#GODDAMN THESE CATS ARE COOKIN

[thepunkmuppet]

foundations of decay goes so fucking hard i wish i was a long term fan who was there through their breakup so i could have the ungodly insane experience of listening to it when it came out

[eyestrain-addict]

Me reading a 300+ year old epic poem: "Goddamn these cats are cookin'. AUURGH THEYRE SWINGIN'"

[y0itsbri]

🍺, 🧑🏻‍🦰, 😠

benja! hello! thank you for the ask! 💘💘 (sorry these got kinda (very) long and some more fic-ish than hc-ish but i had fun with it)

🍺 - drunk headcanon

lately, debbie has been flooding the gallagher fam groupchat with pictures of cocktails and mixed drinks that she's been trying from the new lesbian bar she's been going to. carl tells her no one gives a shit, but she just tells him to fuck off. ian always sends a thumbs up emoji in response to the photos.

"wonder what's in that one," mickey pondered from their couch, zooming into the most recent picture like somehow the ingredients were written on an ice cube.

"looks like 1.5 oz empress gin, 4 oz ginger beer, juice of 1/2 a lime, 1/4 oz monin desert pear syrup, and mint, for garnish, of course," ian confidently rattled off.

mickey's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, "the fuck are you? the lesbian drink whisperer?"

ian chuckled at the accusation, "found the recipe on pinterest. 's something called the prickly pear gin buck."

"on penny trust what now?"

"pinterest -- a website where you pin your interests," ian smirked like he was the most clever motherfucker on the planet.

"alright, fuckin' martha stewart over here."

"wanna make it sometime?"

"make what?"

"the 'lesbian' drink."

"nah, man, too fuckin' fruity and won't even get me drunk."

"yeah, well we're fucking fruity, mick."

mickey sent ian a death glare.

ian threw his hands up in mock surrender and a teasing glint, "alright, alright, but you like it sweet, so i bet you'd like it."

"yeah, i like your sweet ass alright, c'mere, dork."

--

"hey, mick, look what i got!"

"more toothpaste?"

"shit! i knew i was forgetting something... but, uh, no, i splurged on some things to make that drink debs sent that week."

ian looked so damn excited about this, he couldn't even make fun of him.

"double the gin. if i'm drinking it, i better get buzzed."

"done."

"and you're not tellin' fuckin' anyone about this."

ian paused too long.

"gallagher," mickey said sternly. gallagher. he wasn't messing around.

"aaaanyways, let's get it cookin', good lookin'."

-

for all it was worth, it was fucking delicious and mickey got more than a little buzzed. he woke up the next morning... or afternoon rather, with several notifications from the gallagher groupchat.

shit. he was gonna fuckin' murder ian.

ian had sent an artistic photo of the purplish drink topped with a mint garnish and another of mickey, blissfully unaware of the photo being taken while sipping his second? third? drink, cradling it dear.

deb: looks great guys! so good, right! 🥂

lip: mickey sure seems to think so huh? ;)

liam: mickey's gonna kill you for this, ian

carl: rip fly high bro 💀🕊️

-

despite the teasing from his brother-in-laws, mickey really did enjoy the drink and the excitement ian had putting it all together. debbie, ian, and mickey all start a new groupchat called 'gallabitches getting tipsy🍹' where they share all their new recipes without judgement. they later added tami to the group, not being able to drink during her pregnancy, but living vicariously through them.

👨‍🦰 - ian is tall and likes to manhandle headcanon

the only cabinet in the kitchen that's tall enough for their boxes of cereal is above the refrigerator. this is, of course, no problem to ian who is practically eye level with it. mickey, however, has a little more difficulty.

he thought he was alone in the kitchen, he had left ian finishing getting ready in the bathroom, when he wanted the goddamn lucky charms.

mickey ungracefully climbed on top of the countertop and acquired the beloved box of sugary cereal. right then, he noticed he'd been caught -- ian leaning against the kitchen wall, amused as all hell.

ian stalked over, "can't reach, baby?"

"got it just fine, thanks." but mickey didn't make any effort to get down.

"hey, you're finally taller than me, never thought i'd see the day."

"fuck off."

"hmmm, dunno if i like this," ian said, looking up at mickey, "might have to do something about it."

"yeah? whatcha gonna do about it, big guy?"

in a swift motion, ian nudged mickey's legs apart a bit and held them on either side of him. mickey threw the box of cereal god knows where, fuck the cereal, and complied, wrapping his legs around ian's torso and his arms around ian's neck.

"oh, you'll see."

😠 - jealous headcanon (also hi @gardenerian , here's a little bit of gardener ian content for you🍅)

ian starts bonding with one of his neighbors about their plants in the community garden at their apartment. mickey was totally on board with ian's rants about his tomatoes and peppers, but all mickey can hear lately is julie this and julie that.

-

"julie bought this new fertilizer for me to use on my plot! she said it'll double the amount of tomatoes we get this year!"

"fuckin' great."

ian frowned, "i thought you were excited about the garden."

"i am."

"then why doesn't it sound like that?"

"julie just sounds like she likes you a bit too much is all."

"julie?"

"yeah, man, buyin' you shit, now. why doesn't fucking julie just suck your dick while she's at it?"

"what the fuck are you going on about now, mick?"

"you don't even wear your ring down there! i bet the bitch is just trynna get in your pants."

"mickey."

"no, it's cool, i get it, whatever."

"mickey. i don't wanna lose the ring in all the fuckin' dirt, but i promise julie knows all about you -- about us."

"yeah?"

"of course," ian crowded mickey's space a bit, judging how much his husband was really mad at him. he tilted his head down, "come down there with me next sunday, yeah? there's nothing to worry about."

mickey considered for a moment. he would love to size the bitch up, even if he had to wake up a bit earlier.

"fine."

"mmmm, good."

--

the following sunday, true to plan, mickey followed ian down to his garden plot. he'd been down here before, of course, but never early enough to chat with julie. he couldn't see her now, though, just some white-haired old lady in a big hat with an orange cat perched on her lap.

"ian, darling, good morning!"

"hey julie, good to see you!" ian said smiling as he crouched down to pet the cat's head, "you too, george." the cat purred against his hand.

oh.

"this is my husband, mickey. he was finally up early this morning, so i made him tag along."

"oh, what a pleasure, dear," julie smiled warmly, "i've heard so much about you."

"uh, yeah, ditto." mickey definitely didn't expect this -- she was genuinely sweet. she kind of reminded him of his great aunt back in ukraine.

"remind me to give you boys my new recipe for lemon tarts..." she trailed off.

mickey sat himself on a red modern-style chair as the two chatted the latest drama of some pests on antonio's plants and how sarah hadn't been out in weeks to water.

julie nudged the cat off her lap as she gestured for ian to follow her to one of the flower beds. george made his way over to where mickey was sitting.

"they're some of the good ones, huh?" mickey addressed the cat.

george slow blinked in return as he flopped over on the pavement.

they basked in the early morning sun, watching ian water both his plot and julie's as they laughed about something he couldn't hear.

he smiled. he could get used to sunday mornings like this.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Ur queue is empty? 👀👀 So: modern AU where Geralt comes home to find the reader baking pastel pink cookies or a pie or smth while absolutely Boppin ™ to emo rock? (Maybe smth along the lines of 23, 87, and a cute Kiss??) -totally not a self insert here nooo not one bit-

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt x Reader Word Count: 666 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mycat-is-mylove @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me @daydreamer-in-training @morelikebyesexual a/n: Loving the irony of this saccharine fluff getting that word count. Hope you like it xo

Geralt paused at the bottom of the townhouse stairs, trying to identify the sounds he heard. He smiled as he recognized the sounds as music instead of the cries he’d feared and he continued his walk upstairs quietly. He liked the little moments he caught you unawares and thanks to how often – and how loudly – you listened to music, it wasn’t hard to do. There was so intimate and sweet and endearing about watching you in your own little world as you were right now.

The smell of something sugary and buttery filled the air and he saw used cookie sheets on the stove while you stayed hunched over the counter, a piping bag in hand. He didn’t know how you could pipe in such smooth strokes or hold your hands so steady while your legs danced around and your head swayed along to the music as you sang.

“I chime in with a haven’t you people ever heard of – closing the goddamn Geralt!” you cried, spinning to sing into the piping bag microphone and finding your boyfriend watching you with a soft, amused expression in his face.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” he asked, catching you as you jumped into his arms to give him a kiss. He reached up and carefully brushed some flour out of your air before you wriggled back to show him what you were working on.

“Cookies!” you declared proudly. They were each exactly uniform in size and the pastel pink icing was just the right thickness. He sighed happily and you beamed at him as he admired the cookies.

“So are these for eating or…” he began to reach out for one but you smacked his hand away.

“These are for Ciri’s bake sale!” you replied, trying not to laugh at how wounded he acted over your little swat when you knew well how many scars covered his large, muscular body.

“I already got her some cookies for the bake sale!” he protested.

“You bought some cookies,” you replied with a judgmental head shake, “It’s not the same.”

“You’re right,” he said with a sigh, walking up behind you as you tried to continue decorating and wrapping his strong arms around your waist to hold you tight against his chest, “Nothing can compare with these delicious and beautiful creations of yours.”

You felt his stubble brush against your jaw as he kissed your cheek. You melted into his kisses for a moment but stiffened as you saw one of his hands creep towards the cooling rack.

“Hey! You’re trying to seduce me so you can get your mitts on my cookies!” you charged, spinning around and pointing at him accusatorily.

“My mitts?” he repeated, laughing, “Are you a 20s gangster? Are you going to send me sleeping with the fishes if I try and eat a cookie?”

“Technically I’m the 20s gangster because I’m the one who used the slang you… opposite of the cat’s pajamas!”

You stood facing him, pulled up to your full height which still left you tilting your chin to look up into his eyes, and his laughter faded away into a loving smile. He reached out a hand and cradled your face and despite yourself you leaned into his touch.

“You’re so adorable,” he murmured.

“Are you just saying that to get at my cookies?” you asked.

“I’m saying it because it’s true. And because you are going to give me one of those cookies,” he answered, slowly closing the distance between you. Your eyes stayed on his amber ones and though you still tried to puff your chest out and posture defensively, you both knew how this was going to end.

“Oh am I?” you asked, “And just how are you going to convince me to do that?”

You tasted like sugar and though he’d end up eating so many that you’d have to bake a whole new batch before the morning, Geralt insisted that you were the sweetest thing he’d eaten by far.

[vantasarcastic]

If you don’t mind me asking, do you have any uuuhhhhhhhh Damkri HCs?

Anonymous said:

Wait I think I asked that wrong, like if you have any, do you mind sharing some? 

oh yeah absolutely-!

kankri used to be shorter but at some point during their game he hit a growth spurt and now damara is the shortest of their group- shes pretty peeved about it

damara likes to wear kankri’s sweater- mostly because its really comfortable but also because she thinks its very funny to steal it

this post

uhhhhhhh remember towards the end of homestuck when we first saw the ghost army and there was like one single damara in it which means that in spite of all alpha timeline damara’s talk of planning to join lord english, somewhere in the dream bubbles there was one single damara who went against that and decided to fight him? i like to imagine that was a damara who had the support of a matesprite and/or a moirail to help her and since my biggest flushed damara ship is damkri and my biggest pale damara ship is cromara thats who i like to think it was- the scenario in my head flips between either she had enough emotional support that she never got to the place where she was considering joining lord english in the first place, OR if im feeling particularly Angsty, she was planning on joining lord english and was convinced/pleaded out of it- leaning towards the second one cuz goddamn to i love angst and just the whole entire hurt/comfort genre

damara does all the cookin cuz kankri’s cooking is. real bland-

damara has tried to get kankri to watch a few of the troll animes she likes with her but it backfired and she created a monster cuz now kankri keeps trying to go on psuedo-intellectual rants about his perception of the philosophy of troll fullmetal alchemist brotherhood. his takes are lukewarm at best but hes convinced hes a fucking genius about it, it’s insufferable.

after what happened with rufioh damara is like. real insecure about relationships- she’s pretty much constantly scared that kankri is going to get tired of her and leave- but shes also like. way too fuckin proud to admit that-

uhhhhh in a similar Angst Vein, this post

uhhhhhhhh not really a headcanon exactly but i really like the idea of a domestic scenario where they like. raise a cat together or something-

djfl;aksjdf aw man this got long sorry-

[rcris123]

“Can we make cake? I like cake.”

Lazy Sunday mornings;now that’s something he ain’t thought he’s ever gonna get. Certainly not as acriminal; maybe even less as a detective. And with all that STEM business...

But somehow here they were, thetwo of ‘em stretched out on the couch in Sebastian’s apartment. He feelslike he’s more resemblin’ a cat than a human, simply lounging around with noother care in the world only to then lazily shut eyes and let the sun bathe thebody in its rays. And all that with Sebastian on top of him, soft under touch -man looked like he was sleeping.

But then comes a humfrom him:

“Can you bake?“

“Hm?“

“I mean, can we make acake?...”

A scratch of the chinwith the hand not holding Sebastian: “Guess if we run and buy one? Or like, theingredients...” And still he gotta giggle: “Why cake all of a sudden, buck?”

“I like sweets. Wannaknow how to make them. With you.”

Sebastian gets up, butnot before a quick peck on his lips that makes him sit up slowly just as theman draws ever leisurely away. What a goddamn tease.

“I’m gonna look up arecipe.” It’s still somewhat weird hearing that whiskey drowned voice ofSebastian’s talk with a similar lingo to his own, yet it makes him feelin’ likethey belonged there, in that moment.

“Sure.”

They’re going to bakethemselves a cake – and he’s sure to put cream on Sebastian’s nose. Just ‘causehe’s feelin’ particularly silly today and worth makin’ it sweet. With him. It’sall worth it; or at least feels like it and more than that he can’t ask.

Down the stairs, intothe car, phone in hand discussing the utensils they have or lack, what they’dbe needin’. Then buyin’ it all. And raspberries, two of the biggest packs theycould find. Sebastian was beaming seeing them on the shelf, plopping them inthe cart. Arthur can tell there was an idea cookin in that brain of his and heguessed he knew exactly what that was.

Raspberry chocolatecake. A small one.

Dry ingredients in:flour and baking powder and cocoa and sugar, then wet: eggs and milk, extracts.Sebastian does the folding – he insisted. And hands work quick, effortlessly.Arthur can only sit and watch, hand on hips, grin on his face, so goddamn proudof his partner. What a man, deserving of some tender kissing. A peck on the cheek.

And another when themixture is poured into the baking trays and into the oven.

There’s their time oftenderness. Sebastian spins him round, leans him against the table, there’sstill chocolate on the corner of his nose. But it’s the lips he kisses. Theytaste like batter, sweet and creamy. He plays with them within his own, suckinthem between his teeth with a lil’ bite there. It grants him a chuckle fromSebastian and a hungry mouth to devour his own, tongue upon tongue. And maybethey sat like that for quite some time. The cake ain’t gonna be done for thenext ten minutes.

Ten minutes of themenjoying the serenity of nothing but each other’s company. And the frosting.They need to make frosting. Butter, sugar, chocolate. Some chocolate chunksthrown in for good measure. And maybe the skies of Krimson City are just asgrey as they ever were, dull light pouring in from outside, but to Arthur thismoment felt basked in sunlight.

A quick look at a watchgifted to him for his birthday just this year – should be time to take the tinsout.

A toothpick goes in tocheck for consistency; nothing sticks. All done. Too hot. One more kiss. A fewmore, until it cools. There’s flour on his shirt, it dusts out when bodies comein contact.

Once cooled down Sebastianplops dollops of frosting on the halved cake, decorating it with raspberriesall around. Arthur’s at the stole melting some dark chocolate with some butter –glaze.

“Make sure to savesome for the toppin’.” And there he comes with the hot chocolate glaze justafter Sebastian put the other half of the cake on top to pour it.

“Now that’s lookinglike a cake.” Sebastian sounds so proud of his creation and he damn well hasall the right to be.

Arthur puts thesaucepan back on the stove – gonna get cleaned later. Now he gotta look forsomething real quick. On to the fridge.

Sebastian peeks aroundthe corner wondering what he’s doing for a moment:

“Just a moment, buck!”for he now returns victoriously with some mint they tried keeping fresh. It’slookin a bit dull but sits nicely on top of the nicely arranged raspberries.

“Now, that’s acake.”

Sebastian laughs.What? This one’s lovin’ his mint.

[redwine-house]

The Gang Gets Gay (Mac x Dennis) (Dee x Female!OC)

Summary:  Mac has come out and Dennis has had it up to here with his unconventional research into gay culture. Desperate to put an end to the insanity, Dennis looks to the gang for help. Their scheme is ridiculous, but it reveals parts of themselves they have buried deep down.

(Masterlist)

(Ao3)

Words: 1,546

Dennis hovered behind the door of his room, chewing one of his perfectly manicured nails. He would have to get them redone and yeah, the hot stone organic manicure at the Coco Blue Nail salon cost twenty-five dollars – but it was worth it. Not only did his nail beds look absolutely fantastic, but he left the place with reduced fatigue, soothed nerves, and incredible circulation in his fingers.

Running his tongue over his well moisturized lips – Sugar Fresh Lip Treatment- Dennis slipped his hand into his pants pocket. Grabbing his phone, he pulled up his contacts and jabbed one of the two other numbers in his phone. It rang twice before the line was picked up.

“Charlie?” Dennis retreated into his room, closing the door.

“No!” the voice over the phone grunted. “It’s Frank!”

Dennis rolled his eyes. “Frank? What-put Charlie on!” Great. This is exactly what he needed – the ugly toad man weaseling his way into this conundrum in an attempt to gain back his younger years.

“Can’t.”

Grinding his teeth, Dennis put a hand to his forehead. “Why not?”

A sizzling sound crackled through the speaker. “It’s a long story-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dennis moaned.

Frank ignored him. “I wanted scrambled eggs for breakfast, but Charlie broke the frying pan ‘cause he used it to chase a bunch of cats off last night.” His Brooklyn accent made his friend’s name come out as ‘Cha-lee.’

“And why would he do that?”

“Well, we were under the bridge and found a box of DVDs. One of them was about that long hair broad. She fought things off with a pan or something. I don’t really know the plot, I was high off my balls!”

Dennis held the phone away at Frank’s delighted cackle. “So let me get this straight: Charlie, broke your frying pan because he was solving your cat problem based off of what you saw in a Disney movie?”

Frank cackled again as another sizzle came through the speaker. “Don’t get mad at me! I told him it was stupid.”

Dennis narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Cookin’ eggs!”

Throwing arm out, Dennis sputtered. “You don’t have-” Realizing he had been shouting, he hunched over and lowered his voice to a whisper. “You don’t have a frying pan, you imbecile!”

“I’m cookin’ it directly on the hotplate! That’s how Charlie burned his hand.”

“Why would you be doing something that burned Charlie’s hand?” Dennis clenched his fist, a vein in his forehead popping at the sheer stupidity of his friends.

There was a faint whoosh before Frank yelled, “Oh, shit! It’s on fire!”

“Just bring Charlie over here okay?” Dennis shouted before smashing his finger against his phone’s screen. Closing his eyes, Dennis let out a measured breath. He needed to have full, perfect control over every aspect of his body. He had to lower his pulse rate – stress was terrible and gave you grey hairs.

A knock made him jump. “Hey, Dennis?”

“Yeah, man?”

“You okay? I heard you shouting and I, uh-” Mac sounded anxious, as he tended to be whenever he thought one of his friends was in trouble.

Dennis put a hand on his hip, not moving to open the door. “I’m fine, dude. Go back to watching your…movies.”

“Okay…cool.” The creak of the hardwood floor told Dennis his dejected buddy had retreated back to the living room.

Dennis’ phone buzzed. Squinting his eyes, he read the text message.

I’m ok

Only burned my hair. L.O.L.

Lost the eggs

Bringing Charlie over

Frank

With a huff Dennis shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Ugly bald asshole,” he muttered before gathering himself. When he thought he had the strength to deal with the situation that lay just outside of his door, Dennis stepped out of his room.

Mac looked over his shoulder. “Dennis! Perfect timing, bro!” He jumped from his spot on the couch and flew across the room, barely able to contain his excitement. “I got us both notebooks and pens because I realized that we can’t fully analyze something if we don’t write it down. You know, kind of like movie critics!"

Dennis batted the notebook away, sending the items flying across the room. As the pens clattered to the floor, Mac deflated. “I’m not going to sit here and-and annotate…that!” Dennis threw his hand towards the TV.

Mac cocked his head, squinting an eye. “Why?” Before Dennis could answer, his friend snorted and rolled his eyes. “Is it a gay thing?”

“For the love of Christ, it’s not a gay thing! It’s an assault to common decency thing!” Placing a hand on the couch, Dennis massaged the bridge of his nose. After a moment, he looked up with a smile plastered across his face. “You know what? Forget it.”

Mac may be his best friend but goddamn, he could be dense. Before Mac could get another word in, Dennis was saved by a knock on the door.

“Who’s that?”

“Don’t worry about,” Dennis answered hurriedly, already halfway across the room. “Go back to doing your thing.”

Dennis’ heart had slowly begun to settle back into its normal rhythm. This knock meant things were soon going to go back to normal, where he could manage and represent himself in the perfect fashion. They would come up with a plan – as they always did – and this nightmare would be over.

Curling his fingers around the doorknob, Dennis opened the door. “Oh, Christ.” Huddled in the hallway stood Frank, Charlie and…Dee. “What is she doing here?” he demanded, his voice going up an octave.

His twin sister narrowed her eyes. “Frank tricked me into putting out the fire in Charlie’s apartment.”

“We couldn’t get rid of her,” Frank gargled through a mouthful of half cooked scrambled eggs he greedily scooped from a dirty plate. The right side of Frank’s head was covered in soot, his hair reduced to only stubble.

“Give me some of those eggs, Frank!” Charlie shouted, reaching over with his injured hand. The fool had it wrapped up with newspaper and a tied up sock.

“Back off!” Frank snapped, whacking Charlie’s hand with his fork, causing the man to yelp. “I made the eggs. I get to eat ‘em!”

Dennis opened his arms. “Those aren’t even cooked! You’re going to die!”

Charlie shook his head. “Nah, dude - Frank has a stomach of steal. I’ve seen him eat raw meat before and he was fine. It’s amazing, really.”

“No, it’s absolutely not!” Dennis’ voice cracked.

“What compels you to eat raw meat?” Dee asked with a grimace, crossing her arms.

Dennis shook his head. This conversation was going absolutely nowhere and bordering on the realm of insanity. “Just get inside.”

As the gang crowded into their apartment, Dee looked to the living room and her blue eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”

Frank choked on a mouthful of eggs. “Is this why we’re here? Because I am not into that.”

Dennis nodded. “Yeah.” He opened his bedroom door and began to usher everyone inside.

Mac watched as everyone trudged along. “Hey, guys. What’s going on?”

Dennis smiled. “Oh, we’re just going to talk about a few things. We’ll be out in a minute.”

“Can I come?”

“Sure. We’ll finish up and then you can come.” Dennis shut the door with a resounding click.

Mac turned back around. “But that means you’ll be done,” he murmured.

With wild eyes Dennis looked at his friends. “So the gay porn-”

“The gay porn,” everyone sighed, nodding in understanding.

Dennis didn’t even know where to begin. “It’s been going on none stop for…days.” He touched his hands to his chest. “I like to think of myself as a tolerant man, but I can only handle so many sweaty balls.”

Dee nodded. “That’s no intolerant. It’s just a ball thing.”

Frank held up his fork as he looked at each of his friends. “The only balls I can handle are my own.”

“Dude, I’ve seen your balls and I don’t even know how you can handle those,” Charlie drawled from his spot on the bed.

The conversation was already getting away from the subject at hand, as it usually did. Letting out a puff of breath, Dennis shook his head. “Guys, if we don’t do something, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind. He wants me to sit down and study it with him. He wants to learn how to be gay from porn! The guy just handed me a notebook right before you walked in!” His voice was getting shrill and usually he would feel self-conscious, but it was desperate times.

Dee shook her head. “I just don’t know what we can do. I mean, that is messed up.”

“Look,” Dennis began, “he obviously knows nothing about gay culture or how to conduct himself. He’s literally lived a closeted life of religious self-loathing. We have to get him out there. He has to meet people, go to more gay clubs. Learn history. As an erotic man, I’m very familiar with all of these things, straight or not.”

Frank narrowed his eyes suspiciously and took a step towards Dennis. “What do you propose we do?”

“What I’m saying,” Dennis began slowly, “is that we have to get gay.”

---

After seeing all of the hate @glirsty got for hc lesbian Dee, I wanted to write an entire story including it in a plot

[mangled-dreams]

Unique Ways.

This one is for @villain-friend, who has been waiting so patiently along with a few others...I’m so sorry I don’t have more to post right this moment. Prompts are from the Winter prompt list numbers 129. “We’re not going to spend the holidays alone and sad. i won’t allow that!” and 135.  “I know that people usually kiss under mistletoe but.. I had other things planned.” Anti was requested for this story and so I present to you all, and especially to Villain-Friend; Unique Ways.

(Cats have nothing to do with the story. I just liked this gif.)

"We're not going to spend the holidays alone and sad. I won't allow that!" Jacob had promised you not more than two weeks ago, but now you sit in your half empty apartment, with festive lights twinkling, and tears running down your cheeks. You curse Jacob's name, shouting to the heavens and whatever God or Goddess that'll listen to your sorrows. You hate how much time and effort and dreams you'd put into your relationship with Jacob; only to find out he's been unfaithful and two faced nearly your whole relationship. "Two fucking years down the goddamn drain!" you scream grabbing the pillow next to you and shove it against your face. You scream into the pillow, praying it'll muffle your cries of agony. Flopping forward on your bed you feel like kicking your feet up and down, smashing your fists into the mattress, but you refrain from doing so. You're bigger than that. You think..."I hate you so much! I hate you! I hate you!" You cry over and over and over again. You don't hate a lot of things, but you hate Jacob and his cheating ways. Your friends, and even your family had asked if you'd seen any kind of sign that Jacob had been seeing another woman--sorry, two other women, but you hadn't. You'd been to busy focusing on your job and paying for the Christmas gift of a lifetime; a three week all expenses paid for. You'd been planning on letting him know on Christmas day. Not anymore, you think bitterly. Rolling onto your back you notice a photo that you hadn't smashed just yet and sit up, the room spinning a little before settling. You stand up and grab the photo off the shelf and take it to the living room, removing the actual photograph and set the undisturbed frame on the coffee table. You pass into the kitchen and pull out a large kitchen knife and cutting board. You're pissed off and ready to slice up the photo, but you don't want to ruin your new counter tops. Laying the photograph on the cutting board face up, you aim your knife and jab it into the photo narrowly missing Jacob's face. You stab at the photo a few more times oblivious to your front door opening with the spare key you'd given Anti a few months back. Jacob had always accused you of cheating with Anti, going as far as to demand you cut all ties to your green clothed neighbor. You hadn't fallen for that dilemma. You'd straight out refused to play into that kind of thinking, shooting back that if you had to give up Anti then Jacob had to give up his friend Kayla. Jacob had refused and the subject had been dropped, then low and behold, two weeks later it comes out he's been seeing Kayla in a romantic nature. Screaming angrily you stab the knife directly into Jacob's chest. Despite your current actions you do not want Jacob to die. Part of you still loves and cares for his stupid cheating ass. "Feel better?" Anti asks as you swing around, the knife still in your hand. Upon seeing Anti the knife in your hands seems to just drop. It feels like you're being caught doing something heinous and unforgivable. Anti chuckles and kneels down, picking up the knife, then sets it on the counter. You feel your face heat up and look away from Anti in shame. "Wow... you have bad aim." Anti tells you, chuckling a little as he looks at the chopped up photo. You chew the inside of your lip, keeping your gaze away from Anti."Now's not the best of time, Anti." you tell him unintentionally wrapping your arms around your waist. "When is it after a nasty break up?" Anti asks sitting on your counter top. "I heard you screamin' and cryin', thought I'd come over and see if you need a shoulder to cry on." Anti adds smiling at you. You've always enjoyed Anti's odd sense of humor and his ability to cheer you up in the worst of times. You glance up at Anti. He's the last person you'd expect to judge you and yet you're worried he'd think less of you."I got throwing knives I can teach ya to use. We can find one of his profile photos and blow it up and use it for target practice." he adds with a chuckle you find endearing. You shake your head, trying not to laugh at him. As ridiculous as his suggestions are, you know he's being serious. Anti loves his knives and loves to try and get you to join in on his shenanigans. "Anti, please. I'm trying to...""Look, I get it. The slimy bastard broke yer heart and ya want revenge. How about teaming up and we'll go make his day a living hell?" Anti asks pouring his Irish accent on thick. You both know you'll agree to just about anything he says with that thick accent. You don't know what it is about his Irish accent but it makes you want to agree to just about anything; but... on the other hand, making Jacob's life a living hell, even for a day sounds amazing at this point. You do need something to lift your spirits. "What have you got in mind?" you ask sniffling as you wipe your eyes. Anti gives you that mischievous smile that makes you weak in the knees and hops down from the counter top. He doesn't say anything, simply grabs your hand and drags you out of your apartment, snatching up your shoes on the way out. Wrapped up in Anti jacket you find yourself standing outside Kayla's duplex as Anti pulls out a few bags from his trunk. Something about this whole situation tells you that Anti had this all planned out. You raise a brow, huddling into the oversized jacket, watching Anti set three bags filled with cylinder canisters. You hold your hand out when he lifts one out to you. You take the canister and look at the label and burst into laughter. "Are you serious?" you ask in the dying sun light. Anti stands up, both hands fisting a can of silly string, his arms shaking up the mixture inside the cans. He gives you the same mischievous smile and walks over to the duplex and begins to spray the cans with a pop of the lids. You laugh, but follow his lead. Anti is such a bad influence on you, but right now it doesn't matter. Anti wrote poorly executed crude words while you drew poorly shaped penises on the windows. You both laughed and traded off cans and when the lights flicked on quickly threw everything you could grab into the bags and bolted to Anti's car parked a few cars down the road. You could hear Jacob shouting, Kayla screaming after you as you both jumped into the vehicle and drove away in record time. It's at the stop light that you both glance at each other and burst into laughter, you're unable to believe you just vandalized Kayla's house with crudely drawn dicks and profanity. You'd always thought you'd be above needing revenge, but damn it feels good to get back at the cheating bastard. You turn up the heat in the car and hold your frozen finger to the vents to thaw them out again. Okay, so you didn't make his life, or even his day a living hell, but you got to blow of steam and create a mess that Jacob will have to clean up. In the freezing cold, and that's just as good. Plus, it's less punishable in the court of law. "You hungry?" Anti asks glancing at you as your rub your hands together then hold them in front of the vents again. Your cheeks are dusted a rose red color, your nose matching that of Rudolph's. "Starved. If we go back to the apartments I can whip up something hot and delicious." You say smiling at Anti. You've always admired his ability to be so free and uncaring of what others thing. He makes you feel like you can be like that too, to be happy. "Home cookin? I'm game." Anti tells you giving you a lopsided smile. You feel butterflies in your stomach. Anti's always had that effect on you, but you'd never given it much thought. You'd always remained faithful to Jacob...mostly. It doesn't count if you're asleep and dreaming, but damn if those dreams hadn't felt so real.Entering your apartment you slip your shoes off and head into your kitchen knowing Anti would remove his shoes too. Slipping out of the jacket Anti had let you borrow while out being deviants you turn slightly and toss it too him, letting him hand it up on the coat rack without having to ask. "Spaghetti and meatballs sound good?" you ask opening your ice box to pull out the pre-made meatballs you'd done a few days ago. Anti nods as he unravels the scarf you'd crocheted him at the beginning of the winter season. "Are you going to make those garlic mashed potatoes?" Anti asks taking a seat on the bar stool rather than your counter tops.You nod your head. "You wanna peel the potatoes for me?" you ask opening your pantry door and retrieve the 10 lbs bag of potatoes. Anti give you a look that says he's not amused but takes the bag none the less. You hand him a small paring knife and he sets to work. A comfortable silence falls over the pair of you as you work to get dinner done. Leaning back in his chair Anti pats his now full stomach and sighs happily. "Delicious. Can I hire you to be my personal chief?" Anti asks smirking at you. You roll your eyes at his question and stand up taking the plates with you. "You couldn't afford my services, Anti." You tease scrapping the leftovers into the trash and set the plates in the soapy water you'd mixed earlier. Anti laughs, his chair sliding across the linoleum as he stands up, stretching his back out. "Not to be that guy, but how are ya feelin?" Anti asks resting his upper half on your breakfast bar. You glance at him from the corner of your eye and shrug."Better, but it's still hurting. I just... what did I do wrong?" you ask softly. You set down the plate into the water and place the sponge in your hand on the counter top. "That's what I can't understand. I'm a faithful person, I never told him that he wasn't good enough, or nitpicked at things that irritated me. I encouraged him to talk to me when something upset him. I tried to compromise where it was needed, but I told him I wouldn't drop friends just because he didn't like them. I never asked him to stop being friends with people I didn't like." You continue as you look down at your hands. You never raised your voice, you rarely fought, opting out to find a resolution rather than leaving things unsaid..."It wan't anything you did. It was all him." Anti says not looking at you. "He wanted everything to be the way he wanted it, but you're just too good at sticking to your guns. He'd told me a few times that he didn't want me around you, once even said you'd told him you wouldn't see me again, but I didn't trust him. If I said anythin' he'd probably spin it to say I'm jealous of 'im and you." Anti tells you earning a confused and slightly appalled look that Jacob would go so far as to tell your friend you didn't' want to see him anymore. You frown. What had you seen in Jacob? A pretty face? Sweet words? A mixture of a multitude of things? "I told him I would never stop being friends with you because he felt insecure. I even told him if he wanted me to stop being friends with you, that he'd have to stop being friends with Kayla. It told him it was unfair to expect me to conform to his wants and needs without some kind of equal sacrifice in return. Declined and then... 'I've been seeing Kayla since we got together.' Fucking bastard." You tell Anti, clenching your fists at the memory. "I wasn't being serious! I'd never seriously ask anyone, much less the man I'm dating to drop anyone he finds important in his life. All I wanted to do was show him how rude and stupid his request was." you say feeling tears well up in your eyes again. "Hey, you're a strong woman, if he couldn't see that, then he's an idiot, a wanker that don't know a good thing when it's standing in front of him." Anti tells you, earning a small, sad smile from you. "Thanks, Anti." you whisper. "Go sit down on the couch, I'll be over in a few. Some of my pots still have to soak for a bit before I can clean them." You say turning back to your dishes and clean the dishes you can before rising your hands and dry them before heading over to the couch. Anti smirks as he meets you at the small arch way leading into the living room. Despite having an open concept there are a few arch ways in your apartment. You rise a brow at his smirk and follow the finger he's pointed to the ceiling. Tilting your head slightly you see what he's looking at. "Mistletoe?" you question not remembering putting up, or even noticing mistletoe hanging from the arch way. "When did...Anti, did you put that up?" you ask accusingly as you look at Anti's smug face."I know that people usually kiss under mistletoe but.. I had other things planned." Anti tells you. Like a deer in the headlights you stand still, staring up at Anti with slight confusion. There's always been a mutual attraction, but..."Anti, I...are you sure..." you can't get the words out."Don't think I'm gonna let some other idiot try to sweep you of yer feet. It's my turn. I ain't gonna make you forget about him, but I'm sure as hell gonna try." Anti tells you wrapping his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his profile. "Let me make you feel better." Anti's always had a unique way to cheer you up. One you'll always be thankful for.

[thepunkmuppet]

reblog if you:

still will not kiss your sisters and your brothers

are awful just to see

are just soggy from the chemo

will never marry

just hope you knooooooowwww