#the punchline to that story was that I fucked that guy so good he was speechless and rediscovered his love for topping

[tsuchinokoroyale]

Guess the last version of this post got nuked from orbit 😮‍💨 I’m not rewriting all that context just know that I went to Texas, ate a ton of food, and saved a horse 🤠

#by riding a cowboy if your mind didn’t autofinish that sentence #the way I autofinished that man’s balls into my ass 😏 damn that story was so hot too #the punchline to that story was that I fucked that guy so good he was speechless and rediscovered his love for topping #so basically I was ​like the ghosts of Christmas teaching ebenezer Scrooge the true meaning of Christmas #except we celebrated a different kinda white Christmas since it was March in Texas 👅 #the whole thing was hot but the moment that keeps replaying in my head was when we were making out on the bed #and he put me in missionary and slapped his dick on my hole before leaning forward to kiss me while I wrapped my legs around him #and after a nice hard long kiss he pulled away and looked me dead in the eyes and said “delicious” #I know I was already naked and seconds away from taking him balls deep inside me but ummmmm panty dropper #gpoy #gpoyb

[shuttershocky]

Stranger of Paradise feels like a fever dream at times

That scene where they all meet each other was so bizarre I was confused. Just like that??? What IS this game I am playing

Stranger of Paradise's biggest surprise (besides it turning out to actually be a pretty cool love letter to Final Fantasy over the years) is that it somehow found a magic line that nobody knew existed between lazy writing, and brazen writing.

See in 99.9% of stories, if you see a guy walk up to two other guys, exchange two sentences ("I'm here to kill chaos. My name is Jack.") , and then claim they're all friends now, you'd be laughed out of the room for being the laziest writer alive.

But the way Stranger of Paradise executes its storytelling feels so cheap, so bizarre, so casual yet at the same time honest, that it disarms its audience and keeps them waiting for a punchline that isn't there, an acknowledgement that never comes.

Jack stomping out of the room with nothing but "bullshit" would ordinarily feel like a disservice. The player has their cutscene cut short and their investment into the world interrupted for the information that their protagonist is an impatient and surly dude. Usually, that sucks.

But Jack going "Bullshit", having earphones on, and then blasting Limp Bizkit on full volume as he stomps out, forcing the party to awkwardly follow him, and then making him take off his earphones afterward a walk so he can resume talking to them? What the fuck. Is this real? Is this actually what happens? Am I seeing a Youtube edit inside the actual game? You are busy pondering these things while waiting for the game to turn to you and wink but it never does. This is genuinely what Jack is like as a protagonist, and he's so effective at bamboozling you that you don't even have time to question how "good" the writing is. You're still swallowing what just happened and he's already moving the plot.

[comicaurora]

Happy Glorious 25th of May. Thank you for getting me into the discworld books (at least in an indirect way). They have quickly become one of my favorite series of books, even if I've only read a handful of them. As for a question, what have been your biggest takeaways or lessons from the discworld books? Whether it be how you write, how you engage with stories, or even how you look at the world.

we got another one lads

It's a little hard to boil it down! The books cover so much ground, and I read them at such a formative age it's hard to tease out how much of me is made from them.

On the most basic level, I love how angry those books are. Every POV protagonist is seething at unfairness and injustice and this is never framed as a bad thing - just something that needs to be controlled, directed, weaponized.

I like that everything is a joke, but in-universe everybody is absolutely sincere. The characters are charicatures and punchlines because of their sincerely-held beliefs and ideals. Captain Carrot is shiny and literal-minded and perfection personified and it's funny because he really is that good. Nanny Ogg is an outrageously horny and boisterous old woman and it's funny because she's having such a good time with it, especially when contrasted with her stern and serious foil Granny Weatherwax, and it's funny because the two of them know each other incredibly well and deal with each other's eccentricities with the practice of decades. The dwarves are funny because they're goofy little guys with big beards that think about nothing but gold and new songs to sing about gold, and as the books go on, the complexities of a culture that looks like that punchline become the deepest and most fascinating element of the worldbuilding in the entire Disc. The world is mounted on the back of four elephants and we made a book called the Fifth Elephant, how wacky, hey let's casually integrate the worldbuilding consequences of massive deposits of perfectly-crisped organic matter caused by the collision of a planet-sized elephant with a planet-sized planet. The discworld tells a joke and then commits to the consequences with its entire ass, and I love that.

A lot of the characters are in some way one-of-a-kind and unprecedented, or at least appear to be on the surface because nobody like them has even been publicly known, and the stories frequently explore how these unique people navigate their existence without a roadmap and trailblaze the way for the people just like them to someday follow. People who break rules by existing and make the world question what purpose those rules serve if they aren't actually unyielding principles of reality. The dwarf gender cultural revolution, the female wizard, the golem given a voice, the entire existence of Susan Sto Helit. It produces a world that feels like it's absolutely full of protagonists, like every story is one-of-a-kind and every individual person matters and has the right to choose the way they want to live, no matter what anyone else thinks. can't believe some terfs really think these books are for them as if they aren't precision-built to tell them to go fuck themselves

The cast full of protagonists makes the crossover events a delight. All these characters existing in the same universe means they can just run into each other sometimes, and they're all such absolute weirdos that their interactions never fail to be absolutely incredible. The world feels very thoroughly lived-in, to the point where the stories sometimes almost feel like they're telling themselves.

they're just really fuckin good ok

#asks #not aurora #discworld

[multimilfs]

Melissa Schemmenti x Fem!Reader: Stairway to Heaven

Summary: Anon requested Melissa Schemmenti + 132 -- "I didn't think it was possible to love someone this much."

List of prompts found here!

A/N: Happy ficmas everyone!! I have been working really hard to get ready for kickoff today and I hope you'll all enjoy what I have in store! Enjoy!

Special thank you to the amazing @arewecoolio for reading this over for any errors!! You're the best 💖

Full Ficmas List

Tag List: @multifandomfix @greenawayprentiss @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul

Warning(s): None

Gary is cool. He's even funny on occasion, when he remembers the punchline. He treats Melissa like a Queen—though she deserves nothing less—and worships the ground she walks on. But you’re not convinced he’s good enough for her. 

You’re watching the two interact across the lunchroom with simmering jealousy. It’s an ugly emotion you’re not fond of feeling, but one you can’t seem to shake these days. The grip on your grading pen tightens as Melissa laughs at some joke of Gary’s. 

“Girl, you’ve got to do something about all… that.” Ava says, motioning to your expression, “Channel that anger into something productive. Like packing orders. Or sex.” 

“I’m not participating in your pyramid scheme.” You answer. 

“Oh, so you’re going to get some? Finally. It’s hard having to entertain you with my stories when I’m not getting anything back.” 

“To be fair, I never asked to hear about your sex life,” You point out. Ava shrugs and you continue, “If you tell me about Tyrone one more time I might lose it.” 

“Tyrone? He’s old news. I’m onto Jamal now, keep up.” 

“Jamal? What about his sister?” 

“She was into some weird stuff. I’m freaky too, but even I draw the line at dolls.” 

Ava shivers and you decide not to ask. It’s better for your sanity that way, though you’re morbidly curious. Ava never tells a bad story. 

Another presence joins the table as Janine sidles up, looking far too awake and positive for 9 am on a Tuesday. She smiles obliviously. 

“Dolls? I loved dolls as a kid.”

Ava scoffs, “Yeah, I bet you made them kiss each other and all that nonsense.”

“Of course I did. It was like directing my own little show!” 

“Is that where the control issues started?” You ask. 

Janine’s oblivious smile drops and she levels you with a look. It’s closer to matching Barbara’s with every day that passes, it’s almost impressive; but unless Barbara herself levels one at you, you’re going to remain unphased. 

“Don’t shame my childhood development just because you’re jealous over Melissa and the vending machine guy.” 

You turn red, “I am not jealous!” 

“Right. And I wasn’t named tastiest doomsday prepper in Philly.” Ava says, rolling her eyes. 

You and Janine lock eyes, wearing matching expressions of bewilderment. Everytime you talk to Ava you learn more about her; that isn’t always a good thing. When Janine opens her mouth, you give her a subtle shake of your head. Once the two get started it’s impossible to get them to stop. 

Unfortunately, Janine is too stubborn, and has to do things her way; she engages the Principal in a battle of wits she can’t win. You tune it out the second she starts in on how doomsday prepping is futile and the kind of neurotic spending reaction it induces only benefits the government. That isn’t a can of worms you feel like glancing inside. 

You decide to torture yourself emotionally instead. 

It should be easy to watch Melissa laugh and grin in that smug, bright-eyed way she pulls off so well, but it turns your stomach to know Gary is the cause of it. He’s nice enough—that’s the excuse you try to use everytime, to no avail—but he isn’t you. And against the slim odds of someone like Melissa ever wanting you romantically, you wish it was you. 

Does he know her favorite restaurants, her favorite soap operas? Does he know about the years Melissa dedicated to caring for her Nana? Does he know how incredibly fucking lucky he is to have Melissa Ann Schemmenti wrapped around his finger? 

The likelihood of him knowing anything important is slim-to-none. The redhead is too private to share information so soon, but the little green-eyed monster in your head prods you, asking what if he does? Your fists clench in your lap. You’ve been climbing the stairway to heaven this whole time and Gary’s probably on the highway. 

“Hey, hon,” You’re surprised from your thoughts to see the object of them in front of you, leaning on the table, smiling. 

You smile back, “Hey, Mel.” 

“What are you doing tonight?” 

Hope claws up your throat. You shove it down violently, leaning back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Depends. Why?” 

“Gary was asking about you, he wants to meet ya. I was thinking you could bring your secret lover on a double-date tonight. You meet my guy, I meet yours.” 

You tilt your head, brows scrunching, “Secret lover?” 

“Oh come on,” Melissa rolls her eyes. She levels you with a look that says don’t give me that bullshit, “I’m not blind. You suddenly go silent on all things romance and think I wouldn’t figure out what that meant?” 

Nerves and mortification make you nod, smiling sheepishly. Your chest hurts. Of course she’d notice; after several years of friendship and teaching together, how could she not? The two of you were practically glued at the hip before Gary came along. No topic had been too much and then for you to go silent… you can see how that’d come across. You’re glad she didn’t suss out the real reason. 

“I’m not sure. Things are still pretty new…” 

“I’ll buy your drinks.” 

That makes you pause. 

Then you see how she’s looking at you. She’s leaning down into your space, grinning like she knows she's won. You can’t deny her anything, not when you know how much it’ll mean to her for you to really meet Gary as her romantic interest rather than a passing acquaintance. It’ll kill you. Watching her laugh with him will undo your feeble grip on sanity. 

It’ll kill you, but you’ll do it for her anyway. 

“When and where?” 

— — 

This is a terrible idea. 

The place Gary chose is a total dive, and not the good kind; every surface is covered in a fine layer of grime and ash, ninety percent of the men and women at the bar smoking like chimneys, and the beer you ordered tastes like if someone decided to waft alcohol in the direction of their drink. All of this you could forgive. 

What you can’t forgive is the absence of a proper pool table. 

Every table in the place is falling apart at the seams. There’s maybe two cues per table and some of the nets have holes large enough to send grown men chasing after solid and striped balls alike. 

The worst part? Melissa stands in the center of it all, smiling like none of it bothers her. You know better. Her smile is strained at the edges, her eyes slightly pained. If only she’d say the word, you’d sweep her out of here. She just maintains that strained smile when you walk up to her. 

“Where’s the secret lover I was promised?” Melissa asks. 

You smile, though your heart isn’t in it. It’d taken endless promises to get her to agree, but eventually—

“Sorry I’m late y'all. There’s a guy selling mixtapes outside and I had to hear it before I bought anything. Can’t be too careful, you know?” 

Melissa’s smile melts from her face. Her eyes bore hard into you, dark with emotion. As she looks between you and Ava—who leans against the table next to you, either totally oblivious or uncaring—her jaw tenses. 

Gary chooses that moment to speak, a jovial smile on his face, “Now I did not see this coming! I never would’ve guessed you two would be seeing each other.” 

“Neither did I.” Melissa says. 

You want to disappear into the floor. Despite the fact that Melissa is openly seeing Gary, you feel you’ve done something wrong. 

It doesn’t help that Ava drapes herself against your side. She makes deliberate, intense eye contact with Melissa, and takes a slow sip of a drink you failed to notice. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. You’re grateful for the absence of anything sharp. 

“What can I say, I lucked out. Anyone would be lucky to get a piece of her.” Ava says. Her tone is startlingly sincere. 

You give her a hard look. She just shrugs. 

“No drink for me?” You ask, anything to distract from the way you can’t look at Melissa. 

Ava raises a brow, “If you want something, you just gotta ask.”

“I’d kill for a gin and tonic.” 

“Got it.” 

“I’ve got it, you two sit.” Melissa interjects. 

She extracts herself from Gary and stands at the same time Ava does. On another night, you’d take Melissa's offer as the kind act it is, but tonight it feels strangely like a threat. 

The two are caught in a strange staring contest. You want to reach out and tug Ava down into her seat, but you’re frozen, wondering what the hell is going on.

“I’ll get it.” Ava says.

“She’s my friend.” Melissa crosses her arms over her chest. 

“She’s my date.” 

Melissa’s body tenses at the word. 

You’re too busy watching Ava, trying to decipher where she’s been hiding this acting talent. She had been reluctant to join your ruse and now it seems like she couldn’t be anywhere else. For a moment it feels authentic enough to make your stomach turn.

Gary cuts in before Melissa can back down, “I could use another beer if you’re going towards the bar.” 

“Sure. You got it, Gar.” 

The two walk away in tense silence. Melissa keeps looking at Ava from the corner of her eyes, while the principal pretends she isn’t there. 

It leaves you with Gary and you smile. Trying to pretend there’s no tension is easier with the women across the bar. 

“It’s good to meet you,” He says, friendly enough, “Melissa talks about you enough I feel like I already know you, but I’m glad she got you to come out tonight.” 

“Yeah. It’s good to meet you officially. Besides the occasional run-ins during lunch, I mean.” 

He nods and drinks the last swig of his beer. You take a few seconds to glance through the haze of smoke towards the bar. Melissa leans one arm on it, waiting while the bartender runs around helping out rough-looking men and women. She looks perfectly placed and yet stands out; she’s probably the most beautiful woman to ever set foot in this place. 

Ava’s chatting up a woman at the bar like Melissa isn’t even there. So much for her putting on a good act. 

Even if she’s not looking at Ava directly, you know Melissa’s listening, cataloging everything. You’ll get an earful about having self-respect when choosing partners later. 

“There’s another reason I had her ask you here tonight.” Gary says.

His face is serious. You’ve never seen the man without a smile and it unnerves you. Trying not to let that show, you raise an eyebrow. 

“I wanted to meet the woman Melissa’s in love with.” 

You blanch. 

“Gary, that’s—she’s not—“ 

A hand settles on top of yours and his smile makes an appearance. It’s kind, kinder than you deserve after all the things you’ve thought about him. 

“I knew there were three of us in this relationship when I went out with her the first time. But I’m giving you the chance to make it two again,” He says, “She’s crazy about you and I can see you feel the same way. She’s all yours.” 

You should be overjoyed. Melissa feels the same way about you, you have a shot? Instead, you feel angry. 

“You’re going to give her up just like that?” You snap. 

Gary startles you by laughing. 

“I can’t exactly give up what isn’t mine.” 

“She chose you.” 

“Sometimes people make mistakes.” When you seem unconvinced, he shakes his head, “Melissa’s a good woman, she deserves someone who makes her happy. That just happens to be you and not me. I’m not mad about it.”

You’re reeling. The room feels like it's spinning and you don’t have time to regain your focus before the women return. Ava sets down your gin and tonic with a nod. 

Melissa starts up an animated conversation with Gary, who nods along, adding in his own comments. He keeps glancing over at you when Melissa won’t. The whole thing makes your stomach turn; you have no clue what you’re doing. 

You grab Ava’s hand, flashing a strained smile at the pair, “Excuse us for a moment,” and drag the principal off to the bathrooms. 

 Once you’ve shoved Ava in the ladies room and locked the door behind you, you spin on your heel towards the other woman. 

“I know you want this to bother her, but dragging me into the bathroom for a quickie is a bit much, even by my standards.” Ava says. 

“That’s not what this is.” 

“Right, why else am I here then?” 

“When you and Melissa went to grab drinks, Gary told me Melissa’s in love with me.” 

Ava stares at you. 

“That’s it? I could have told you that months ago.” 

You blink, “What?” 

“Yeah, neither of you are subtle. You practically have it written on your billboard sized forehead.” 

Suddenly self-conscious, you reach a hand up to your forehead, before reminding yourself to focus on the task at hand. Ava knew Melissa returned your feelings the whole time. You wonder who else knows and has let you stew in jealousy for weeks. 

Melissa’s reaction to Ava makes a lot more sense. It’s almost comforting to know that you’re not the only one who has been fighting with jealousy. You feel very, very blind.

“Who else knows?” You ask. Your friend gives you a blank stare, “Seriously? Everyone knows?”

“Yes. Do me a favor though and play dumb a few more weeks? I’ve got good money on this.”

“You bet on me?”

“I bet on Melissa, actually, which is why I need you to keep quiet.”

“Ava, I’m not going to ignore this because you want to win a bet. Come on.” 

Ava rolls her eyes, “Fine, I’ll cut you in on the bet.” 

“Ava!” You glare.

“This could be your chance to support a young, black entrepreneur. It’s hard out here.” 

“Try that on Jacob.” 

She lets out an ugh and throws her hands up. You want to be upset that she’s asking you to keep quiet, to lose more valuable time with Melissa, but you can’t be; even if she did leave you oblivious for weeks. If you’re going to be upset with her, you have to be upset with everyone. 

It comes from a place of letting you make your own decisions; you know that and admire it just a little. But you were oblivious. Melissa seems like she is too, if Gary’s talk told you anything. Would they have let the two of you circle each other the whole time? 

You would be miserable if Gary—Gary, who you’d been unfair towards this whole time—hadn’t spoken up. He’s sacrificing his chances with Melissa so you can have your own. Mentally, you make a note to get the man some kind of ‘thank-you’ gift. 

Ava snaps in front of your face and you jerk back. 

“What are you going to do?” She asks. 

“Uh… talk to her?” 

“Not the energy I was looking for, but good enough. Let’s go.” 

Ava grabs your arm, not unkindly, and drags you to the door. You drag your feet. 

“Now?!” 

She doesn’t even dignify your question with a response. The bathroom door is opened and you’re nudged through it. You walk, but throw a glare over your shoulder, annoyed at her sudden silence. Ava doesn’t acknowledge it. 

Gary is the only one left at the table and you panic, eyes searching the room. The heart in your chest settles when you catch a glimpse of familiar red hair. 

Melissa’s across the bar at one of the more put together pool tables, surrounded by women in a shocking amount of leather. Her eyes are focused right on you. They move briefly to Ava, though she doesn’t seem to find anything damning. The focus of her gaze moves away when one of the other players nudges her and she leans over the table to line up a shot. 

You’re caught for a second in watching her. Her eyes narrow before she settles in to take the shot and when she pulls back the cue, she makes direct eye contact, and sinks a solid ball in one of the pockets. 

Cheers go up from the woman you assume she’s playing with. You don’t bother to look at her. Instead, you make a direct beeline for Melissa; her eyes following you every step of the way. 

“Can I talk to you?” You ask when you reach her. 

You’re well aware of the glances her fellow players are throwing in your direction, but you don’t care. Melissa seems curious, but she gives nothing else away. 

“I’m in the middle of a game, hon.” 

Laying your hand on her arm, “Please, Mel.” 

Like magic, you watch her soften. She nods and hands off her cue to the nearest person without looking. You lead the way outside, wanting away from the noise and smoke for a few minutes, if only to clear your head. 

The silence is too tense for your liking, but neither of you are doing anything to break it. You breathe deeply. You’re at a loss on what to say; how do you tell someone you’re in love with them? 

Instead of anything rational coming from your mouth, you ask, “How do you feel about Gary?” 

Melissa jerks in surprise, “That’s what you pulled me out here for?” 

“He seems to think your feelings, your heart, lie elsewhere,” You barrel forward, hoping it works in your favor, “Namely, with me.” 

Her eyes widen slightly before she schools her expression. It’s all you need to feel more secure in blindly following Gary’s word. 

“I’m not sure where he got that idea.” Melissa says. 

“But you’re not denying it.” 

“Does it matter? You seem to have things pretty easy with Ava.” 

A note of bitterness slips into her voice. You soften, recognizing the underlying jealousy you’d been feeling only this morning. 

“It matters to me,” You say, “because I’m crazy about you, Mel, and I need to know you feel the same way.” 

Melissa doesn’t bother to hide her surprise this time. You smile, but fidget under all of her attention. You want to reveal every thought and feeling to this woman in a way that’s overwhelming. She seems so shocked, you can’t help but want to assure her of how real your feelings are. 

“I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much,” You admit. It feels odd to say it out loud, “But you make a lot of impossible things feel possible.” 

She looks at you like she’s never seen you before. It’s daunting. 

“You really mean that?” Melissa asks. 

“Wholeheartedly.” 

“And what about Ava?” 

You chuckle, “I bribed her into playing the part. She’s a surprisingly good actress.” 

“Good.” 

Melissa leans forward and kisses you. 

It isn’t the kind of kiss you expect, but it’s the kind you always daydreamed about; the soft, almost hesitant way she claims your lips, while her hands dig into your hips. You’ve never felt so awkward and so pleasant in your life. You have no idea what to do with your hands. 

The other kisses in your life never felt so strange. You wonder how much they really meant to you, if this is what a real, loving kiss feels like; unsure and yet, eager. 

Throwing your nerves out the window, you give in to all of it. You sink into the whirlwind of emotions and wrap yourself around Melissa. Her kiss grows more insistent and you match it, pulling where she pushes, moving with every forceful press of her lips. 

You’re on your last shred of oxygen when she pushes you back. Only an inch of space separates the two of you taking in furious gulps of breath, cheeks flushed pink and wearing matching smiles. It hardly feels real. 

“You’ve been holding out on me.” Melissa says. 

“Hardly. I’d have kissed you in a second if you asked.” You say sincerely. 

“Me? Why would I be the one to ask you?” 

You raise a brow, “Well, you were the one seeing someone else.” 

“I wouldn’t have gone out with him if you said something.” 

A laugh leaves your lips unbidden. Your eyes sparkle when you look up at Melissa, wondering how you managed to get so lucky. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to answer that question. She’s wonderful and kind and beautiful and all the things you feel you don’t deserve. She’s yours anyway. 

Her eyes shine as she stares back. Wishing you could jump into her mind, you get lost in them. Then you do as she wants and capture her lips in another kiss. It’s shorter than the first and more comfortable, but the feeling of newness still lingers. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how much time you’ve lost being jealous. But you try not to dwell too much; it’s difficult when the most beautiful woman in the world is staring into your eyes. The lost time doesn’t matter when you have it now—when you have her now. 

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary #abbott elementary x reader #melissa schemmenti imagine #abbott elementary imagine #wlw #wlw imagine #multimilfswritings #dec2022 #multimilfsficmas2022

[deathbecomesthem]

Eddie Munson x disabled!reader | 1.1K

*This is a reupload from my old blog. I thought it would be a good time to move it since @raccoonboywrites was looking for disability represented in Eddie Munson smut fics. It's a lil shorty blurb.

I got a very special request for disabled reader smut that I was happy to fulfill. The reader has an undefined disability that causes fatigue, aches, limited mobility, and nerve damage.

Thank you for the request @marshmallowmunson, I hope you like it.

Contains smut: 69

MDNI - this is strictly 18+

Eddie is sharp angles and wiry muscles. He is perpetual motion. He’s a wonder to you, he moves in ways that make your head spin. You like to watch the muscle in his forearms flex when he picks up his guitar. You like to see him bend and bounce around his room with ease. The idea that you hold him back is something you’ve let go of long ago, because nothing can hold Eddie back - you know that now. 

“...out of his nose, it was hilarious. I’m sure that shit burned like crazy.” Eddie’s sitting on the edge of the bed where you’re snuggled in listening to his story about Gareth being told the punchline of Eddie’s favorite dirty joke while he’s chugging a beer. His sweetheart is in his lap, and he’s moving his fingers to find chords to a silent song.

“Mmm, sorry I missed that one. You’ll have to try to make that happen again the next time I’m out with you guys.” You try to keep the sadness out of your voice, but you can hear it. So can Eddie. You were supposed to be out with them tonight, but the fatigue hit you like a mac truck after work. You can handle the aches, you can handle the fatigue, but the combination is impossible to ignore.

“Yeah. We missed you, Baby. It’s not the same without you.” As if a light switch is flipped, Eddie’s focused on your prone form in his bed. His eyes wander down your body, shining as he takes in the sight of you. “I always miss you, even when you’re right here,” he points down at you, “it’s like this ache inside. I need you so much.”

“Mmm,” you pull the blanket back, an invitation for him to climb in beside you, “I can’t have that. You don’t need to miss me, Ed, not when you have me.” He’s right. You feel it too. When he’s not like this, wrapped up in this blanket where you’re both surrounded by your shared breath and scent - you feel like something is missing.

Eddie hooks his head into the crook of your neck, a perfect fit. His nose brushes against your hairline. “I love you, Baby.” His lips kiss your skin, a soft brush of skin on skin. Careful and without urgency, he doesn’t want to give the impression of sexual desire. Especially not on a day that’s harder than normal. He just wants to hold and be with you.

But you have a need.

You start to scratch his scalp, a signaling to your intentions. You feel Eddie shiver under your touch, his hot breath against your neck hitches in the back of his throat. He’s easy to work up, he stands on the mountain of his desire for you every waking moment, peering over its edge - and even in his dreams he visits the landscape of your body. The scratch of your fingernails against his sensitive skin is a hand on his back, it’s a gust of wind that threatens to push him right over the edge.

“You’re so pretty, Ed.” Eddie whimpers at your words, but he’s still standing firm. He’s still being careful, even when you can feel the evidence of his arousal pushing against your thigh. So, you shove him and let him soar through the air. “And you have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen. Do you know that?”

“Oh, fuck.” Eddie huffs a laugh into your neck. He shifts his hips to press his ache firmly into your center while nipping at your skin, “You trying to seduce me? You don’t need to, Baby, consider me seduced until my dying day.” Eddie’s wide palms are searching your body, carefully avoiding the areas he knows are too sensitive. Nerve damaged skin, and scars not quite healed. “How do you want me, Baby? I’m yours.”

Eddie’s steady fingers have found a nipple, playing with it gently between his fingers. His tongue is licking - tasting - the skin along your collarbone while he waits for you to answer him. You try to steady your breath, to push away the fog in your brain and articulate for him what he needs to know.

You stutter your words, “Mouth, I want you in my mouth while you eat me out.” The shyness you once felt about saying these things is a thing of the past. Eddie needs to hear them, he needs to know what you want. He needs to know how to have you without causing you pain. 

He works quickly. He positions you with pillows in the places he knows need extra support, stopping between movements to kiss you. He takes off your shirt, he licks at your chest. He runs a finger between your breasts. Everything he does is with intention and focus. With care and love. You watch him shed his clothes until he’s naked in front of you. A vision of pale skin, black ink, and pink cheeks. 

Giggles accompany adjustments, bodies laid side by side until you are face to face with your prize. His finger brushes your slit, in your mind’s eye you see him bring his finger to his mouth to taste you, humming in satisfaction. His cock is dripping with his desire, and your mouth takes it in. Salty and divine, firm but the softest skin to wrap your lips around. 

A finger is inside of you, and your spit slicked finger works its way down to that magical place beneath his balls. Your mouth is aching already, but you let that discomfort fuel you. You let it push you to your goal. His finger and tongue are working fast, you’re swollen. You can hear yourself whining around him. It would be obscene to an observer, the way you both cry and whine against each other's sex, desperate pleas begging for release.

Eddie’s mouth releases you, his fingers in thumb working in tandem against the rocking of your hips. He has something to say, and you can only listen while you feel him throb inside your hollowed cheeks.

“You’re so pretty. Look at you. I can feel you, Baby. You gonna cum? I’m gonna cum, your mouth feels so good.” A stream of words, insufficient but all he can manage while you work him. You press against his magic spot, and he sees stars. His fingers work harder, firmly pushing against your own special place deep inside of you that he’s discovered through countless hours of exploration. 

Lightning strikes the bed, and it’s with cries and moans that waves of ecstatic release wash over you. You drink him down, tongue lapping at his slit to catch his release while he finds the only words he can think of to tell you how it feels, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x disabled!reader

[velvetlilacsdaisies]

Flames & Weapons pt. ii

OC!Fem!Reader x Garrick Tavis, OC!Fem!Reader x Bodhi Durran

Word count: 4k

Synopsis: What happens when you attend Basgiath war college as an infantry cadet with your lover, your ride or die best friend and your twin brother? Alot of fucking shit. Follow the story of our oc’s Allie Henrick and Katia Lalley as their bond of friendship remains strong as their dynamics of life change around them. What happens when they meet two fellow first year riders in their first year? Will their world change forever? Then again nothing can be as expected in war college. Stay tuned as our oc's become badass infantry cadets.

Warnings: drinking, swearing, fighting, mentions of blood, non canon shenanigans

A/n: welcome to part 2! This shall be a treat for @garricks4thwingqueen to wake up to bc she had no idea I was posting this today 🤭 I had a week from hell at work, and made up for it by sleeping for 17 hours 🤩 (I could honestly sleep longer). Anyway i love writing this series and can’t wait to get to the other parts Al has drafted! I hope you guys enjoy part 2!! Comments, likes, reblogs are always appreciated to us! 🩷

Allie’s POV

I promised myself I wasn't going to cry over his ass," I grumbled, furiously wiping my cheeks.

"Look at it this way." He said with a smirk on his face. “We don’t have to act like his jokes are funny anymore.”

I looked up at him, puzzled. He still held on to me, but I couldn’t find the nerve or sensibility to pull away. “His jokes weren’t funny?”

He cringed, “you thought so?” He let one of his arms slip from my waist and rub the back of his neck. “I didn’t know where the punchline began or where it ended.” I pondered on what he said. A lot of Zach’s jokes were childish and it was more funny to watch him sputter an explanation to his jokes.

“They were…alright.” I decided. That had been one of the biggest reasons I liked Zach admittedly at first, he made me laugh like no other. Compared to Garrick’s humor, who had always been dry and sarcastic, that was one of the reasons I got along with the rider so well. The two were just a night and day difference in every aspect.

Garrick chuckled and gods that became one of my favorite sounds in the last several months. The feeling of his chest vibrating already calming me down. "Can you take off those rose colored glasses yet, Al?”

I sighed, finally pulling away from him. His warmth lingering on me, and the scent of his musk mixed with sandalwood and the hint of the bourbon he had been sipping still evading my senses.

“There off I swear, they’ve been off.” I frowned. I came to that realization three months ago, but there was a part that had hoped it could go back to the way it was.

“Why’d it take so long then?” He questioned. “You’re not alone in this, y’know?” He had that softened look in his hazel eyes again, the one that he reserved for a select few. How I was deemed worthy enough for it, still remained a mystery to me, but it was always appreciated. “You know I’ll always be here for you.” He said earnestly. “Drew, Kati, and Xade too.” He then added.

I was about to respond, but clattering of glasses, chairs skirting against the floor, and the prominent shouting of Katia made us pull our attention to the door.

“Gods what did she do now?” I groaned to myself.

Garrick chuckled again, putting his hand on the small of my back leading me into the commotion of the bar.

Katia’s POV

“I should go check on her,” my leg bouncing up and down rapidly, picking at the corner of my thumb. I kept flitting my eyes towards the door.

Xaden smirked, casually resting his arm behind me on the booth. “I wouldn’t worry about it, she has the guard dog with her.”

I gave him an incredulous look. “What kind of best friend does that make me not to follow her?”

“A good one,” he said, like it was obvious. I blinked a couple times watching him crack a crooked grin. “Maybe it’ll help her open her eyes to the better suitor.” He leaned down so I’d only hear.

Scoffing, I took a sip of my drink. “I don’t condone that.”

I watched across the table, seeing Drew try to get into an arm wrestling match with Bodhi.

I thought Xaden was attractive, but his younger cousin was a sight to see. Shorter than the older cousin, but still towered over Drew and Sawyer, his dark hair curly flopping over his forehead, and a boyish smile never leaving his face since Allie and I walked in. Way more charismatic than Xaden too, it took a month for me to get a smile out of him. I almost thought the older rider had a permanent scowl on his face. While his cousin never seemed to take his smile off. How were they related?

“Why because he’s a rider?” He mused.

“No, because I don’t want to encourage her to hop into another relationship after ending one. One that she had been in since she was 19.” I tried to say in a hushed tone.

He nodded, “right, right. A relationship that only she was in apparently.”

“Riorson, be quiet please.” I went back to watching the arm wrestling match that Bodhi had started. He was now up against Imogen, who was doing a better job at keeping up than Drew. She was another anomaly to me, not speaking a word to us when we entered, seeming irritated that we had even joined the escapades tonight.

Apparently this night was just going to keep heading in the opposite direction than planned as a loud guffaw of laughter broke out. Causing all of us to turn to the new presence at our table.

“Sawyer?!” Zachariah said in disbelief, strolling up to our table. “No way you’re a rider?”

I glared at the sandy brunette as Xaden removed his arm behind me, straightening up.

“Yeah,” Sawyer grimaced, trying to be polite, his knuckles whitening around his glass. I sat up in my seat too, ready to attack—verbally or physically I hadn’t decided. Maybe both? It was hard enough to bite my tongue during classes, and I found myself having to sit on my hands more often than not. The gods testing how thin my patience could get, but now out in public off school grounds…Zach better pray to Malek.

“That’s so right on, just like your parents! I knew you’d get in!” He acted as if we were oblivious to everything that had happened the last forty eight hours. It made my blood boil, and there was no way I would bite my tongue.

“Zachariah, you’re not going to introduce us to your new girlfriend?” I interrupted his reunion with the freckled man that was sitting across from me. I could see Chiara a reasonable distance away from our table at the bar. I’m glad she can read a room at least.

“Hey Kati,” he greeted sheepishly, his cheeks reddening. By now our table quieted and went into predatory stances. Drew got up from his chair, any amusement drained from his face. “Drew.” He acknowledged, clearing his throat.

“Dude,” Drew said with an edge to his tone. “Why are you even over here right now?”

“It was a mutual breakup, we can still be friends right?” He held up his hands defensively. He was lying through his teeth, trying to play it cool.

“Are you kidding me?” I laughed dryly. “What delusion are you living in?”

“She said it herself, we’re better off not together.” He tried to justify.

I stood up putting my palms on the table, “I hope she’s worth it.” Glancing back over to the blond sat at the bar. She looked uncomfortable as we made eye contact, quickly averting her attention.

He chuckled nervously, “Allie did tell you it was mutual right? Right?” I shook my head, my heart hammering in my ears. The two glasses of lavender lemonade did not help the impending rage I felt.

“Drew you understand right?”

He shook his head as well, “I can’t defend you anymore. I told you from the start if you hurt her what would happen. The only reason I hadn’t was because of her.”

“You know how your sister can get. She can be crazy and a pathological liar!”

In a matter of seconds, Drew had Zach against the wall by the collar of his shirt. Glasses flying off the table, with people jumping out their chairs at the sudden commotion. I’m ready to launch myself at him, but Xaden has an arm around my waist holding me back.

“Stop projecting your flaws on my sister! Cheating isn’t fucking mutual.” Drew spat, before punching him square in the jaw. “I’ve had to watch for years as you treated her like shit!”

Sawyer had a weak hold on the back of his cousin’s shirt. He didn’t seem to care if Zach would be pummeled to a pulp or not and I didn’t blame him.

I still tried wiggled to get out of Xaden’s grasp shouting at Zach. “I will make your life a living hell! Do you understand?!”

Xaden’s grip loosened the slightest to adjust me, but I was already out of his clutch launching towards the beaten man. Just as I could get close enough to get my hands on him another set of arms grabbed my waist.

“I’m just assuming I shouldn’t let you do whatever you have planned.” Bodhi’s arms an iron grip around me.

“You’re assuming right!” Xaden shot over snappily, instead now trying to get Drew off of Zach. The pair now in a full blown fight.

Allie and Garrick came in, both looking gobsmacked at the event before them. They hadn’t even been gone for 20 minutes, and we had created utter chaos within the hour of arriving at the tavern.

Allie’s POV

“Less than 5 fucking minutes.” I mumbled under my breath that was just loud enough for Garrick to hear as he tightened his grip around my waist. “What in the actual fuck Zach?” I could practically feel steam coming out of my ears from how heated I was.

By then Sawyer and Xaden had pulled Drew off of him, Chiara entering the picture to make sure Zach was alright. I glowered at the sight of her touching his face making sure he wasn’t too hurt.

“Your cousin started it.” He insisted, spitting blood out on to the tiled floor.

“Sawyer, I highly doubt that.” I rolled my eyes as I felt Garrick stiffen at my side as a bartender who had to be an inch or two taller then Garrick came over.

“I’m going to have to ask you all to leave. I have zero tolerance for fighting in my establishment.” He huffed and walked away as Xaden started to protest, but Garrick lifted a hand to stop his friend.

“I’d rather be elsewhere anyway. “ I said, being the first turn from the now cluttered corner. The rest of my friends trailing behind.

“Welcome to hell!” Katia spat at the new couple, Bodhi still gripping on her arm gently leading her out.

The group was quiet as we walked down the path back to Basgiath. Though I was still slightly upset, had to crack a small smile.

“You know Kati, I’m shocked it wasn’t you who had him by the collar.” She was now walking by my side, her hand interlocked with mine.

“I damn well tried.” she muttered, side-eyeing Xaden the whole time.

“Oh she really did try.” Xaden snickered, who was walking in front of us with Bodhi. She tried to swat him in the back of the head, he quickly dodged her laughing at her lousy attempt.

“You should have let her get some shots in.” Imogen huffed to the taller man. “Maybe getting kicked out of the bar would have been worth it.” She kicked a pebble down the path, walking next to my brother.

“She’s already banned from Doyle’s, she does not need to be banned anywhere else.” To my left I saw Katia mimicking him then flipping him off secretly. I peered behind my shoulder, and saw a small smirk on Imogen’s face, but it quickly disappeared as we made eye contact.

“He tried saying it was a mutual break up.” Drew spat, ignoring the banter. “And all these nasty things about you.”

Garrick walked on the other side next to me as I felt him tense; gods help me if the two males were ever in the same vicinity again. “Bullshit, he deserved all he got tonight. I’ll add a few punches next time.” Garrick said.

“Let me join next time, I read up on some nifty torture methods last night.” Katia mumbled to herself.

I laughed, “sometimes I think you might be Malek reincarnated.”

She grinned wickedly in response, as Drew came in between us. “Don’t give her ideas, I’ll end up being her guinea pig.”

“I’m glad I’m all the way across a parapet from her evil genius ideas.” Sawyer bristled quietly. Drew elbowed him as warning.

“You guys act like I’m so mean?” Katia shot back defensively.

“You are!” Drew, Sawyer, and I said at the same time. The other riders found that amusing choking back chuckles.

“Out of love though.” She pouted.

“Bless whoever you get into a relationship with then, Lalley.” Sawyer rolled his eyes.

By the time we reached Basgiath it had started to storm. The smell of wet moss and cobblestone permeated the air when we got to the iron gate.

“I’ll walk you to your room.” Gare said to me quietly as we walked through the quiet tunnels and staircases.

“I’m fine plus the rider's quadrant is too far.” I started to protest, reaching the main tunnel that connects to all the quadrants.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.” Garrick told the other four. Xaden merely patted his best friend’s back and gave a subtle nod to me as they walked by. I waved to them, continuing to walk towards the dormitories with Garrick, Katia, and Drew in tow.

Drew held his lip, hissing to himself when we reached the second year hallway in the infantry quadrant.

“Are you going to be okay?” I asked, trying to examine his injuries. They weren’t nearly as bad as Zach’s, but his lip would take a few days to heal and for the stray bruises to disappear.

My best friend swatted me away, grabbing Drew’s hand. “He has nurse Katia to handle him.” She beamed at my twin brother. “Go, go you crazy kids!” She shooed Garrick and I away before dragging Drew to her room. I couldn’t help but laugh watching him turn and give us a ghostly face.

Katia was seldomly nice or nurturing, especially to Drew, I knew she was only doing it for my sake. Maybe she was actually going to take him to make him her guinea pig, she’s done it since we were children. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

I led Garrick to my room talking about everything. Debriefing the night, telling stories of our childhoods, no topic left unturned. He was sitting in the cushy leather chair in the corner of my quaint room, his feet propped on the matching ottoman.

“What’s Imogen’s deal, she wasn’t particularly talkative with us?” I asked, sitting at my desk, braiding my hair for bed.

“Oh Imogen, she’s harmless—for the most part. She'll warm up eventually.” Garrick chuckled as he twiddled his thumbs watching me as I pulled more hair over my shoulder. “Drew may want to give up though she’s more into girls.”

Now it was my turn to chuckle, facing him. “Leave it to my brother, finding the sexually unavailable ones.”

Garrick shook his head, something unreadable in his eyes. “Never say never, there still could be hope.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“She has her ‘I’m strictly dickly’ phase once a year as she says.” He looked anywhere, but me. A red flush creeped up his neck.

“You and her hooked up, haven't you?!” I laughed, watching him become flustered. Of course his type was the eccentric badass ones, unsure to why I felt the pit of my stomach drop at the thought. I brushed the thought away, forcing a grin on my face turning back to the small mirror at my desk.

“It was a one night stand back when we were 18. I think I was the one that caused her sexual awakening for women honestly.” He casually played it off, which caused me to genuinely laugh as he then changed the topic.

I eventually paused our storytelling to go to my bathroom to change into my pajamas and get ready for bed. Still talking from the bathroom, but I heard the rider grow quiet from the other room. I peered out the threshold while brushing my teeth to see Garrick had fallen asleep in the chair. The usually hard exterior man looked so peaceful and uncomfortable sleeping there. Crunched up in the small chair. Most furniture didn't seem to fit him properly, I’ve noticed.

Finishing with my night routine, I walked over to him. I shook his shoulder gently. “Gare, wake up.” I said softly. He wasn’t budging. “Gary c’mon.”

He grumbled, startling, “I hate being called that.”

I smiled slightly, ignoring him. “Do you want to sleep in my bed, and just leave in the morning?” I asked sheepishly. Garrick was my friend, why did this feel all so intimate? Almost awkward.

Garrick grumbled again this time more incoherently, assumingly to protest staying as he was trying to pull his jacket on, but ultimately gave up. “Move over.” He muttered, grabbing the throw blanket that was on the back of the chair.

I scooted under my covers, giving him more room to lay, while he laid on top next to me using the smaller blanket. The full size bed was a tight squeeze for both of us to comfortably have an appropriate amount of room.

“You know you can get under the covers, I’m not going to bite.” I poked his shoulder.

“Outside clothes,” he groggily mumbled, turning to face me. “From the tavern.”

“Didn’t clock you for someone who worried about that kind of stuff.” I raised an eyebrow, facing him as well.

He said something I couldn’t quite understand, falling asleep before my eyes. I guess it was time for bed, we had spent the last two hours talking.

For a man he had long eyelashes, I observed, and despite him being paler I couldn’t help to admire the light freckles that randomly sprinkled his face. I still attest to when I first saw him that Amari sculpted him herself, even when he was crunched into my smaller full size bed not easily fitting a six foot six inch man. His arm is covered in intricate patterns of the relic that was engraved five years ago tucked underneath his head, the patterns flexing against his bicep.

He and Xaden never mentioned what had happened that day, I only knew from reports, my friends remaining quiet about the topic when Katia, Drew, and I asked.

I eventually let sleep take over after being a creep for a couple more minutes. Thinking of the whirlwind of events that had happened in only three days.

I woke to loud talking outside my door and the sound of pots and pans clanging. “Up and at ‘em cadets!”

I sat up from my bed, having to overlook the fact that Garrick’s arm slid off me. He was still over the covers, but was holding me. At what point of the night had that happened? More banging on my door panicked me slightly, pulling me out of my thoughts. What was going on? Was there trouble?

“Good Morning to you too.” He mumbled with a raspy breath as I jumped out of bed. While he stretched casually, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes

“Good Morning. You can’t be here.” I deadpanned. I walked around my room, finding my uniform, and rucksack.

“Ouch, thanks Allie, that makes me feel real good.” He feigned hurt, as I teasingly chucked a hair pin at him.

“I wouldn’t care usually—but what time is it?” I asked, peeking out the window. The sun was just starting to rise, invading the dark blue sky with hints of orange and pink.

“6:30” Garrick replied sleepy, not sensing my urgency as I scrambled to get ready.

“Shit.” This must be the RSC the third year infantry and Professor Lieutenant Stone has told us about. They’d choose random Saturdays to bring us second years out to the forest with our squads and test our survival skills. At least I hadn’t drank enough last night to be hungover for this moment right now.

“What’s going on?” Garrick asked as more banging on the doors, and caused him to finally jump out of bed.

“Up and at ‘em Squad leader Henrick, get your cadets ready. RSC starts now.” The gruff voice of Professor Lieutenant Stone rang from the other side of my door before hearing his stomping footsteps retreat.

I groaned, covering my face. “No weekends off?” Garrick shrugged on his jacket.

“Apparently not,” I made my way to my door, unlocking it, and peeking out. Cadets were still everywhere as I quickly closed the door, and locked it again. “We have to get you out without being seen.”

“You don’t want to be caught with a rider in your room?” Garrick grinned sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

I rolled my eyes, “I’m glad you find a sick pleasure in all this. But believe me you don’t want to mess with Professor Lieutenant Stone. Drew already learned the hard way last year.” I explained. A rapid knocking started at my door. “I’ll be right there!” I shouted, as I took off my pajamas. Not quite caring if Garrick was still watching me, as I slid on my uniform pants, and then the dark blue t-shirt. Another array of frivolous knocks sounded.

“Squad leader Henrick!” Katia’s curt tone never failed to make me want to laugh. I walked over, and unlocked the door again to let her in. I buttoned my pants, throwing my short sleeve uniform over top, looking at my best friend as she skirted in breathlessly. She then froze, noting it wasn’t just her and I.

Her brunette hair perfectly slicked back with her hat nestled on top of the crown of her head all ready to go in her navy summer uniform. Her green eyes looked amused as she took in my rushed appearance and Garrick in the corner.

“Squad leader Henrick!” She scoffed scandalously at the sight. I gave her a pointed look for her to cut her shit. I didn’t need Katia antics at the moment.

���Cover for me?” I begged. A flash of apprehension showed on her features as she studied the tall broad rider who was awkwardly standing there, before she fixed her lips with a smirk.

“Fine, but owe me a patrol shift this Wednesday.” She decided, walking to the door and escaping the room.

“What was that look?” Garrick scratched the back of his head.

I shrugged, sitting at my desk chair, tugging my boots on. “Not sure, Kati’s…Kati.” Was all I could chop it up to. I made sure I had everything in my rucksack. Compass. Canteen. Map. Plant guide. Provisions. Matches. First aid. All there.

I sighed, slinging the bag over my shoulder. “I would leave in thirty minutes. The halls should be cleared, and by then first and third years should have made their way to the mess hall.” I told him, as I walked to my door. I went to reach for the handle, but stopped turning to Garrick. He made himself at home sitting on the leather chair with one of my geography books. “Thanks, again for staying with me last night. I actually slept for once.”

He offered me a small smile. “Of course.” It seemed he was going to say more as he was cut off by Katia yelling on the other side of the door.

“And that's my final cue.” I waved, closing my door, meeting an annoyed Katia on the other side.

#garrick tavis fic #garrick tavis x oc #garrick tavis fanfic #garrick tavis iron flame #garrick travis x reader #garrick tavis fourth wing #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis smut #garrick tavis #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi durran #iron flame fic #bodhi durran fanfic #bodhi fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing bodhi #iron flame fanfiction #fourth wing fanfiction #sawyer henrick #sawyer Henrick x reader

[donnerpartyofone]

So what happened yesterday was, I had stupidly run out of the methylphenidate ER dose that I'm currently on, and decided to take two of the lower dose that I had left over from before. (Ironically I completely flaked on a doctor's appointment for the first time in my life when I was supposed to get the current script refilled, I just got so sick I forgot what was happening, but if you're going to flake on a doctor's appointment I guess it might as well be an ADHD appointment) I thought that the "slightly higher" dose from the two pills wouldn't bother me, I mean I've taken drugs before, but about half way through the day I was suddenly struck with a jarring, physical panic. Fortunately my blood pressure cuff thing didn't say I had to rush to the hospital, but I remained on high alert for the rest of the day and night, which may have colored my perception of what happened.

(don't get too excited, it's just weird)

I took the ferry to see my friend's demonic horror movie (the ferry is a highly underrated form of local transit, it is awesome especially on a rainy night), which was cute, and I love being at the movies even though you always run the risk that other people will taint your experience. Even the religious dogma of the Alamo Drafthouse doesn't stop people from being assholes, and sure enough as soon as a couple of young women (early 20s? idk) sat next down next to me, I started to smell this hot, spitty, artificial sweetener smell, and I realized oh no this bitch is chewing gum. I have a good amount of misophonia and gum is my enemy in any circumstance, but the girl was fully snapping the gum and blowing bubbles for the first 15-20 minutes of the movie. (She had to get rid of it when their cookies arrived) That was a tough one because even if I were the kind of broad who picks fights with strangers, it would be hard to win a fight about chewing in a business that is serving food...but anyway when the server came through to get them situated, they had some sort of altercation that left them both in hysterics. The second the lights came back on they both started ranting about how the server was sooo mean to them because apparently when they sat down one of them took her shoes off, and she was told to put them back on. This girl is going "I'M GONNA LOOK THAT UP AND SEE IF IT'S A REAL RULE! I BET IT'S NOT EVEN A RULE!" as if "no shirt no shoes no service" hasn't been a national punchline for decades and it's just a random and petty punishment that certain eateries uphold to be perverse. I guess also when the guy asked to pre-swipe a card for them so they wouldn't have to pay in the middle of the movie they didn't understand him and that made them mad, and then they were mad that he put the cookies on "the wrong table" (the one between them) as if they weren't both eating them. Like ok guys, I was young once, I too have been rude and been mildly corrected by an adult and been so humiliated that I had to make up a big story about how the adult is an insane person who hates me personally. I was 12 once, too. But holy shit you are old enough to get into this late R-rated movie, do your parents usually take you or what the fuck is your problem?

So as I was leaving I looked up the best way to get home (too late for ferry) and the apps were all giving me a big red Storm Warning warning that I had never seen before and suggesting that trains were running very irregularly or not at all until tomorrow. Outside it was warm and misty, not remotely as stormy as it had been when I arrived. What was going on? I got lost going to what was supposed to be the station with the earliest train, went into the station with the MOST trains, and just decided to just take whatever train came first going in the vaguely-right direction. The world outside the theater seemed to have become very apocalyptic while I was in there, and I was intensely watching my back. When I saw a tall thin woman all in black shuffling down the platform, I did a double take; my first impression was that her face was covered in blood. When I looked again I saw that she had bright red, very wet makeup of some kind smeared from her nose to her chin. The rest of her face was covered in a similar substance that was pitch black. She was not white, is the only other detail I was sure of. I couldn't evaluate the situation. Is this a performance? Is she dangerous? Is she in danger? What should I do? My train came before I could figure it out.

gif by @brody75 stupid tumblr wouldn't give it to me normally

A few stops later, the apps said that I should go outside and get a bus that would come in 25 minutes. Ugh, but at least it's coming. As soon as I got outside the apps said that I should have stayed underground and taken another train that was coming in 1 minute. I couldn't even run back in for that because the machine had done something fucked up to my card when I tried to refill it and I was forced to use the transfer for the bus, oh fucking well. So I'm waiting for the bus and I see this other bus coming from the opposite direction with its display flashing "EMERGENCY - CALL 911". I've been living here for a long time and I had never seen anything like that. Was it a real instruction for me? Or was it one of our cop-obsessed mayor's many advertisements for the cops that seem to be everywhere, constantly telling you where are the nearest cops to every location and how you should go find them and give them something to do? The bus pulled up to its stop across the street and I could see that there was just one passenger on it. It seemed scary. A load of people got on at that stop, I wanted to think at least one of them had a uniform on but I wasn't sure. At that moment my bus pulled up. I let everybody else on first and then I told the driver, "That bus across the street is flashing a CALL 911 sign." I thought he would know what to do. Drivers seem to look out for each other. He just stared at me. It was the blankest stare I'd ever seen. He didn't move and he didn't make a sound. I repeated myself and I pointed "That one, over there, is he ok?" ...or whatever I said, I was kind of freaking out. He just nodded, once, and kept staring at me. Then he put it in drive and I sat down.

also @brody75

I had wanted to spend all night working on this project I'm under deadline for--I might as well with all the extra amphetamines in my system--but I could no longer concentrate. I felt like I was in Jacob's fucking Ladder. I also felt like a complete asshole for not helping anyone. I don't know. I never know what to do. I'm constantly getting lost and I have no money and I'm small and clumsy and I don't feel safe with strangers and I don't automatically trust cops and I'm also fairly stupid and cowardly and I don't know how anything works. It's hard for me to imagine taking charge of any situation even when it seems like the choice should be obvious because of instructions or just decency. Also when you start helping people when do you stop? I often think of this standup bit by [cancelled comedian I don't want to argue about] where he describes a younger relative visiting him in the city for the first time, and she's shocked by the first really dire homeless person she sees in Port Authority. She goes rushing over to him and when the comedian stops her she says, "You mean he doesn't need our help?" and he says "Oh no, he needs you desperately! We just don't do that here." And I mean yes, ha ha cynicism, but it's more like how do you even begin to deal with individual instances of a problem that is so huge and ubiquitous that even the large support systems in place can barely handle it. One time in the dead of winter I posted a picture of a pigeon that was so puffed up it was hilariously huge and spherical, and someone scolded me about how "that's a baby" and if I see it again I should transport it to a rehab center. They obviously didn't understand the scale of the photo and must have mistaken the puffery for juvenile down, but it's also like, if I start helping pigeons when will it stop? I've helped a number of animals either get out of a snag or get to rehab when they were obviously incapacitated or sick, but if I lowered my threshold of intervention to "a pigeon that looks cold or uncomfortable", it would never end. Technically probably every rat and pigeon in the city needs some kind of medical attention, they say rats here have diseases that haven't even been identified by science, but what's the actual, rational response for individual citizens?

Anyway I have totally ruined my own weird freaky spooky one-crazy-night anecdote with this awkward musing about what people are supposed to do for each other, and I have made it very clear that I am terrible in an emergency and do not help people. And I'm already imagining arguments with tumblr randos who are always handing out authoritative ethical advice about what to do in every situation, in a way that reveals that they have no real life experience of their own. And now I need to like get to my stupid telehealth visit with the doctor I flaked on last week, and stop being insane, and go back to work. I don't really know why I write these things down. I guess I must have to.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 269: Good Kisser

(written based on the song "Good Kisser" by Lake Street Dive. This song is a bop, might be one of my new favorite songs to sing in the car, thanks, nonnie!)

Raucous laughter reached his ears as Draco emerged from the loo at the pub. He looked over at the table to see that all of the aurors, on the elite team he and Harry had been a part of to dismantle a potions smuggling ring, were looking at him as they laughed.

He glanced at Harry, his partner but also the man he'd fucked into the mattress last night, to find that he was also watching Draco, face open and full of mischief. And it suddenly occurred to him that Potter might have been having him on last night. Maybe that was all Draco was to him, someone for him to bed and then brag of his conquests.

It made him irrationally angry. He burned with the indignity and the injustice of it all. How dare Potter try to make him feel small?

He stalked over to the table, the smile on Potter's face dropping just a bit at the look on his face. "I was just telling them how you-" he started.

But Draco was having none of his posturing, "Did you tell them that I'm a good kisser?" he asked.

And Potter froze. Good.

He grinned, smile sharp as any wolf's, "If you're going to tell them everything else, might as well tell them that, too," he continued calmly.

The entire table was staring at him, something akin to shock on their faces.

"Better yet," he said, "Why not tell them everything you told me in those desperate whispers of yours? hmm?"

Potter's mouth dropped open and he looked like he was trying to find words.

(Read more below the cut)

"Come now, Potter, if you're going to tell them everything, don't leave out the good parts," he continued. "I'm sure you're not overly proud that you were bedded by an ex-death eater but I'm not a bad lover, if I do say so myself." He squared his shoulders, "And as I'm sure this will be all the rage for gossip, I'd at least like them to have an accurate picture. Your story seemed very entertaining," he added, glancing around at the people at the table, "but I've got quite the version as well."

"Draco," Potter finally choked out, "I was telling them about that time you sent a vial of Felix through the muggle post. How it burst and everyone who came into contact with it had remarkable days, and we had to obliviate half a dozen muggles."

He blinked, "Sorry?"

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, "I," he broke off, "I'd never make fun of you about last night," he said, sounding vaguely hurt. "I wouldn't betray your trust."

And suddenly all of the aurors at the table started talking to one another, loudly as though they realized what a delicate conversation they'd happened upon.

Or rather, what a delicate conversation Draco had thrust upon them.

"Oh, Merlin," he whispered. "I'm feeling a bit-" he broke off and turned to dash back to the loo where he was promptly sick all over.

The door to the loo opened, then closed, lock sliding into place and Draco groaned, resting his head against the toilet. Which was actually quite disgusting if he thought too much about it.

"Let me die," he groaned.

Harry hummed at that, "We should talk. Apparently."

"I'm sorry," he said without even looking at the other man. "I shouldn't have assumed-"

"No, you really shouldn't have," Harry replied, he sounded more frustrated than Draco had heard in a long time. "What the fuck, Draco?"

He didn't respond, he didn't know what to say for making such a complete arse out of himself.

"Do you really think so little of me?" Harry asked, voice heavy with what sounded suspiciously like grief.

And Draco couldn't stand it. "No," he said, turning so that he was looking at Harry where he was leaned up against the counter by the sinks. "Not of you. Never of you."

"Well, it certainly sounded like you thought I was just some prick trying to get in your pants so that I could turn it into a fucking punchline." He shook his head, "I'm not that guy, Draco. I don't just sleep around so I have stories to tell-"

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "It's not you, it's me."

"Sounded like it," Harry said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

He swallowed and carefully stood up, taking a few steps toward Harry. "I can't fathom why you wanted to sleep with me."

"Are you fucking serious?" he snapped.

Draco continued, "You're good, and kind, and brave, and funny, and-" he broke off, shaking his head, "amazing. You're amazing. And you could have anyone you want."

"I want you, you twat," he sniped.

He froze for a moment, "You said that last night."

"I did," he replied. "In my," he paused consideringly, "what did you call it? My desperate whispers."

Draco winced, "Sorry," he repeated. "Sorry."

Harry muttered a scourgify and Draco felt it tingle over his body and his mouth in the moment before Harry was grabbing him and shoving him against the wall. Soft lips pressed hard against Draco's and he let out a moan before he could even think, his arms wrapping around Harry's waist and pulling him in.

"I want you," Harry repeated. "Not just for sex. You're gorgeous, and sexy, and clever, and absolutely ruthless. I enjoy being with you," he added. "I want to be with you."

"Me too."

Harry nodded, "Good. Because I believed you when you said that last night."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

He put his finger over Draco's lips, "Can you believe me when I say that I am not an arsehole trying to use you?"

"It's me," he said. "I can't-"

"Can you believe me?" Harry repeated. "Believe that I am actually rather taken with you?"

"I'll try."

Harry grinned at him and leaned in to kiss him, "Good."

They'd been kissing for a long moment when the door rattled. He groaned as Harry pulled back.

"Come on," he said. "Let's finish lunch, then go back to mine."

He nodded and they opened the door, heading back to the table, Harry's hand clasped in his.

"You're looking a little rumpled there, mate," Molly called at Harry as he sat down.

"What can I say?" he said with a careless little shrug, slanting a smirk at Draco, "he's a good kisser."

----------------

read more of my drabbles

#secret relationship #not so secret by the end #song: good kisser by lake street drive #drarry #love #soft #silly #misunderstandings #fluff #insecure draco #auror partners

[bookshelfdreams]

for the ship opinions: the revenge jk jk ok, opinions on lucius/pete, even though I'm aware you love them. (OR DO YOU)

I dooooooo so much you have no idea what this ship means to me listen

LISTEN

you have 2 characters who in any other media would be nothing but comic relief, and the mean kind too - characters the audience is definitely supposed to laugh at, not with

there's Lucius, who is loudly, unavoidably, bravely gay, gay in a way where he cannot ever pretend to be anything else, and he refuses to nobely push his own feelings aside to be the emotional support for a straight romantic lead (for lack of such a character existing, sure, but even is she did can you fucking imagine)

no he's bitchy and a little mean at times because his friendship has to be earned, it's a privilege, not a right, and that alone in any other story would make him gay (derogatory) and anyway the gay best friend and bitchy queer are only 2 sides of the same coin, aren't they

& there's Pete, who first of all does not have typical hollywood looks, does he? short, bald, kinda chubby. THE LISP. and on top of that, he's trying too hard, he's comically concerned with his own reputation, pathetic in his desperate attempts to project a tough guy image (we all know what real heroes look like and it's not that, is it, get a grip and resign yourself to your role as punching bag, lefou)

in short, two characters who on any other show would only be good for being ridiculed, for cheap, repetitive punchlines ("look at this loser trying to play even with the Real People lmao") who WOULD NOT BE WORTHY OF LOVE, EVER

AND YET

because see, the thing is, ofmd doesn't shy away from any of that. they both are, beat for beat, the sort of mean comic relief and stereotypes they ultimately turn upside down and throw overboard. they are a little cringe, a little unappealing, a little too ~~unique~~ for the standard hollywood formula and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. their relationship starts out as a sort of casual fuckbuddies situation and there's nothing wrong with that, either

that's fine. they're fine and good and gorgeous. Pete is allowed to abandon his painfully constructed tough guy persona for a moment of vulnerability and it's absolutely damn beautiful and sweet enough to rot your teeth

because that's what it's about, isn't it, you're allowed to be messy and weird and not conventionally attractive in every possible sense of the word, and that - all of that! - is what makes you good and interesting and loveable

i love this show a lot ok

#thank you i love you #also the revenge is absolutely ridiculous but gorgeous #imagine going to rob a bank and your getaway car is a lambourghini or a private jet or something #thats what the revenge is #our flag means death #thoughts #pete <3 #throwing-roses-into-the-abyss #message

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Who's Gonna Pay Attention To Your Dreams? [a Jay & Frankie fic]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Frankie Morales x Jay ‘Lady’ Ray (OFC) **Series masterlist**

Warnings: the usual jay & frankie language (that means swearing), drinking, jay fucks with someone trying to pick her up, Pining Idiots!

Words: 1,839

Summary: It's just a normal night out with the guys for Jay and Frankie, but both of them are suddenly Feeling Things about the other. Frankie drives Jay home and walks her to the door. Does he have a chance with her?

A/N: Title is obviously from Drive by The Cars.

Taglist: @amneris21 @apascalrascal @harriedandharassed @kikis-writing-world @lovesbiggerthanpride @miraclesabound @mswarriorbabe80 @pazizz @paulalikestuff @rambling-in-purple @trinkets01

Saturday night at the usual dive is just getting started as Jay finishes her drink, and the bartender raises the volume of the music. Something old and very 80's by Bon Jovi is playing, but she doesn't pay attention to the music as she instead leans back in the booth, listening to Benny regaling her and the rest of the guys with some entertaining story from his visit to the gym earlier that day. The punchline is a good one, as it always is with Benny, and she joins the others in a hearty laugh.

"Who's up for more drinks?" Will wants to know when the laughter has died down.

"Duh," Jay scoffs. "You buying?"

"Might as well."

"Hold on," Santi intervenes, fixing Jay with his velvety brown gaze. "You have an admirer."

Frowning, Jay looks around, and sees a tall, lanky guy looking at her from the bar. His tight t-shirt and pumped arms tell her that he spends a lot of time at the gym working to reduce the leanness, but that he constantly skips leg day, and that his muscles are just for show. The kind of man who likes the idea of a no-nonsense girlfriend but can't handle it when she benches more than he does.

"Yeah," she sighs, "that's definitely the type that I manage to attract. Scrawny puppies who think they're tough."

"You've been through a few," Benny agrees, "but you could always ruin another one."

"Is that a challenge?"

"It's not a challenge when it's too easy for you," Will points out, and Jay chuckles.

"True that."

" But I gotta admire his balls," Santi insists, "staring at you like that, even when you're surrounded by four guys. He has to be really into you."

"He doesn't know what he's into," Frankie mutters, low enough for the others to take no heed. Jay does, however, throw him a questioning glance, but he just pulls his cap down to shield his face, and stares into his empty glass.

"Well?" Benny clearly wants to see blood, so Jay sighs theatrically.

"Fine."

She gets up and heads straight towards the guy, who immediately straightens and offers her a friendly smile when she joins him by the bar. She gets the bartender's attention, orders another round, then turns to the guy.

"You know that staring and not coming over to talk isn't going to get you laid, right?" she deadpans, leaning one elbow to the bar. He smiles a little bashfully, clearly sweeter than he tries to present himself.

"You're here, aren't you?" he quips.

"That still doesn't mean you're getting laid."

"Start with a drink?" he suggests easily. "What are you having?”

Jay throws a disdainful look at the man’s cheap bourbon. “Not that.”

He orders two glasses of Scotch, and Jay nods approvingly.

“Now that’s a drink.”

Before the guy has even touched his glass, she has poured the contents of it into her glass and proceeded to emptying it. The Scotch burns smoothly down her throat, settling as a warm weight in her belly, and she hums in approval when she puts down the empty glass.

“Yeah, that’s the good stuff. Thanks.”

With that and a friendly nod, she turns around and walks back to the booth where her teammates have been watching her with bated breaths.

“You’re just too bad, Ray,” Benny shakes his head when she slides into the booth.

“You know that if a man did that to a woman, she’d cut his dick off, right?” Santiago points out. "So it's reverse sexist."

"I think that guy can take one for the team," Frankie defends her demurely. "Men have done some pretty fucked up shit to women for a long time."

Jay glances at him, surprised - yet not - at his stand. Frankie is a good one, she knows that, but she still doesn't expect him to stick his neck out in an environment as hegemonically masculine as the military. But he does, maybe not stridently, but he's always there with a quiet remark in her favor. And it has birthed some kind of strange feeling in her, one that she can't entertain or nourish in any way, because if it had a chance to grow, things would get complicated.

"He started it," she shrugs dismissively. "How is it that I can't go up to a fucking bar for another drink without having men throw themselves over each other trying to buy me one?"

"Yeah, you have it so hard," Santi rolls his eyes. Jay gives him the finger.

"Fuck you."

"Anytime, anyplace, sweetheart," he gives her that smoldering smile that she knows makes other women weak at the knees, but to her it's just phony.

“Not even on your birthday,” she retorts.

A young brunette comes over with their drinks and to flirt with Will, for whom she has a soft spot. Jay grabs her beer and drinks, eyes cast down to keep them from wandering over to Frankie, who has an annoyed line between his brows.

"Goddammit, I have to take an Uber," Jay mutters when she, very intoxicated, exits the bar later that night, followed by Frankie. Benny and Santi already left earlier, having found company for the night, Will was picked up by his girlfriend Serena, and Frankie honestly didn't feel like even trying to find someone to warm his bed tonight.

"I can drive you," he offers quietly: too quiet, in fact, for Jay to hear him as she curses low over her current state while tapping open the app on her phone.

"Jay!" he says, a little louder, and now she's looking at him, blue eyes unfocused from alcohol, a quizzical line in her forehead.

"Frankie!" she barks back, then grins. He has to grin back, then he snatches her phone from her hands.

"I'm driving you," he tells her.

"It's not on your way," she protests, "and give that back, or I'll kick your ass."

"I'd like to see you try."

"I'll do it on Monday during that exercise op Tom threatened us with," she slurs, reaching for her phone, but Frankie keeps it away from her.

"I'm driving you home," he repeats, taking her by the shoulder and leading her to his truck. He had two beers, the last one two hours ago, and feels fine to drive, and drive her home he shall.

"I'd be fine in an Uber," she mutters as she gets into the passenger seat and is awarded her phone back before Frankie closes the door and rounds the truck to the driver's side.

"I know," he tells her, ”But I don't mind."

He'd never tell her that he feels protective of her. Not that she wouldn't be able to defend herself against a possible creep, even in her state he's more than positive that if the need arose, she'd sober up in a heartbeat. No, he just feels better driving her himself. He wants to make sure she makes it all the way into her apartment without any hitches.

Jay buckles up and looks at Frankie as he does the same. "I could've taken an Uber, you know. I'm not that drunk."

"I know," he nods, turning the key in the ignition. "But as I said, I don't mind."

She hums and sinks into the seat a little, redirecting her stare out the window shield.

"Last time I took one, the guy drove like an idiot. I do prefer your driving, it's so smooth."

"Thanks." Frankie smiles a little as he turns out on the road, shifting as slowly accelerating. There's no traffic until he hits the main road leading out of town, and he turns on the radio. The pining voice of Benjamin Orr fills the car: Who's gonna pick you up when you fall? Frankie listens to the lyrics, painfully aware of how relevant they are tonight, glancing at Jay in the passenger seat. Jay, with her baggy jeans, worn-down Converse, zip-down hoodie, crew cut, and zero pretense.

Who's gonna drive you home tonight?

He's driving her home, and he's feeling a lot of things about it.

"Pfft," Jay suddenly scoffs. She leans forward and turns the radio off. She settles back, eyes fixed on the road ahead, and yawns. Frankie bites back on his questions: Are you tired? Take a nap if you feel like it. Are you feeling okay? Do I need to pull over?

He chides himself for those thoughts. Jay could always hold her liquor. He settles into a silence that he quickly discovers is quite comfortable. Jay's presence is palpable, but in a good way. He likes it that he can drive her home without them having to speak to each other.

"Thanks for the lift," she says when he parks outside her apartment building. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Frankie nods.

"No problem."

"What are you doing?" she frowns at him when he gets out at the same time as her. He shrugs as he starts to walk towards the front door of her building.

"Checking under the bed for monsters before you go to sleep," he tries to joke, but realizes immediately that it was a bad idea to think about Jay's bed. It sets off a tiny pull deep inside him.

It's Jay, for fuck's sake, Jay "My Lady" Ray, his teammate who is fully capable of killing him with her bare hands. Jay, whom he trusts completely. Jay, the most competent, stubborn, funny, tough person he knows.

"My hero," she quips in her most sarcastic voice, but lets him follow her in. She takes the steps quite easily, but when she's about to unlock the door, the keyhole proves difficult to find. Frankie takes the key from her and opens the door, stepping in before her.

"All clear," he tells her, ”No monsters in the entry."

He turns back to her just as she trips on the threshold and falls headlong into his arms that he promptly, instinctively opened for her. He expects her to pull back from her stumble against his chest, but instead her hands come to his shoulders, and she stays where she is. Slowly, she raises her gaze to his, the light of the stairwell spilling into her unlit apartment just enough for him to see the blue in her eyes, and her lips separate for a second before the upper comes down on the lower one to wet it.

God, he wants to kiss her.

The thought has barely passed through his brain before Jay takes a step back.

"Good night, Fish." She sounds a little shaken, but maybe he's imagining it.

"Good night," he replies automatically, handing her the key. Her fingers are warm when they touch his.

Frankie closes the front door behind him and heads down to his car. Before he drives away, he watches the lights come on in her window. Jay's shadow move behind the curtain and eventually, the window turns dark.

Not until then does he start the truck and drive away, heart beating for new and impossible reasons.

#frankie morales #frankie x lady #lady jayne ray #triple frontier fanfic #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #francisco morales #my fic

[canyouhearthelight]

Nihilus Rex, Ch. 14: Date Night

You didn't really think that yours truly could write this much of a story without some flat out tooth-decaying fluff at some point, did you?

I mean, who do you think I am??

But don't worry, @baelpenrose definitely did his part. Don't let his angsty ways fool you.

Hang my coat up in the first bar

There is no peace that I've found so far

The laughter penetrates my silence

As drunken men find flaws in science

Their words mostly noises

Ghosts with just voices

Your words in my memory

Are like music to me

Snow Patrol, “Set Fire to the Third Bar”

Lash

              At six forty-five on the dot, I spotted Nils from across the parking lot behind the comedy club. His expensively worn-out leather pants made me feel a little better about having braved the kohl eyeliner and mascara, along with wearing clothes that actually fit instead of the baggy cargos I wore day to day.  It looked like I overshot, though, because he started to walk right past me. 

              “It can’t be that bad,” I joked, grabbing his arm and startling him into turning around. I forced down the self-conscious feeling that tried to bubble into my throat.

              He started and then turned and stared, pale face flushing. “I uh…I’ve never seen you dressed up like this before.” His eyes flicked up and down my outfit, then fixed on my face. “You look amazing.”

              I kicked one foot playfully, looking down at my jeans and boots. “Usually I’m trying to avoid being noticed.  Pretty sure these boots were made to grab attention - they’re vintage. Borrowed them from Mama, and don’t ask why she owns them, because I don’t want to think about it.”  Thank god she did, though - cavalier boots were expensive, and these were actually real leather.

              “They look good on you. So does the sweater.” Nils took my arm. “I believe I promised you a drink?” 

              “Yes, sir. One cherry bomb, let’s go!” I tugged on his hand, leading us to the door. Without batting an eye, I handed my ID and cover to the door guy, knowing he wasn’t going to look hard enough to do the math.  Sure enough, he took the cash, handed back the card, and slapped a wristband on to show I was old enough to buy alcohol.  Nils just arched an eyebrow at me as he did the same.

              Once we were in, Nils let me lead him to the bar and delivered the orders - a cherry bomb and a Malibu sunrise. “You a fan of standup, or just the headliner?” 

              “Mmmm, bit of both,” I answered carefully. “Not a fan of the kind of standup that goes for the cheap jokes, but the headliner tonight is really clever. You don’t really expect the punchlines, it’s smart.”

              “Gotcha. So, uh. What the fuck is a cherry bomb? I’m not like. A mixed drinks expert but I know my way around a bar and I’ve never heard of that one…”

              “Ooo, you’ll have to try a sip,” I teased. “It’s cherry vodka and Redbull, kind of a big girl cosmo.  Tastes like those sour cherry candies, the bright red chewy ones.” I paused for a second before remembering. “If they’re mixed right. Some places add grenadine, and then it tastes like cough syrup.  They should be clear if they’re made right.”  Our drinks were set down right then, and I grabbed mine, taking a sip before holding it in front of his face. “See? No color.”

              Nils raised his eyebrows. “Swap sips? Thing I ordered is peach, rum, and coconut. Tastes like a melted smoothie, mostly - strong though, but it doesn’t taste like it.” 

              I reached for his, game for a little challenge. It was smooth, as promised, kind of like a fuzzy navel if it weren’t for the coconut.  Not my jam, but not bad at all.

              He took a sip of the cherry bomb and smiled. “This is excellent. Not quite my taste for a mixed drink, but amazing. Doesn’t taste like alcohol at all.”

              “I know, right? Yummy.” I turned to scope out the room before settling on a table roughly mid way back on the left hand side.  Without a word, I grabbed the first thing my hand landed on above Nils’ waist - either a pocket or a belt, I wasn’t sure - and started dragging him behind me. “Gotta snag the heckle-free table before it gets taken,” I explained when he yelped. Something wet sloshed on my arm, and I mentally promised to replace the drink I was probably now wearing.

              “Sorry!” he grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at my sleeve as we sat down. “I did not mean to splash that on you.” 

              “No worries, it’s my fault. And it’s wool, don’t worry about stains or anything.”

              “Ah.” He sat down. “How did you find out about this place originally?” 

              “Really bad day, and I wanted cheering up?” The look he gave me made it clear he wasn’t buying it, so I relented. “They actually found me.  Needed some advertising done and some security cameras set up, paid me half cash and free tickets to a show.  We’ve been loyal business partners ever since.”

              “That makes sense. So you did some art for them and did the systems for the security cams? That’s pretty awesome.” He gave me a strange look, very obviously forcing himself to keep his eyes on mine. “So you take all your shady hacker friends here, or just me?” 

              I stretched, waving at one of my favorite servers with a grin. “Nah, this is my sanctuary, kind of. Somewhere I can just be young and normal, do completely legal work for legal-in-two-weeks pay.  Please tell me you guys have poppers tonight? You were out last time, and it made me sad.” I pouted at the server with the biggest doe-eyes I could manage without laughing.

              She scowled at me for all of three seconds before cracking a smile. “Double order, extra ranch?”

              Nils pulled out a card. “Whatever she says. She’s just showing me around.” 

              I bit my lip to stifle the laugh when the server rolled her eyes and flipped her hair in mock arrogance. “Lashy-love does not pay for food.  Anything but the drinks are comped.” She looked at me and rolled her eyes again. “New guys. What are you gonna do?”

His face! “I told you it was cute when you thought you won.”

              He recovered with reasonable game. “You, Lash, are a genie and not the nice kind. Side note, you get better ‘free stuff’ contracts than I do - best I have is a nerd hobby shop that gives discounts.” He paused as he took another sip. “Though it is nice to finally get actual confirmation on your age. You’re 21 in two weeks, huh?” The lazy grin was back. 

              “For the record, I’m still trying to find volume seven of Battle Angel Alita,” I pointed out. “But yes. Lash Dalita is twenty-one as of a month ago. Elakshi is twenty-one in two weeks.”

              “That’s your name? It suits you. Thank you for telling me. Still can’t use it, right?” 

              “I would prefer you didn’t, yeah.  It’s… kind of the line in my mind that keeps my parents and sister safe.  For them, I’m Elakshi. For everyone else, I’m Lash.  Lash Dalita can get arrested without hurting my family.”

              He nodded, somberly. “I won’t use your real name. Not unless you tell me I can.” he let that sit between us. “Question though - why Dalita? I’m not an expert on Indian or Pakistani culture, but isn’t ‘dalit’ the term for…low-caste, often discriminated against?”

              Ooo, not so dumb after all. “It means ‘outcast, untouchable, undesirable’, yeah.  It’s kind of a private joke - who chooses to work with the ‘poor, discriminated against girl’, and who steers clear.”

              Nils visibly thought about saying something. “No One, apparently.” The tone made it clear that the word was capitalized. “I like your alias. Good signal for solidarity with people who need it.” 

              I winked as the plate of deep fried goodness hit the table. “You aren’t the only one with clever jokes.”

              “Clearly not.” He gestured at the guy who’d taken the stage. “Warm up acts here normally good?” 

              “He’ll either make us laugh, or make us laugh at how bad he is.  Worth finding out, right?”

              “Oh totally.” Nils leaned back. “If I can ask, and you can tell me to fuck right off, how are your family doing since…” He left unspoken the obvious. Since the liens released. Since debt stopped hanging over their heads. Since we rewrote millions of people’s financial situations. 

              I lowered my voice as the opener started what looked to be a truly poor patter. “He’s being Baba - I promise that will make sense eventually. But he doesn’t fully trust good things, so he is putting what he would pay on the car and my student loans into a separate account, just in case he has to end up paying. He says worst case scenario, he has the money to pay, best case scenario, he has extra savings. Truly a win-win, insert self satisfied expression here.  For him, that means he is happier than a pig in shit, honestly.”

              “And, if i can ask, how are you feeling about no more student loans?” There was something urgent there. His gaze snapped back to the stage and he chuckled. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about win-win with comedy. Latter option, here, but hey, it’s a warm up act.”

“Poor guy, yeah,” I chuckled, snagging a jalapeno popper and drenching it in thick ranch. “Student loans weren’t a huge problem, for me, thankfully - I got lucky. Only had a loan for my first semester, so it was something just north of seven grand.  I gave Baba the principal, he insisted on paying the interest because ‘usury is theft’, but it was something around seventy-five a month. I still give him the money, he sets it aside in savings, and I draw a couple more yaoi to make up the difference, just like before.” I took a bite of food and pointed at Nils with the other half. “By the way, South Park yaoi, real big right now.” 

“I’d say ew but my most profitable artistic side hustle was Avengers Mpreg A/B/O garbage paid by the page, so…actually, fuck it. ‘Ew, but I’ve done worse’.” He shrugged. “Amazing what internet perverts will pay for.” 

“Aww, A/B/O Mpreg not your jam? More of a tentacle guy?” I teased before giving an exaggerated shudder. “Don’t get me wrong, I have drawn entirely too many ovipositors and feet. But those so-called perverts pay really good money, so I refuse to judge them.” I did a mock toast before draining what was left of my drink. “Hmm. Water or another? The dilemma is very real.”

“I’m more of a ‘dangerous women who could kill me’ and ‘cute femboys and/or barra’ guy, which you almost certainly could have guessed from my everything, but that’s hardly the point. Also, I generally space drinks with water because it makes it take longer to get wasted and we’re gonna be here a while. Figure water first, then another?” 

“I think we do both, since the water will get refilled automatically, whereas we have to get up to get drinks. Sound good?” I pointed at the plate between us. “Besides. While I am fully capable of eating these by myself, I have no intention of doing so.”

He laughed. “I appreciate you. And yeah, sounds good.” He picked one up and took a slow bite. “Oh, holy shit this is amazing. I love this.” 

“The only place I know that makes their own,” I shook my head slowly in disbelief. “Fresh peppers, cream cheese, bacon wrapped, breaded, and fried.” I pointed to the ranch. “Don’t miss out on that shit, either. Extra garlic, extra salt, extra dill. Amazing.”

He dipped the popper in it and took a small bite, his eyes popping. “Oh my god. Lash. How did you..?” 

“I will eat jalapeno poppers from any gas station or drive through… this is all the cook in the back. Who I joyfully would one day marry, sight unseen, if he weren’t already married.” I took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Wife’s pretty cute, though. You saw her.”

Nils raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Just a husband-wife team run this place, huh? Love it.” 

I waffled a hand back and forth. “Sort of. Bartender isn’t family, and I don’t think they’re related to the owner. But if there is a good show, those two are always working.  You can imagine she cleans up on tips, between the food and - I mean, you saw her.” I gave him a sardonic look, knowing good and well the man wasn’t blind, no matter how much he was trying to make a good impression. Michelle plus pulse equaled crush, it was just physics.

“I can imagine.” He seemed to decide to take a chance, after weighing his thoughts for a second. “If I may be so bold, though, my attention was rather occupied by another young woman.” 

Thank fuck the lights were dimmed, I thought as my face heated up. “Glad to know the effort hadn’t gone to waste,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.  A hand immediately flew to my mouth and my eyes widened. “I - I didn’t mean…. Oh, god, I said that out loud…” I groaned and covered my face with both hands.

Nils was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual, something-far-away, private-joke smile, with something else he was thinking about. It was a sincere expression, with an amusement entirely in the moment. “Apparently I’m not the only one who trips over my own words sometimes either? But no, Lash.” He blushed. “I’ve noticed for a while. Hard not to when we did all that together and I got to see firsthand how brilliant you are, how hard you go for…everything.”

Applause erupted around us, and I was relieved to see the poor opener had finished his set. I felt so bad for him, but right now I was too embarrassed to do more than clap enthusiastically that neither of us had died of humiliation. “Hold that thought, I am going to get our next round of drinks. You flag down Michelle and order waters. No lemon, they don’t wash them.  And if she asks, tell her tap water. It’s the only kind they have, but she asks sometimes to figure out if people are going to tip or not.”

Nils nodded, face flushing, hopefully harder than mine. I took off to the bar, holding up a twenty to get attention. “One shot of vodka, neat.  Then a cherry bomb and a… shit. Malibu sunrise! That’s it.”  The shot was delivered first, and I downed it immediately to calm my nerves. When the other drinks appeared, I stuffed the twenty in the tip jar and paid with my card before heading back to our table.             

              “One Malibu sunrise, as promised for spilling the first one,” I proclaimed, setting the drink down with a flourish before taking my seat.  Two glasses of water and an empty shot glass were already there, and I barely set my drink down before tipping my head back with laughter, tears coming to my eyes. “Same brain, I see.  I had one at the bar.”

              “What’s your shot of choice?” The grin was back, even if the flush was still sort of there, as he, seeming to act almost by instinct, had stood up as I’d come back and sat down. 

              “Stoli,” I gasped, carefully dabbing tears from my eyes to avoid smudging my makeup. “Just the right price point that I don’t feel bad throwing back, but doesn’t burn or taste foul like the cheaper stuff. You?”

              “Jack Daniels. Cheap whiskey, you know. My grandfather was the first one in the family to make any money, said he really liked the kind of cheap stuff he grew up with. Kind of a soothing thing, and he and I were close.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but shrugged.

              “My family doesn’t drink except for holidays that require it,” I confessed. “We aren’t Muslim, by the way. A lot of people seem to think that, like I’m some black sheep or something. Baba just doesn’t get the point of drinking, and Mama is too much of a control freak. But Holi…. Hooo, you should see them.”

              “Hindu holidays then? Tell me about some of those. Google only gets me so far and I want to know more about you. What’re they like?” 

              “We’re… culturally Hindu, I guess you could say.  On Baba’s side. Mama is culturally Jewish, actually.  It’s a weird mix when it gets to holidays - Holi, then Passover, that kind of thing.  Funerals are very emotional. Beef and pork are pretty much just out of the question at home, in general.  Mama isn’t observant, so fermented foods are okay, and Baba would die without yeasted bread, I swear.  But both sides are very family oriented, so any excuse to get together is always an unbelievable amount of people.  I gave up keeping track, honestly.”

              “Big family get togethers. That sounds awesome. Complicated, but beautiful. Energetic, amazing.” 

              I wanted to ask Nils about growing up Catholic - a kind of sterility I couldn’t even fathom, honestly, in my messy, emotional family - but the headlining act came on and wasted no time in doing her audience work.  “Hands up if you’re married!  Keep them up if you came without your spouse!  And whose spouse has already messaged or called…”

              I took a long chug of water before I started laughing, knowing that I had about thirty seconds before I would start choking otherwise.  Sure enough, the first person in the crowd was called upon and Nils’ drink went spraying on the floor as some poor woman called out that her husband had texted asking where the ketchup was.

              “Okay, yeah, see why you love her.”

              “They asked if we had any clean towels!”

              I nodded, my face hurting too much from laughing to give a good response.  The second an older man shouted out that his male partner texted to ask if the partner had already had a hysterectomy, I knew any conversation was done for the rest of the set.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #nihilus rex #afterverse #modern dystopia #cyberpunk #alternate timeline #nils andover #fluff

[hermanunworthy]

writer anon from a couple months ago here… fuck man. it’s the day the music died.

(idk what this is and it’s not very good)

but when you go to meet god, you know, you wanna look nice

hermie’s had those dreams before, the kind where he can feel that his eyes are closed and he tries to open them while he’s asleep but he can’t. this is like that- except there’s no body attached to it. he feels out for… nothing. not even an ache over his heart, where the blood was just staining a moment ago. a year ago? he feels heavy. he’s not sure where he feels it. there’s no body anymore. there’s no him.

“well hello there, darling.” his father. he looks up. there’s no one here. scam’s voice is all around. “did you have fun?”

did you have fun? two years of high school theatre, that’s what it added up to, more or less, and then a few insane months with the teens. was it fun? he can’t remember now.

in this space, he sees it. it really was only two years. there was nothing before that. his memories of growing up are so two-dimensional, it feels like he could print them right out of his head and fold them up into a little paper person and be looking at his twin.

“it was just a joke, you know, all in good fun. oh, they’re wrapping it up now, story’s almost over. ‘that’s all, folks!’ and all that, you know. shame, we’ve only got so much time left.” scam didn’t sound sad. “I kept thinking your father would come after me at some point. it was good fun, messing with the king-of-hell demon-cop. pretty shitty guy, I gotta say.”

a scene materializes in front of hermie. a wooden stage, classic red curtains to frame it, and a styrofoam grave marker in the center. two actors bearing a comically-grotesque resemblance to his adoptive parents were badly stage-crying over it.

at the top, à-la-phantom of the opera, jodie peered down at the actors. he watched for a moment, then turned away to fix his attention on someone else.

did you have fun?

“I was wondering though. were you lying?”

hermie paused. “what?” his voice sounded strange.

“your last words to normal. he wasn’t conscious to hear them, you know. but were they genuine?” he could hear the rubber stretch of scam’s smile splitting far wider than a mouth should go. “did you mean it?”

“I can’t die,” hermie said slowly. “can I.”

“well, you weren’t exactly alive, so it’s hard for you to be dead.” scam sounded more distant now. “no place in heaven or hell for a puppet, just ask jigsaw.”

hermie’s jaw clenched. “I wasn’t a puppet. I wasn’t… anything.”

“right, so you get the point. I’m asking what you were teeing up for with that last line, hermie. obviously you won’t be around to deliver the payoff. were you just planning on ditching them without a punchline?”

“it’s what you did.”

“the ditch was the punchline, worthless, that’s the crux of the whole thing.” scam’s voice had taken on an edge. “I died once too. got shot off a dragon, actually. it was a lot like this.”

“was it?”

a pause. “I don’t remember.”

the curtains closed. somewhere, the sound of a gigantic clock started up, or maybe a metronome. “well, this has been fun, if ultimately unsatisfying, but I’m afraid this is where I must leave you. show’s over.”

“are you sure?”

“you’re the one who stopped dancing. oh.” scam was smiling again; he could hear it. “oh. I see it now, the prestige. you were the set-up for something truly… oh. wow. now this is a show.”

normal. hermie tried to take a deep breath. “what’s he doing?”

“making your whole life part of his own villain origin story. so sorry you aren’t around to see this, I know how you always liked the villains, but, well.”

“you can’t bring me back?” hermie clenched his fists. “you can’t do one thing for me, after…?”

scam scoffed. “oh, now he wants to live.”

crack! hermie was a five-year-old watching the big kids win the speedrun. crack! hermie was a cat in a garbage can being jumped by the pussywagon. crack! hermie was sitting in a car in hell, and normal was kissing his cheek. crack! hermie was a voice on the phone, hermie was saying “this is john.” crack! hermie was the dying papa john, hot cheese coursing through his veins. crack! hermie was dying, hermie was lying on the ground with blood spilling from his…

“your father and I were similar in one regard, actually. when our lives were threatened, when there was only one way to be free, we took it. we split, you could say, we…” scam hesitated. hermie thought about a demon and a highway patrol officer, a mustache and a fedora. “sometimes you get a card. sometimes you get a court order. but you always get a choice. you don’t get to be yourself. that’s what the world taught both of us. no matter your power, your influence, if the world doesn’t want you to be yourself, and you still want to live, well…”

he saw the joker, keira knightley, risky click, a whole parade of shifting faces flickering between his reflection and his performances. he heard his words to normal in goof’s realm- you don’t like me, you idiot.

“do you want to live? you never get to go back, you know, not to what you were. even if you’re able to reconcile the memories, once you’ve been something you never fully stop being it. and that saves you a little, the first you, but it’ll damn you just as surely.

“unless.” one giant eye in front of hermie. “was there anyone, hermie? anyone who wanted you to be yourself?”

what did he honestly believe, about what normal wanted?

he didn’t know if his last words were a lie. he didn’t know if his next ones would be either.

do you want to live?

IM SO SORRY FOR LEAVING U HANGING FOR A WHILE WRITER ANON IVE BEEN AT WORK BUT IM BACK. I WOULD SAY WE ARE SO BACK BUT NO ITS SO OAKWOVER. HERMAN UNWOVER.

I AM INSANE ABOUT THIS DO U UNDERSTAND HOW CRAZY THIS IS TO DROP IN MY INBOX. THIS IS SO WELL DONE IM GONNA EXPLODE THE FUCKING. AAUAUAUAGAHHHH

#I HAVE NO COHERENT THOUGHTS SORRY #IM EXPLODING #THIS IS REALLY GOOD IM VERY UPSET #hermie the unworthy #dndads spoilers #dndads s2 spoilers #writer anon #siren says #answering asks

[fullstcp]

"You Might Not Like Her" by Maddie Zahm Sentence Starters

POCKET BIBLE

"He/she/they could've been the best friend I couldn't have."

"Passed out advice, never passed out on drugs."

"I/You carried around judgement and labeled it love."

"I thought I knew how to live exactly right."

"The truth ain't travel sized."

"What's it gonna take to heal a heartbreak?"

"What happens if I kiss a girl/boy for Christ's sake?"

"If I'm getting high, am I mistake?"

"Why'd they start to want me when I lost the weight?"

"Why do I feel better when I don't pray?"

"I must've missed a verse that was vital."

FAT FUNNY FRIEND

"I have to be nice or I'll be the next punchline."

"I'm just the best friend in Hollywood movies who only exists to continue the story."

"The girl gets the guy, while I'm standing off-screen."

"I'll wait for my cue to be comedic relief."

"If I don't answer now, are they still gonna need me?"

"Do they keep me around, so their flaws just seem silly?"

"I say 'I'm okay', cause they wouldn't care anyway."

"And I could try to explain, but my effort's in vain."

"I've done every diet to make me look thinner."

"So why do I still feel so goddamn inferior."

"It's funny when I think a guy/girl likes me."

"If I don't answer now, are they still gonna miss me?"

"Life of the fat, funny friend."

IF IT'S NOT GOD

"Be pretty and don't make it look like you're trying."

"When they were wrong, I could never keep quiet."

"I searched for the truth, and had faith that I'd find it."

"I let myself be the liar."

"I never understood some types of love being wrong."

"Something inside me was always steering left."

"What father/mother picks a few just to leave the rest?"

"I heard a voice inside my head, it disagreed."

"So if that wasn't God, well, thank God it was me."

"They called me a sinner when I was a saint."

"I let them call me the liar."

"He'll/she'll/they'll know why I left, why I ran in a hurry."

"Either way I choose, I'm not wasting my life."

"The voice in my head has always been right."

INEVITABLE

"You spent ten years with somebody, didn't end up working out."

"You call me a friend, again and again."

"We could try to resist, to keep our distance."

"We could call this what it isn't."

"This has more push than it ever had pull."

"We're inevitable."

"You look out for me and it scares me."

"Every time I meet someone new face to face, the pieces don't fit the same."

"We both know it's inevitable."

"This was never in our control."

"Can we both admit it's out of our control?"

YOU MIGHT NOT LIKE HER

"It's against everything that we stood for."

"Someday, you'll kiss a girl/boy and you'll panic."

"You'll learn to let people have their opinions."

"Someday, you'll learn to keep your own secrets."

"You'll say you're doing okay and really mean it."

"You'll lose your faith a bit and question if she's/he's/they're you."

"For a while you not like her/him/them, but I do."

"You'll the old you, but here's the deal."

"That good girl/guy you were was really fucking bad at being real."

"They'll love you not despite, but regardless."

"You'll learn to let people have shitty opinions."

#rp memes #rp starters #rp prompts #rp lyric meme #lyric prompts #lyric starters #roleplay starters #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #not the old me. 2.0 me. no it's all of meme combined (ask meme) #when there was me and queue (queue) #tw: drugs #tw: religion #tw: religious themes #tw: body image

[sincerelyella]

Hello friend, it is I, @promptnonny

I have come bearing a gift for you 💗

Character A: “You’re mad.”

Character B: “No, I’m not mad. I’m happy, thrilled. I love looking like an idiot.”

Character A: “That explains your shoes.”

Have fun ❤️

Please tag me in what you come up with for this prompt 😘

Broken Toy

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Characters belong to Pixelberry; Ella Brooks belongs to me. Please note that my stories are not to be stolen and or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome and much appreciated.

Summary: An AU based on the show New Girl (my favorite can you tell??) Just a collection of one-shots and shenanigans that allude to the show. This will NOT be canon, that means this won’t be in Cordonia and Liam isn’t a King. If you have watched the show before, you know they are in Los Angeles, California.

The Loft masterlist

A/N: This is legit so dumb lol just pure shenanigans and I apologize in advance.

A/N2: I know I pop up every now and then, I’m so sorry for that. Aaaand I also know my taglist is OLD. So please please PLEASE let me know if you want off. I promise, my shit isn’t all that important and I won’t be offended. Love y’all!

Thank you @promptnonny for sending me this, I absolutely loved the prompt!

Also participating in @choicesflashfics with two prompts in bold.

Love you @ao719 thanks for reading this and encouraging me to post this craziness that may or may not make sense LOL

Warnings: Adult language; sexual innuendos; Loft shenanigans

Words: 979

Leo sighed as he took another long swig of his beer. The loft was empty and quiet that Friday night, save for the television playing some rerun of the news from earlier. He had a rough day at work, traffic was horrendous coming home, and trying to get used to the painful and swollen manhood in his pants was proving to be a difficult task. 

The cell phone that lay on the coffee table in front of him suddenly rang, and a picture of Ella popped up on the screen. Leo’s brow raised in question as he picked up the phone and swiped to answer. 

“Yello?”

“Leo!” Ella’s frantic tone caused Leo to sit up on the couch, then immediately grimace and grab his crotch in pain. 

“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I need you to come and get me! You gave my number to the wrong guy!”

“Wrong guy?” Leo’s brain was half-buzzed and he had no idea what she was talking about. “You just don’t seem like yourself tonight, El, are you good?”

Ella let out an exasperated sigh. “I told you I liked Chad! And you gave my number to Beaver instead! And it turns out, that’s his government name! Not a nickname!”

The lightbulb finally flashed. “Oh! Chad? He’s boring as fuck! Beaver is so hilarious! What did he do?”

He heard Ella lower her voice, and there was a slight echo as if she was hiding in a bathroom. “He just told me a 10-minute joke about a squirrel with the punchline ‘eat these nuts.'"

Leo let out a loud rumble of laughter. “You’re gonna end up having sex missionary with a lot of eye contact.”

“Come pick me up now!” Ella hissed. “This is your fault!”

The next day 

Leo sat at the kitchen island, a large bag of ice over his crotch as he thumbed through a new issue of Better Homes & Gardens while sipping his coffee. Ella slammed a drawer shut and it made Leo jump. “What is wrong with you?”

“I can’t believe you did that to me, Leo,” Ella snarled as she stirred her coffee and creamer. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Firstly,” Leo stuck a finger in the air. “I did nothing to you. If anything, I was trying to help a friend. Second,” he stuck another finger up. “You set me up with that model and now my whole penis is broken! You had this coming.”

Ella raised a brow. “Aw, so sad that your toy is broken. That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“No, what’s melodramatic is me not being able to get something going with myself! It’s like a taffy pull on a hot summer’s day!”

“Ewwww!” Ella screamed as she covered her ears. 

Drake and Maxwell walked into the kitchen, Drake with his normal scowl, Max with his cheerful smile. 

“Good morning everyone!”

“What did Rys do now?” Drake asked upon seeing Ella with her hands over her ears.

Ella let out a frustrated sigh. “I can’t even repeat it, I can still see the visual in my retinas!” She stomped off to her room in a huff.

“She left her coffee,” Max quipped. “Let me bring it to her before she short circuits.” He grabbed the mug and high-tailed after her.

Drake took the first sip of his black coffee and sighed happily. “Hey, how long are you gonna ice that thing?”

Leo shook his head sadly. “Eight weeks. Any excitement is excruciating pain.”

Drake nodded in response; then his mouth curled into a mischievous smirk. “Boobies.”

“What?”

He hid his growing smile behind his mug as he took another sip of coffee, then repeated himself a little louder than before. “Boobies.”

Leo sat up in his seat, a broad smile on his face. “Oh I love boobies … ow!”

Drake couldn’t contain his grin as he continued. “Girls with clean hair.”

Leo’s smile had faded and his face contorted into a grimace as he groaned in pain. “This is the least funny game we’ve ever played.”

“Models eating sliders.”

“What the fuck, Walker? Stop!” 

“Bernadette Peters on a high beam.”

Leo pressed his forehead against the kitchen island as he squirmed and continued to grab himself to lessen the pain.

“Freshly baked bread,” Drake gleefully continued his word torment.

“Why do you hate me?” Leo yelled.

Drake cackled. “Leo, this is just your hypochondria.” 

“No, when I sat on the mute button and thought I’d gone deaf, that was my hypochondria!” He slowly slid off of the bar stool and hobbled to his room. “I need a fucking cast on this!”

“You’re mad.”

“No, I’m not mad,” Leo hollered from his room. “I’m happy, thrilled. I love when you make me look like an idiot.”

Drake wandered to the open door and smirked at his friend laying face down on his bed. “That explains your shoes,” he snorted. “I kid, I kid. But really, they’re ridiculous.”

Leo’s head flung up and glared; he had his fluffy dinosaur house shoes on. “It’s cold and comfortable!”

“It’s 68 degrees, Rys!”

“What are you wearing? Like I’m the one wearing stupid shit!” Leo gestured to Drake’s pants. “Are those your girlfriend’s pajama bottoms?”

Drake awkwardly looked down at himself, forgetting he threw it on and pulled his shirt down over his crotch. “It’s uh … football pants for breast cancer awareness.”

“It’s pink with 'juicy' written on your ass, you freaking weirdo.”

Throwing back the last of his coffee, Drake grimaced and released an exasperated breath. “I like how it hugs my junk okay?”

A door opened down the hall and a female voice echoed down the hallway. “Drake, where are my pants?”

Drake’s eyes widened and he turned and ran back to his bedroom. Leo let out a hoot of laughter, then grunted and grabbed his crotch in pain. “Busted!”

#Broken Toy #The Loft #trr #trr choices #trr fandom #trr fanfic #choices fanfic #choices #play choices #choicesflashfics #prompt nonny #the royal romance #the royal romance fandom #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance fanfiction #young adult

[d15gu571ng]

do you actually like family guy or is it just 4 the meme? im dying 2 know

Thanks for the question anon!

This is hard to put into words because while I do genuinely like the show, I like it for more than what it is on the surface. Its not that I relate to the characters on a deep emotional level but more or so of how it slowly grew on me and changed the way I thought of how I interact with media and the people who consume it.

When I first saw the show I was an 11 year old kid who "liked" almost anything, as long as it was 'entertaining' for me. Mind you I didn't actually understand what was going on, nor did I even react to alot of the scenes in any way I just... watched it to watch it. I mean, it beats the shitty infomercials and corny live action sitcoms that were on at the time.

When I formed an actual opinion on the show it was a deep, deep hatred. I saw the show as objectively lazy, cheap, mean-spirited and just downright obnoxious at times with its themes and writing. And I'll admit it, it's true.

Family guy is not an amazing show. A lot of it's characters, which used to be charming and fun to watch became flanderized distorted versions of themselves due to the passage of time. It's writing has moments where it can be downright cringe inducing, especially with some of the jokes. The themes of certain episodes are so ridiculously problematic that it made even ME feel uncomfortable on occasion. The animation is quite often cheap and stiff and don't even get me started on the modernized design of the show itself...

I can completely understand why somebody would say it was downright garbage.

But my dad LOVED that show

He would continuously talk about how funny he found Peter and his family, recount episodes by memory and even show me his favorite clips of the show and would laugh and laugh at the occasionally shitty punchlines. He loved this stupid bad show so much that for almost every birthday he'd ask me to draw Peter Griffin for him..

I hated that shit.

I would rant to him about how shitty the show was and that it was incredibly problematic that he liked it. And most of the time he'd simply reply, "Well I think it's funny!"

And I'd give a snarky retort on how it was stupid that he did.

Needless to say we didn't talk much about what we liked to one another.

And as more and more life stuff happened we became more distant and hostile until finally I was out of the house for college.

I didn't really reach out to him often and I rarely ever called.

And that was that at the time.

Until I watched dog bites bear.

Now to preface this, it was by complete accident. All my favorite video essayists has no more videos to watch, and I would rather tear my own eyes out than listen to another reddit "Am I the asshole for killing my entire family" type post. So without anything better to do, I let it play out. And to say I was shocked at how good stewie and brian's plotline was had me shocked. For a good while, I was obsessed with this episode, and I became even MORE shocked when I realized that there were MULTIPLE episodes with this amount genuine-ness to it.

As I began to binge through more and more episodes of this... fucking stupid show I hated at the time, I started to see aspects of it that I missed out on.

The original music and dance sequences ranged from alright to downright impressive! And it doesn't help that I'm a sucker for musicals and showtunes. Some of the fight scenes being actually, pretty well choregraphed. Yes, the camera angles are flat and uninspired at times, I do like how creative they can be. Some of the plotlines in many episodes have actually REALLY GOOD STORY BEATS AND SCENES TO IT. Like for example, when Peter and Lois reunite in Meet the Quagmires, or every moment of Peter and Brian's relationship in New Kidney in Town and Forget Me Not, Brain and Stewie's EVERYTHING (And the episode too). AND THESE WEREN'T EVEN THE FIRST 3 SEASONS.

I could honestly go on and on about the things I enjoyed in this show and it kinda made me realize alot about how I treated this show and the people who liked it. I genuinely thought I was better than them JUST BECAUSE THEY LIKED THIS "OBJECTIVELY BAD" PEICE OF MEDIA and I would constantly put people down just for liking the things that I considered to be bad. So, when I binged this show and CONSIOUSLY HAD A GOOD TIME WATCHING ALOT OF THE EPISODES? It made me realize that...

I was such a pretentious fucking dick as a kid lol

When I finished binging through around... what... a good 2-3 hours of family guy, my dad called me

And rather than ignoring it like I usually did I actually picked up... It was a little awkward at first, at least from my end... but I don't think my dad even noticed my stiffness. He was just happy to hear my voice after so long, asking how I was doing and how was school and all that... and I'd answer my usual "It was fine." But, what really started a conversation between us was me asking him what his personal favorite episode of Family Guy was, just out of pure curiosity. And the way I could hear his voice light up as he gushed about all his favorite moments...? Christ man...

As stupid as "Family Guy helped me rebuild my connection with my father" SOUNDS, it's really what happened. We ended up spending alot more time together, talking about things we liked and disliked and realized that... we were alot similar than either of us expected. And not only that it really helped me see both the good and the bad in media and that it was ok to enjoy things that everyone else enjoyed, even if the bad outweighs the good.

I understand that the great aspects of family don't represent the show as a whole... but there's a reason other than capitalistic corporatism of why this show just doesn't ever fucking end. Because there's people there that care about this show and these stupid shitty goofy ass characters, both the fans and the people who work on it.

Idk... this was an unnecessarily personal and sentimental stupid rant about something that I grew to love. Really I could've just answered with a simple "yes" and chad Peter png I stole off of google.

But I really do love this show because it helped me appreciate the one person in my life who stuck with me the best he could despite the tragedy after tragedy that happened to him, how shittily and harsh;y I treated him fur to my own fears and traumas, and how far he sunk down into dark... dark places...

Even after all that he's still giving it his all to the people he loves.

And I love him for that.

Sorry for how insane and incomprehensible this ENTIRE diatribe is. I just wanted to gush about how this show made me grow and change as a person and love my family

have a shitty Peter, thanks for the question ^^

#asks

[noblechaton]

now that I've more definitively finished series 5 I can comfortably say that it was probably my least favorite run of the revival to this point lmao. at the very best it's on part with series 3 - the weakest of the RTD era - while at its worst it's genuinely unwatchable

there's definitely some merit here though. it's very entertaining if you stop expecting character beats to be sprinkled in while in a general sense it performs its role of entertainment really well. it's flashy and snappy and loud from the first minute of The Eleventh Hour and rarely slows down from there. there was a clear desire to continue the more Epic nature of the show that had started bubbling up during series 4 where it was, yanno, kind of earned

but that bombastic nature is kind of the biggest positive about it. gone are the deeper meanings and narratives, character introspection is often relegated to jokes or just kind of unearned. any depth the RTD era might have carried did not get passed on here, with 11 being a huge asshole for like 9 out of 13 episodes while you could remove Amy from every episode and I doubt I'd notice

Moffat clearly leaned more towards a fairy tale interpretation of the Doctor and the world around them, but it largely falls flat because characters are rarely humanized. everyone seems to be carrying the punchline to someone else's joke and little else. there's a magic to certain things, sure, and it does start to trend upwards near the end of the series, but it's bogged down by this weirdly incessant need for quips and jokes regardless of the situation. imagine if at the end of the Library two parter, the Doctor and Donna had a fuckin laugh in the TARDIS. like c'mon

generally speaking too I found 11 to be more annoying than I remembered. he constantly talks about not having a plan and constantly makes these weird little aside jokes during his ramblings but we don't really see him ever be genuine or nice to anyone for a long while - certainly not towards Amy, either, who he at times seems to fucking hate lmao. multiple times I wondered why she kept on with him, but she never once really seems to want to go home because of how she's treated and only does after some harrowing adventure seems to wake her up - until it doesn't! like idk if she just wanted to fuck the guy that badly - the scene where she both jumps him and spreads out for him is so sincerely embarrassing I cannot believe it got filmed - or if she was just. stubborn? stupid? we don't get much from Amy, not enough to know her at least, to the point that fucking Rory, a guy in like five episodes, is a better character than her. what the fuck!

there's also more of a reliance on CGI this series than before and while I don't tend to fault TV CGI all that much it really starts to get difficult to brush off or otherwise ignore when a lot of elements are CGI'd in and that CGI just. doesn't hold up. the CGI during RTD's era wasn't great, but it was often more skillfully utilized and so it was at least more charming than it is here. similarly, I noticed the ADR was way fucking worse this time around than I'd ever noticed before. entire exchanges come through that were clearly recorded in a booth somewhere and it's really funny honestly

ultimately I think series 5 does play to Moffat's strengths to good effect at times - the opening of Eleventh Hour with 11 and Amelia is still really solid, a lot of the timey whimey fucky wucky stuff is done with consistency enough that you can sorta easily follow it - but all too often you can kinda see his stories straining now that they aren't just one offs in someone else's narrative. a lot of the other writers similarly seemed to struggle, given just how bad some stories get. the Silurian two parter was genuinely so bad I wondered why they brought them back, while the Angel two parter feels as if it was made to sabotage the angels as a concept lmao

it's not all bad, and it's certainly entertaining enough all the same. Vincent and the Doctor still holds up, the Lodger was more fun than you might expect, Amy's Choice is largely fun while I even enjoyed the finale stuff to a point, and Christmas Carol is a genuine standout among the holiday specials (mostly because it's. actually focused on Christmas this time around. lmao), and there's solid moments spread throughout even the worst of the episodes, with the best of them being obviously focused on humanity and relatable traits - a thing the RTD era unabashedly leaned into

but it's such a step down from the peak that was series 4. all the character work is just gone, everything feels so much less thoughtful and the characters themselves tend to range from annoying to boring and little else. there are always gonna be growing pains when crews behind the scenes change like they did here, but some of series 5 is worse beyond that excuse. I can see why it stayed hot, why it caught on even more so and why so many fell in love with this series - it's entertaining if you don't look too deep, the characters enjoyable if you don't expect much from them, Matt and Karen have obvious chemistry as leads despite the best efforts to stamp that out - but as I feel right now, it's super overrated and largely just sort of okay at best with a few great highlights and some drastic lowlights all the same. far from a classic, but still not the dirt worst I guess

at least series 6 is. Moffat at his Moffiest!

#noble (not donna)