#I GOT THIS DONE AT 3AM FOLKS

[ej-artyarts]

Day 6 - VIDEO GAME

"I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear. I'm gonna show you where it's dark, but have no fear." — NIGHTCALL - Kavinsky

[rangersoup]

I can’t believe I was so busy screaming for joy at my tv that I missed one last precious mention of my boy! The myth, the man, the legend, the…. Soup? RANGER CAMPBELL who is covering for Carlos so he can go to the promotional ceremony and be there for his husband 😌

He didn’t go to prison!! OR get killed by a piece of stray asteroid! This season finale really is the gift that keeps on giving.

[ratskinsuit]

Hiii!

Would it be okay to request a Lucifer x Imp!fem!reader? I was thinking something about the reader being insecure about dating Lucifer (either due to the vast difference in social ranking and/or the fact that the reader is short while Lilith was a tall woman) and he comforts her? If not, that’s okay!

Thank you!

My Other Half

Lucifer x Imp fem!Reader

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A/N: I’m so so sorry this took so long to get out. Yk the usual depression and writers block and adhd blah blah blah blah blah. I wrote the end to this at like 3am and was tryna not cry because random depression go brrrrr. Hope you enjoyed though and arnt go mad this took so long!

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Every year, since Lucifer’s falling from heaven, He has hosted a gathering of the finest and most powerful beings in hell, of eating and socializing, a sorrei. Filled with gorgeous women and handsome men, the delicious aroma of hundreds of plates of food wading through the area. Demons laughing and chatting with one another. dressed in the fanciest of suits and gowns. All of them having some high status of power compared to the other, more common folk of the streets.

Even in his depression, Lucifer had still continued to host these parties, yet he had enjoyed none of it. However this was the first time in 7 years that he had someone to bring to it, you, his girlfriend.

You two originally met when you started working for him as an advisor. His work preformence dwindling with his mental health. So Charlie hired you to go help him with his work and choices. And eventually you tow became closer, the relationship no longer being boss and employee.

When hell found out that the Lucifer, the king, started dating an imp, people had some… mixed opinions. The lower class saw it as Lucifer possibly trying to be inclusive, or making fun of them, while th uppers saw it as an embarrassment. Lucifer payed no mind to these comments, and you tried your best not to, but sometimes they got to you.

Your infront of the mirror in your shared bedroom, adjusting your dress. Your weaning a short sleeved red dress with a slit in the side and a V neckline. It goes down to your ankles. Your wearing fishnet stokings with a pair of dark black heels and a matching obsidian necklace.

You brush through your hair with your fingers, and see in the mirror Lucifer entering the room. He looks you up and down and smiles, walking over to you. He’s wearing a white suit with red accents, his red tie, darker than the accent, not yet done. His hair slicked back in a professional manner.

“You look absolutely gorgeous darling,” He coos, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind and looking in your eyes in the mirror.

You smile, turning around to look him in the eyes, stroking his cheek. “Not so bad yourself Mr.Devil.” You smirk, fixing some fo his smudged eyeliner on the corner of his eyes . “Only for you my love.” He replies.

He blushes a bit, and you lean forward to give him a quick kiss. It lasts a couple seconds before you pull away pulling a disappointed whine from Lucifer. You snicker, reaching at his chest to do his tie. You smoothly tie it up, adjusting it once done and taking a step back “Perfect.” You smile.

Lucifer positions himself next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, intertwining his right hand with yours. “Ready to go darling?” He asks, kissing your hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The walk down to the banquet hall was pleasant. Not to far from your rooms. Making sense as it’s in the same building. As you two approach, the sound of laughing and conversing grows louder.

At last you two arrive, Lucifer opening the big doors. Everyone turns to him, feeling slightly awkward you scoot a bit behind him. Everyone claps as Lucifer welcomes and thanks everyone for coming.

You study everyone around, feeling out of place surrounded by all these high-class demons. As he finishes his welcoming, you two begin to walk around, Lucifer greeting people as you stand there, next to him. Trying to ignore the judgemental stares of others around you.

As Lucifer chats with other people, they completely ignore your presence, making you feel invisible. You honestly don’t know whether or not to be happy about it though.

After a little bit you and Lucifer are approached by a fancy looking lady. She has bird like features and is wearing a beautiful long dress. Her top is short, white fading to pink, with short puffy sleeves. Her skirt is long and flowing, 3 layered with a feather like texture. The top an off white with a black trim, the second bright white, and the third black layer. All tied together with a bright yellow tiara on her head.

“Lucifer, darling! How have you been?” She comes up, and Lucifer turns to her with a smile as they hug. “Ah Stella, great to see you as always!” He says, pulling back, fixing his shirt.

“Marvelous party, as always my lord.” She smiles, her posture and appearance full of grace, subconsciously making you straighten your own back. “Thank you Stella, I try.” Lucifer laughs, turning to you.

“My dear this is Stella, one of the Goetia Royalty,” he says, waving towards at Stella. You give her a polite smile, ignoring the way her face scrunches up at you. “Very nice to meet you, I love your dress.” You say, complimenting her, but she looks you up and down, judgmentally.

“I didn’t know that the staff was allowed to attend these types of events,” She says slyly, turning to Lucifer. You frown at her comment, wondering if you did something wrong. Lucifer. however just let’s out a chuckle, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Ah well no, but she isn’t actually a worker, this is my girlfriend.” He says, an unmoving smile present on his face.

Stella looks you up and down for a moment before bursting out laughing. She cackles for a moment before calming down and taking deep breath, wiping the tears from under her eyes. “Is..something funny?” Lucifer asks, raising an eyebrow at he behavior.

“You know, if I knew you were that desperate for a partner, I could have set you up with someone. I have loads of hot first-rate friends who you would just adore,” she says, shooting a quick glare in your direction, Lucifer didn’t quite catch; his smile faltering at her words.

“I appreciate it Stella but I’m very happy with who I am with right now.” He says, squeezing your waist. “Well if you ever change your mind just let me know.” She says, glancing at you one last time before wandering off to a group of other people.

As soon as she turns Lucifer looks at you, and you look at him, trying to conceal the sad look in your eyes. “I’m so so sorry about that, she can be a real drama starter sometimes, are you okay love?” He asks, searching you face. “Yeah, I’m used to it don’t worry.” You say, a smile on your face, trying to get past what happened. Lucifer squeezes your shoulder.

“Why don’t we go get some food for now?” He asks, and you nod, the two of you heading to get something to eat.

As you spent more time conversing at the party, you grew more comfortable, and tried to ignore the stares and whispering. Mainly from Stella and her friends, making comments about your class of imps and how you “unruly creatures” and how Lucifer should just ditch you beside it’s embarrassing.

Later into the night, you and Lucifer were chatting with a group of demons that run a large business, you can’t remember what it was about though. Lucifer turns to you. “Hey love, do you think you could get us some more drinks?” He asks sweetly, and when you agree gives you a kiss on the forhead before turning back to the conversation as you walk away.

You head to the table with the drinks, noticing Stella and some of her friends by it. She notices you and turn to her friends as they whisper and giggle, she sends a grin your way.

You choose to ignore it, probably just then talking bad about you again, beliving they won’t do anything.

You head to the table, grabbing two wine glasses about to fill them up, when suddenly you feel something spill all over the front of your dress.

You gasp and turn look down at yourself to see the wine spilled all over your new dress. “Aw, oopsie! So sorry darling, just bumped into the table. But don’t worry, I’m sure you have some clothes that… fit you better right? Like those simple imo clothes?” Stella gives you a fake pouty look, cackling.

Lucifer rushes over to you as tears begin to pool in your eyes. “Oh my god, my dear are you al-“ he tries to reach for you, scanning to see if your okay but you swat his hand away. “I’m fine” you snap, wiping at the tears beginning to fall.

You don’t look behind you, but hear Stella and her friends laughing and the people crowding to see what happened, as you rush to a nearby bathroom.

You scramble into the restroom, slamming the door behind you, locking it. You go over to one of the walls, sinking down to the floor. You rest your face in your hands, as you sobs and cry, ruining your carefully done makeup.

You hug your knees tightly, sniffling and rocking yourself back and forth, your chests heaving with the heavy breaths your taking.

You internally curse yourself for ever thinking your worth the king of hell. You. A simple imp. Your choked sobs die down to sift whispers, yet the tears never stopping streaming down you face.

You bury your face into your knees hander when you hear the door unlock and open, muttering a small “go away.” But they don’t, and you hear the footsteps come closer, stopping infront of you.

“Dear, what’s this about….?” You hear a voice say, peeking up to see Lucifer looking at you, kneeled down. He has a sad look on his face.

“…why me…?” You ask, and Lucifer opens his mouth to speak, furrowing his brows. “Stella’s right, why pick me and not some other better prettier more powerful demon…” you interrupt him, and Lucifer’s face falls.

“Oh darling…” he whispers, holding you and cradling you in his arms. “Why would you think I want someone else..?” He murmurs.

“Because th-there are so many other people that would be better for you..” you cry, leaning against his chest as he holds you tight, the tears beginning to fall faster down your cheeks, chest heaving.

He just shushes you, wiping them away. “My love I chose you, not anybody else..” he says, turning you to look at him with a smile. “I don’t care how powerful you are, your shape, size, color, darling I picked you.” He says, and you start to cry harder, burying your face in his chest. “B-… but why…?”

He just smiles, rubbing hand through your hair, rubbing circles in your back comfortingly. “Because when I met you, you made me happier than I have felt for years..” he says. “And I don’t care about anything else because I love you, no other woman will ever have my heart as the way you have.”

You sniffle, and he rocks you back and forth, his hand going to hold yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth giving it a kiss, before continuing.

“I’m so sorry how Stella treated you, I should have warned you before hand she is very judgey, it’s my fault sweetheart, and I apologize.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. You lean against him as he soothes you. He hugs you tightly, ignoring your wet dress against him, staining his white tux from the red rubbing off. But he doesn’t care and just holds you closer.

“M…I. I’m.. sorry…” you mutter, and he shushes you. “Honey there is nothing to be sorry about. The only people that should be sorry are Stella and the other people who judged you based on what you look like and where you came from.”

“For… ruining the party..” you say, embarrassed, but he just chuckles. “My love that was just a bit of spilt wine. Nothing to fret over. You ruined nothing.”

You two sit there in silence for a moment, embraced in a hug together. “…thank you…” you murmer.

“For what, sweetheart?” He asks. “For… st-staying with me, and dealing with my bullshit… and not judging me…” you say, and he lets out a laugh at your second reason.

“Of course my love, he says turning you head to him and he places a kiss on your forehead.

You two sit there, finding comfort in each others warmth.

After a couple minutes Lucifer speaks. “So, we have two options. One; I can take you up to the room and you hang out there and then when the party is over, I come get you.” He inhaled; letting it sink in. “Or two, you can go to the room and get changed and come back out to see my chewing out Stella, and have a good time at the party.” You laugh at his option 2.

“Two. Definitely two.”

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A/N: this took so long I’m so sorry I have ADHD and procrastinate. But figure out a not-really-kinda schedule. I do a request, then do Headcanons or a story I chose, then request and so on. If you sent a request and it’s in the rules and has not been done yet, it will be done eventually. This wasent as long as I would have hoped but I think it still came out good! Hope you enjoyed, make sure to know you are loved and take care of yourself!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[faeruy]

Agatha All Along Tarot Time! Episode 4 - If I Can't Reach You, Let My Song Teach You

Okay so we got a new one; appropriately enough the Three of Swords, triggered while they were all dealing with Teen's injury/near death. I say appropriately, because traditionally Swords is the suit associated with fire, so it makes sense that it shows up as a result of The Protection Witch/Fire's Trial on the Witch's Road. (EDIT; SO MANY LIES. Wands is fire, Swords is air. Sorry folks, don't write posts at 3am without editting)

Now onto the specifics. As with my last tarot post, I'm mostly in it as a hobby, so my interpretations may not be perfect.

Sword cards are usually pretty intense, and the Three of Swords is no exception. It centers around grief, heartbreak, sorrow, emotional pain; all things Agatha is feeling as a result of almost losing Teen, who she all but says she thinks is her son (is he? absolutely not, but I love that she thinks he could be). It tends to refer to sudden grief - and given how fast Teen went down, their sorrow would feel very unexpected and sudden indeed. Three of Swords suggests that the thing needed is a good cry (or a hug from ex-girlfriend who's the embodiment of Death), but that one shouldn't get lost in it or wallow for too long when there's more going on (like the rest of the road). First glance, it's easy to keep the association simple; Teen's dying, and they (mostly Agatha) are sad about it.

But there's a reason it's done here, and not during, say... Sharon's death. And that has to do with the Reverse meaning, which is complicating things for Agatha. Heartbreak is still a large component of Three of Swords Reversed, but instead of current, immediate pain, it talks about older hurts; the end of a relationship (like Agatha and Rio), a loss that hasn't been gotten over (like Agatha with her son). Because Agatha at this point thinks Teen is likely her lost son, seeing him dying triggered ALL the pain both old and new, and it's like the Three of Swords smacked her in the face.

The Reversed Three of Swords is ultimately hopeful though - it suggests a path of healing, forgiveness, and a release of pain tied to those old hurts. I kind of hope that that's foreshadowing for what we'll see with Agatha and the rest of the coven. The Road giving them the chance to heal, maybe.

We're already seeing that a little with Alice, who definitely has strong ties to the card because of the trauma caused by her mother's death. By the end of the episode, she's started to come to terms with what happened and the curse that haunted her family for so long. Honestly Three of Swords could just be the thesis statement of the entire episode; the only reason I focus more on how it ties to Agatha is because Teen's predicament (and Agatha's reaction to it) was the clear trigger.

That's all I got for this one, hope you enjoyed it, and If you're new to this post, I've done analysis on other Episodes, starting with the first 3, and then individually after that.

Episode 1-3 Episode 5 Episode 6 Episode 7 part 1 Episode 7 part 2

[cybersteal]

OC SMASH OR PASS

tagged by @harellan 🥰

tagging @katsigian @elvenbeard @wraithsoutlaws @my-alternatevy @kharonion @theloverstemperance (no worries if you don't want to or have already done it ❤️)

rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

BASICS

Full Name: Viceroy De’Angelo Torres

Nickname: V, to anyone not a family member

Age: 27 in 2077

Height: 6’/182 cm

Eyes: Colour matched his Kiroshis to his natural dark green

Gender: Cisgender man

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Pansexual

PROS

Is tall and strong; you need something heavy from the top shelf, he’s got you covered, (but he’ll tease you the whole time).

Fosters a sense of community where-ever he goes! He has pals and acquaintances all over, even in some really hostile areas. Because of this, he’s very resourceful, and always knows a guy who knows a guy.

Have something you’re incredibly passionate about? Congrats! He’s passionate about it now too, and will listen to you talk about your interests for hours.

Is surprisingly patient with people in difficult situations (who didn't seemingly get themselves into said situation), and doesn’t take most things personally. Thick-skinned softie.

Enjoys every genre of music, and I do mean, every genre. Put on your fave tunes without fear of judgement, he’ll always jam out with you!

Isn’t afraid of looking silly if it makes you laugh! He’s secure enough in himself that he’s always comfortable in his own skin, and there’s very little he’s not willing to do to cheer you up.

Is very intense in bed, and tends to get wholly lost in the experience. When he wants you, he wants you bad.

CONS

Is an addict, straight up. Alcohol is the big one, but he also smokes, and uses hard drugs (bar synthcoke after a bad batch almost killed him) and while he’s self-aware enough to know he’s an addict, he isn’t interested in getting clean any time soon.

Has an explosive temper, and a very provocative sense of humour. He has to be reminded to censor himself in situations where it isn’t appropriate, and his anger is very hard to rein in.

Has a very fucked up sleep schedule; in fact, he doesn’t have much of a routine at all. There’s no rhyme or reason to his availability, as he’ll go off to do a gig at 3AM just as easily as 3PM, simply because he wants to, and will just sleep whenever he’s tired for maybe 5-6 hours.

It’s On Sight™ with some folk, and nothing you say will deter him. He’ll go looking for fights when he’s aggravated instead of trying any other, healthier coping mechanism.

Is a natural flirt, and sometimes doesn’t realise just how far he goes with it.

Left to his own devices, he will do some gonk shit if he gets bored. Tends to run toward danger, instead of away from it. Thanks to his heavy-duty protective cybernetics, he sometimes thinks he’s invincible. He’s a reckless driver, and has never really fostered any sense of self-preservation to speak of regarding speed, heights, or running his mouth.

Will hyper-fixate on something to the degree that he won’t answer calls or texts for hours. Doesn’t really feel any urgency to work on that either.

EXTRAS

Has serious FOMO and can’t really keep his nose out of things once he gets wind of them. He’s got a knack for getting himself involved in everything.

Is almost always playing music, or is humming or singing something under his breath. Can’t fucking stand silence.

Enjoys trashy tv – he watches shows like Watson Whore and Little Big Corporats religiously.

Eats a lot of junk food and if given the choice will always pick the nastiest, greasiest item on the menu.

His sense of fashion can be a bit much sometimes, and while he usually manages to pull his wacky outfits off, he understands not everyone else will vibe with it. Just don’t cramp his style.

Owns a frankly ridiculous amount of sunglasses. Yes, you can borrow them.

His love languages are words of affirmation, and physical touch.

propaganda time;

[im-s0rry]

Grimm's Chaos Clash Finale (300 Post Special)

So it seems that this little game has ended. Our winners have been found from the Chaos Clash Tourney. . .

GIVE IT UP FOR DOGGONE AND ORCHESTAL!!!

AND NOW, AS STATED, @petra-creat0r AND @cannibala-co NOW GET SPAMTON'S WILL TO LIVE AS WELL AS BRAGGING RIGHTS FOR WINNING THIS STUPID LITTLE TOURNAMENT!!!

I just wanted to say, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all for submitting your characters, joining this tournament, voting, cheering on our contestants, and overall just having a fun time expressing your creativity through this niche community that we all call home. I made this tournament so that we could all use our creativity to push ourselves further beyond. . . And I think that we were able to accomplish that with this tournament. I am so glad that this community was able to get together and do something like this. . .

And now, a few closing statements for my 300th post on this Blog.

Folks, I'll be honest with you all, I'm not sure how I got this far. This community has shifted so much in this short time, it's hard to see how we got here in the first place. We lost and regained my dear friend Mercair, we went through two ARGs where several people got replaced by AI while Sakriss was introduced to the world, almost all of my Secret Bosses got redesigned, fun was had, and friends were made. . . To @glitch-the-artist , whom I have spent way more time with, in all honesty, I want to thank you for all that you've done for this community. Your work is amazing and has inspired me to work harder than ever. . . To @mercair , who left for a long while before returning with the incredibly made @dont-play-deltarune-at-3am ARG and a new Secret Boss, Sakriss! You've always been an incredible friend, an inspiration to many, and a niche micro-celebrity in this side of the Deltarune Secret Boss Fandom. I owe a lot to you, man, and I still don't regret turning you into Sonatta that one time. . . To @mrchaosman , who's taking a break from posting to focus on his mental health. . . Thank you. You were always there for me when I needed you, you built me up and I. . . I never returned the favor. . . And I regret all of those times where I left you on read. I hope to do better after this, I mean it this time. . . To those six other people who were at one point in my mind. . . May you rest in peace. You made up a small part of my life that. . . I kind of regret now that I think of it. Your sacrifices weren't in vain, y'all. . . But even then, I don't miss y'. . . To @creepa-b0t-inc , honestly one of the most dedicated and amazing people in this Fandom. You've helped on so many projects and worked with some of the biggest creators in this Fandom and i want to thank you for all of that work youve done for this community. Without you, I don't think this community would be the way it is now. . . To everyone who's supported my work up to this point, I want to thank all of you. Without you, I wouldn't be here ranting about my weird ocs and improving as much as I have now. This community, this game, it means so much to me. . . And I want to thank you for all of that. . .

. . . By why go out like that? Why go out without something new to think about. Something. . . Bold. This is the first time I've told anyone outside of the small group of people who I've tried to make this happen with, I'm here to tell you about Void Hotline. Void Hotline is a small Deltarune AU I've had a hand in making about WD and Dess, along with a small group of other characters including the Goners, Chara, Flowey, Seam, Everyman, and the Skeleton Brothers, all working at a call center which is specifically designed to make the Secret Bosses go insane and know the truth about their world. I wouldn't expect much from it, due to it being an uphill battle with me and the team constantly forgetting to work on it, but I feel like with the help of some other people, specifically you guys, maybe this can go somewhere. If you're interested in helping with this AU, please message me about it and I will see if you're fit for the team. Together, I hope that we can make this stupid little AU. . . And I hope that you all have a great day. I bid you all adieu. Happy 300th.

[chronic-ghost]

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

rating: M (just for language)

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 5619

summary: you're a human lie detector-- so you tell the handsome man at the Jim Bo’s Burger Barn at 3AM. Too bad you're too drunk to catch up to his lies.

warnings: language, references to drugs/cartels, drinking, smoking, this one is pretty tame, no use of y/n

a/n: this is my Poker Face adjacent fic and inspired by the scene where Javi so innocently flirts with that american wife in the lounge. might become a series but not quite sure yet. lemme know which direction I should take this, if I should take it anywhere at all!

🤍Series Masterlist | Next

🤍AO3 Link

You attract trouble.

You attract trouble like you put on your nicest dress, did your hair, fixed up your tits, and doused yourself in trouble-pheromones. Like you found trouble curled up on the side of the road, sad and alone like a lost dog, and you gave it a cookie and now it swings around your ankles, always moments away from knocking you on your ass. Except it’s not a dog, it’s a chimpanzee that’s finally snapped and it’s pissed–  it’s beating on the bars of its cage, it’s yowling, howling, it’s coming after you to eat off your goddamn face and–

Okay, back up a bit. 

You have a thing that gets you into trouble. No, not like a self-destructive habit or a weird twitch. It’s not drugs or alcohol or even a dumbass ex. It’s this thing you’ve always been able to do, always known, and because of your big mouth, it’s always gotten you into hot water with the wrong people.

You know when someone is lying. Don’t ask how. It’s a thing. But you know, without a shadow of a doubt, if what’s coming out of someone’s mouth is the God’s honest truth or total and utter bullshit.

You know when someone is lying and generally, folks don’t really appreciate it when you a) catch them on a lie and b) call them out on it. You and your big mouth.

Okay, that’s two things that get you into trouble, but it’s primarily the lying thing and the mouth thing is more or less a fun bonus. Used for good or evil, or whatever. 

The point – the point is – you know when someone is lying. Every single time. So, sure, the audience may say, it’s a weird quirk, kinda bizarre, may or may not be difficult to prove, but trouble? Real actual trouble? How could you possibly get into chimpanzee-face-eating trouble with just this little thing?

Well, rather easy actually. If you don’t have any particular skills, that is. If you barely finished high school, and street smarts was the only kind of smarts they were selling the day your mom smacked you on the ass and told you to find your way in the world. It was hard keeping a job too. Minimum wage living is terrible, especially when the customers lie to you, or to each other, or to their children. Even worse when management lies about why there’s no cash payout this month or why they’re late with this month’s checks. Getting by is fucking hard as shit, but when you know there’s something wrong being done and you’ve got this big fucking mouth, well, you’ve never been one to not court trouble. 

Maybe trouble is easier to find because you like to wave and flirt with it when you drive by. Give a little wink.

You work here, you work there. Nothing serious. Always temporary. And then, one day, during your shift as a maid at the Economy 99 on route 10, the elderly night guard asks if you’ve ever played poker. 

Nah, you say. Go Fish, that’s really your game. 

So he offers to teach you, along with a few of the other maids and staff waiting around for someone to blow chunks in the swimming pool because you always managed to find the really classy places. 

Okay, so you barely finished high school, you don’t have real marketable skills, you’ve got a big mouth and you’re not afraid to use it and –

– and –

You’re really fucking good at poker. 

And who here would like to venture a guess as to why?

You always know when someone is lying and what is poker if not Advance Bullshit for Adults? Fuckin’ Astronomical Physics for Liars and Dumbasses. Hell, you gotta fuckin’ PhD in Bovine Excrement and it’s time you graduated to the big leagues. Sayonara community college, hello Stanford for Assholes.

Okay, maybe that’s just regular Stanford. 

You learn to hustle too. Lose a few rounds so they don’t catch onto you and can’t accuse you of anything as you wipe their clocks clean. You change your name too, in different towns, in different back alley poker halls, because unfortunately the poker and casino community in this place is too small.

This place being all of the United States. 

You can’t exactly go online and work your literal magic– you gotta at least see or hear the person to know if they’re lying. Bluffing over pixels just isn’t the same. Isn’t sexy enough. 

So, with your big mouth and exceptional poker skills, you go hunting off the coast. It was an invite only poker tournament in Florida. You hadn’t managed to burn your ‘Marlene Green’ identify just yet and she was fucking crushing it up and down the east coast. You barely blinked at the ten grand buy-in– baby money, suckers ducks, little Tikes casino royale.

This was also the last one, you told yourself. One for all the marbles. 

Because the thing about disreputable poker halls, they tend to be filled with unpleasant, disreputable, very angry characters that, like a chimpanzee, will rip your face off and eat it if they think they’ve been cheated. 

Exit strategy. Mama always said you gotta have an exit strategy. Well, Mama said a lot of things and the actual literal exit strategy was Monterey Marina with a gorgeous trawler for sale. Older than shit, but damn that baby could purr. You were gonna take the money, offer up stone-cold cash (no questions asked), and sail off into the sunset. Or, well, sunrise because you were definitely getting the fuck out of Florida. 

But here it comes, the real kick in the goddamn teeth, the real screw in the rack. This is where your mouth and your talent– gift, power, is this a fucking superhero movie?– whatever– tended to get all mishmashed with one other thing that always– and you mean always– got you in the hot seat. Got you in Trouble, with a capital T, that rhymes with P and stands for pool hall – breathing down your neck. 

You alway had shitdumb, bad, fucking luck. 

So it’s not some lowtime, grumpy townies you piss off when you win the pot, it turns out its members of a goddamn drug cartel! And they are PISSED.

P-I-S-S-E-D

You don’t wanna ask the barrel of their guns if they’re going to kill you because you don’t actually want to be sure of their answer, so you’ve got your hands up, thinking this is definitely it– I’ve played my last hand, I’ve sunk my last boat, I’ve cursed my last fuck– when police sirens go off. It’s not a relief, but a distraction.

You’ve got a big mouth, wacky abilities, and reflexes like someone who’s been running their whole life. You smash a bottle against the back of the head of the blonde one closest to you, flip the table– chips and bullets go flying– and with the case holding the winnings still in your hands, you sprint out the back door. 

To your lovely Chevy Camaro waiting for you. 

And you drive.

“And I drive and I drive and I drive, all the way down to this lovely little diner in . . .” 

You swivel on the red seat, nearly knocking over the five little plastic bottles of Crown Royal on the counter that is making your head thick and puffy. You squint at the sign that boasts the best burgers in – “Texas, yes, thank you, Texas! Lone Star State. The most hated state, of all fifty of them, for Wile E Coyote. His nemesis. His haunting. His apocalypse now . . .” 

The man seated next to you, the same man who’s been there for an hour, quietly listening to you drunkenly ramble at the counter of Jim Bo’s Burger Barn, smirks. His mustache twitches.

“Why is it the Wile E Coyote’s least favorite state?”

Your mouth drops at him. You slouch as though indignant about his very question. “Roadrunner, duh, state bird of the Lone Star State. That and blue bonnets. I mean, the flower. Blue bonnets are the state bird and the road runner is the state flower of the Looney Star State . . . wait . . .”

He laughs, softly, his elbows under him as he leans forward on the counter, his brown jacket looking like it smells amazing. Drunker than you meant to be, you eye him from his classic cowboy boots, up his hips, and to the edges of that lovely brown jacket as it hangs around his waist. He has the prettiest eyes. 

“You were saying something about driving here?” He asks, very much aware of your shameless staring. “Do you still have that money?”

“Sure, sure,” you mutter and turn back to your chocolate milkshake that’s pretty much just chocolate soup at this point. You snatch up a remaining fry from your long gone burger and swirl it in the soup. “Got the keys and the money locked up tight. I worry more about someone fucking with my baby more than the money, you know. Lots of sentimental value in that car. ‘Is where I lost my virginity.”

At that, the man sputters on his coffee, his third of the night. Black, almost as dark as his hair. 

You sigh, frowning into your lumpy, ice-creamy soup. “So hard to get laid when you’re running for your life.” 

You swivel back to him as he’s patting his jacket dry of coffee. “Wait. You.”

“Me what?” You think his cheeks warm pink for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing out here at 3AM, listening to me babble endlessly? You don’t look shifty, but maybe you are.” 

He smirks again and tosses his napkins into the now empty coffee mug. 

“I’m Javi,” he says in a deep, soothing voice as he extends his hand across to you. You take it, with the proper amount of trepidation. “And I’m on my way to see my niece in Flagstaff.” 

You click your tongue and withdraw your hand, disappointed. “Bullshit.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I mean, your name is definitely Javi.” You pick up your own coffee mug and see that it’s unfortunately empty. You pick out some fleck that’s fallen into it. “Well, almost – is that short for something? – but you are definitely not on your way to see your niece in Flagstaff. Does she not live in Flagstaff or . . . do you not even have a niece?” You gasp, mouth agape. He has the decency to look uneasy. His eyes narrow at you. You scoff. “That is fucked up, hombre. Starting off a conversation with a lie is not a good way to make a friend.” 

“Why do you think I’m lying?” 

You roll your eyes, the coffee cup dangling loosely in your fingers. “We’ve been over this, my dude. See the court documents. Jeez, how hard is it to order a refill at three in the morning? Paragraph B, Subsection I’m really fucking good at poker. I don’t think, I know. I have this thing, always had, and when people lie to me, I . . . wriggle. Squirm. Not exactly ‘spoiled lunch meat’ but not ‘just clocked a hottie from across the bar and I like their vibes’ either.” 

He watches as the waitress, glaring, comes over and refills your mug. You immediately dive into five packets of sugar, shredding them like a racoon with a bag of popcorn. 

“But I don’t take it too personally,” you continue, flicking the sugar packet to make sure every single crystal falls into the cup. “People lie all the time. About stupid shit too. I don’t think they even mean to do it. It just happens.”

“Does it bother you? That people lie?” 

“Eh. Once upon a time. But fuck, if you could hear the bullshit firehose that comes outta people’s mouths on the daily, you’d stop shaking it off too, if you know what I mean.” Satisfied that you’d be able to see through both time and space with your sugar high, you take a sip. Needs milk. You reach across his plate, wobbling on the edge of the seat, his chest inches from your forearm, and snag the little tin milk pitcher. Your cup becomes more milk than coffee. “People lie for the best of reasons, mostly. Or at least, best for them. Either to save hurting someone else's feelings or their own. We humans don’t like pain, generally, as a rule. But rules are meant to be broken, I suppose.”

Javi, or as close to his real name as you’re going to get, is quiet. That tends to be more of his natural state, given that he had barely said two words while you recounted the past few weeks to him whether he wanted it or not. You sip your coffee again, delighted to have found the right balance of sugar, milk, and burnt coffee, when he taps the rim of his mug with his nail. 

 “I do have a niece, but she lives in Austin. Haven’t seen her in a while, actually, but I want to.” 

“Oh, yeah?” That was all true. You bend forward, eyes trying to watch him as you sip the delicate, hovering brown line that threatens to spill over the edge of the cup. “What’s stopping you from seeing her?” 

“Work.” 

Well, that was fucking ominous. 

“Wait. Fuck. What do you do for a living?” 

Javi slides off the seat and turns those slim hips towards you and, like a fucking idiot, you just now register the bulk at his waist. 

You whimper. Of course the one nice person who wanted to spare you a second glance was from the cartel. They found you. Somehow they tracked you down to the middle of nowhere, which was exactly what you wanted when you still had your life ahead of you. But now it seemed like a terrible fucking idea because there was no one around to at least make sure Baby Girl Camaro went to a good home. 

“Ah, fuck. Fuck! That’s a gun. Fuck, you’re gonna kill me right here in this goddamn diner,” you whine and put your head on the counter, hands covering the back as if you were preparing for a tornado. 

He sighs. “I’m not going to kill you.” 

Truth. 

“Then what do you want with me?” You glare at him, bleary-eyed. “Because the whole cover as a kindly stranger with baby cow eyes is officially fucking blown, my guy.” 

“Let’s go outside and – wait, what? Baby cow eyes? What the hell does that mean?” 

“What? You’ve never watched Dr. Pole? TV veterinarian?” You unwind from your prone position and frown at him. “He takes care of those little baby cows, lookin’ up at their mama with those big, sweet, gentle, loving brown eyes. Cutest thing in the world. Almost made me wanna give up beef for a whole two minutes. But seriously, dude, there’s this hamburger joint in Miami that makes you just wanna lick the juices right off your fingers– hey!” 

He grabs you by the upper arms and, as casually as a kidnapping can go, hauls you out of the diner. The bell above the door rings joyfully as he pulls you through. 

The reality of your situation hits you like a sixteen-wheeler truck and tears spring up in your eyes as panic bites into your spine. His grip is like iron around your bicep. 

“Dude, I’m so sorry I rambled on like that but I swear I didn’t know who you were. Please, please don’t kill me – o-o-or hurt me. Please don’t take me back to the cartel. You can have the money, I swear, j-j-just take it–,”

His eyes widen and immediately lets you go. The neon sign and lights of the diner behind him blur his face in shadow. You wipe at your eyes. 

“Lady, look, if you’re gonna survive on the run from the Cali Cartel, you can’t be telling your whole life story to anyone who asks.” He’s got his hands on his hips as if disappointed with you. You pout with your bottom lip out.

“Wasn’t telling just anyone. Was telling you.” You cross your arms and sniff, suddenly rather embarrassed to be crying in front of a man so genuinely hot it makes you go a little cross-eyed. Well, it was either him or the whiskey. TBD. “Not that I’m encouraging you or anything, but if you don’t kill me, aren’t your cartel bosses gonna be pissed?” 

“I don’t work for the cartel. I work for the DEA.” 

If crying was embarrassing, you are going to be fucking traumatized if you puked all over his cowboy boots.

“Aw shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.” You press your knuckles into your eyes, groaning. You wander backwards. Your head starts to spin and so do you. “The fucking government is after me? Holy shit, this is not good.” 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

You frown and spin back around. He looks exasperated. 

“Well, how many words does it take to read me my Miranda rights?” You tick off the words on your fingers as you speak them aloud. “You. Have. The. Right. To. Remain. Silent. Anything – is that one word or two? – You. Say–,”

“Jesus Christ–,” He claps his wide hand over yours, squishing your tally between his palms. “Are you always like this or just because you’re drunk?” 

“I’m a delight, pal, okay?” You scowl up at him. “I am a barrel full of monkeys at all times. I am a waterslide with chocolate and whipped cream, okay? I am a–,”

His hands leap to your shoulders. His touch is gentle like he knows he shouldn’t scare you but he’s considering throwing you into oncoming traffic. 

“Just . . . show me the case of money you stole,” he begs with his baby cow eyes, “alright? Let’s start there.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “If I do, what’s to keep you from knocking me out and throwing me in the trunk?” 

“I’m not going to do that.”

No tingle. You purse your lips and wiggle out from under his palms. “Say it. Say, I’m not going to knock you out and throw you in the trunk and steal all of your money.” 

“It’s not exactly your money, is it?”

“Say it!”

“Fine!” He says, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m not going to knock you out and throw you in the trunk and steal all of your money.” 

Still nothing. No tingle. Well, no tingle about him lying anyway. 

“You passed the test. Now come here.” 

Hesitantly, he nudges towards you, those thick eyebrows dipping down as if expecting you to pull a bazooka out of your bra.

“C’mere, c’mere. Good.” You clap a hand on his shoulder and lean into him. You shift your weight onto one leg and wiggle off your other boot. You get a whiff of his cologne – dark, woodsy, a little too much, as if to cover for a lack of deodorant. “Now, as you so annoyingly identified earlier, I have had a little, insy-tintsy bit to drink, and if I tried to take off my shoe by myself, I would, as the kids say, eat shit. And once you’ve fallen on your ass in front of one cop, you’ve fallen on your ass in front of them all.”

His warm hands find your waist, steadying you, just as you pop your heel out of your boot. “I’m not a cop,” he grumbles.

“And I’m not a walking lie detector.” You shake your boot and your car keys tinkle as they hit the dirt. “Ah, ha! Got ‘em.”

You shake them in front of his baby cow eyes, grinning, before spinning back to your car and popping the trunk, hopping as you went to slide your boot back on. 

“Do you work out?” You ask as he rounds the edge. Half of you is buried in the trunk, feet in the air. 

“Uh, yeah, when I can. Why?”

“What do you bench?”

“256. Why?” 

“Oh, then this should be easy for you.”

You groan, struggling with something and he dives to help you – and his knees buckle. 

“Why the hell do you have a tire for a sixteen wheeler in your trunk?”

“Same reason you’re sweating, toots. Heavy as fuck and hard to move. But now that we have . . .”

You pull out a slim silver case. You pop the handles and sigh.

You haven’t moved a single bill since that night. You haven’t even breathed on it, as if doing so would set off a series of alarms, bells, and whistles.

“So small for so much trouble,” you whisper as he crowds in next to you. “Fifty thousand dollars. Make or break a life. Well, at least, a life like mine.” 

Javi makes a face. “Should be one hundred, but those fuckers switched it out.” 

“Wait, how do you know that?” 

He sighs and slams the lid of the trunk shut. You snatch up the case before he does and hold it tight to your chest. Javi stands there for a moment, with his hand on Baby’s trunk, head down, thinking.

“Look, I want to help you . . . and I can. But you’ve gotta start being honest with me. How did you really get into that poker game?”

“What do you mean?”

He crosses his arms, frowning. “That little party trick you do. The human lie detector thing. What is it? How did you know Veracruz had that shit hand?”

“Uh, because I asked him and he said he didn’t have a shit hand, and I knew he was lying.” 

“Yeah, that. How did you know he was lying?”

“I just did.”

“Bullshit.” 

“That’s my line!” You glare up at him, very much aware of his height and very much aware how hot he is. “I’m not lying to you. I just know when people are lying. If you believe it, I’ll know.” 

Javi rolls his eyes. “That’s not a real thing people can do. Have you done forensic work before? Studied body language somewhere?” 

You scoff and step back, showing off your black fringe vest, dirty jeans, and combat boots. “Do I look like I’ve studied anything anywhere ever? Where would I even have gotten the money to go study somewhere? Oh right, the forensic fairy, just beating the shit outta people with a bag of cash.” 

He puts his hands on his hips and you match him because you can do the scary cop thing too. It’s not that hard. 

“I broke my arm when I was seven on a bike ride.” 

“True.” 

“I had a dog named Benji.” 

“Dog’s right, but not named Benji.” You grin, rubbing your hands together, then putting them on your thighs. “C’mon, gimme something you’ve never told anyone. This is exciting. Your mustache does this little twitch thing when I’m right.” 

“When I was twelve, I cheated off my friend’s math test.” 

You frown, dropping your shoulders. “That’s your big secret? Whoof, buddy, and here I thought the big scary man gunning for me was mean and lean, when he’s actually just an All-American—,”

“I need your help to arrest the men who are trying to kill you.” 

Your mouth snaps shut so fast your teeth click.

“That’s what all of this is about.” He crosses his arms and leans against Baby. “Aren’t you curious how I found you so fast? Faster than the cartel who's been on your ass for two weeks now?” 

“I’d like to think it was just kismet that we found each other,” you grumble. “Serendipity. Movie magic. Lady Luck doing me a fuckin’ solid for once.”

“That case has a tracker in it. We had a plant in that game who was supposed to win, but not before he could distribute the cash out in the pot. We’d be able to follow them back to their stashes and track their movements.” He bit his lip, disapprovingly. “And then you showed up. Cleaned their fucking clocks like it was nothing. Had their goddamn numbers from minute one and none of us could figure it out. Steve was probably relieved when you knocked him out with that bottle.”

“Oh, shit, the blonde was your partner?” You grimace. “My bad, dude, my bad. Is he, uh, okay?”

Javi nods, eyes distant, as if subtly trying to work something out in his brain. Like testing to see if you could read minds or something. “He’ll be fine. His wife Connie is thrilled to have him home for a few weeks.” 

“Ah. And that means you pulled the shit straw to go after the girl who ran off with all your government money . . .” It was finally all coming together. “Shit, should I add your wife to the list of people I’ve pissed off? I can’t imagine she’s thrilled about any of this.”

His jaw works, as if he was chewing on something, eyes dark, before he pulls a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket. He holds one out to you.

You stay where you are, hesitant. 

“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re not a smoker.” He spins an unlit cigarette between his fingers. “I don’t bite.”

You scowl and trudge forward. You snatch the cigarette from his thick fingers and wait your turn for the lighter.

“What gave it away? I haven’t had a smoke in hours.” 

The shadow of the flame flickered in his palm as he held out the lighter close to your lips, his hand blocking the wind. His brown eyes looked black in the absence of light. 

“Chain-smoking and playing poker with idiots is a combo deal. Two vices for the price of one.”

“Ha. Ha.”

You match his lean against Baby’s trunk, the pair of you watching the occasional car or truck go by on the interstate in the distance. The paper crinkles when you suck in the smoke. God, there really is nothing like the first bite of a cigarette. 

“So, what’s the play here?” You ask, after a moment. “You have the money. Why do you need me?” 

“You won’t have to worry about kindly strangers with baby cow eyes for starters.” You scowl at him. Maybe it’s the orange light of the flame, but you swear you see a twinkle in his eyes. “But you tell me. You seem smart. What would the government want with you?”

He likes a chase, you realize. He likes to play, to tease. He likes to be in control. Something inside you knots up, threatening goosebumps on your skin, but you shake it back. Down, girl. 

You take a sip from your cigarette, thinking. 

There is nothing else around except the highway and this diner. Seemed like such a good idea at the time. Who’d ever find your ass all the way out here? You lick the bottom of your lip before pulling it between your teeth.

“I’m your only witness to the mountains of coke being produced out in the open when they brought us in. Everyone else at that table was cartel or DEA. You want me to testify. 

He nods slowly. If he was impressed, he didn’t show it.

“We didn’t know who the hell you were when you showed up and planned to arrest you before everything went tits up.” He taps the ash onto the gray dirt and you watch his fingers. “If you do this, you’re out from under the cartel. We can give you a new identity, and you can start grifting again across America. All of this’ll be a bad dream.”

He flicks the butt of his cigarette into the dark, just at the edge of the light from the neon sign. You follow suit a second later. The keys to Baby are still in your pocket. 

“And if I don’t? If I don’t do this, then what?” 

His answer is a single arched eyebrow.

You dart to the left, trying to get around him, but he’s there first, arms outstretched like he’s guarding a goal. He frowns at you. Seriously? 

You lunge again, this time to the right, and he’s again in front. 

Your brow sweating, you hook your foot onto Baby’s trunk, desperately trying to scramble over the top. You get about halfway up before those annoyingly large hands snatch you around the waist and haul you off the car.

“Would you stop it?” He plops you down between his solid chest and the car door. This close to him, air temporarily leaves your lungs. “I’m being honest when I say I’m here to help you.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Am I lying?” Again, that beautiful eyebrow of disapproval. 

“No, but I’ve officially decided you’re shifty.” 

He shakes his head and steps back, allowing blood flow to return to your brain. 

“Is this what you want for your life? Driving from small town to small town, picking up bullshit jobs, sleeping in shit beds, when there’s so much more you could do? You’re smart, resourceful, funny, weirdly agile . . . but you wanna spend your life hiding from the world.” 

There’s something hot and sharp in your throat.

“It’s what I’m good at,” you croak. 

His expression softens. The gravel crackles beneath his boots as he comes closer. Javi, the DEA officer, has temporarily left the building. In his place, this Javi is smoothed out, dulled, not all jagged edges and razor burns. Maybe tastes sweeter than day-old coffee and stale cigarettes. You want to tell him there’s nothing wrong with either– you happily take both– but seeing him unguarded, even for a moment, threatens to topple you over. There’s a light in his eyes when he takes in your face. Your eyes. Your nose. Your mouth. 

He looks . . . hopeful. 

One hesitant finger brushes away a stray strand of hair from your forehead.

Do not tremble. Do not tremble. Do not do it, I swear, ladies, keep it together!

“I bet you are,” he says softly. Jesus Christ, his hands are so big up close. “I bet you are good at a lot of things. You seem like the type who could genuinely surprise me. And I think you might surprise yourself one day.” 

You grimace, deeply, deeply regretful. 

“Yeah,” you mutter glumly. “I do surprise people a lot, actually. Unfortunately, you didn’t seem to be listening.”

“Wha–,”

From your other pocket in your vest, you yank out a one-time-use stun gun and stab his thigh through his jeans. Fifty-thousand volts lights up his entire body, arched, and tensed, before the grown man collapses at your feet. 

Unconscious, Javi hits the ground so hard you squeal, landing on his face and no doubt earning a nasty bruise. 

“Exit strategy, dude! Always gotta have an exit strategy. But I’m so, so sorry!” Grabbing his deadweight shoulder, you roll him onto his back and try to get him in a comfortable position. There’s dust in his mustache. .You fold his hands onto his chest like he was casually napping. 

Then because you were in fact the nicest or stupidest person on the planet, you dig your arms under his and pull him out of the parking lot. It would be a true sin if he got run over and anything happened to that beautiful face. Huffing, you drop him off by the bike rack. “I’m sorry. You are so gorgeous but I gotta get outta here and I can’t have you following me. This hurts me way more than it hurts you.”

You bend down and rifle through his jacket. You find what you’re looking for and take his phone out of his pocket. Old, probably a burner. With a shake, you crack off the battery and throw it on the ground. The crunch is loud beneath your heel. That should give you some more time. Can’t haul you back to HeadQuarters if he can’t call them.

This close to him, you can see the bags beneath his eyes. You remember he didn’t eat the entire time he sat with you in the diner. He didn’t respond to your question about a wife. Guilt clangs into your ribs. Slowly, you loosely brush your fingers through his hair. It’s soft, curls around his neck and ears. He looks like he needs sleep. 

You had been blasting across state lines, hardly eating, barely sleeping, restless and fearful. Maybe he had been too.  

“God, I am such a fucking idiot.” You grimace as you see a ripe purple bump growing on his cheek. “I am so sorry and I am so going to hell for this.”

Over the road to the highway, the dawn rises, purple and pink and heavy.

Baby purrs, when you start the engine, welcoming and warm. Where to today, Mama?

Jim Croce’s twang eases out of the radio as you adjust your mirror and see his long legs still out by the concrete. Somebody would find him soon enough.

Uptown got its hustlers

The bowery got it's bums

42nd street got big Jim Walker

He's a pool shootin' son of a gun

Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come

But he stronger than a country hoss

You shake your head, guilt gnawing at your gut. Baby roars as you pull out onto the road and up onto the highway. Into the burning dawn.

What was it that he said? 

And when the bad folks all get together at night

You know they all call big Jim boss, just because

He called you funny. Resourceful. Full of potential. And smart. He thought you were smart.

Liar, liar. 

And they say

You don't tug on superman's cape

You don't spit into the wind

You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger

And you don't mess around with Jim

[legacyshenanigans]

Late Night Shenanigans

The Lads gets caught during a heist, and Marvolo comes to help them.

(Ominis, Leander, Garreth, and Sebastian sat in a prison cell in the middle of the night)

Ominis: *arms folded leaning on the wall*

Garreth: *sat on the floor, drawing things into the dust on it*

Leander: *sat on the concrete bench in there, looking worried*

Sebastian: *pacing back and forth in the cell, thinking*

Leander: Sallow will you STOP pacing? You're putting me on edge.

Sebastian: Well I'M the only one trying to think of a way to get us out of here. *frowns*

Garreth: Without our wands? Not likely..

Ominis: *sigh* All of you shut up..We'll be out soon. Marvolos coming.

Leander: What? How do you know?

Ominis: Told him I'd probably be home by 3am after he brought me into town at 2am to meet you fools..And it's now around 5am I reckon..He'll be out looking.

(No sooner did Ominis say that, Marvolo wandered into the cell area, spotting them all in the cell and smirking, walking over)

Marvolo: Well well..

Ominis: About time, Brother. Get us the hell out of here.

Marvolo: Have you and your pals been having fun? *chuckles*

Sebastian: Tried to break into J.Pippins..Got caught by the nightguard that bought us here.

Marvolo: Amateurs. *playful grin* Any other folk know you're here?

Leander: No, just that one guard.

Marvolo: Good. Makes things easier.

Nightguard: *walks into the room* Erm?! Excuse me?! *frowns* Who are you?

Marvolo: *turns and smiles* Oh, Hello *casually holds up his wand* Imperio.

Nightguard: *gasps as the spell takes over, just standing there*

Marvolo: Be a good chap, open the cell.

Nightguard: *opens the cell*

(The lads step out)

Marvolo: Where are their wands?

Nightguard: Desk drawer..

Marvolo: *motions for the lads to grab their wands*

The lads: *rush over to get them*

Marvolo: Sit at your desk..

Nightguard: *walks and sits*

Marvolo: Any paper work been done on these fools yet?

Nightguard: No.

Marvolo: Excellent. *uses another spell to make the guard fall asleep. Then uses a memory charm and get rid of the memory that they were ever here before he turns to the lads* Right..Quickly..Let's go.

(They all leave)

Garreth: Thank fuck for that.

Leander: You can say that again.

Sebastian: Thanks, Marvolo..

Marvolo: *walking to his car* I suggest you all plan your outings better..Ominis get in the car.

Ominis: *wanders over to the car*

Sebastian: Can we get a lift?

Marvolo: Oh for fuck sake..I get you all out of jail, and now you want me to drive you places? *clicks his tongue in irritation* Why don't you all just come to the Manor too, and I'll cook you all a lovely breakfast..

Garreth: Oooooh *smiles* That would be nice!

Marvolo: I'm taking the piss..

Garreth: *sad face* Oh.

Ominis: Marvolo, have a heart, they can sleep over at our home though. We need rest after tonight.

Marvolo: *sigh* Fine..All of you, get in.

~

[memberment]

good morning everyone

yes it's 7pm.

no I did not just wake up for the day, but I did just wake up from a nap and honestly all I really did was read trashy webtoons and get like 500 words out meanwhile I have homework due at 3am so I might as well have just woken up.

idk y'all I was rlly sleepy today.

I got through a bunch of fun in Morning Glory but I think I'm switching back over to Revelations again bc lowk I think I can only write so much fluff before I'm like okay where the fuck is the plot???

Idk guys think I might be duo writing atp bc I get bored from things being too good and then devastated bc Revelations is lowk gut wrenching along with the scary shit LMAOO

whatever whatever updates here AFTER I get some of my work done bc goddamn, am I behind.

(12:11) so guys I totally did shit on my physics test but ngl actually kind of understanding what I was doing made me feel like god's favorite questionably gendered royalty so I think I'm gonna force myself to learn physics.

but tomorrow because I actually just spent like five hours working on pulling myself together for said test and I'm kinda dead inside. I'm going back to working on Revelations in the meantime. I'm gonna post Tweek's guide either like later or what you folk constitute as tomorrow (me personally, Tuesday is Tuesday but whatever) because I just do not have the energy to think up a chapter title at the moment. And I know I've mentioned this but y'all I am never waiting to make chapter titles again like they're just getting done as we go now. Summaries too bc FUCK THAT idk why I didn't think this would be an issue literally like THREE MONTHS AGO when these got finished god bless

(2:09) Revelations is at like 3.5k and lowk I am like DRAGGING my feet with this beginning chapter. Like, it's literally just this beginning bit I keep jumping back into my notes to write stuff from later in the fic LMFAOO

Like, I know once I get past 17 it's gonna go so fast but GODDDDD, trying to write the same things but ever so slightly different and then some different events entirely thrown in there is making my head hurt because idk like what exactly I want to include. Like, yes, we get our boys finalizing their contracts. BUT NOW WHAT. LIKE AM I FLESHING OUT THIS ENTIRE MEET UP????

DOES KENNY ACTUALLY EXPLODE AT SAID MEET UP OR AM I MAKING AN EXCUSE FOR THIS???

Bc I do kinda want everyone to see Clyde break his arm for the first time on page. (Speaking of, him and Kenny are talking in this first chapter AND THEY'RE SO FUCKING AWKWARD LIKE IT'S ACTUALLY PAINFUL LMFAOOOO)

but ugh

yk what I'm going back to reading trashy webtoons for the next few business hours bc my best ideas seem to come to me at twilight and it is 2am. LATER!

(6:15) I've decided to force myself to post guide. I swear to god I need like a calendar person to scream at me when I don't post LMAOOOO LIKE I DA WILL FORGET

(6:52) Guys I have re-fallen in love with Lost, my god.

[ageofhearingloss]

Who Are You Now Pt. 2⎮ Danny Wagner x Reader

A/N: rise and shine bitches, welcome to part 2!!! this part is insanely angsty and literally cleaved me in two when i was writing it, soorrrrrrryy!!! this is dedicated to my anxious folks and overthinkers, especially when it comes to relationships (which includes myself so in many ways, this was very therapeutic for me to write). part 2 is where we see danny and y/n’s dynamic truly unfold, and i really hope y’all enjoy it!! as always, let me know what you think💕💕

here is part one hehe

pairing: danny wagner x female reader, a little bit of jake kiszka x female oc

warnings: angst, and a lot of it! drug use (marijuana- DON’T DRIVE WHILE INEBRIATED KIDS!), language, mentions of anxiety (a lil negative self talk), brief mentions of sex, slight sexual content- 18+, MINORS DNI!!!

word count: 8.1k

summary: you and your best friend have just moved to a new city and spontaneously meet a group of handsome young strangers during a night out. you hit it off with one of them in particular, but are left wondering if you are just friends or if there’s something more on the horizon.

“I swear to god y/n, if you burn the popcorn one more time!” 

You shrieked as Danny chased you into your kitchen, heading straight to the microwave, the culprit of the burnt aroma. “Sorry sorry sorry!” You were both in a fit of giggles as you flung the door to the microwave open, “I got distracted!”

“Distracted, or stoned out of your goddamn mind?” Dan jests, eyelids heavy as he reached for the box of popcorn thrown haphazardly on the kitchen island, opening a new pack. You reached for it with an outstretched palm, but he dangled the pack just out of your reach, making you really work for it, laughing as he watched the concentration increase on your face. You finally snatched it out of his hands, “I don’t see why I can’t be both.” You huffed, throwing the new pack in the microwave and handing him the scorched remnants in return.

It had been seven months since that fateful night at the tavern; you thanked your lucky stars every chance you got that the boys you befriended had stayed a constant in your new life. After your coffee date with Daniel, the two of you continued to grow closer, and now he ventured into a new, unprecedented territory: best friend, although no one would ever come close to Natalie. You and her had spent countless nights ruminating over that first coffee outing with the boy; the two of you had been so sure it was a date. Everything about it, from the way he rushed to meet you outside the coffeeshop once he saw that you had arrived, to the fact that you two had talked for so long that it was far past lunchtime and he offered to take you out for a meal. You learned he owned a record store not far from where you lived, music also being an intense passion of his. You talked for several more hours and once you were done, he paid for everything, and drove you home once finding out that Natalie had dropped you off that morning. That’s a date, right? You and Nat agreed that it had seemed romantic, but after that one Saturday, your relationship with Dan had been strictly platonic. 

Of course you wanted more, and there had been countless instances in the past months that would suggest that there was more to this relationship than “just friends,” but you were far too anxious to make a move if that meant jeopardizing your friendship. The issue was one that you did not take lightly; ever since you were little, it took you ages to truly open up to people and make genuine, long-lasting friendships. Dan somehow already knew that deep down, and he came into your life wielding an ax, cleaving down every single wall that you had expertly built to protect yourself, and claimed that vacant territory in your heart in record timing. But you were all too aware of the lingering gazes, the wandering hands, the 3am phone calls that your new best friend graced you with; each left you with a hollow, unsettling feeling that you could not shake. 

“Hey, space cadet, I’m talking to you,” his voice rang in the back of your mind as you whipped your head to meet his gaze. His shoulders were shaking with laughter, eyes heavy and voice laced with molasses, all telltale signs of just how high he was, even if he didn’t act like it.

“I swear on my life I didn’t hear you speak. You have my undivided attention,” you said, putting on a faux determined expression to try to convince him. The two of you indulged in weekly movie nights, alternating between staying at your apartment and his. The genre of movie rarely changed, both favoring comedies over anything else, but the various snacks and refreshments frequently rotated.

“Uh huh, right. Well I asked if you wanna go out and get some gummy wor–” Before he finished his thought, you were racing for the front door, tossing him his keys, and clambering to get your shoes on. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said to himself as he threw his keys up and caught them mid-air, eagerly following on your heels, out the door and down the driveway. He was one of those people who could operate better with a little weed in his system, something you were immensely jealous of. 

You slid your way into the passenger seat, buckled up, and rolled down your window as he threw his car into reverse, arm wrapping around the back of your seat and left it there for the beginning portion of your excursion. It was early April, spring making its official debut, and you could not get enough of the crisp evenings and clear night skies. You looked at the dashboard to see the time, 11:07pm. The stores had long been closed, but you would never say no to an evening drive. Perhaps you two would find a gas station still open, or a 24-hour CVS.

“A thought for a thought?”

This was your favorite game. 

You turned your head to search his face, and found his features illuminated by the streetlamps that sped past you. His hair was thrown back in a low, sloppy bun, tendrilled curls falling around his face that billowed in the breeze of your opened window. His beauty struck you every moment he was in your presence, and you wondered if it was something you would ever get used to.

“I’m thinking that everything is closed by now, I think gummy worms are out of the question,” you offered.

“No way, it’ll just be an adventure. Hunting for gummy worms on a Friday night.”

You nod, finding it impossible to peel yourself away from his side profile.

“Okay, your turn.”

“Mmmm,” he pondered, “I’m thinking that I’m sick of listening to my music and think you should play yours instead.”

“That’s really what you’re thinking about?”

He huffed a sarcastic breath.

“Yes, y/n, that’s really what I’m thinking!” His words were bright with humor,  “Now plug your phone in.” 

You disconnected his phone, interrupted by “And quit looking at me, it’s making me nervous.” 

You vaguely saw the corners of his mouth perk up, but you quickly diverted your attention to the task at hand, cheeks burning as you shuffled Revealer by Madison Cunningham softly in the background. 

He chuckled and shook his head slightly, “You know me too well.” His hand left the steering wheel to crank the volume up. 

You were happy to settle back into your seat, swept away by the music, lulling your head to your right shoulder to watch the world pass you by. You felt Danny’s hand settle on your knee, his thumb absently ghosting small circles into the side of it as he sang along to the familiar melodies.

“Who are you now? Who are you this time?”

Moments like these were the ones that swam around in your brain at night when you tried to fall asleep; the ones that always had you second guessing where the two of you stood.

~~~~

When Jake was home from touring, he would host dinner parties, excited to cook for a group of people again. Sam was always his sous chef and resident bartender, and the patrons of the party were only required to show up. The people in attendance sometimes rotated; occasionally, Sam would bring the woman he was courting that week, impressing her with his culinary abilities. But Jake could always count on his brothers, Natalie, and you to be there. 

That night was like any other; all of you crowded around Jake’s beautiful dining table, bottles of wine emptied and replaced with fresh ones at lightning speed. The dinner Jake and Sam had thrown together had been delicious, everybody stuffed to the brim, tipsy from red wine, and content to sit and enjoy each other's company. Dessert, however, was not far off, so you and Daniel assumed your usual roles of helping clear the table and getting started on the dishes. 

The two of you were alone in the kitchen as you made your way to the sink to set down your armful of dirty plates. 

“You wash, I dry,” he said, rolling up the sleeves of his knit sweater, slowly making his way to stand beside you at the sink.

“No way, I washed last time,” you picked up the sponge and tossed it his way, “you gotta start pulling your weight around here, Wagner.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before turning the faucet on, letting the water run over his fingertips before lifting his hand to flick the water in your direction. You let out a sharp yelp, followed by a hearty laugh as you threw your arms up in surrender, joining him again in front of the sink with a dish towel in hand. 

He got to work, settling into a silent groove, handing you the clean dishes for you to dry. You listened to the laughs that drifted in from the dining room accompanied by the Jeff Buckley record Jake had selected for the evening. His defenses were lowered as he concentrated on scrubbing a particularly crusty pan, and you took the opportunity to nonchalantly step away from the sink, rolling up your towel and landing a sharp crack against his ass. He jumped slightly, stopping his washing to throw you a sinfully mischievous grin.

“Oooh, you are playing with fire now, babe!” He tsked, eyes on you as he dropped the sponge back in the sink.

You snort out a laugh, “Babe?!?!”

His grin was pure evil, now, “You heard me.”

Dan launched himself at you, causing you to shriek and run to the other side of the kitchen island, the only thing standing between you and his soapy attack. The two of you were howling with laughter as he chased you around the island, a game of chicken taking place. He finally got the upper hand and cornered you, backing you into the kitchen counter. Your chests were heaving together as your giggles slowly died down, your eyes plastered to his as he stared at you with a wolf-like smirk. Faces flushed, out of breath, the mixture of adrenaline and red wine pulling you into a fog of the densest tension you’d ever experienced.

When did he get so close?

You watched as he raised his hand, bringing the backs of his knuckles to brush ever so lightly against your cheek as he whispered, “You do look like an absolute babe tonight, though.”

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief, a laugh escaping through your nose, “Oh, buddy, we have got to work on your compliments.”

He chuckled, not seeming to be embarrassed in the slightest, and continued to close the remaining space between the two of you, causing you to raise your arms and lay your hands delicately atop his chest. His same hand cups your cheek now, grazing his thumb over your cheekbone as his nose brushes against yours, the action alone making your eyes flutter closed. You leaned into his palm, feeling his warm breath against your mouth. A featherlight touch of his lips ghosted over yours as he barely whispered,“You want me.”

Those words floored you. You felt your thighs clench together as  your heart began fluttering at a dangerous speed.

You were growing impatient, you needed his lips against yours. Your fingers gripped his sweater, hoping to indicate that same carnal need to him but when his lips didn’t meet yours, you forced your eyes open. He was still millimeters away, but his eyes were blown wide with lust accompanied by that same mischievous, shit-eating grin. The second he saw your eyes open, he snaked his other arm around your waist, crashing your body into his while simultaneously bringing his other hand off your cheek to rest under your chin, lifting it so you had no choice but to lock your eyes with his. He’s toying with you, you know it, but damn if you aren’t falling for it. He leaned down, both of your eyes closing as his lips brush against yours in the faintest promise of a kiss–

“Helloooo, you guys need any help–” Josh came barreling through the threshold of the kitchen, stopping dead in his tracks as he witnessed the event happening before him. He clamped his hand over his mouth, trying, with great difficulty, to hide the giant smile plastered to his face but failing miserably. His eyes darted to Dan’s hand around your waist, then up to your flushed complexion. Following the trail of his gaze, Dan dropped his hands away from you, taking a couple steps back. You had just been caught red handed, but you mustered up the courage to say “We got it covered, thanks though, Josh.” He made a swift exit, giving you a salute in confirmation before scampering back to the dining room. 

Dan dropped his chin to his chest, hand clasping the back of his neck while you looked at him, awkwardly shifting your weight between your feet. He finally glanced at you through his lashes, then over to the sink where half of the dishes lay, unwashed. A couple of pots lay next to the sink, waiting to be dried. 

He cleared his throat, “You’re giving me grief about not pulling my weight, but you’re slacking on the job.” He gestured towards the sink.

You let loose a laugh, pushing off the counter to return to your station, unsaid words laying heavy in the air. The two of you were silent once again, resuming your tasks, mentally cursing Josh for interrupting– 

A giant hand jutted in front of your face, causing you to jump in your seat.

“Where the hell do you keep going tonight? I swear I’d love to get inside that brain of yours.”

You were startled out of your memory, completely lost within the confines of your own mind that you hadn’t noticed the car had come to a standstill in the parking lot of a 7-Eleven. Judging by the fact that the car was already off and the keys no longer in the ignition, you had been there for at least a few minutes.

“I’m just in my head tonight, sorry,” you loosed a shaky breath, nervous to meet his gaze that was threatening to burn a hole clean through your side profile.

All jokes aside, he said softly, “Yeah, I can tell, you know I’ll listen if you want to talk.”

Concern made an appearance in his tone, but all you could muster was one slow shake of your head. You didn’t dare peel your eyes away from the windshield as you both sat in charged silence. His voice cut through finally, “Stay here while I run inside, and then I’ll get you home. Think about what movie we’re gonna watch.” The car door opened. “ Be right back.”

You heard his door slam but your stare remained forward. Why were you suddenly so upset? 

Coward, coward, coward. 

That memory that had run rampant through your mind, guns blazing, somehow unleashed all of your rage and uncertainty towards your situation with Danny. Why hadn’t he said something? Done something? Better yet, why hadn’t you done something either? 

Coward, coward, coward. 

Did he truly not feel anything for you?

No, y/n, he nearly kissed you. That means something. 

You felt a million miles away from your body, head swimming with anxious thoughts and “what-ifs.” You knew you shouldn’t, couldn’t, be upset with him for not making a move; if you were, that would make you the biggest hypocrite alive. He probably hadn’t said anything for the same reason you hadn’t, right?

Your breathing increased its pace, your heart beginning an unpredictable rhythm. Why did it matter so much whether you were romantically involved with him? You were so happy being his friend, and cherished his companionship, so why was it not enough?

Through the windshield, you could see into the front of the store. You watched him pass two bags of gummy worms and a pack of peach rings, for Nat, to the cashier. He was making small talk with the man behind the counter; the way his eyes would crinkle in the corners when he smiled, the slight nods to acknowledge what the other person was saying clued you in. You had always admired how polite he was to strangers, offering everyone that simple smile that eased any and all tension in a room. He gathered the candy into his arm, shaking his head ‘no’ for a receipt, and turned to walk through the door and back to the car. Your eyes never left him, and as he made it through the door, he could feel your stare. He stopped right in front of the car and locked eyes with you, the toothiest grin slowly creeping on his face. He noticed that you hadn’t smiled since you two left your apartment, and knew that given time, you couldn’t resist matching his grin with one of your own. He didn’t move until he saw the sides of your mouth quirk upwards, a threat of your teeth about to make an appearance before he bounded to the drivers side door, flinging it open, and carelessly plopping down in his seat.

“There’s my girl.”

~~~~

The ride home was mostly silent, but in a pleasant, comfortable way. The music had shifted to a mixture of soft rock, Dan once again cranking the volume and placing his arm back in its rightful place, behind the passenger seat. Pulling into the driveway, you noticed Jake’s car parked on the street, and once Dan realized it too, he let out a faint sigh of “He’s gonna be pissed I didn’t get him anything.”

He followed you inside, kicking off his shoes in the entryway as you made your way to the kitchen where you could already hear Jake and Natalie’s laughter. The sound of it warmed your heart, hastening your steps. He had treated her like an absolute queen ever since the bar, and you were elated to see how happy he made her. The two of them hit the ground running after that initial meetup, and they had been inseparable ever since. 

Dan was on your heels as you made your way to them, seeing Nat perched on the counter as Jake was shoveling popcorn into his mouth. 

“Oi, you left this in the microwave,” he shook the bag. 

You couldn’t help but laugh as Dan scowled at his brother, walking over to Jake to scoop a big handful of popcorn out for himself.

“Got you something, Nat,” she perked up as he tossed the peach rings to her, earning him an excited “hell yeah” in return. 

“Y’all have movie night tonight?” She asked, already chowing down on her gummy snack, Jake crunching loudly on the popcorn beside her. 

“You know it,” you replied, going to snag what remained of the popcorn from Jake’s clutches. “You wanna join?”

Jake smirked, wiggling his eyebrows up and down, “Nope, we’ve got other plans…” 

Nat shoved him in the shoulder, and you were laughing again as you shook your head from side to side. She then hopped off the counter, setting her peach rings down on the cool surface. 

“Well,” turning halfway towards the staircase leading to her room, “we’ll let you get to it. ‘Night!”

Dan chuckled as he watched Jake follow her up the stairs.

“Can you at least try to keep your volume down this time?” You called after them.

“No promises!” You heard Jake shout from the top of the steps, Nat’s bedroom door slamming a second later. 

“Oh god,” Dan laughed as he turned towards your living room with your gummy worms in tow. 

~~~~

You two had settled on some indie art film that Josh had raved about, your usual comedic choice not making the cut for tonight's viewing. Josh was always giving you lists of films he deemed his favorites, but more often than not, you felt like you didn’t truly understand them. 

Dan was settled on the floor in front of the couch, your legs on either side of his shoulders. He always gravitated towards an old, knit blanket you owned, color faded and threadbare. Whenever he was at your place, it was draped around him. He was snuggled up in it, eyes strained on the TV, clutching the bag of popcorn like his life depended on it.

You two watched in focused silence for a while before your brain began to hurt from trying to decipher the film's plot.

“Are you following anything that’s going on?” You asked, thrusting your hand down in front of him in a silent request for the popcorn he was hogging. He handed you the bag, eyes still glued to the screen, and you replaced the bag in his hand with the gummy worms you were hoarding on the couch.

“I’m gonna be honest, I’m really trying to follow along but I have no idea what’s happening,” he chuckled out around a mouthful of food, glancing over his shoulder to look up at you. He silently watched you for a moment, and then softly butted his head against your knee. 

You knew what that meant.

“Dude, my fingers are drenched in butter. It’ll get all over your hair.”

“I don’t mind, I have to wash it tomorrow anyways,” he nudged your knee again, this time with his shoulder.

Setting the bag of popcorn on the couch beside you, careful that it didn’t spill, you sighed. 

“When you wake up in the middle of the night reeking of popcorn, don’t come crying to me,” you slowly worked your fingers into the roots of his hair, gently scratching his scalp in the way you knew he loved. 

He hummed in satisfaction, leaning his head completely back to rest in your lap. His eyes were closed, a sleepy smile gracing his lips, and you couldn’t help but use the opportunity to study his features. Even in the middle of the night, only illuminated by a cheap strand of string lights and the bluish hue from the television, he was glowing. It took every ounce of strength and willpower not to sweep your fingers over his cheeks, to not marvel in his beauty like he wasn't equivalent to the most magnificent ancient marble statues. Freckles were beginning to dust his nose and cheekbones thanks to the spring sunshine, and you wished you had the time to count each one.

You did not dare venture to study his lips; you knew that would be your undoing. Instead, you tilted your gaze back down to look at the hair that was slipping through your fingers, noting the caramel and red highlights in his dark chocolate curls as you gently pulled away the hair-tie that secured his bun. You were careful with the tresses, making sure that you didn’t separate his curls too much, something he’d jokingly scolded you on in the past.

Distracted by the task at hand, you hadn’t noticed that his eyes had opened, watching you intently from his upside-down position as you combed through his hair. He stayed quiet as he watched you; it was his turn to marvel in your beauty. He studied the way your eyes danced around, how your pupils dilated in the darkly lit room. He admired how gentle and soft your hands were; how you were quick to apologize if your fingers caught on a snarl in his hair, how you went the extra step to detangle the especially gnarly bits. He felt safe with you, content to be himself.

Your fingers worked their way back to his roots, and only then did you notice his gaze upon you. Your breath hitched as you halted your movements, cheeks aflame under his stare. His eyes darted to them, taking inventory of the crimson painted across your face, causing his smile to widen. You couldn’t help but reciprocate it, resuming your work on his hair. His eyes fluttered, but he fought to keep them open as he lifted his hand all the way up to gently graze your cheek. Again, you faltered, that slight touch igniting a fire deep within your stomach. He watched you hesitate as his fingers lingered against your face, his smile turning from innocent to a devious smirk. He knew he shouldn’t toy with you, but it drove him crazy how responsive you were to his touch. Drove him crazy to think about how you would respond if he really touched you.  His fingers danced along your cheek, then traced your jawbone and landed underneath your chin as he said in the softest of whispers, “You are so beautiful.” 

You couldn’t help the giant smile that crept upon your lips, but needing to deflect, you countered, “Awfully touchy tonight, Daniel.”

He bared his teeth to you, “Can’t help but state the facts.”

Somewhere along the way, your mind had quieted down, anxiety taking a backseat to let you enjoy your evening with him. But with his words, all of those angry, cowardice thoughts that bombarded you earlier that night came flooding back. 

Just another thing to add to the book of evidence. 

You felt your smile drop; you knew what he was doing and once again, it infuriated you. You knew your friendship meant a lot to him, but you were tired of being his plaything. You lapped up the attention he gave you like a kitten drawn to milk, and you knew that he used it to his own advantage. And damn, did it drive you mad.

Carefully, you removed your fingers from his mane, shifting on the couch to bring your legs together so he was no longer slotted between them. He watched your movements, concern now evident across his face as his eyebrows lifted.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean–”

“Relax, I’m just gonna go get some water.” You pushed off the couch in the direction of the kitchen, not before he grabbed your wrist.

“Babe, what’s going on?”

Babe. That cursed name.

You forced a smile to break upon your face as you wiggled your wrist from his grasp.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” You turned, padding to the kitchen, knowing your smile didn’t reach your eyes. Knowing that he damn well knew you were not okay.

You grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filling it before leaning against the counter to glance at the clock on your stove. 

2:11am already. 

You needed a breather, and in the darkness of the kitchen, you felt like you could collect your thoughts. You were usually quite good at stuffing down your feelings, refusing to acknowledge them because you knew once you did, they would control your every move. But now here you were, hiding from your new “best friend” in the safety of your kitchen, unable to tell him what was truly on your mind. 

You let a chuckle escape through your nose, Looks like my emotions are still getting the best of me no matter what I do.

You knew, deep down, that he would not reject your feelings; all logic would say that he felt similarly. No, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was what would come after that: would it ruin your friendship? If so, how would it affect your dynamic with the rest of the group? Losing your friends wasn’t an option for you, so you knew that you would have to master your feelings for Dan, no matter what. 

You took one more deep breath, placing the glass down on the counter when you heard the stairs creaking. You looked over to see an embarrassed Jacob at the bottom of the steps, clad only in his black boxer briefs, hair a mess and a slight sheen of sweat present on his tanned skin. Your jaw dropped as your eyebrows shot up, a giggle escaping from you as you took in the man who was usually  so suave. 

“I thought you would already be asleep,” he gave you a sheepish smile before donning his confident persona again, striding over to the cupboard to also retrieve a glass.

When you didn’t reply, he curled an eyebrow at you while turning on the faucet, “Gotta keep Natalie hydrated, you know,” as he filled the glass.

Before you could retort, he spun on his heels, scampering back up the stairs, leaving you alone in your kitchen once more with the faucet running. 

Why can’t Dan do that for me? Your heartbeat quickened.

No, y/n, don’t be jealous. Jake and Dan are completely different, give him time. But…

Seeing Jake, evidence in front of you that he and Natalie had just been in the throes of passion, reignited the fury within you for the third time that night. You thought you had quelled it, ready to go back into the living room to pretend all was well, but you were reminded of what you and Dan could be. Anxiety pulsed through you once more, electricity streaming through your veins. You wanted to talk to him, you truly did, but was 2am genuinely the best time to have this discussion? No, it wasn’t, and with that decision, you tried to put your raging anxiety on the backburner, determined to make it through the end of the movie, and go to sleep. 

I need some time to think, maybe I’ll talk to him tomorrow. 

You made your way back to the living room, climbing onto the couch behind him and crossing your legs.

“Was that Jake in the kitchen?” He asked, trying to gauge your emotions.

You glanced at him, “Yeah, he was getting Nat some water.”

“Oh, gross,” He chuckled, and you watched his shoulders shake, trying to let the comfort of his presence calm you. His demeanor was somehow always tranquil, something that you relished in, and in moments like these, you tried to let him be an anchor for you. 

The two of you didn’t speak for the remainder of the movie, and only until the credits started rolling did Danny turn to fully face you. 

“Listen, I’m sorry if I’ve said or done something to upset you, the last thing I wanna do is make you feel uncomfortable–”

You shook your head quickly, “No, Dan, it’s not that. I think I’m just tired,” you shrugged, “and maybe even still a little high.”

Those enormous brown eyes bore into you, his hand coming to rest on your knee. 

“Y/n,” he lifted his chin slightly, “You know I don’t buy that for a second.”

He paused for a beat before continuing.

“I know there’s something on your mind that you’re not telling me, and that’s okay, but you’ve been vacant a lot recently,” his eyes lowering to look at his hand upon your leg, “I’m just a little worried, that’s all.”

You were racking your brain for an appropriate way to bring up the conversation that you knew you desperately needed to have, but came up short. It was late, you two should sleep. And with the way you were overthinking, you knew you wouldn’t be able to eloquently explain what you felt. So the conversation would have to wait. 

“I promise nothing is wrong, you just gotta trust me,” you brought your hand to cover his that was still resting on you. “There’s just some stuff I gotta mull over, that’s all.”

He brought his eyes back to yours, and then watched as he scanned your face. You could tell he once again didn’t believe you; the slight knit in his eyebrows gave him away, but he seemed content enough to not push you too far. 

“Will you at least tell me when you’re ready?”

“Of course, I will.” This time, your smile crept all the way to your eyes, but it still wasn’t enough for him to fully relax.

Wanting the conversation to end there, you stood, gathering blankets and pillows to make up the couch for him. He stood a second later, offering you a timid smile, “I can do that, ya know.”

You smirked at him over your shoulder, fluffing a pillow and setting it at the head of the couch.

“Now what kind of hostess would I be if I made you do all the work?” You desperately wanted the atmosphere to switch back to the light, jovial nature it had been when you began the night. He’s stayed at your place countless times, insisting that he can make up his own bed, but it was always something you enjoyed doing yourself.

Once you were done, you turned back to him and his arms outstretched immediately, beckoning you to him. Without a second thought, you collided your body with his, arms wrapping around his torso as you buried your face into the safety of his strong shoulder. He rested his chin atop your head as he held you tight, cherishing your embrace and the scent of your shampoo present in your hair. 

“You promise you’re okay?” He asked softly.

You pulled away from his shoulder, tilting your chin up to look at his face. All you could manage was a nod accompanied with a slight smile. He moved your head back against him with his hand, and gave you a quick peck on the top of your crown. 

With that, you stepped out of his arms, knowing well that you would stay in his embrace for hours if you didn’t actively fight against it.

“Get some sleep, okay?” You said as you started making your way across the living room.

“See you in the morning, y/n.”

His tone made you stop dead in your tracks and look at him. He looked defeated, standing at the foot of the couch, staring at you as if there was more he wanted to say. As if there was something he needed to say. You recognized this look from him immediately. It was the same look he gave you the night you met as you were leaving the bar. And similarly to that night, you shook it off, turning back forward as you walked out of the room towards your bed beckoning to you from atop the stairs. 

~~~

Don’t knock on her door, idiot, she’s definitely asleep.

He lowered his fist away from your door, only to bring it back up and hesitate once again.

He was holding his breath.

Knock, damn it. Just fucking knock. 

He glanced at his watch; 4:15 in the morning. 

Danny’s head was swimming. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t think properly. All he knew was that his time was running out before your relationship started boiling over. And he knew you knew it, too. It was long past the point of letting your relationship naturally take the next step; he had avoided this conversation like the plague, tried to dodge every moment that would have been deemed appropriate to casually move your relationship forward. He avoided it all in hopes that you would bring it up. And knowing that he was waiting for you made the guilt pang in his chest. 

In the short amount of time you two had known each other, he had come to know you like the back of his hand; every nuance of your demeanor, every turn of phrase, every nervous tick. He could predict your movements and your words, and that is precisely why he knew exactly what you were thinking and what you refused to say. 

He exhaled a long, controlled breath, returning his hand to his side and leaned his forehead against the wooden door of your bedroom. He wanted to tell you how he felt; he wanted to tell you everything. His feelings clawed at the hollows of his chest, climbed up his throat and settled on his tongue, nearly forcing him to spit the words out every time the two of you were together. But he clamped them down, refusing to let them extinguish your friendship.

She knows, I just have to admit it to her. 

With a sigh, he made his way back down the stairs, through the kitchen that was only illuminated by the moon shining brightly through the window, and trudged over to the couch. He laid down on his back, eyes glued to the ceiling, knowing that sleep was not on the horizon for him. 

Why can’t I do this?

Everything he wanted to tell you bubbled up in his mind. The first day you had spent time together one-on-one, that fateful coffee date. He had been breathless watching you get out of Nat’s car, not even registering that he was on his feet, walking to greet you at the door until he was outside, looking at you as you stood before him, somehow even more radiant than you had been at Mickey’s. Your voice made his heart sing, your piercing eyes made his skin prickle, and he was incredibly terrified of how he felt for you, especially since he had only known you for a few days. 

He needed to tell you that was why the two of you never went on another date. You had brought him to his knees so quickly that he didn’t know what to do, didn’t trust himself to say the correct things around you, didn’t know how to act around you. So he chose the path of least resistance: being your friend. He chalked it up to lust, what he felt for you. Told himself that if he would master being your friend, master calming himself in your presence, and only then he would figure out a way to tell you about his feelings. But throughout the past several months, he found it more and more difficult to hold his tongue around you, to not reach out to touch you. Lust had quickly turned to something else.

Love.

If you tell her you love her, she will run. Be smart about this. 

He let his eyes fall closed, exhaling the breath that was tightly wound in his chest. 

In the morning, I’ll apologize. I’ll tell her everything. I’ll ask her on a proper date. And I won’t run away anymore. I can’t. 

He nodded his head slightly to himself, confirming his plan. 

She deserves it.

~~~~

Sleep evaded you, slipping through your fingers like the finest grains of sand. You laid on your side, staring out the window, watching the wind catch in the branches of the trees. Your mind was running a mile a minute, devising and solidifying your plan. Yes, you would talk to him in the morning. You were tired of being a coward, tired of making excuses as to why it never was the right time. He had to know how you felt, and the reasons as to why you were so afraid of voicing your thoughts. He had to know how terrified you were to take this leap, knowing that voicing your feelings would make them tangible, palpable. You’d tell him without any expectation of an answer, and even though you were fairly certain he felt the same for you, you would not allow yourself to dream about what could happen after this impending talk. 

You were brought back to your body as you heard the floorboards groan outside your bedroom door. You waited to hear any other hint of movement, but only silence answered. 

Probably just Jake or Natalie.

Flipping over, you looked at your alarm clock, 4:15am. You groaned internally, your hands coming up to rub over your face. You stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows from the trees dancing around your room. You debated whether you should get up to get a glass of water, to do something, but you didn’t want to wake Danny up. 

No, y/n, take it easy. Relax. If you force sleep, it’ll never come. 

You began to steady your breath, counting the inhales and exhales. Letting your mind wander, you reminded yourself of what you knew about meditation. Acknowledge your thoughts and anxieties and let them wash away without judgment. Eventually, your counting became a little difficult, exhaustion taking the reins, and you were summoned into a deep, dreamless sleep.

You awoke to a sudden knock on your door. With your eyes still closed, all you could manage was a loud “Hmmm?”, beckoning whoever was on the other side to make their way into your room. You cracked your eyes open, albeit with great effort, to see Natalie open and shut the door, walking over to your bed and taking a seat at the foot of it. Once she settled, your eyes drifted closed again.

“Morning, sunshine,” she offered, patting your feet that were buried beneath your comforter.

“You’re up early.”

“Yeah, Jake and I are going to grab bagels and coffee, you want something?”

You groaned, turning on your side to face her better as you forced your eyes open once more. She was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, something you rarely saw from her so early in the morning. 

“Everything bagel and an oat milk latte, pretty please,” your voice still gravelly.

“The usual, got it,” she stood, making her way back to the door. 

You lifted your head to watch her leave, “Oh, with an extra shot of espresso?”

She looked at you from the middle of your bedroom, one eyebrow raised, “Didn’t sleep much, did you?”

You shook your head no, hands rubbing at your eyes to rid the sleep from them. 

“Anything on your mind?”

You opened your mouth, hesitated for a moment. 

“I’m gonna tell him this morning. I was thinking about it all night.”

She gave you a knowing smile, “I think that’s a great idea, but you better hurry. I think buddy’s gotta go into work soon.”

Shit.

You were fairly sure he didn’t have to work this morning, but now you had to muster your courage much faster than you originally intended.

“Let me know what happens, we’ll be back in, like, an hour.”

You flopped your head back against the pillows.

“You got it, boss.”

Once she and Jake were gone, you shot out of bed, brushing your teeth at lightning speed and not bothering to change out of your pajamas. You sped down the stairs, halting on the bottom step when you saw Dan busy in the kitchen, tidying up from the night before. He was still in his baggy sweatpants, hair swept up in a bun atop his head, completely shirtless. He had his airpods in, bobbing his head and mouthing the words to whatever song he was listening to. 

How in the hell am I supposed to talk to him when he looks like that?

You watched in awe of him for a few more seconds, loving to observe him when he wasn’t aware of your presence, before officially stepping through the doorway and into the kitchen. 

“Morning,” you offered, only loud enough to catch his attention.

His head whipped to you, a smile already evident on his features as he removed the airpods from his ears.

“Sleep well?” He asked, placing a dish in the sink.

“Eh, sorta. You?”

He nodded in agreement, “Yeah, about the same. Hey, listen,” he was drying off his hands with a kitchen towel, “I got a call from Marcus this morning, he needs me to cover for him at the shop. I gotta run home to shower and change, like,” he glanced at the clock on the stove, “shit, like right now.”

“Damn, no day off for you then,” you responded, following him into the living room to see that he had already folded the blankets into a pile and placed the pillow on top. He grabbed his t-shirt from the back of the couch, yanking it over his head, his hair catching on the collar. He grabbed the rest of his belongings, shoving them into the pockets of his sweatpants before facing you. His eyes were bright, determined. 

“Listen, y/n, I really wanted to talk to you. I don’t have a lot of time, but about last night-”

“No, I’m sorry, I was acting weird and was just really anxious.”

The two of you made your way to your front door as you spoke, him slipping on his shoes. 

He shook his head, “You have literally nothing to be sorry for, but I wanted to apologize, too. For a lot of things.”

His back was to the front door as he pulled you in for a goodbye hug. 

“Can I call you later? To talk?” He mumbled against your hair before pressing a swift kiss to your head.

Damn, so I’m gonna be nervous about this all day?

“Yeah, of course,” you beamed up at him. “Text me if you get bored at work.”

He smiled in return, “You know I will.”

You stood glued to your spot as you watched him turn to face the front door, cursing this whole situation. You had finally mustered up your courage, and it seemed like he had too, only for the opportunity to be taken away from you. 

Damn it, Marcus. 

His hand rested on the door handle as he hesitated, not turning it. You watched as he stood there, frozen, seemingly contemplating whether or not he was actually going to leave. 

“...Dan?”

“Fuck it.”

He moved so quickly that you had no time to register what was happening. He yanked his hand away from the handle, spun around to face you so quickly that his bun loosened even further. You blinked as he closed the space separating you, his broad, callused hands swinging up to grip your cheeks between them. 

And then he crashed his lips against yours. 

Your eyes were wide with shock as his lips worked fervently against yours. They were softer than you imagined they’d be, fantasizing about moments similar to this in the private confines of your room late at night. You inhaled through your nose, your brain catching up to the actions playing out before you, and you let your eyes drift close. Your hands shot up to fist the material of his shirt, pulling him even closer to you as you deepened the kiss. That pulled a groan from deep in the back of his throat, one that would be permanently cemented in your brain for the rest of your days. He maneuvered you slightly so he could press your back against the wall of the entryway, pushing his body flush against yours as his hands moved from your face to slot in your hair. He tugged slightly, testing the waters, causing a faint moan to escape your lips. He took a mental note on how responsive you were to him, confirmation of what he had always believed.

Your open mouth presented the opportunity for him to swipe his tongue experimentally against your bottom lip, causing you to fully open for him, relinquishing any and all control you may have wanted. You clawed at his chest, desperately trying to get him closer to you even though it was impossible. The way you were wedged between the wall and his body, you could feel him harden beneath his sweatpants. The way his length pressed against your core had your mind reeling, stars appearing behind your eyelids. Your heart was threatening to beat out of its cage in your chest, and you knew he could hear it. Soon, your lungs began to ache in search of air, but you would rather faint in his arms than peel your lips away from his. 

Both of you were completely frantic, as if all the walls separating you two had come crashing down in the matter of seconds. He ground his body into you, another sinful moan escaping his mouth, vibrating against yours. He gave you one more tug at your roots, harder than the first time, and then his body was stripped away from yours. You felt his hands retreat from your hair, the warmth of him suddenly gone. Expecting him to connect your lips once more, you force your eyes open when he does not. He was standing before you, lips swollen, chest heaving, hair threatening to fall completely loose from the tie holding it back. 

Your eyes bore into each other, the silence charged with every primal need you wanted to fulfill. You were trying to catch your breath, back still pressed against the wall, as he gave you a shallow nod.

And all too quickly, he turned towards the door, grasped the handle and yanked it open, moving through it and shutting it behind him at an impossible speed. 

And you were left dizzy, disoriented, and alone in your entryway. 

To be continued…

[homeb0ys]

Next season of The Twins, June 13th folks! I can’t wait! Last season was mental. I’m still emotionally scarred. I can only imagine what these two will get up to in Season 4.

[It’s currently 3am right now but once I got this idea I just HAD to get it done. 😂💙]

[startseeingstars]

Collision Path - Mike 5lbs of Pressure

CH10 Mike’s POV 🎶 Toxic (cover) - VersaEmerge 🎶

Her voice was incredible. I already knew that - but hearing it properly, not just as a distant whisper or being drowned out by the sound of the dryers, it was something else entirely.

She kept her eyes closed and down, clearly nervous, but she held the notes flawlessly. Eli jabbed his cue stick into my side, pulling me from the trance I was in.

“She’s good.” He stated the obvious, but I knew what he was insinuating. I nodded and continued to watch her carefully as I aligned my body for the next shot.

All too soon, the song was over and I clapped along with the rest of the bar as she smiled awkwardly. I laughed a little, finding it somewhat amusing that she was so anxious when she stripped and danced for a living.

Wes, my new friend, took the mic as he messed up her hair playfully.

“Alright, folks. Last call for the stage.” He looked around but no one else volunteered.

Maddi shot me a look and I knew Wes had ratted me out, but I smiled warmly at her. She flipped me the bird - a valid reaction.

I kicked Eli’s ass at another game of pool and he begrudgingly handed me a $20 bill.

“I’m out.” He said, putting the cue stick back.

“What? It’s so early.” Even as I spoke, I felt the slur in my voice.

“It’s almost 3am.” Eli pointed out. “You want a lift?”

I looked over at Maddi, wiping down some of the tables as the last couple people left the bar.

“Nah, thanks though.” We said goodbye and I headed over to the counter, noticing the office door ajar and Wes snoring in his desk chair.

“You good, Mikey?” Maddi brushed past me, gliding her hand along my back. The sensation sent a shiver down my spine.

“You want some help closing up?” I asked and she smiled, tossing the dirty rag into a bucket behind the counter.

“I’m almost done. Wes has been a great help.” I laughed and she looked over at the pool table.

“You want a quick game?” She asked and I grinned.

“Alright, but we’ve gotta make it interesting.” I raised an eyebrow at her as we picked up the cues.

“That sounds risky.” She teased as she set up the balls.

“What - You don’t like a little risk?” My voice was low as I stepped closer and she bit her bottom lip.

“What did you have in mind?” Her voice was quiet, but she seemed intrigued.

“If I win, you dance for me tonight.” I smirked and something flickered in her eyes. She chuckled.

“Alright, and if I win?” She asked, looking up at me.

“You can have whatever you want.” I murmured, leaning closer as I rested my hand on the table behind her.

She licked her lips and pondered for a moment.

“If I win, you take me out.” She whispered.

“You don’t need to beat me for that to happen.” I pointed out. Her cheeks turned red and I became aware of my pulse quickening as I closed the distance between us slowly.

The room went dark and we both jumped slightly.

“Fucking hell.” Maddi laughed a little. I felt her hands on my chest. “I’ve got to fix it.” She said and I pulled my phone out, turning on the flashlight, illuminating her path to the fuse box, where she flicked a couple switches and turned the lights back on.

“Does that happen a lot?” I asked, a little confused and she nodded.

“Most nights.” She ran a hand through her hair and looked at me thoughtfully. “Walk me home?”

The early morning air was cold, but all I could feel was the heat of Maddi’s hand holding mine as we walked in comfortable silence. I carried her guitar in my other hand and looked at her.

“You should come over sometime and jam with us.”

“Us?” She looked at me, puzzled.

“Eli and me. We’re sort of in a band.” I shrugged, pushing back my hair.

“Oh, awesome. Yeah - that sounds fun.” Her eyes sparkled slightly as we arrived back at our building.

We got to her door first and she turned to me, squeezing my hand a little.

“Do you want to come in?” She looked up at me with red eyes and I could tell she was exhausted. It made me feel good that she wanted me around her and I smiled.

“You should get some rest,” I murmured, leaning down and kissing her cheek softly.

“I don’t think you’d get any if I came in.” I confessed - albeit cursing myself at declining the opportunity. A small smile crossed her lips and she sighed, content.

“Night, Cowboy.” She tucked my hair behind my ear under my hat and stared at me for a couple moments before she went inside.

[rainbowmancer-gwen]

Story time:- Shitting the bed (Disrespectful house guests) CONTAINS NSFW moments

I need to start using my tumblr more... My threapist said I should journal more and tell my life stories because a lot of them are just as absured as this... Okay so this is not an am I the asshole stories because I know I am not. I wrote this last night night whilst stoned. I also wanted to test a new clicky RGB keyboard that my Friend Kendra bought me (She was at this party too and can verify it's a true story...) Here goes

Okay, so... close to a decade ago, now I held a party after the Armageddon expo (Anime and Geek convention in New Zealand) one year.

The lead up was that I was working on an assignment for Uni that needed to be in before Sunday. Sunday was Armageddon, and I was hosting an after-party for cosplayers and furries at my parents' house.

It was a sleepover, and I had worked extra shifts to afford a boat load of Kai to feed everyone. My folks were away in the UK. They knew about the party and they knew about my rule.

If you stay cooked, breakfast is at 10 am because you can sleep in. After that I will give you a job cleaning the house. This had worked previously to great effect.

My folks' house can comfortably sleep 12 (in beds) + more on couches.

The whole of the local furry community was invited, and my best friends at the time had helped me plan.

I get my assignment done at 3am after much tinkering and fuckwittery with word counts as Uni had fucked up the brief and there was ambiguity about word count. Fuck it! It's 3am, it is done. I need to sleep and get ready to let off steam.

Arrive at Armageddon, meet friends, and help friend Cosplay as Totoro in a big fursuit. Meet more furries, including draw fest artists. Fuck it! Invite them. This party is going to be the ultimate nerd fest.

And that's when I meet AL... AL is a dragon furry, who is so up himself his fursona has two dicks... I didn't know this at the time. AL asks if he can come. I had only met him once previously but had interacted well enough online and he seemed cool.... Say fuck it! Come along.

Start getting messages out of the blue from a Trans friend, B, who had just gotten back into the country after a messy break up. Say Fuck it! She can come too. It'll do her some good!

Fast forward to the party. Everything is going swell. I am the perfect host. I'm nervous because my parents' house is full of people I have had next to no sleep and a full day of convention. I'm knackered, my best mate. Let's call him Phoenix. He has packed me a joint. Instantly feel better.

Start to notice something is off...

Notice AL and B are making out like it's an Olympic sport. They are all over each other, and it's squicking out my guests...

Ask them politely. Hey guys... It's not that kinda party. We got people playing fucking Yu-Gi-Oh! And drawing furries and you're... You're doing that...

It gets later, and people start to trickle out. The stayers are watching anime on a projector in the living room that Totoro friend, had brought over.

I'm like, sweet. This is my time for another joint, and I'll set up beds. I walk into the kitchen, and what do I see? B An 8 foot transwoman in heels sucking off AL...

I am beyond mortified and beyond words... AL smug face says something to me, which I forget.

Anyway I tell them that it's not appropriate quietly and again not that kinda party. No other party guests saw that, thankfully... Read the room seriously!

Move on to allocating beds. Okay, so let's put them separately...

B pipes up. "Um... I will have anxiety if I don't sleep away from other people who I don't know" sounds fake as fuck.

Okay, you can have the room my GRANDMOTHER sleeps in when she visits... and my room is ABOVE YOU... 

Everyone hears this... Everyone goes to bed. I go upstairs when they do. Spend a little more time with core friends. Break down and tell them what happened... and how mortified I am.

They ask me why you did not tell us? Because I didn't want to ruin the party...

Go sleep. Hear fucking. PISSBOILED! I am so angry! Angry cry self to sleep listening to Weezer. "I am the greatest man that ever lived" (I was masc at the time...) more on that story later...

Skip ahead to the morning. I am up first as I had not slept, nor had they. (The headphones did not hide the fucking...!)

Here I am, angry breakfast! Thankfully, due to many doors between guests and them (except for me... I AM THE ONE WHO HEARD EVERYTHING!)

It was awful... Thankfully, everyone helped clean and was grateful for breakfast. EXCEPT FOR THEM!

THEY DIDN'T GET OUT OF BED UNTIL MIDDAY!

I had shit I needed to do! Everyone did! Everyone knew this. It was on the invites! I purposefully sent the invites. Because in the digital age, respect the party rules!

And I made it very clear 3 TIMES!

☆♤♧◇♧♤♡☆

NOT

THAT

KIND

OF

PARTY!!!

☆♤♧◇♧♤♡☆

They have the AUDACITY! the AUDACITY! to ask where's BREAKFAST!

After a brief explanation... AL, to his credit, helps a little with the last of the cleaning....

B does a sneaky exit but gets caught at the door by me. She says , sheepish and fake sad sounding "Bye...." *Sad eyes look away* ME ME me me me kinda look.

Leaves... Whatever screw her! She's out of my life now...

Meanwhile, other guests start to ship out and thank me for my hospitality and grace, humility and kind hosting, and network skills, etc...

AL and core BFFs last to leave (Phoenix, and Rei) after knowing what has happened asked me if  I wanted to stay with them. Say yes please. AL hears this (he's still not left yet) and says he'll travel with us...

Que? No, me gusta!

Does not get hint. Walk to.bus stop is silent.

Get to bus. AL invites himself by stating “Am I coming to [PHOENIX and REI'S HOUSE] with you?”

Rei who has had it at this point states “I don’t know… Are you?” and glares at him.

Finally getting the hint AL gets off the bus.

Watch him leave… Continue Bus journal. All of us are gobsmacked… GAGGING!!!

Continue to my friend's house. Phone blows up. Messages from B saying how much of a shit host I was and how unwelcome she was made to feel… CALL OUT HER BULLSHIT! Phoenix is cheering me up by making me laugh about the whole thing calling it the "Kitchen BJ saga" Rei is pouring me a hair of thedog bloody mary and a cup of tea

Come home a day later. Shit stains on the bed….  I AM FUCKING LIVID THEY LITERALLY SHIT THE BED!!

End up charging both of them for the price of entirely new bed sheets… AL reluctantly pays as he has rich parents, find out later that he payed for B too.

Never hear for B again, except randomly bumping into her in the hospital (I am an RN) No words were spoken but I honestly hope she is well… AL occasionally pops up in online circles, Never let him live it down. Trues to laugh about it because “LOL It’s been close to a decade” NO! YOU SHIT THE BED! I’m never letting you or anybody else forget it!

If you read this far you are a saint. Thank you for letting me get this off my chest

Peace and love tumblr!

MAY YOU NEVER SHIT THE BED!

Gwen

[acurlygirlamy1]

THIS IS AN OLDIE BUT, GOODY! SAW IT AGAIN AND THOUGHT PEOPLE MAY ENJOY. JUST DO NOT WANT ANYONE TO THINK IM TAKE CREDIT FOR SOMETHING THAT IS NOT MINE. The credit of where I got this from are right after you read and enjoy the story.

So, last week, something pretty tragic happened in our household. It's taken me until now to wrap my head around it and find the words to describe the horror. It started off simple enough - something that's probably happened to most of you.

Sometime between midnight and 1:30am, our puppy Evie pooped on our rug in the living room. This is the only time she's done this, so it's probably just because we forgot to let her out before we went to bed that night. Now, if you have a detective's mind, you may be wondering how we know the poop occurred between midnight and 1:30am. We were asleep, so how do I know that time frame?

Why, friends, that's because our Roomba runs at 1:30am every night, while we sleep. And it found the poop. And so begins the Pooptastrophe. The poohpocalypse. The pooppening.

If you have a Roomba, please rid yourself of all distractions and absorb everything I'm about to tell you.

Do not, under any circumstances, let your Roomba run over dog poop. If the unthinkable does happen, and your Roomba runs over dog poop, stop it immediately and do not let it continue the cleaning cycle. Because if that happens, it will spread the dog poop over every conceivable surface within its reach, resulting in a home that closely resembles a Jackson Pollock poop painting.

It will be on your floorboards. It will be on your furniture legs. It will be on your carpets. It will be on your rugs. It will be on your kids' toy boxes. If it's near the floor, it will have poop on it. Those awesome wheels, which have a checkered surface for better traction, left 25-foot poop trails all over the house. Our lovable Roomba, who gets a careful cleaning every night, looked like it had been mudding. Yes, mudding - like what you do with a Jeep on a pipeline road. But in poop.

Then, when your four-year-old gets up at 3am to crawl into your bed, you'll wonder why he smells like dog poop. And you'll walk into the living room. And you'll wonder why the floor feels slightly gritty. And you'll see a brown-encrusted, vaguely Roomba-shaped thing sitting in the middle of the floor with a glowing green light, like everything's okay. Like it's proud of itself. You were still half-asleep until this point, but now you wake up pretty damn quickly.

And then the horror. Oh the horror.

So, first you clean the child. You scrub the poop off his feet and put him back in bed. But you don't bother cleaning your own feet, because you know what's coming. It's inevitable, and it's coming at you like a freight train. Some folks would shrug their shoulders and get back in bed to deal with it in the morning. But you're not one of those people - you can't go to sleep with that war zone of poop in the living room.

So you clean the Roomba. You toss it in the bathtub to let it soak. You pull it apart, piece-by-piece, wondering at what point you became an adult and assumed responsibility for 3:30am-Roomba-disassembly-poop-cleanups. By this point, the poop isn't just on your hands - it's smeared up to your elbows. You already heard the Roomba make that "whirlllllllllllllllll-boop-hisssssssss" noise that sounds like electronics dying, and you realize you forgot to pull the battery before getting it wet. More on that later.

Oh, and you're not just using profanity - you're inventing new types of profanity. You're saying things that would make Satan shudder in revulsion. You hope your kid stayed in bed, because if he hears you talking like this, there's no way he's not ending up in prison.

Then you get out the carpet shampooer. When you push it up to the rug - the rug that started it all - the shampooer just laughs at you. Because that rug is going in the trash, folks. But you shampoo it anyway, because your wife loved that damn rug, and you know she'll ask if you tried to clean it first.

Then you get out the paper towel rolls, idly wondering if you should invest in paper towel stock, and you blow through three or four rolls wiping up poop. Then you get the spray bottle with bleach water and hose down the floor boards to let them soak, because the poop has already dried. Then out comes the steam mop, and you take care of those 25-ft poop trails.

And then, because it's 6am, you go to bed. Let's finish this tomorrow, right?

The next day, you finish taking the Roomba apart, scraping out all the tiny flecks of poop, and after watching a few Youtube instructional videos, you remove the motherboard to wash it with a toothbrush. Then you bake it in the oven to dry. You put it all back together, and of course it doesn't work. Because you heard the "whirlllllllllllllll-boop-hissssssss" noise when it died its poopy death in the bathtub. But you hoped that maybe the Roomba gods would have mercy on you.

But there's a light at the end of the tunnel. After spending a week researching how to fix this damn $400 Roomba without spending $400 again - including refurb units, new motherboards, and new batteries - you finally decide to call the place where you bought it. That place called Hammacher Schlemmer. They have a funny name, but they have an awesome warranty. They claim it's for life, and it's for any reason.

So I called them and told the truth. My Roomba found dog poop and almost precipitated World War III.

And you know what they did? They offered to replace it. Yes, folks. They are replacing the Roomba that ran over dog poop and then died a poopy, watery death in the bathtub - by no fault of their own, of course.

So, mad props to Hammacher Schlemmer. If you're buying anything expensive, and they sell it, I recommend buying it from them. And remember - don't let your Roomba run over dog poop.

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Edit 1:

I wrote a book! It's called The Becoming, and it's a contemporary fantasy. Give it a try:

Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0716C4HFR

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/thebecomingbook/

The Amazon link is for U.S. readers - international readers should go to their own country's Amazon site, then search for the book.

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Edit 2:

If you want more of this stuff, I have a Facebook page now:

https://www.facebook.com/pooptastrophist/

[jugsjules]

Gotta add, bc I’ve seen multiple versions of this post on my dash but no mention of this—not every work shift is 9-5 standard business hours.

When I was kid my dad worked third shift. He got home from work and stayed up to drop me and my brother off at the bus stop and then he went to sleep. But if one of us was home sick, he had to sacrifice his sleep to stay up and watch us (if he was lucky, it’d just be a joint napfest). The. every weekend he threw is sleep schedule out the window bc otherwise he’d just never see his kids during the day.

By middle school he had a new job as a college locksmith/custodian with hours from 3am to noon. Imagine waking up at 1am for work: you forgot to pack food and can’t cook breakfast bc you’ll wake up the whole house, so you instead settle for stopping for coffee on the way to work. It’s at a bakery that isn’t technically open but its a local business who are cool and more than willing to make a few bucks with anyone with as early hours as a baker. You then do physical labor for several hours before breakfast even opens and you can finally eat. When you finally get home, no one is there bc the kids are at school still, ur wife is at work, so you can do errands but by the time ur ready to pass out, they’re just getting home. So again its either lose sleep or never see your family.

My brother now works second shift factory. If he wants to get errands done during normal business hours he has to wake up early to do it before work. And depending on the appointment, there’s a chance it runs late and makes him late for work, something all the factories in town are huge hardasses about.

I used to work catering—there were no set hours. I might work 6am to noon, or 3pm to 10pm or 6am to 1am the next day. There was no having a “normal” sleep schedule in that job bc there was no regular schedule.

While there are some places that cater to the graveyard shift crowd, they’re all 24/7 stores or diners or late-night bars. But all the laborers who work “odd” hours also deserve easy access to the bank, the doctor’s office, the library, the post office, student-teacher meetings, and they NEED extra support for the way their sleep is gonna be damaged no matter what in an effort to still be present for their families.

Expanding what we think of as “business hours” not only provides more jobs for folks who are better suited to later shifts but also creates a better life for the people already working those hours.

Ok wait let her speak

[handelplayssims]

Freddie is awake at 2AM! Sleep schedule is officially screwed! He wants to...have a drink at the bar and have some nectar. Both things we can do at a local bar! Let’s go! Next is to dance to stereo music, both at bar and for aspiration. There is some electronica music playing in the background so let’s do that. (And plan for our next party, which is introducing ourself to some teens! Sidney, Pierce and Olivia! And so we do that, head on over to those homes and chat them up! With that the Spooky Party all set up for Sunday!

Let’s see. Freddie’s two whims are to stargaze with Mitchell, bit late and also too cloudy and to buy a bar...which we have. Leveling up Mixology it is then! Autumn is done with her nap and came down to ate. Freddie actually asked her what’s up and consoled her about her friend’s death. Got rid of his hurt sentiment with her but still has a festering grudge. That got her sad moodlet down and they’re back to being great friends. Aww. Freddie’s up to 5 mixology and Autumn just got a phone call prepping for Prom. Let’s do it! Maybe this’ll also help clear Sidney being her prom date? We’re at Ash’s house and I invited some of my own friends so there are a LOT of teens around. And they vanished not long after. Ah well. I’ll just hang out until it’s time for Prom.

PROM ROUND 2! No one I recognize is there! After dancing and drinking (punch), we chat up Sofia Bjgersen, including about our side hustles. Well managed to nab a silver. That award ceremony really messes with getting goals done. And since Sidney is not there, I am not going to worry about Prom! Autumn’s going to bed and Freddie...is fully rested. ON YOUR SLEEP SCHEDULE BE IT FREDDIE! Now’s an okay time to stargaze at least. Let’s see if the stars are clear at Oasis Springs. Partially cloudy. Close enough! Let’s gaze at those stars! And now for the customary house visit massages. 3AM, let’s head home. Pretty certain everyone’s gonna head to bed anyway.

Neighborhood Watch

Copperdale: The Bermudedz household moved out.

Leinani Ka’ana’ana in the Ka’ana’ana household has died. Leinani stuck a finger in a plug and electricity came out.

Brian McLeod in the McLeod household has died. Brian tried to make cereal but it burst into flames.

RIP Karely Henley’s boyfriend!

So checking Autumn’s days until ageing up and...67 days! We only got two days left! ...uploading her photo booth picture and SHE HAS A 11 THOUSAND FOLLOWERS ALREADY!? Note to self, keep Social Bunny in mind for Social Media career folks. Or perhaps it’s being an Influencer. Next whim for Freddie is to meet someone new and eh. TO BED.

Prank Day! Freddie’s neutral and Autumn has a hot-head hates it! Easily ignored then! Freddie wants to...purchase a new computer. If you want that, you need the money for it. So let’s go to a park and do some yoga instructing. Not park but local cafe! It’ll do! There’s loads of greenery behind it! I had him chat with Akila Kahananui afterwards, since he actually did the yoga decently enough. Rare for a random sim to do that! Ohp, wasn’t going to add him to Social Bunny contacts but he’s a snob. Let’s do it! Freddie needs a bite to eat so let’s nab something from the cafe. ...I live in the UK and you know what, the cafes have much better selection of treats than what the Sims gives us! Flippe Lucina dropped by and asked to be best friends...and I forgot he was that DJ friend! Would have become friends if I had remembered. Alas! Anyway, time to head home. We got a party in 2 hours!

Autumn’s whim is try to rile up someone and...chat with her crush Manami. I’m going to attempt to get over her crushes of Manami and Brendan. She knows they aren’t good for her! Brendan cleared off but Manami...not so much! Oh boy! I’ll shoot a mean message over social bunny and then perhaps after the party, if she has the energy for it...we can meet to -ahem- discuss things… Anyway, time to flaff about things until the party starts!

Ash, I expect better fashion from you. This is going STRAIGHT onto social media where you shall be viciously mocked. Hmm. I was going to go all the way to disliked but Autumn feels really bad about losing Ash as a friend. Welp. Anyway, in terms of goals for this Spooky party, we have food, discuss costumes and make mischief and then, uh, look at carved pumpkins. The pumpkins I ignored. Welp. Let’s see. Autumn needs to sleep but Freddie still has some energy. What are his whims? Still to purchase a computer and to bro hug a bro. MAN. There were bros at that party! You can’t just drop by a bro’s place after partying with a bro! Not done! Maybe. What to make money then...taking over a spot at the local bar would be good! We only managed to get one drink in before bills rolled in. 7 thousand! We’re lowering the cost somehow! Anyway time to head home and cheat some money in.

Neighborhood Watch!

Strangerville: The Yamaguchi household has moved in.

Last day! Last day! It’s also Explosion Day! Freddie doesn’t care too much for the holiday but Autumn’s all about the fire burning, fireworks, and airing grievances. ...uh oh. Her brother better watch out. Anyway, we went to school on Friday so we’re staying back at home today. Even if Freddie sleeps through the school day.

Annnd Demetrius Pryor dropped by while Freddie was asleep to ask to be best friends. If only he wasn’t asleep, I would have done so but since he is doing it while asleep, NO. That’s creepy! Anyway, Freddie’s listening to Carnival Music during breakfast counted for the Art and Music! Good for him. Next whim is to bro-hug a bro and be mischevious to J. Welp! Sure. Why not? Autumn’s back from school. Absolutely selling the school project. We are NOT getting that done.

She’s absolutely exhausted after school so let’s get some sleep. I had plans anyway for her and her fellow teen friends to hang out at the sketchy place. Another whim for Freddie to spend money so let’s make some instead. Lets tend the massage table for J. ...why does it always cancel mid-massage and I have to give one myself. Bah. Anyway, next thing’s next his...a whim to cook. Might as well. And we’ll light some fireworks. Hmm. Still not enough for a good holiday. Gift of fire it is then! And we’ll roast some hotdogs while we’re at it.

Ohp, Autumn is up! Man, I was going to go to the sketchy park and invite some teens to a bonfire and fireworks thing but noooooo! Also she has her job and it involves a tech review today. Anyway, I had her join the bonfire and then shoot off some fireworks before uploading that technology review. And now she just wants to listen to some tunes. Welp, might as well. Last thing I’ll do with her...other than dramatically cry about everything. She is ultra sad after all. Wait, Freddie did advise to jog to clear her head. That will be the last thing to do then!

Nothing in Neighborhood Watch.

Welp, that’s that! Join us next time for when we visit the...wow I rolled a 1, you don’t see that every- …

We’re heading back to the Nier Automata household. See you all then.