#Cat Pee Weed

[bioswear]

Yeah okay so maybe being forced to go into the office two days of the week is actually healthy for me

[stevebabey]

you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until—there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.

[queenofthekings]

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒞𝒶𝓉

Summary: Every cat loves Eddie, all except one.

Author's note: I have no idea where this came from but the idea of a cat making Eddie's life hell is so funny to me.

CW: None

Word count: 702

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

It was easy to say Eddie liked cats, and cats very much liked Eddie. Anywhere he’d go, he would somehow attract cats; whether they were strays or domesticated, they seemed to be all over him.

All cats liked Eddie, except for one.

Wayne’s ginger tabby cat – also called Eddie – despised him. Eddie the Cat would pee on Eddie the Human’s bed, use his guitar amps as chew toys and hiss anytime he so much looked in the cat’s general direction. On more than one occasion, Eddie had thought about how life would be easier if that cat wasn’t around.

The ginger tabby had been around for as long as Eddie could remember, always curled up with Wayne on the couch after he came home from work and snuggled up to him while he slept.

But as soon as Wayne left, and it was just Eddie and the cat? A never-ending spree of growling, hissing, and trying to bite and scratch Eddie’s hands. But nobody ever believed him, because the cat was so nice and sweet to everyone else except for him.

Even you had a hard time believing that the little elderly cat was capable of being so vicious, as he was always sweet to you and wanting head scratches. It was while you were giving Eddie the cat endless amounts of attention and Eddie the human was stumbling in the kitchen to make drinks that you made him question everything, by a simple observation; “Eds, have you ever thought about who was named Eddie first?”

He hesitated as he brought his head out of the fridge to look at you, “what do you mean, honey?”

You leaned back a little on the sofa to get your head closer towards him. “I mean, the cat has been around for practically forever. Have you thought that the cat was named after you or the other way around?”

Eddie completely froze at the thought, falling unusually silent for the rest of the night until you went home, and he was able to sit down with Wayne during dinner. “Wayne,” he began, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “This is a serious question; was the cat named after me, or was I named after the cat?”

Wayne looked at his nephew for a few moments, completely confused as to why he’d ask such a question before finally answering. “You were named after the cat.”

The answer completely broke Eddie, he felt as if his whole life was a lie. For years, he thought he was named after a distant family member or someone famous but to be named after that cat? Absolutely not. It had to be a lie; it couldn’t possibly be true.

But Wayne wouldn’t lie to him, would he?

Laying in bed and being unable to shake that thought, even at 2am. He called you, waiting multiple times for you to pick up, your sleepy voice quietly coming through the phone. “Eddie, it’s late, tell me it’s important otherwise I’ll have to kill you.”

He could tell you were already falling back asleep as you were talking, and he did feel bad for waking you up, but you were the voice of reason. “I’m sorry for waking you up, baby. I promise I’ll make it up to you in the morning, but Wayne told me I was named after the cat and-”

Your sigh cut him off, hearing the rustling of your bedcovers as you got comfortable. “Eddie, you were not named after the cat, and the cat doesn’t hate you.”

“But how do you know?”

“Because Eddie the Cat is seventeen years old, you’re almost twenty. And he only attacks you because weed is toxic to cats and you reek of it most of the time, you complete muppet. Now go to fucking bed.”

Eddie was about to question you again, but you hung up on him, almost instantly drifting off back to sleep. He tried to call you several times, but you were too deep in sleep to reply. By the time you woke up, you had 6 missed calls and only one text.

EDDIE: But how can you be SURE I wasn’t named after the cat?

[stormcrow513]

Hey been awhile,

Around a year ago I wrote a vent post about how the crappy neighbors were moving out and king fuckface decided to take one last crap on us,

He'd had some guy mow down all their weeds then he walked around spraying poison aka weed killer all over the whole property,

which do to dickery and bribes to town counsel might as well be planted in my backyard,

The only space I can let my dogs pee,

I am so fucking sensitive to poison I got sick, ma got sick all my dogs were sick,

Bailey my oldest beautiful girl looked like it was going to kill her,

I ranted on here poured my grief and hate out,

Some of y'all saw me sent love back to me and prayers for my Bae,

And she started kicking it she was recovering,

I updated y'all and you were glad to hear it,

one of you even dm'd me later to ask if she was still recovering and I'd been able to reply a happy positive,

Which is why I felt like I had to come on here and let you know

Bailey died today,

And to thank you again for those prayers

I got one more year with her,

She was so amazing she stole one of my mas stuffed bears after like a day with us and would suck on it, she then stole two more, and would not except any additional bears we tried to give her, nope those were here three she stole them herself,

I taught her to jump into my arms,

She watched me squint at the TV and then started squinting her eyes at me,

She would get pissed off if you called her a dog, she was not a dirty dog she was a fur person

I could go on forever,

She was a tough fucking bitch we had to put her down because she absolutely refused to go,

she was fighting death every step,

I'm sure Deaths down a few fingers dragging her across the rainbow bridge while she claws and screams every obscenity I ever taught her,

While I have you,

some of you might remember me talking about the three sibling cats I'd gotten as kittens how the brother Ares had passed in 2019 then Shy decided to go out on the same day as the queen as was Shy right little Drama Queen,

Then it was just Mittens and she started to go down hill was losing interest in food so we got her a kitty I named Circe,

Well Mittens spited herself back to health cause fuck you kitten, and managed kept going through to the beginning of this year and then she just couldn't go on, she curled up in the worst fucking spot so I had to frag her body out after feeling that she was gone,

Like I said absolutely a spiteful shit,

I miss her so much, she loved being held like a baby, she acted more like a dog then a cat, she liked to sit on my shoulder, I have a scar on my shoulder where she got a claw stuck in it one time,

and she loved it when I had long hair shed get up high behind me after I'd showered and comb my hair with her claws,

As I was showering off the pee and poop after cleaning up,

I thought about writing this and ending it here with some kinda sign off,

but as I sat there my mind turning with the sear bullshit that not just this week but my entire fucking life's been,

My brain turned and raged,

You know I love animals way more then I like humans, while I do feel love and empathy towards humanity there are days like today where it's a hard thing and an easy thing,

because I read about Neil Gaiman sexualy assaulting women yesterday which makes me so sick,

But the vet that put down Bailey was so fucking kind,

I joke to people that I was raised by dogs,

It's not really a joke,

My ma has been the only human to truly love me,

My sperm donor Dennis is an absolute abusive joke of a human being whose still fucking alive and I have to live with him

My oldest sister is dead and while I think she loved me a bit she never watched out for me

And my second sister beat me, raped me, gaslit me fucking constantly, the real deal not the way people incorrectly use that word, and almost killed me a lot,

Ma worked constantly, still does, she is only now (as I'm beginning to talk about things) finding out just how often I was left to my own supervision,

But Lady and Tramp

And yes we had two dogs named Lady (German shepherd) and Tramp (husky/wolf)

They, took care of me Tramp even more reared me like I was his own,

I tussled and played with their puppies, grew up beside them

Watched Lady die when I was 7,

Rusty one of their babies my big brother ma and I buried together when I was 5 After Dennis threw rat poison around the house to kill the mice and killed Rusty

I watched Corky die and then Trampy and Sammy and then Rusty and Sammy's boy Socks

They were my family

Every dog and cat I've had has been my family,

And thinking about them all today

Thinking about this world we're all living in,

Something I want to say

There is no overarching Justice

No grand moment where evil men or women are struck down by righteous gods

Maybe that shit happened or maybe they were stories I don't fucking know I wasn't alive back then I'm alive now

And now, there are no saviors

There is just me, just you

And the choices we make

Martin Luther King Jr said something about how the long arch of history bends towards justice,

But he and people like him bent it towards justice with their bare hands and their very lives,

All we have achieved for justice for equality have been done by mortal living hands

And we cannot fucking give up

Don't listen to those people telling you it's hopeless that the world is evil

The world is beautiful

The stars, the rainbows, the thunder and lightning, the frogs so small they can sit on a finger nail, the mountains, mouse, geese, the castles and pyramids the things our ancestors created, ect

Hell the bit of plastic and wires and weird rock you are reading this on, isn't that cool,

Yeah there's downsides to it we need to figure out how to do it better,

We need to figure out how to do it better.

All of it.

And we will,

because we always do.

So don't listen to the people that say to give up that it's to late,

Just because they've given up doesn't mean you have to

I'm hurting I'm going to hurt for the rest of my life,

But I would not take a minute of it back not a moment,

My life has been full of pain but also full of love,

I wanted to die for a time, a long time,

But there is so much in this world to love,

I want to live,

I want to keep falling in love over and over again,

In love with animals,

the ones I adopted into my family

ones a half a world away,

Fucking platypus the most animal to animal,

The rain every fucking time it hits my roof or my head,

I hope I'll get a chance to fall in love romantically one day but I'm ok if I don't there's so much else to love,

And I'm going to fight The Fight for the rest of my life because all these things I love are worth fighting for,

I'm not in a position right now to do the things I want to but,

I can do some things,

I can do ofwoodandbones lost dog spell to help strangers get their lost pets back, which I've successfully done more then once,

I collect cans and recycle

I pour stale water out on plants rather then down the drain,

I planted a bunch of plants in my backyard bees fucking love

I vote, I vote smart and don't throw my vote away for a false sense of moral superiority,

So

Find something to love to love it hard and do what you can to protect it,

Doesn't matter what,

Everything matters,

Love shit, protect it,

Don't give up,

To all y'all who are my allies in The Fight,

May the great Titan Witch light your way, may you find your path or make one, may you love and be loved, may your body be strong enough to hold your spirit

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Would you tell us more about your pets someday mayhaps? 🥺👉👈 I love reading your stories about Rascal (precious puppy), but did I understand right that you have More pets?? ❤️

Awww this is so sweet anon. I'd love to tell you about my little jerk babies! <3 Doing this in age order! :3

Rascal- a 16 year old black english cocker spaniel. aliases: Razzy, Mr. Baby, bear, pookie, Sir (when he's in trouble) - came from a flea market 16 years ago. best $150 anyone ever spent -he's very sweet, my soul dog, love of my life. but also he is evil to me sometimes, as is his nature. - he's deaf and can't see well but his nose works! he could sniff out a hot dog (his fave snack) from across town. :') - he also has a sixth sense for when the fridge opens? i don't know how he knows. - sleeps next to me most of the time TwT - does NOT like to be held but is so holdable - has a docked tail so he has a little bear butt - is currently laying on the wheels/ legs of my desk chair so i can't escape. he does this constantly T-T - sometimes displays symptoms of dementia where he doesn't want to eat/ acts confused. :( and that makes me very sad. - has a heart condition and a problem with retaining fluid so he's on two different diuretics. - basically he has every illness but i love him so much. even when he accidentally bites me. i would kill for him and i am not joking. <3

Charles- an 8 year old tabby cat aliases: Charlie, auntie's girl (i'm her auntie), asshole - found her in the garage, her mom took her brother but left her :( - is trans! - we thought she was a girl and gave her a Grown Man's Name to piss my dad off but then she turned out to have a penis. we use she/her for her. - wicked princess from hell. <3 - dumb - has freakishly long whiskers? - sometimes doesn't look like herself. jess and i joke that she's a shapeshifter and forgets what she looks like so she gets it wrong :o - lets me hold her like a baby but then gets mad about it. :/ - doesn't like wet food but likes the gravy of it? - YOWLER

Thomas- a 7 year old calico cat aliases: Tiny, aunty's girl (i'm her aunty), jerk - found her in the weeds outside my house! she was screaming like a banshee. her mom also left her! :((( - FAT!!! she weighs 14lb and we don't know why! her pouch is LORGE - constantly being bad to get attention. :/ - scratches jess's desk chair, rips up curtains, tries to eat any and all string (yarn, my HAIR, shoelaces, etc.) - chases the (50lb) dog around, but lets charlie beat her up? (charles is only 11ish pounds) - looks like a lil alien sometimes - annoying baby! - will climb onto your lap and demand pets as soon as you're trying to do something (jess constantly falls victim to this, rip jess</3) - youngest child energy :/ (jess is the cats' mom so... it tracks)

Daisy May- a ??? year old tan pit bull mix aliases: brownie, brown sugar, wifey (she thinks that her and jess are married), brown susan, (i got confused), beth (??) - was our neighbor's dog but they abandoned her! >:( then she was ours. - escaped containment one day and came back preggers >:( - had 8 puppies and hated all of them but one. - very sweet, wants to live in jess's lap - heavy! - likes being danced at, loves to WAG, will jump on you to give kisses - criminal mastermind. maybe.

Buford- a 5 year old black and tan pit bull mix aliases: Boofy, stinky, skunk, dickhead, BEEF SUPREME, beefy - the one puppy brownie liked. - NEVER SHUTS UP - brain the size of a pea. a small pea. - is afraid of Thomas but not afraid of Charles - velcro dog. cannot pee without her. - constantly chewing on her feet??? nasty! - has very soft ears <3 - HEAVIEST! - makes me wanna die a lot T-T - will steal food from old men (rascal) with no remorse

anyway!!! that's all my stupid babies i love you for asking about them anon. if any of them were photogenic i would share pictures but alas...

[t4tcow]

my intro!

this is an NSFT PAGE!!!!! NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!! HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIOS!!!

DNI : you're a pedo/zoophile, you don't support palestine/zionist, over 40, fetishizer, pro ana/ed, no age, under 18, don't respect my disability/my limits that come with it, treat me like a sex toy, are fatphobic/disrespectful abt my weight (i'm a person!!)

hello everyone!! i'm a transmasc fagdyke who's been on t for over 2 years now. i'm a submissive bottom (no exceptions. you will not change this i promise), t4t, and i am not looking for romance/anything serious.

asks and dms are encouraged!! i love talking to yall and seeing what perverted thoughts i cause you to have <3 (and what you'd like to do to me)

my kinks are below the cut :)

kinks

• intox (specifically weed)

• pregnancy (no birth, rapidpreg, preg)

• overstimulation (esp w my tdick)

• breeding

• being dominated primal (as prey)

• cockwarming

• size difference

• degredation (light)

• praise

• guided/mutual masturbation

• pet play (i like being a dog and a cat hehehe)

• hucow!!!!!

• forced masculinzation and feminization (bimbo/himboification too ugh please)

• nipple/boob play

• freeuse (light)

• cnc (light)

• dumbification

• spanking (light, ass/tdick)

• catholic/religion kink stuff

• prince/royalty kink

• breast/stomach expansion

• humiliation

• corruption

my turn offs (can still follow, just not for me)

• vomit (i'm emetophobic)

• omorashi/pee play/scat

• feet stuff

• weapon play

• detrans/misgendering

• use of word rape (with me, if you use it on your blog its all good!!)

• anal play

• fauxcest/incest in general

• using "daddy" as a title

• feederism, sloppy food eating, inmobility from eating

• unhygenic things

• burping/belching face slapping/hitting

• any slapping/physical abuse that isn't on my ass or cunt

• passing out in any sense that isn't sleep/weed related

• giving birth or any of the labor aspects

obviously i may be forgetting some but just ask if you're curious :3

i'm alright with any terms for my genitals! any gendered terms/petnames are alright for me, i have no prefrence (but i love being called pretty boy)

and that's about it :))

the tags i use frequently will be below

🧛 = a special someone :3

and i hope you enjoy your stay on this cow's account :3

[allaboutthems]

Mellodramattic Sims 4 Ideas

So, when I finally save enough money to buy a gaming PC and some Sims games, here are some ideas I have for the M's (@janaverse, this one's for you!):

Apartment in San Myshuno. I'm thinking at the ZenView. (And I'm going to use Move Objects On to shift the building over and give them and anyone else who lives at the building access to a pool.)

Basemental Drugs, so Matt can have his cigarettes and weed. Mello will also get the Seconhand Smoke Immunity trait from the rewards store.

Mello will take a career as a writer. Matt will be a pro-gamer.

They'll have a science baby together. And there's a mod that lets your Sims experience pregnancy with a science baby, instead of just rabbitholing down to the fertility clinic and coming back with a baby. So, yes, Mello's getting pregnant! And I'm going to aim for a girl, so I'll have him chow down on strawberries and listen to pop music the whole time.

WickedWhims is a must. Using the sexual orientation setting, Matt will be set to bisexual, and Mello will be set to gay.

After they have their science baby, they'll get married. Just a simple beach elopement in Sulani. (Because realistically, they'd elope; they don't have any family, and don't really have a lot of friends.) And they're spending their honeymoon there, too.

They're getting a black cat.

Matt stupidly takes on Greg and contracts werebies while visiting Lake Lunvik. Luckily, he gets a cure.

They'll meet the Simself I'm putting in San Myshuno. (I'm doing multiple Simselves for different worlds.)

Woohooing in space at GeekCon.

Woohooing in the dumpster.

Woohooing in a woohoo bush.

Woohooing in the closet.

Woohooing in the shower.

Woohooing in bed.

Woohooing in a photobooth.

Woohooing at the Copperdale Carnival.

Woohooing on Batuu.

Woohooing in the waterfall in Sulani.

Woohooing in the lighthouse at Brindleton Bay.

Using the Rambunctious Religions mod to make Mello a Worshipper of the Watcher, and Matt part of the Congregation of Nonbelievers.

Using the Stand to Pee mod so they'll autonomously pee standing up more often.

Using the Don't Wash Dishes Where You Angry Poop mod to keep them from washing dishes in the bathroom when their dishwasher's busy.

Getting Crumplebottomed in Henford-On-Bagley at the farmer's market there. (It's not their fault! Some of those vegetables were giving them Ideas!)

Both finding themselves attracted to vampire hottie Caleb. Maybe in Forgotten Hollow, but honestly, they don't really need to go there 'cause Caleb's kinda everywhere. (Taking full advantage of that sunlight immunity he comes equipped with!) So he'll pop up in San Myshuno or wherever else eventually. (Or, worst case scenario, I take matters into my own hands, load up his household, and have him visit the M's and use his Alluring Visage ability.) Will he unwittingly drive a wedge between them temporarily, or will they bond over both agreeing that he's hot AF? I haven't decided yet.

Meeting a celebrity in Del Sol Valley. Or, you know, just moseying down the street in Willow Creek, because celebrities totally do that.

Growing cacao in a planter on the balcony.

Celebrating all the holidays together.

Taking a trip to Selvadorada together.

Playing chess together.

Working on the Strangerville Mystery together, and defeating the Mother Plant. Who will they choose to help them? I haven't decided yet.

Matt, flirting with pretty mermaids in Sulani. Mello getting jealous. Matt makes it up to him, though.

Renewing their vows at the Love Festival in San Myshuno.

I haven't decided whether I want to enable aging and watch them grow old together, or disable aging (beyond manually aging up their kid) so I can play with them forever.

Turning Neighborhood Stories TF off, because that messes everything up. I'm not about to let some stupid AI break them up, or move them to a new neighborhood, or give them too many pets and/or adopted babies just because I played with other Sims.

Visiting the Sylvan Glade and/or the Forgotten Grotto.

Mello taking lots of baths with soaks, because he gets a lot of moodlets from the "High Maintenance" trait.

Going skinnydipping together.

Matt, pursuing the hidden Grilled Cheese aspiration. One of the tasks is to talk to the Grim Reaper about grilled cheese. For that, I'll find a premade Sim I don't like very much, or a random townie, cheat them dead, and then have Matt talk to Ol' Grim about grilled cheese.

Clicking on them to use "Be Gross" interactions a lot and/or having them cook Franks N' Beans. Especially Matt. Because they're just that comfortable with each other. *fart*

Got any more ideas for the M's in TS4? Let me know!

[ruby-winchester24]

Random headcanons for the main 4!

{mostly sfw but nsfw stuff will be mentioned}

Kenny is one of the best drug dealers in town because he knows we’re the cops camp out.

everyone in the group calls Kyle fire crotch.

Stan steals weed from his dad and gives it to Kenny to sell and they split the profit.

Eric doesn’t know how to swim but he can float in water.

Kenny still huffs cat pee once in a while so he can see the woman with big boobs

once everyone was drunk at Stan’s house and Kenny got onto the barn roof and Eric yelled “do a flip” and he did it and fell on his head and died.

Kyle is lactose intolerant.

Eric once took a pic of his boobs and spread it around the school saying they were Wendy’s nudes.

and yes she beat the shit out of him again.

Stan smokes cigarettes (he’s so emo)

Eric did acid with Kenny one time and he ran into a door and broke it.

Kyle works out.

Kyle also was forced by his mom to take better care of his hair and now he has a 4 step hair care routine.

Eric, Tweek and Kenny do wrestling.

when the guys watch Kyle play basketball, whenever Kyle gets a free throw Eric yells “Jew!” to throw him off.

Stan is a heavy weight when it comes to alcohol so he only drinks hard liquor.

Stan also had a flask in his pocket at all times, and he denies he is like his dad.

the guys play minecraft together.

Kenny has a serious nicotine addiction.

Eric still plays with Lego’s.

Kyle likes to watch Jersey Shore but that’s his little secret.

Stan started to smoke weed to spite his dad but it didn’t really work now he smokes like everyday.

Kyle is the he tallest out of the group then it goes Stan then Kenny then Eric

Eric is definitely like 5’4

Kenny post’s shirtless pics of him in his snap story with NBA youngboy music in the background, like everyday.

Kyle gives little gifts to Kenny and Stan for each day of Hanukkah.

Kyle is one of the best basketball players on the team.

Kyle and Stan are in band, Stan plays the guitar and drums and Kyle plays the trumpet and tuba.

Stan is also in choir.

Kyle and his family went up to Jersey to see his grandparents and when he came back he was Kyley-B for a month straight, and he also uses muff cabbage as an insult still.

Kenny goes hunting with Jimbo a lot.

Stan is still low key a hoarder like his room is just full of shit he doesn’t need.

Kyle is always the DD when they go to parties.

Kenny’s pants sag all the time poor dude can’t buy a belt.

Eric was the last person out of the group to loose his virginity.

Kenny has pet rats, well the rats that live in his house.

Stan had feelings for Kyle in middle school.

[eleventeenthealbum]

It's scary when my weed smells like cat pee bc I have a senior cat

[the-cat-chat]

September 13, 2024

Friday the 13th (2009)

A group of young adults set up tent near the abandoned summer camp where a series of gruesome murders are said to have taken place back in 1980.

Warning: Review may contain spoilers. Read at your own risk.

JayBell: Happy Friday the 13th!!! To celebrate (aka punish) ourselves, we decided of our own volition to watch the 2009 Friday the 13th. Well, really it was the only Friday the 13th movie streaming so "of our own volition" is a bit of a stretch.

If I remember correctly, we didn't even like the original Friday the 13th, and our viewing of Jason Takes Manhattan was also bad, but in a much funnier way.

I thought this was a totally new remake, but no, it's just another one in the series. So basically they just exposition dump the whole backstory to the audience in the beginning of the movie. So yeah.

Wayyyyyy more nudity and sex in this movie than I anticipated. I think I got jumpscared by boobs more than I got jumpscared by Jason.

Anyways, long story short, this is bad and I did not like it. I kid you not, the entire time Anzie and I were CONVINCED of this plot twist that never came. We basically created a new movie in our minds, and let me tell you, it would have been a much better movie.

Are you telling me that what set Jason off was a guy peeing on some weed plants? Is Jason growing weed as a hobby? Why on earth does he kidnap some girl and keep her hostage?

A lot of the girl characters blend together in my mind since they have no defining characteristics. The asshole boyfriend is an asshole for no reason. And his girlfriend sees Jared Padalecki one time and ditches said asshole boyfriend, which fair, but seems a bit sudden in context.

The heart of the movie should have been Jared Padalecki's character and his sister. However, they barely make an attempt at building that relationship.

In the end, I didn't care who lived or who died, the plot is stupid and boring, and the characters are bland and shallow. Maybe I'm learning that I just don't like traditional slasher movies.

Rating: 2/10 cats 🐈

Anzie: Uhhh soooo I really couldn’t pass up an impromptu Friday the 13th partaay. But seeing as the 2009 version was the only part of this franchise streaming (hopefully X streams by the next Friday the 13th) we haddd to go with that. And uh again I know how to pick them. My first comment. Jared Padalecki- I should’ve known. And second why is there so much boobage in this one??? Seems excessive. Ummm. Next the weed??? What’s with that plot. I feel like I missed something?? I will say. It’s small points do come from the fact I got to be imaginative and come up with a huge scheme that it wasn’t Jason it was the weed growers and the cops were in on it and that’s why they weren’t helping find anyone blah blah blah but no. Just Jason and his mommy issues. Reaaalll quick. Um soo Jared padaleckis looking for his sis riggght. Ummm why’s no one looking for all the other people she was with??? Just asking. You know since I allllready can figure out the whole Jason thing of if he died as a boy or how’d he turn into a man or why’s he immortal ish or is this he technically a zombie??? What’s the deal!?!??? So yeah I guess I can just focus on the other giant plot holes. Everyone in this movie is absolutely annoying and to be fair Jason didn’t deserve the woodchipper. And that shamu move at the end. I’m over it and can’t wait till next time. Blame the duality of humankind and my propensity for loving to subject us to uttttter trash.

Rating: 1/10 Cats 🐈‍⬛

[burning-peanut]

🚬 Getting High (On Feelings)

Words: 3,454 Chapters: 1/1

[Travis Hackett/Laura Kearney] [Dru9 Use] [Smoking] [Fluff] [Travis gets teased a little] [but he can handle it] [Pre-Relationship] [Touching] [Kissing] [Teasing]

» Travis and Laura share a very special bond. And she knows she can twist him around her finger if she wants to. What she didn't know is how much he's enjoying it.

Laura knocked softly on the door to his office, which was already half-open. Travis was so absorbed in the paperwork he had in front of him that she feared she might startle him by just entering his office. It wouldn't have been the first time this happened, so she approached slowly. 

His head peered briefly, a light smile illuminating his face. He pointed a hand to one of the empty chairs in front of him.

"Come on in. I need another ten minutes. I have to finish this accident report today, but after that we can leave."

The friendship the two had built over the past nine months was a completely new experience for both Laura and Travis. It was gradual at first, steadily forming a strong foundation the more they interacted with each other. They understood each other in a deeper way. One would assume that the unfortunate events had built a bond between the pair, magnetizing them into a deeper connection.

It wasn’t the first time Laura came to his office after she got off her shift herself. In fact, it has become some kind of ritual between them by now. Whenever their shifts happened to coincide and they got off work at the same time, they would arrange to meet again. Usually they'd grab a bite to eat at the diner before taking long walks through the Hackett Woods.

That's what they both enjoyed best with each other. Talking for hours. Often enough, Laura did the talking and Travis the conscientious listening, but every once in a while he would come out of his shell and give Laura rare glimpses of his childhood or the time before the curse. In these conversations, they not only talked about the events of that traumatic summer when Laura had made herself forever immortalized into the skin on his arm. They also talked about Laura's graduation and her work at the clinic, Travis' work, or gossip from around town. 

Laura walked toward the chair and slumped into it, exhausted, before signaling with a theatrical groan how terribly stressful her day had been. 

"Your day couldn't have been worse than mine," Travis stated dryly, without lifting his eyes. He had a form in front of him, the previously blank page he was filling out with a pen. 

"Did any of your patients die off, too, and you got scratched and accidentally slipped in Cat's pee?"

Travis lifted his head and paused for a moment. His gaze sought hers inquiringly. "What patient?" he asked, gripped.

"Charly, the older Great Dane. The old guy's little heart was too weak for surgery after all, I'm afraid. He didn't even wake up again."

Travis exhaled audibly through his nose before looking at her compassionately. "Oh man, I'm sorry to hear that."

She gave him a brief smile before her gaze wandered over his completely cluttered desk. In the chaos, she could make out quite a few things lying around on that desk: dozens of stacks of papers, files, and other documents, two rolls of barricade tape, two driver's licenses, a bag of marijuana, a-!

Wait, what?!

Laura couldn't believe her eyes. At the end of his desk was a small bag of weed. Her gaze alternated from Travis to the bag—back and forth—but his attention was fully focused on the form in front of him. 

It took Laura only a fraction of a moment before she decided what she was going to do.

"Is that weed?"

"Yes." said Travis again, without lifting his gaze from the piece of paper. "Took it from two teenagers just before the end of my shift."

"How much is it?"

Now the cop looked from his note over to the small clear bag lying next to him. "I don't know, 15 grams? I still have to register it and weigh it. Haven't gotten around to it yet because this shitty accident report-" 

Laura had no patience to hear anything else about his stupid accident report. She cheekily interrupted him. "So no one would notice if a few grams were missing?"

"Very funny." he said dryly, turning his eyes back to the document in front of him. But when Laura didn't answer, he obviously understood what she was up to. He raised his eyes and looked at her sullenly. 

"Keep your hands off that evidence, Miss Kearney. I mean it." 

"Of course, Sheriff." she said, raising her hands defensively before slowly standing up and walking around him. She stood behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders before leaning on him slightly. "By the way, do you still smoke?"

"No." he said as he turned the document over and began filling in the next page. 

Laura leaned down and opened the top drawer of his desk with a quick flick of her wrist. Revealed were a half-full pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Travis paused for a moment and looked at the pack of cigarettes before continuing to write. "Damn," he whispered before justifying her discovery. "Only once in a while now, when I'm stressed or my deputies drive me up the wall."

"But not regularly?"

"No."

"Smoking is so harmful, Travis."

"I know, Laura."

She reached into the drawer and pulled out the lighter before closing it again. 

His lips turn sour in a frown while he kept glancing at her. "Put it back."

"Why, you don't need it regularly."

"Laura-" Travis whirled around in his desk chair to face her and grabbed her hand while looking at her with the typical, badass Sheriff-Travis-Hackett-Look© . "I know exactly what you're up to."

"Oh yeah, Sherlock? What are you doing to stop me?" with a slight flick of her wrist, she shook off his hand with which he had been holding onto her. 

She knew he had trouble touching her, let alone grabbing her. It had been very difficult for him to even get close to Laura for a very long time. He had explained to her once that it had something to do with her being imprisoned by him, and it was a milestone in their friendship that they had reached not too long ago that he could touch her without freaking out.

But he would never hold her or touch her roughly. He couldn't do it, and she knew it.  

Slowly she walked over, to the end of his desk, and stood beside it. 

"Laura." he said in a threatening undertone. But he did not move. He didn't come after her, but looked at her as if transfixed, while a filthy, wicked smile played around her lips, making her eyes light up in that typical way that Travis knew better than he probably liked. 

"What sheriff? What are you going to do? Lock me up? Again?"

"...Laura." His deep, firm voice made the subliminal warning come through clearly. It was his last warning, she was aware of that. Also, Laura didn't even think about stoping now. She grabbed the small bag and just as Travis jumped up from his chair and darted over to her, she ran around the desk to the other side. 

They were facing each other now—Travis on one side of the solid wooden furniture, and Laura on the other. Suddenly, she felt like she knew how a deer must feel, spotted on the hunt by Travis Hackett. His look was determined. The slow but powerful rhythm of his chest rising and falling as his eyes fixed on her—like a hunter focusing on his prey—sent a tingle up her spine. He stared at her as if he attempted to bring her to him just by the power of his thoughts alone. As if he was trying to hypnotize her. Along with the silent, slow breaths that raised and lowered his chest. It rose and fell, rose and fell. For a few seconds, his steady breaths were the only noise in the room.  

Somehow the whole situation was strangely funny to Laura, so she laughed. He didn't. 

"I'll say it one last time, young lady. Put the bag down."

Continue reading on [AO3]

Thanks for interacting with my stuff, sharing or leaving kudos and likes. It means the world to me 😊🤍

@hackearneyarchive

[deliciousmicroplastics]

If i wasnt tired forever getting more disabled and possessing a crippling weed addiction it wohld be over for my cat's peeing all over my bed addiction

[timeofjuly]

Resolutions

Note: Reader's POV of the New Year's Eve when they met Red. So sorry for the wait to the anon who requested this! As a warning, reader is very much in an altered state of mind due to drug use in this one, so proceed with caution.

Tags: Drug use, implied sexual content, angst, self-hatred.

Read it on AO3 or read it below :)

It’s New Year's Eve and you feel fucking fantastic.

You look hot. You feel hot, both in terms of your confidence in your appearance and the temperature; it’s sweltering in Izzy’s apartment. Too many people crammed into a too small space. It feels like there’s hands everywhere. Your skin is alight with warmth and touch, so many people close to you. They grow on you like vines, like weeds, like ivy, weaving ‘round and ‘round until you’re all bound together, one pulsing, living organism.

The music is so loud that it’s an almost palpable presence in the air; you can viscerally feel it filling your ears, pressing against your skin, pouring down your mouth when you open it to sing. It clings to you like plastic wrap as you dance, shaping your movements.

Sweat runs down your back and between your breasts. But you’re the hottest fucking thing in this room, right, so it just gives you a mysterious, sexy sheen, like you’re a fucking nymph or some shit, stepping out from behind a waterfall, batting your eyelashes at the Olympian raging to fuck you. You’re ready to be drowned in ambrosia. To choke on nectar. Swallow swallow swallow.

Fuck, your mouth is dry. Your tongue feels like sandpaper. Is this how cats feel, with their arid, pointysharp little tongues? You hope not, the poor things. This sucks.

“I need a drink,” you shout against the music, jaw clicking around the words, “anyone else want one?”

Izzy, your host, nods enthusiastically. She springs up from where she’d been dancing low to the floor and grasps your sweaty hand in her own cooler, scaly one. “I’ll come with you! I need a piss.”

You let her drag you from the throng of bodies into the bathroom, where you scroll on your phone as she sits down to pee. Your vision’s pleasantly blurry, but you manage to successfully reply to a few messages and send a few of your own. You then examine yourself in the bathroom mirror, mostly pleased with the way your hair falls, the way your makeup makes your eyes look dark and sultry. You apply a fresh coat of lipstick and smack your lips together, making faces at your reflection. The skin on your cheekbones stretches tightly, almost too-taunt, casting a sharp shadow.

For a moment, you don’t feel as pretty as you had before, but then your thirst returns with a vengeance, and you forget all about it. You stick your head in the sink, mouth poised and open beneath the tap, and drink deeply from the cool, refreshing water. Probably should’ve waited to do your lipstick, but ah well.

“You look like a horse,” Izzy snorts at you, hip-checking you to the side so that she can wash her hands. “When you said you wanted a drink, I thought you meant booze, bunny, not water.”

“A girl can want two things,” you say. Have enough and it all tastes the same, anyway.

Bunny is what this particular social circle likes to call you. You don’t really get it, but nicknames aren’t ever chosen by the person, are they, and it’s hardly the worst name in the world. You like bunnies, anyway. They’re cute. Fluffy, funny little things. They’re either pets or pests or lab animals, too, and somedays you feel like a mangled amalgamation of all three, so you guess it’s fitting.

Izzy washes and dries her hands and then does a line of coke off of the countertop. She offers you a bump, but you decline – tonight, you’re pacing yourself.

This year, you want to watch the time tick over to midnight, and you want to remember it. You’d gotten too fucked-up last year too early and had been out like a light by ten, so being awake and cognizant for this one is your resolution, or some shit. You don’t really do resolutions, but this one seems achievable enough. Stay up and ring in the New Year. Yeah, you can do that, you beautiful, gorgeous, magical creature. The world is ready to be bent to your whims. Midnight’s a piece of cake.

You follow Izzy back out into the party and to the kitchen, riffling through her fridge for a decent mixer. You end up pouring orange juice into two glasses, along with a healthy serve of tequila. If you had any grenadine on hand, you’d have yourself a proper sunrise.

You sit on the kitchen countertop to drink it, bare legs swinging lazily in the air. Izzy sits next to you, her hip pressed against your own. Her hand rests atop your thigh, drawing little patterns with the tip of her claw. The sensation makes ticklish goosebumps erupt all over your legs.

Your head is buzzing like it’s full of bees and it’s making your vision go a little funny. You blink a few times, then scan the apartment in an attempt to refocus your eyes. The party is still a writhing, pulsating mass, moving with the thrum of the music. Everyone looks so beautiful. You wish that you could live in this moment forever.

You know everyone – at least, you think you do – so you’re surprised when your eyes fall on someone you’ve never met before. He’s a monster, a skeleton monster, dressed in an oversized, dark jacket with a furry hood. He’s reclined on Izzy’s shitty sofa, looking easy and relaxed. His legs are spread wide, which you normally find obnoxious, but he’s really making it work for him. As you watch, he brings a bottle of something to his skull, and scarlet magic flickers to life inside of his mouth as he drinks. You watch, eyes wide.

The red of his magic looks hot – red-hot, you think, holding back a snort at your creativity. You knew someone, once, who would’ve had a far better, more eloquent, poetic way of describing it, but you’re refusing to think of her tonight. Even that tiny little reminder sends cold skittering through you, so you wrench your focus back to the guy and his magic. You wonder if it’s as warm as it looks. It looks like it’d heat you up from the outside-in.

That sounds amazing right now.

“Who’s that?” you say, transfixed. There’s an eager breathiness in your voice.

“What?” Izzy says, tapping the side of her head.

“Who is that?” you shout in Izzy’s ear, loud enough to be heard over the music. You gesture towards the sofa with your chin.

“He’s a friend of one of the birds, I think,” she says dismissively, “can’t remember his name right now.”

“He’s hot as fuck. Please tell me he’s single. It’ll ruin my whole year and the next ones if he’s not.”

She cackles. Her laughter takes up her whole face, splitting it down the middle like an axe wound to the head. You have the urge to shove your finger into her open mouth, but she probably won’t find it funny. She’d probably bite you, actually, with her sharp little teeth, and the Tylenol and antibiotics you’d get as a result are hardly worth the hospital trip. Now, if she took off your whole finger, you’d get oxycodone or hydromorphone at the very least, but they probably wouldn’t mix well with the rest of the pharmacy’s worth of drugs in your bloodstream.

And you’d also miss midnight. You can’t have that.

“You’re so funny, bunny,” Izzy giggles at you. She throws her arm around you and tugs you to her side. “I love you soooo much.”

You hug her back, pressing your face into the cool hollow of her neck. You choke on your muffled laughter. The hug feels really nice. “Love you too.”

You do, in this moment. You’re full of enough love that you’re afraid it’s all going to spill out of you, tear through your skin and flood the entire apartment. You love love. So much. Feels so good.

Izzy pulls back from the hug, then brings her own glass to your lips. You drink greedily. She doesn’t pull it away until you’ve drained the whole thing.

“Pretty sure he’s single, so go ring in the New Year the right way,” she says, pulling you from the countertop and giving you a friendly smack on the ass to spur you on.

Not that you need a lot of encouragement. You fix your sexiest smile to your face and do your best impression of a lingerie model’s saunter down the runway as you stride towards him, snagging a pair of shot glasses as you go.

…

Opening your eyes is a fucking ordeal.

The ceiling of Izzy’s darkened guest bedroom greets your dry, crusty vision. The fan on the ceiling spins in slow, lazy rotations, sending cool wafts of air over your bare body.

Your muscles ache, in a good way, as you pull yourself up into a sitting position, your legs stretched out in front of you. You look down at your chest and find it decorated with several pretty red marks and the memory of receiving them sends remembered pleasure shivering through you. You knew that the guy would be a great fuck; maybe you’ve just got a sixth sense for shit like this.

Speaking of the guy, he’s still asleep. Ha, you must’ve worn him out, just like he did to you. He’s lying on his back, skull turned to the side, so his face is half buried into the pillow. The sheets are kicked messily around his feet.

You watch the way his ribcage expands and contracts with his breathing. So strange, breathing with no lungs. What purpose does it serve? Does he have to do it, the way you do?

You imagine, for a moment, your own lungs, wet and pulpy and probably black with tar and pockmarked with holes, imagine them filling and deflating with air. You hold your breath until your vision goes fuzzy just to feel the way they strain against the confines of your chest. The burn reminds you that there’s something inside of you. Something warm and real.

You look back at your bedpartner, at all of that empty space inside of him. You wonder if he feels the hole as part of himself, if he walks and talks and eats and fucks, all the while perceiving that absence. You wonder if he feels like you do sometimes, like a discarded orange rind, all of your insides scooped out until just the smooth outside remains.

Something prickles at your eyes. You feel dizzy. A little sick.

You exhale in a deep, desperate rush, suddenly remembering that you have to breath. You take a few ragged inhales, deep ones, to make up for the oxygen you’d been deprived of.

Your chest hurts. Your head hurts, too, a dull throb. Either you’ve just accidently almost asphyxiated yourself, or it’s time for a top-up. The ecstasy’s probably worn off by now; that’s probably why you’re feeling this way. Yeah, that’s it. The comedown always sucks.

You have no other reason to be sad, after all. You sit here, freshly fucked, muscles aching pleasantly. The party downstairs still beats on, a riotous chorus of early two thousands throwback music and laughter. You can feel the thrum of the base in your blood. The world is alive around you. Revel in that. Be happy for that. This is your life. You chose it. You made it this way. You have to live it, now.

Yep, definitely time for a top-up. Izzy owes you; you can scum a little extra off of her. You don’t remember why she owes you, exactly, but a favour’s a favour. S’not like you to look a gift horse in the mouth. Take the goodness as it comes and let go of the bad. Breath in again. Breath out. Keep reminding yourself to do it, so you don’t forget.

You fumble underneath the pillows and retrieve your phone. The cracked screen reads 12:36am. You have a dozen unread messages, drunken New Years well-wishes from names you can’t put a face to.

Your mom and dad used to always stay up late on New Years Eve, drinking port wine and watching Christmas movies until they’d fall asleep on the couch together. It was their tradition. As a kid, you begged them to let you stay up with them, but you always fell asleep before the clock struck midnight and you’d wake up on January first in your bedroom, your dad having carried you to bed.

Every year, your New Years resolution was to stay awake next time long enough to watch the clock tick over to midnight. There was something magical about it as a child, the idea of peeling away the old paint of the past year to reveal the shiny, fresh surface of the new.

You wonder if your parents are awake now, watching the end of the Polar Express and drinking out of those funny little port glasses.

Your bedpartner stirs, murmuring sleepily into his pillow. He’s drooling. It’s cute. You get the feeling, from the way that he’d fucked you, that he’s not the kinda guy who appreciate being called that, though.

Those type of guys are always the cutest.

If he’d woken up, you would’ve told him that, but he doesn’t. He just settles back into the pillow. You do throw the blanket over his naked pelvis, though, because you’re considerate like that. Nice girl. Sweet girl. Bunny. Everyone likes you. You’re so much fun. And you’re having fun. Buckets of it. Enough to drown in it.

You slide your bare feet onto the cold floor and begin the search for your shoes. Happy New Year to me.

[mickamicmic]

OK MISS ARTFIGHT 2024 normally the refs would be more detailed like actual refs but outfits are all i want to deal with rn (excuse the long post)

https://artfight.net/~Starflyte

🇩🇰 axel's corporate white girl sister that is probably actually very against stanley cups. actually she would hit you with one and then make an oil painting of a visual interpretation of how it would sound

2. 🇩🇰 accidentally my most popular oc??????? because he's dumb??? but hes too dumb for even that tbh??? anyway he's comprised of 1 bone and tears up the marshalls looking for unscented hairspray

3. 🇩🇪 i love her and she can actually cook + has basic empathy what a 10/10 girl. she's here to remind u that it's ok to be vegan and still eat ice cream because everyone has those days

please note that outfit #6 says "where is the beach" because she canonically lives in Cambridge and I am genuinely not understanding where the beach is. Thank you

4. 🇫🇮🇨🇦 he is so white boy core. he is so "tell me why my cats are peeing together 😭" he is in a constant state of :^) 😊😊😊😊 and it's not fine

5. 🇨🇺 what i feel like after listening to paralisis permanente for 12 seconds; everyone's cool surfer mom that buys the GOOD snacks and insists that u try a weed brownie at least once (but it's okay if you want to try them multiple times like what if you forgor)

6. 🇺🇸🦅 finally discovering the level of freedom of a middle schooler (by becoming a tattoo apprentice. Mother Jessica is on the floor dying to death)

7. 🇬🇷 contact olivia at olivia_athena@herculeshouse.com - umm this ref is like 4 months older than the others just ignore it please. she has your fingerprint and dunkin order memorized

8. 🇬🇧🇿🇦 the grade inflation icon. singlehandedly keeping the athletics program alive and getting paid in 99's in precalculus

[jaxteller87]

Double Date

teenage years

Me and Opie were out on a crisp autumn afternoon, our leather-clad figures cutting quite the contrast to the orange and red hues of the pumpkin patch. We’d been hanging out a lot recently, and our plans for the weekend had just taken an unexpected twist. It all started when Amber, with a twinkle in her eye, looked over at Donna and dropped a bombshell: “Hey, Donna, why don’t we carve some pumpkins this weekend?” Opie and I exchanged glances, silently cursing the fact that we’d shared a joint just moments earlier. Our resolve cracked under the pressure, and we reluctantly agreed. Opie quickly deflected the blame onto the potent weed we had smoked earlier.

As we picked out our pumpkins, Opie leaned over and muttered, “We’re whipped, you realize that, right?” We chuckled and loaded the pumpkins into my trusty old truck, the Sons of Anarchy logo emblazoned on the back window.

That Saturday night, we found ourselves at the club, our mom kindly allowing us to take over since it was going to be empty. The pumpkins sat waiting for their artistic transformations as we lounged around, beers in hand.

“Beer after carving,” Donna quipped, swiping a cold one off the table. Amber chimed in, “Yeah, knives and alcohol are not a good mix.” We all shared a laugh as we raised our bottles in agreement.

Opie and I took charge of gutting the pumpkins since the girls wanted no part in the messy business. With exaggerated mock threats, we hovered over them, pretending we were about to plop pumpkin guts on their faces.

“Teller, Winston,” the girls said in unison with laughter, clearly unconvinced by our feeble act.

“You really think we would do such a thing?” I laughed, shaking my head.

“Yes,” they chuckled in unison, their grins betraying their trust issues.

Amber expertly carved a sleek black cat, while Donna crafted a wicked witch, all while Opie and I watched, nursing our beers and snapping pictures.

“Say ‘pumpkin!’” Donna beamed, holding up a camera.

“Pumpkin!” we all laughed heartily, posing with our grinning jack-o’-lanterns.

            Later that night, after we had cleaned up, I retreated to the old storage room for a bit of personal reflection. I loved Halloween growing up, and while I never really got to meet my old man, I do remember a picture of him, Gemma, and me at a pumpkin patch when I was a baby.

After rifling through a few boxes, I found it. The photo with the three of us. Gemma was the only one smiling, and John looked like holding a baby made him feel severely uncomfortable. Maybe he never really got a feel for it.

“Hey there, Jackie boy,” Gemma said, “Whatcha got there?”

“Just this old photo of you, me, and my old man at a pumpkin patch.”

Gemma came over, sitting next to me on the old bed. She took one look at the picture and laughed. “Ah, that photo. You know, there’s a funny story behind it, Jackie.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the story?”

Gemma took ahold of my hand, and I could see a glimmer in her eye. “Well, it was right after you were born, and your dad was all proud and excited, of course. He insisted on getting a picture with his brand-new baby boy. So, we set up the camera, and just as we were about to snap the shot, you did the most hilarious thing.”

Jax raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. “What did I do?”

Gemma’s laughter filled the room as she recounted the tale. “You, my little rapscallion, decided that was the perfect moment to, uh, christen the occasion. You peed right on your dad’s shirt just before the flash went off. If you look real close, I’m pretty sure you can see the discontent and confusion on his face.”

            “Ha! When you gotta go, you gotta go,” I laughed.

“Yep, and we all couldn’t stop laughing. Your dad, with that huge grin on his face, holding you close, pee-soaked shirt and all. It was the perfect introduction to the life of a biker, I guess.”

            “Good story, Ma,” I laughed, taking one last look at the photo before storing it away again. “All I know is whenever I have kids of my own, I’m going to be there for them.”

            Just then, Amber knocked at the door and poked her head inside, “Hey, I was wondering where everyone got to.”

            “Yeah, this time of year just got me thinking about some things,” I responded, sitting the box back on the old dresser.

            “Something about having kids?” Amber asked. I could see a small level of worry on her face that Gemma must have picked up on, too.

            “Don’t worry, he didn’t knock up a crow eater or anything like that,” she said jokingly, placing her hand on Amber’s shoulder and smiling before walking out of the room.

            “Oh, thank God,” Amber said with a sigh of relief.

            “Wow,” Jax shook his head sarcastically.

            “Kidding,” she said with a smile as I reached down and kissed her. “But let’s talk about these kids you want to have.”

            “Oh, I uh—” I definitely wasn’t prepared for this conversation. Oh boy, this was going to be a long night.

[doyouwanttoseeabug]

I want to write a deranged Hunger Games au where Finnick, Johanna and Katniss are all roommates. Finnick sometimes retires to The Bath in the same way that Victorian ladies would retire To Bed and stays in their for hours playing sadboi songs while Katniss is breaking down the door yelling about how she needs to pee and Johanna is pissing in the sink like an animal. Peeta takes the apartment opposite and Katniss is convinced he's a secret Jehovah's Witness. "I don't think the Witnesses have secret agents, Katniss," says Finnick. "He's just a very friendly boy who wears a suit." "THEN WHY DOES HE KEEP POPPING ROUND?" howls Katniss. Mags lives on the top floor and grows the most potent weed known to mankind, which Johanna smokes constantly. When she gets the munches she chews furniture like an animal. Sometimes Prim takes time out of med school to pop over and cook them 'real food' with 'actual vegetables' in because she's the only one who can make broccoli taste of something other than sadness (it's called using seasoning Katniss you can look this up online) but otherwise they exist solely on poptarts and oysters that Finnick steals from his job in a high-end restaurant. None of them have ever paid taxes. Plutarch is their landlord and Johanna makes up 8 plans to murder him a day. These are not sophisticated plans. I'm talking "When he walks in the door, I hit him with my axe." Haymitch used to be a champion shotputter but then he got caught up in a Tonya Harding style controversy and now he day-drinks on the roof all the time. Katniss has to let him inside like he's a naughty cat (the door sticks because Johanna chewed on it). Do you see my vision?