving either. But I'm not your only friend. You'll still have your girlfriends. You can have them over for Friday night dinners."

You jumped to your feet. "But they're not you!" you cried.  "I'm not in love with them!  I don't have constant dirty thoughts about them! I don't want to fuck them!"

Oh.....shit.  You realized what you said as soon as it came out of your mouth. The urge to run into your room and hide was overwhelming. But you couldn't move. You stood frozen by Frankie's darkened gaze. He sat up straight, raising his left eyebrow. A tiny grin formed in the corner of his mouth.

"Excuse me? Say that again?"

You laughed nervously. "I was only speaking out of anger.  I....I didn't mean a word I said. It...it's nothing".

Frankie stared right through your bullshit.

  "Say.....it."

You wiped your cascading tears away. "I want to fuck you. I want you to fuck me. I want to kiss your lips. I want to feel your hands all over me. It's all I think about."

His grin grew bigger. "Mmmm...hmmm", he growled. "That's what I thought I heard you say. Tell me more."

"No," Erica said before you could reply. She stood up from the table. "This conversation is over. There is nothing more to be said. We are leaving."

She grabbed Frankie's arm and dragged him to the front door. She stopped in the doorway, turning to face you.

"You're nothing to him," she said to you. "Do you know why he chose me to go with him? Because I'm not a needy, dependent, emotional, sad failure. Did you really think telling him you want to fuck him was going to make him stay?"

Frankie opened his mouth to speak but she put her hand up in front of his face. He flinched, which made you realize there was much more going on in that relationship than just rough sex.

"He hates how reliant you are on him. He likes a strong woman who takes control. He likes a woman who can think for herself. Someone who's not up his ass twenty-four seven."

You kept glancing at Frankie, who's arm was still in her grasp, waiting for him to say something. You knew he could have easily wrangled away from her. You'd seen him grab men twice his size by their shirt collars and shove them up against walls for messing with you. You knew he had to be somewhat afraid of her. Never had you seen anyone or anything make him as nervous as this woman did. He looked at you with sad eyes and shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. He never said a word.

A satisfactory grin snaked across Erica's lips. "Let's go, Francisco."

 She pulled him outside and slammed the door behind her, right in your face.

You collapsed on to the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably into a pillow. That was it, your mind kept telling you. Francisco Morales, the love of your life, was gone. He was on his way across the damn country to spend the rest of his life with some bitch who you knew didn't love him and only used him as a sex toy. You didn't even get the chance to tell him that you loved him. You cried yourself to sleep, thinking the last memory you have of him was his somber face, his remorseful stare, and the fact that you were never given the chance to tell him goodbye.

***********************************

Stay tuned for Chapter Two!

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