#I do appreciate the gatorade though

[sachermorte]

The far right comment was so unhinged what is wrong with her?!?

"Yeah, I think this guy I don't know would make a great nazi, he knows how to dress himself"

Girl, get well soon

She's definitely been watching way too many movies in any case because I can't imagine why she'd think that except the fact that I trot around in military boots and have little round black sunglasses and I'm kind of... not brusque, but I have kind of a wall up with people I don't know well sometimes

Like ma'am goth and kind of prickly and not super jokey with strangers isn't "nazi", you're just pinging the 19th century Viennese vampire thing that everyone in my inbox tells me I have

She's sort of really committed to this joke as well because like three times I've said something and she was like "the FPÖ would be on board with that"

I just want to say "when I become Kaiser all the ubahns will be klimatisiert without exception" :(( I am not the edgy boy you're trying to paint me as please God

[incorrectbatfam]

What last minute gas station gifts would the bats buy for someones birthday?

Dick: a snow globe but instead of snow it's glittery water because half of Louisiana sits below sea level

Jason: an overpriced wooden deer antler because Minnesota Nice is more like Minnesota Passive-Aggressive That Digs Into Your Conscience

Tim: a coupon book for the car wash even though they both know they're not going back to Idaho

Damian: a local author's book on gardening because he's not gonna find anything else in rural Manitoba

Duke: off-brand Gatorade near Area 51 with warnings for children and people who are pregnant

Cullen: a mixtape from a guy in the parking lot claiming to need the money to get to Nashville even though it's not that far and $8 is the exact same price as a pack of cigarettes

Stephanie: maple syrup in a pretty leaf-shaped bottle so no one pays attention to the fact that it was produced in Albuquerque and does not in fact contain any maple syrup

Cassandra: Gary Gator, a plushie dressed exactly how you'd expect for a Fort Lauderdale gas station mascot

Barbara: the exact same novelty license plate sold at every gift shop across Pennsylvania

Harper: a t-shirt for some place called Salty Moe's Burger Bucket off of I-94 just outside Eau Claire

Carrie: taffy from the fifth place claiming to be America's oldest candy shop even though Arizona was the 47th state to join the union

Kate: room temperature beer from a 100 square foot place claiming to be the best rest stop in Eastern Montana

Alfred: a gun 'cause it's Texas but also because he can appreciate a historically accurate replica

Selina: cash from the ATM after the asshole manager refused to do something as simple as giving her directions to Boston

Bruce: the gas station even though there's no point trying to drive in NYC

[isaut]

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆— f!reader x captain rex. divorcee au.

The night is over. Rex pulls into your driveway, and you’ve had just one glass too many. You need to drink a Gatorade. You hope you still have Gatorade. The girls are gone for the summer so you’re not sure.

“Walk me inside?” You ask, looking over at Rex. The floodlights of your house catch on the high points of his face.

“‘Course,” he says, shutting off his truck and climbing out. You slip out of the passenger seat before he can help you out.

There’s no stumbling in your walk. You can just feel the alcohol in your brain.

“Your friends are fun,” you say, unlocking your front door.

“They’re your friends too,” Rex says.

There’s still doubt at that statement, even though you’ve hung out with everyone without Rex. On the weekends where he has his kids. Instead of responding, you kick off your shoes and turn towards Rex, waiting for him to do the same.

“Am I— Oh.” Rex follows suit, leaving his trainers in the foyer. You head towards the kitchen and he follows, leaving your purse on the counter and opening the fridge.

Maybe you should eat something too.

Instead, you pull out a Gatorade. Looking over your shoulder, you raise it up at him. “Want one?”

They’re the blue ones.

“Sure,” Rex says, leaning against your kitchen island.

Your home is lavish. Large. There’s more than enough space for you and the girls. He’s watched it become more and more personal as you slowly accumulate accouterments to decorate.

From the fridge, you also pull out a Tupperware of buffalo chicken dip from the hosting you’d done the other night. The Wheat Thins are still on the counter from where you had been snacking earlier.

“Drink too much?” Rex asks, coming around to be on the same side as you.

You glance at him, cracking open the Gatorade.

“I’m just being cautious.”

Rex hums, reaching around you to close the fridge as it starts to beep. The notes of his cologne wash over you.

“Sure,” he says.

“I have a big day tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me,” Rex says. He’s noticed you do this— When you get a little out of line: when you order the medium margarita instead of the small on a Friday night, when you ask Rex to pick up Rosamond for baseball practice, when you get french fries instead of salad.

“I do, though. I’m going to lay out by the pool. And make paella.”

“I meant—”

“I know. And I appreciate it,” you say, cutting him off. So what if it’s a habit you picked up from your failed marriage? “You should come over tomorrow.”

“Should I?” Rex asks, taking a Wheat Thin and dipping it in the dip.

You nod. “I have gelato.”

You have everything to make your house the perfect place to host of all ages. For adults you make mojitos and charcuterie boards and Alex (Rex’s son) is always singing praises about how you have the mini cans of Coke and have Cheetos and for dinner everyone makes their own pizza.

However, Rex doesn’t need to be bribed with the treats you offer. He’d come even if your fridge was empty. Even if your pool was drained. Even if the stereo was out. Even if there were no more board games. Even if there was nothing else to do but sit on the ground and talk to you.

“Want me to bring anything?” Rex asks.

You hum in thought. “Just you.”

“I can do that,” Rex says.

It’s thirty minutes later when you’re walking him out. You say your goodbyes too close, hand on the doorknob.

Rex is only a few inches away from you. His eyes dart down to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“I should go,” he says.

“Yeah.” There’s disappointment in your voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Rex promises.

“What time is it?” You ask.

Rex looks at his watch. “It’s 10:43.”

Humming, you let your gaze drop down to his chest before back up. “Maybe we can get breakfast in the morning. At the diner.”

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t do anything more to encourage the fluttery feeling in your chest. Truly, Rex shouldn’t even come over tomorrow. Not when he’s without friends or children.

“You want to?” Rex asks. There’s a low murmur to his voice. There’s an unsung I want to that follows.

You nod.

Rex’s eyes dart all over your face, as if searching for something. “Call me in the morning, then.”

You pout. “You won’t just pick me up at nine?”

Rex smiles at that. A gentle smile. “Wouldn’t want you to be too hungover.”

“I won’t be,” you assure him. “I just had some electrolytes and some food.”

“You going to apologize when you order pancakes?”

You bite your bottom lip. “You going to be mad when I do?”

“Could never be mad at you,” Rex murmurs.

You sigh, resting your head against the open door.

“I should go. Don’t want any bugs getting inside,” Rex says. He doesn’t sound like he wants to leave.

“Do you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That you could never be mad at me?” You hate the way your voice sounds, all small. Hinging on whatever his response is.

“Yeah. I mean it.”

You smile softly at that. “Okay. Drive safe.”

Rex chuckles and steps out of your house. “Call me, and we can get breakfast. Don’t want to show up and you’re still asleep.”

“Okay,” you say, playing with the doorknob. You don’t mention he’d know when you woke up if he slept over. But you don’t.

Instead, you watch as Rex gets back in his truck. He waves at you, which you return, then shuts the door. The headlights illuminate your garage. You only head inside once he’s pulled out of the driveway.

[roxynychus]

BIG TRANSITION UPDATE!

I started HRT on July 4th! Spiro and estradiol. So far it’s been going really well. I’m smiling more, I’m laughing more, I’m feeling upbeat and optimistic for the first time in I don’t even know how long. I think my skin even looks softer and clearer already, though that could be in my head, it hasn’t been very long. It feels like I’ve really started working towards something positive for myself, whereas before everything felt like drifting along in the dark, looking for distraction from the emptiness I felt. I’ve got happy tears stinging my eyes just writing this.

I have been struggling with the sodium situation a bit. Spiro is a diuretic, so you’re peeing a lot while on it. As a result, you’re losing a lot of electrolytes, particularly sodium and magnesium. I was already taking magnesium supplements, so that’s fine. However, I have GI problems which restrict my diet, so getting enough salt actually turning out to be a significant annoyance. I get lightheaded and woozy some days because my body is dumping so much. As much as most people consume too much salt, you DO need some in your body. I never used to eat pickles, but I’m starting to develop an appreciation for them. Gatorade and salted rice crackers are also becoming go-to’s.

I got an epilator as well to help control my body hair, and my mom got me a gorgeous long skirt recently. I’ve gotten myself some nice stuff online, pic is of a fit I really liked! I’ve even started presenting pretty femme when I’m just out and about. Have gotten a few weird looks but no one has fucked with me yet. Still figuring out hair care, mine is so thin and frizzy, I’m having a hard time getting it to look decent.

Overall though, things are going great!

[sourholland]

teardrops on my guitar || jack hughes

making the bold choice of writing a fic for every song on debut by taylor swift, i’ll do it sporadically and for different people as well!! once i finish debut, we will see if i’m feeling fearless tv ☺️ ambitious, believe me I KNOW. anyways send requests

this is dedicated to @folklorelvr333 —tomg is her fave song on debut and jack is her fave guy (appreciate this bc i had to learn jack hughes LORE for this)

debut masterlist

Jack had moved to Michigan during his last years of high school to further his career in hockey and to try to secure his spot as a draft pick. When he started playing for the U.S. NTDP, he attended Plymouth-Canton Educational Park when he wasn’t on the rink. There, he met you.

Jack hadn’t ever claimed to be good with girls, not really. He liked you, though. He liked you a lot. He remembered being paired up with you in lab during his first week. He thought he’d made his interest incredibly obvious. That was, if his pink cheeks and clammy hands weren’t a telltale sign of his trying to flirt with you. Mistakenly, he’d realized he’d done just about the exact opposite. He’d made himself out to be a best friend to you, a shoulder to lean on.

It wasn’t like the NTPD staff had really given him the choice of having a girlfriend, they’d actually discouraged it more than anything. He was on an extremely strict schedule, right down to the time he should be in bed every night.

“So you’ve pretty much got it all laid out for you then?” You’d asked him at lunch one day, sitting across from each other and picking at your food.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” He laughed, confused.

“I just mean—I don’t know, you’re seventeen years old, Jack. You’re always here or at the rink. I get it and everything, like you’re going to go pro and stuff. I just wonder sometimes if you ever do anything for you, you know?”

Jack’s lips formed a thin line, inhaling deeply as he thought about your words. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand where you were coming from, it was just all he’d ever really known. His parents had him on the ice before he was two years old. He’s eat, slept, and breathed hockey his entire life.

“I do all this for me,” he finally said. “I want this.”

“Come on,” you huffed, teasingly. “You’re telling me you never think about going out and partying? Or like, I don’t know, having a girlfriend?”

His face flushed almost instantaneously, trying to avert his gaze to anything but you. Of course he though about having a girlfriend. He thought about it every time you’d call him after practice to talk about homework. He thought about it each morning when he pulled up in front of your house and you climbed into his passenger seat, laying your hands on his forearm to tell him whatever girl drama you’d found out the night before.

“No, I guess I don’t really think about it much.”

“Bullshit,” you chided. “If that’s true, do you think you have erectile dysfunction or something? Like a hormonal imbalance?”

“What the fuck?” He laughed, nearly spitting out his Gatorade. “No, I definitely don’t have—”

“You’re blushing!” You cut him off, smiling ear-to-ear.

Jack cherished your time together in school; he rarely had a free moment outside of classes that he wasn’t playing hockey. He always felt horrible declining your offers to hang out, but he genuinely couldn’t find a free moment.

A part of him feels this is to blame for your relationship never progressing further. He thought you’d maybe felt something more than platonic feelings for him at one point, but who wants some guy who is too cool for any school functions and can’t see you on weekends because of practice or tournaments. Although, he’d never been honest with you about his feelings either.

It was only a matter of time before you moved forward with your life, leaving him to wonder what could’ve been.

Jack wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t sting every time you’d bring a new guy up, what might’ve taken the cake was when you’d brought one to a hockey game of his. It was like one of those movie moments, Jack thought at practice the next day. He’d seen you in the stands, face lighting up, only to notice the guy beside you with his arm around you.

He wanted to hate the kid, too. Only then did he realize how jealous he truly was. He was heartbroken over a girl he’d never even dated. How was that even possible, Jack would wonder as he stared up at the ceiling in bed.

He could’ve told you, could’ve been honest about how he felt about you. Who knows what would’ve happened, but at least you’d have known. It was too late, he saw how happy you were and had to match your expression with fake smiles and words of encouragement laced with frustration and envy.

Jack tried not to hate himself for how he’d let the situation play out, but he truly couldn’t.

You’d fall in love, and he’d watch. And there was nothing he could do about it.

[cyberrose2001]

Could you do a pt2 with pregnant reader, like Optimus finds her throwing up with morning sickness. Would really appreciate it. Love your writing.❤️❤️

TFP Optimus x fem!reader

trying out different writing styles so sorry if this feels a lil different to the previous part

SO this is pt 2 of this -> Read here!

There will be a pt 3 so keep an eye out for that, but for now, enjoy! <3

Warnings: Emetophobia, mentions of sex, pregnancy

Word count: 1201

As much as you loved getting dicked down by your alien robot boyfriend for the first time last night, you heavily underestimated the following effects. Unfortunately, waking up to the feeling of your body trying to eject the contents of your stomach was not on your agenda for the day. So, you try to crawl out from under a servo that held you, desperately trying not to throw up all over his shiny chassis.

The idea of you being pregnant never crosses your mind as you ungracefully stumble off the giant berth, almost faceplanting, and run for the nearest toilet, sink, or whatever you may find first. Then, with your mouth salivating at the impending feeling of throwing up, you find a conveniently placed trash can at the room's doorway. You practically throw yourself at it and heave your guts into the poor trash can.

It's unusual because you don't remember eating glowing bright blue soup for dinner last night before you had the pounding of a lifetime from your boyfriend. You weren't sure if you even ate dinner last night, too preoccupied with the jealousy of your cousin and the fact that Optimus had offered to put a baby in you. Yet the thought of you being knocked up still evaded your mind as you leaned over the bin and threw up a few more mouthfuls of the disgusting-tasting "soup". Your nostrils singed from the smell, and the sensation of your oesophagus melting away makes your eyes water. And honestly, the trash can is probably having a better time than you are presently.

Being a relatively light sleeper, Optimus notices your absence from under his servo and awakens to the pathetic sight of you hunched over the bin. Concerned, as one would be by the view of their significant other vomiting, he leaps out of the berth with the gracefulness that you had failed to execute yourself and rushes over to your side.

"Are you alright?" Optimus hovers a hesitant servo over your back, unsure what to do. Then, after recollecting himself from being hit by a wall of stench from the contents of the bin, he peers his optics around to your face; you're sweating bullets, your hair still unruly from last night's antics and clung to your forehead.

You spat out the remnants of your saliva mixed with whatever the hell you just threw up and lifted a shaky hand to pull your hair out of your face, "Just peachy."

Optimus ignores your sarcastic tone and reaches his servo to pull your hair out of your face, gathering the now slightly wet strands behind your head like a makeshift ponytail.

"Shall I call for Ratchet?"

No, for Primus sake no. The last thing you'd ever want was for Optimus to drag the cranky medic out of his recharge to point and laugh at your miserable, sweaty state. Not to mention his horrified questioning about exactly why you're throwing up glowing blue Gatorade. Not that you knew, either. That's an awkward conversation for another time.

"Please don't." You beg, wiping the corner of your mouth with your hand, "Just… get me some water or something… pretty please?"

Optimus, though very reluctant to not advise his medic of your current predicament, obliges and goes to fetch you a bottle of water. You've trained him well. He returns in record time and passes it to you, and you make no haste to unscrew the cap and scull as much as you can.

"June, perhaps?" Optimus suggests, a servo returning to your back, "I understand that she is proficient in human health."

"Yeah, I guess she will be fine." You grimace, looking down at the swirling patterns of what once was your stomach contents, "Though I'm not sure if there are any cases of glowing throw-up in her medical books."

-

"Glowing what?"

"Puke. Bioluminescent blue puke."

June Darby considers herself a seasoned nurse. She has seen just about everything, but this? Unheard of. She tries to wrack her brain on everything she has ever learned through her many years of medical experience but comes up with nothing as she is now forced to stand there looking like a lost, wet cat.

She clicks the pen in her hand with deep thought, a crumpled piece of paper retrieved from her pocket in the other, "Do you remember eating anything strange? Have you done anything unusual at all that would've caused it? Exposure to chemicals, or…"

You felt the blood simultaneously drain from and flush to your face as you remember getting down and dirty with Optimus for the first time last night. Well, you were sure there was plenty of exposure to chemicals in the form of your boyfriend's transfluids. Drumming the old crusty hospital gurney beneath you with your fingers, you wonder whether or not you should tell June that you had let Optimus make sweet love to you for the first time.

And that's when you remember why he fragged you in the first place. You wanted a baby. And sweet Primus, it's all just hitting you square in the face now.

Could it be that you're pregnant? It starts to add up. The morning sickness, not to mention the abnormal glowing throw-up and the fact that you actually begged Optimus to put a baby in you and complied with the most enormous load of cum your body has ever taken (it's taking a lot for you not to drool at the thought). It makes a least a little bit of sense.

"June, do you happen to have a pregnancy test on you?"

-

After an awkward conversation with June about your recent endeavour with Prime, with her secretly being incredibly impressed, she gave you a clean-ish bill of health. Next, she sent you to the bathroom with a packet of pregnancy tests, with her being on standby in case you pass out from nausea, excitement or the sensation of a potential baby that may be in your uterus currently.

You open one test and place it on the bathroom sink, then pull your pajama pants down to your ankles in preparation for your first time peeing on a stick, akin to a dog. You giggle.

Task successful. You pull your pants up and wash your hands, counting every second the cold water hits your skin. It gave you some time to think. Would a regular pregnancy test even register if the fetus isn't human? Would it show up at all? Was Optimus truthful when he agreed to try and conceive a child, or was it just the lust combined with robot hormones doing the talking?

You didn't have enough time to answer your little pop quiz as you're alerted to the small beep of the Clearblue stick still sitting on the bathroom sink.

Pregnant.

Holy shit. You were having a baby.

An uncontrollable tsunami of emotions floods your senses as you pick up the stick, getting a closer look to ensure you aren't dreaming. It's real. It's so real that you're resisting the urge to climb to the top of the base and scream it out for everyone on Earth and potentially Cybertron to hear.

I'm gonna be a mom.

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 2/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradley's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005-2006 - Chapter 1

2007 – Bradley

              He’d worried, when he went on his first deployment, that he’d lose contact with Jas. He’s definitely the guy Bradley enjoys talking to the most, but he doesn’t have the history with him that Bradley has with his old college friends. Not that he’s having cybersex with any of his college friends. They keep in touch with him because they’re actually his friends, are invested in his well-being and care about him after years of being friends. Jas is a guy he’s known for a year and had cybersex with more than once; the only guy who keeps coming back to him; which is something he likes all on its own.

              He’d thought that Jas would lose interest, that the novelty factor would wear off and Jas would go and find someone in real life he could talk to and touch. Except he hasn’t, there’s always new messages from him whenever he logs in, and when they arrange a chat time he’s nearly always available. He hasn’t asked what he looks like, is a little wary, and his imagination can provide something that turns him on anyway.

              He’s had a more hook ups, few and far between because he’s really fucking careful, knows he has to be. But he’s also learnt who has his back and who will turn a blind eye. In every other respect he is exemplary and he leaves them no room to ever doubt his abilities, knows there are eyes on him even if he’s not exactly Maverick or Iceman’s problem anymore. He’s seen Ice once, from across the room, he’d received a small head nod and he’d just turned and ignored it, the embers of his anger flaring to life again without warning. He doesn’t know if Ice had anything to do with Maverick pulling his papers, if he knew and didn’t stop him, or if he helped him, agreed with him. Hell, he could have even been the one to suggest it for all Bradley knows. He didn’t wait around to ask questions.

              In sharp contrast to all his mixed emotions surrounding Maverick and Iceman Jas is uncertain and open, doesn’t seem afraid of asking Bradley any questions that just pops into his head. He admits immediately when he doesn’t know something, seems to think Bradley is the expert on anything and everything sex-related and Bradley doesn’t mind the low-level hero worship, even if he thinks it’s severely misplaced. He does appreciate Jas getting better with his one-handed typing though, their sessions becoming a more reciprocal affair as time progresses.

>>You know you’re probably the person I’m the closest to. I’ve never lied to you. You know this massive thing about me which I’ve never shared with anyone.

>>Well, except for the guys you’ve fucked. They know.

>>Well yeah, but I don’t keep talking to them after.

>>You leaving a string of broken hearts across the country huh?

>>Something like that I guess. My work doesn’t exactly make it easy to have a relationship.

>>Same here. I’m military. DADT and all that.

              Bradley lets out a long breath and stares at his laptop screen, because that’s pretty fucking trusting right there. And a part of him gets it, they’ve been chatting online for over a year and a half, through his first deployment despite the incredibly sporadic way he’d had to send messages. The little pile of information he’s collecting about Jas is slowly building, and he hasn’t asked for any of it. It’s all been little slipups, or titbits of information like this.

              Born in 1986 and from Texas.

              Prefers blue Gatorade over red.

              Doesn’t mind pineapple on his pizza. Prefers pepperoni.

              Has two or three siblings and at least one niece and nephew. Youngest kid.

              Military.

              He doesn’t know whether to share that he’s also military. Thousands of people serve in the military. The chance of them ever meeting is so slim, they’d both have to be navy, to start with, and then… well. He doesn’t care if he’s commissioned or enlisted. It’s not like they’re going to meet and have an actual relationship. They’re both on this website because it’s safe, anonymous and the risk is so low it feels negligible. Clearly why Jas has felt safe enough sharing the fact that he is in fact, military.

>>You got some time?

>>For you? Always.

>>What are you feeling?

>>Surprise me…

              Bradley grins. Jas is just so casual and open with him and it makes him wonder if he’s like this in real life. He suspects not. God. Now that he knows he’s military he’d put money on him not being casual and open. He’s glad they have this veil of anonymity between them, that he’s felt safe enough to be completely open and that Jas has responded in kind. It’s good and he enjoys it. He’s not going to share anything more about himself.

>>You have a uniform? Can I take it off?

>>Yeah, please…

>>Formal or service? Because the other option is I just pull the pants down, lick you open until you’re begging for it and then take you while you’re still fully dressed…

>>Fuck.

>>That. That one please…

>>Yeah? You going to let me mess you up? Let me mess up your uniform?

              He’s never had a thing for uniforms before, but the idea of fucking a guy while they’re dressed in their navies or whites, well, it definitely does something for him. The idea of Jas, fully kitted out in his formalwear, just come off parade, wanting him to. Yeah, that’s a huge turn on. Throwing the image of himself also wearing his dress whites, not treating it with the respect it deserves and instead just getting his cock out and fucking someone.

>>Jas? You want me to mess you up?

>>Yes. Fuck yes. Come on…

>>Demanding and impatient as ever. I got you baby.

…           …           …          

>>Nick.

>>Are you around?

              The messages have a time stamp from a couple of hours ago and he winces, because he wasn’t around, and Jas doesn’t normally wait for him to be around before just typing out whatever it is he’s thinking or feeling. Something is different this time and he’s worried about what it might be.

>>Sorry. Was busy. I’m here now. Everything okay?

              He has to wait a few minutes but then a new message appears.

>>I just had sex for the first time. Well. Yeah.

              Oh. Bradley blinks and sucks his lips into his mouth. He knew this would happen eventually. Jas is twenty-one or twenty-two now, definitely has to be getting more curious, even with the risks DADT place Bradley knows it’s possible to get laid. However these aren’t the words of someone that’s overjoyed at having discovered the joys of sex. And he has to admit sex itself is a fucking cosmic joke, delicate body parts that are alight with nerve endings, messy and inconvenient bodily reactions and emissions, awkward first times, painful and messy… The amount that can go wrong far outweighs the amount that can go right.

>>You okay?

>>Why do you like it so much?

>>Sex? Because it’s good?

>>It’s not good though! I didn’t even come.

>>You weren’t into it or was the guy just a selfish fucj?

>>Fuck?

>>I was into it, but then it was… Yeah. Selfish fuck fits I guess. I just thought it would be better.

>>My first time wasn’t great, but at least it was with a guy I trusted, and we got better with practice.

>>Well, I won’t be seeing this guy again. Just on leave and picked up in a club.

>>Oh god. That’s so dangerous. Please tell me you used protection.

>>Of course I did. And I just wanted it over and done with. I prefer cybersex with you than that fucking failure.

>>Well, I’m honored.

>>You always make sure I come. And you do it with words.

>>Oh my god. What if I can’t get off with real people anymore?

>>What if you’ve ruined me for actual in person sex?

              Bradley rolls his eyes.

>>You’re a fucking drama queen. Stop freaking out.

>>Do you still jerk off? When you’re not chatting with me I mean?

>>Yeah, all the time.

>>Of course you do. And what do you think about?

>>You.

              Oh. That’s not quite what Bradley was expecting.

>>Yeah? What about me is so special?

>>You seem to care.

              Well shit. Bradley is pretty sure he’s fucked up, but Jas might be even more fucked up than he is, if he thinks Bradley showing him a bare modicum of human interest and decency, trying to teach him to be safe online, is caring. Not that he doesn’t care, not that he wouldn’t worry if he suddenly couldn’t contact Jas for whatever reason, but he doesn’t even have a real name or contact number or anything. So he does care. Apparently cares more than the other people in Jas’s life and god he hates the idea of that.

>>I do care. Don’t push yourself to just do things because you think you’re meant to by a certain age or anything. Everyone has their own timeline.

>>You a shrink now or something?

>>No. Just a friend. We’re friends right?

>>Yeah. I guess we are. Friends who have cybersex and overshare their real life sex. Not that I’ve been able to share before, and not that I can share now. Having a guy just…

>>Well. As I said. I didn’t come.

>>Kind of sucked.

>>And not in a good way.

              Bradley snorts and stares at the words and shakes his head at his own flash of irrational jealousy. He and Jas are not together in any sense of the word, he doesn’t get to be jealous. Although maybe he just wishes he’d had sex recently.

>>I’m sorry that it was like that for you.

>>It can kind suck if your partner is selfish. Or inexperienced. Or you don’t speak up and give some guidance. It’s not as natural as you might think.

>>Feels natural with you.

>>We’ve been chatting and having cybersex for months.

>>Maybe you just need to build that rapport with someone in real life?

>>That’s easier said than done. I don’t open up easily.

>>Did I give the impression that I do?

>>Yeah okay, fair point. We’re both suspicious bastards.

>>I won’t disagree with you there.

CHAPTER THREE - 2008

[cowpokeomens]

Okay this isn't like all the others but how good do you think they are at aftercare do you think they would just let you go to the toilet by yourself or do you think they would help you clean up

I think this really depends on like, the scenario for each!

Aftercare is sexy tho like damn you got me some saltines after blowing my back out? Get back in this bed rn-

HAHAHA anyways. I’m assuming this is after each member’s version of what “intense” is like Nicholas’s intense is tying you up and flogging your clit different than like, Jolly’s intense yknow? There’s different needs to be met.

With Nicky I feel like it’s balls to the walls aftercare. There’s a warm drink and an iced water, there’s a charcuterie board for snacking, he’s running you a bubble bath and lighting candles, there’s a playpen of kittens in the living room and he paid Samuel Beam to softly play ukulele on the couch. He knows he’s a lot okay. So it’s really about making sure you know how much he loves and adores you and appreciates how much trust you put in him.

Noah is throwing an old t-shirt at you and asking if you want a room temp Gatorade AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH I’m so sorry okay I’m joking I don’t actually hate him guys it’s just a bit now- no but really, he’s less hands on than Nicky bc I don’t think it’s as necessary. Like. He might be choking you a little bit and calling you names but it’s nothing a kiss to the forehead and pulling you into his chest can’t fix. He’d get you water after a minute and give you some privacy to wipe down all your bits, but he’s joining you in the shower afterwards and scrubbing your back with the fancy soap y’all only use after sex (so domestic Awh)

Nick needs like, 5 minutes apart to breathe okay like that was a lot for him too!! He put in the work!! Once his body temperature is below 400 degrees tho he’s pulling you in for a sloppy kiss and asking if you had fun even though a quick glance at the wet patch on the bed would confirm that you did. Probably fist-bumps you and says “that was some of our best work yet” (he says this every time) definitely uses humor to make sure you’re doing okay. Hands you water from the bedside table because he’s always prepared!!

Y’all don’t worry about what jolly is doing during aftercare that’s our grown folks time anyways who said that uhhh yeah jolly is a-okay being gross and covered in sweat and cum, that’s tomorrow’s problem to him! After sex he just really wants to be close, spoons you tight and peppers your face and neck and shoulders and whatever else he can reach with kisses. I have a headcanon that jolly is the one everyone has walked in on naked the most bc I don’t think he even considers putting on clothes after sex he just needs a nap. Might put on sweats to get you a drink and a snack but they’re coming off when that door shuts. Likes staying up and talking with you about anything and everything afterwards, both to make sure you’re okay and also because he just likes talking to you. Very touchy feely. I’m crying.

[polyamorouspunk]

Hey there. Just wanted to let you know you run one of my favorite blogs. While we're not friends and I certainly can't claim to know you, your posts are always a splash of brightness on my dash. I love all the ask games things you do specially.

I know you're not doing well right now and I know there isn't much I can do to help you with that, but I figured it would be nice to let you know you're appreciated even if I'm just a random stranger half a globe away.

Even if you can't bring yourself to eat something at this time, please consider drinking some water? You deserve to feel better, you deserve care and comfort and filling yummy food and good things coming your way.

I hope tomorrow treats you kindly.

Thank you.

I do feel bad that this year I’ve just been soooo clearly mentally ill, like more than I have been in recent years.

Today I had some Oreo milkshake cookie from Crumbl and my mom bought us a mouse cake slice each!

Been eating a lot of yummy foods lately, especially since I have IBS I try and just enjoy what I can eat when I can eat it.

I’ve def always had weight issues and weight-image issues but even though doctors always want you to “have a better diet to manage symptoms” it’s like. 1. I’m not going to eat only rice and drink only Gatorade to prevent myself from having symptoms 2. If literally anything can make me sick at any time for any reason I might as well eat whatever I want when I’m NOT actively sick, and then when I do get sick is when I start doing some damage control and restricting what I eat to make myself less sick.

And honestly a few of my friends are similar body types to me and I think they’re really hot and it’s made me feel a bit better about myself!

I’m not doing well right now and I’m not really sure how any of it is going to go. I always feel like I’m just like “well I’m in the middle of it and it needs to be resolved but I can’t resolve it right now so I’m just stuck here” but I’ve been able to do some self care like reading, I just finished a book in like? 3 days? Which is pretty good for me nowadays.

I’m managing my anxiety right now by getting some food I just ate, and then I’m going to listen to a podcast while I fall asleep to focus on that instead of my own wandering mind. I have therapy tomorrow morning and I’m not really looking forward to it to be honest but it is what it is.

Every message I get helps. Every person who reaches out helps. I’m so lucky to have the platform I do because if I didn’t I don’t know if I would have been able to make it this far without even more cuts and bruises, both literally and mentally.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mise En Place 4

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note: thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

Your apartment isn't far from the club. Still, at this hour, walking even just a few blocks is eerie and has you at a brisk pace. You have your hand on the strap of your bag, the other clasped around your phone.

As you turn the corner, you notice a speck cross the street not far behind you. You don't think much of it and keep going. You turn again, down the final stretch to the small studio you rent above a pawn shop.

You go down the alley, tense as you hear rats skittering. You climb the pavement steps to your door and sort through your keychain. You hear a footstep and look up, nearly dropping your handful. A shadow flashes across the mouth of the alley.

You quickly find the right key and shove it into the slot. You spin inside and turn the several locks inside, sighing in relief and a bit of shame. It was nothing, you're paranoid.

You head up the steep stairs and into your small studio space. The front room has most of the amenities; a futon that serves as both couch and sleeping place, a table with your cheap laptop, a folding chair, and an area rug that doesn't quite complete the space.

You drop your bag beside the futon and fall onto it with a loud creak. You don't both undress, though you know you should. The night has you drained; from your impromptu bartending to the strange scene in the storage room, you just want to forget it all.

🍹

You spend your day at the laundromat. With a bottle of gatorade and a book, you sit by the rumbling machines and wait to take your load home. You put it all away and have just enough time to eat lunch before you have to get ready to go.

The club is quiet when you get there. You approach from the back, heading up the alley and pausing as you see something sparkle amidst the reeking rubbish. You bend and pick up the single dangling earring. A strange find but there are many of those around here. You'll have to come back out and get the bags in the dumpster.

You continue inside, focused on the shift ahead, forgetting the earring in your hand until you get to the coat room. You leave your things there and take the jewelry with you. You go behind the bar and open the lower cupboard, dropping it into the box marked lost and found.

You shut the door and nearly cry out as a figure stands just at the other end of the bar. You stand up and face thor as he rakes his fingers through his hair and twists it into a low bun, securing it with a tie. Thor's arms bulge with the simple effort.

"Hey, have a good night?" He asks with a crooked grin.

"Uh, yeah," you twiddle your fingers at your side, "erm, you?"

"Not too bad. Thing about the night shift, don't really know what to do with myself besides sleep," he shrugs as he goes to the bar and starts arranging his tools: a cutting board, a small knife, and some other silver utensils. "Anything exciting for you?"

"Hm, no," you reply, "I… I should get started."

"Course," he agrees, "this place never waits."

You try to smile and stiffly swivel away from him. You enter the kitchen and grab your apron and a pair of gloves. You come back out as Thor slices into a lime. He gives a small nod as you pass.

You fall into your routine as the pre-open hours tick by. You lose track of the minutes, wiping down the missed spills from the night before and helping with the dishes in the kitchen. Sonny offers a few grumbles as you roll out the cart if clean glasses to the bar.

"There you are," Thor greets as he wipes his hands on a cloth, "ah, and the glasses."

He guides the other end of the cart close and starts stacking the glasses on the shelves. You go back into the kitchen and fetch some clean cloths and more of the stir sticks. He thanks you as he keeps at his work.

He spins as if he forgot something and grabs at something on the bartop. You don't know what as he yowls and retracts his hand. He clutches his thick finger and you notice the dribble of red down his hand.

"Oh, oh no," you murmur as your hand lingers on a cloth.

You shake off the shock and swipe up the fabric and step around the cart. You offer him the cloth and he holds out his bloody hand. You see the deep gash on his finger and cover it squeezing so that you don't have to see it gush.

"Are you okay?" You ask as he hisses, "I'm sorry, am I too rough?"

"Ah, keep pressure in it," he demands and catches your hand, holding it around his finger. "Gotta stem the flow."

You nod and try not to look down. You feel the warmth through the fabric. He growls and carefully wiggles free of your grasp, keeping the cloth around his finger.

"There's a first aid kit behind the door," he suggests.

"Oh," you babble and jump into motion.

You go into the kitchen and grab the white chest from the mount on the wall. You go back to him and open it, unsure what to do next.

"Need stitches," he growls, "not the first time. Clumsy me."

You nod, speechless as your mouth is pasty and dry.

"Fawn," he says gently, "gauze? I'll need alcohol to sanitize."

You gulp and stir through the contents. He pulls away the cloth and replaces it with the fluffy gauze, soaking up even more blood. You find the small bottle of isopropyl and untwist the cap, refusing to look at his hand again.

Then he asks for the needle and you nearly retch. "Are you unwell?"

"Blood makes me dizzy," you confess, "I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be. It is quite a lot," he chuckles, "I didn't mean to upset you. Go get Sonny, he can stitch a man up well. I'm sure he'll love the chance to give me a jab."

You stare down, feeling hollow as you try not to shudder.

"Go, and have a glass of water," he demands gently.

You retreat without a second thought and push into the kitchen. Sonny greets you with his usual gritty 'aye'. You don't say a word as you fall onto the stool near the island.

"Eh, what's goin' on?"

You cough and clear your throat, rubbing your hands together senselessly.

"Blood…" you utter, "uh, he cut himself…"

"Ah, the f– er, well, you know, he's a bit daft," Sonny chides, "you good?"

"Mhmm," you twine fingers through each other and stare at the floor, "fine."

"Aye, you do on and lie but you stay here," he girds, "I'll fix up that oaf."

He leaves and you rock as the metallic scent sticks in your nose. You close your eyes and see another trickle of blood. A memory unraveled from those knotted tightly within.

[willysnylander]

as promised , i come bearing a word prompt !!! i would love if you could possible write something with lukedaws + ‘surprise’ please !! i think i would love you forever (somehow impossibly more than i already do😽🫶)

thanks so much for this, becca!! sorry it took me so long and that it’s kind of short, i started writing a different version of this and i wound up not liking it so i had to start over 😭. i hope you like it!, though! <3

The kiss comes as a total surprise, when it happens. Not an unwelcome one, certainly, considering all the less-than-platonic thoughts Luke has been secretly having about his teammate for months now, but definitely a surprise.

The two of them are sitting on the couch of Luke and Jack’s apartment, playing a few rounds of Chel and just generally hanging out. It’s just them in the apartment - Jack’s out grocery shopping. It was supposed to be Luke’s turn to do that, actually, but when he’d mentioned earlier that Dawson had texted him asking to hang out Jack said he would do it instead, an offer paired with a wink and an insistence that Luke should be able to spend time with his quote-unquote “future husband”.

Luke had very much appreciated his brother in that moment, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t thrown a pillow at Jack as the older Hughes brother had made his way out of the apartment.

Right now, though, Luke has just finished kicking Dawson’s ass for the third round in a row. As the game ends on the TV screen, Luke throws up his arms and lets out a triumphant crow, quickly followed by a laugh as Dawson groans and slumps dramatically back into the couch cushions.

“Dude,” Dawson whines. “I already know you’re good at this game, you don’t have to, like, humiliate me to prove it.”

Luke laughs again, shorter this time. “Please, you think that was me humiliating you? You should see me play against Jack or John sometime, that’s me humiliating someone.”

He sets his controller on the coffee table, preparing to take a little break and grab a drink from the kitchen, and when he turns over his shoulder to ask Dawson if he wants anything, the other boy is actually pouting. It’s not an expression Luke is used to seeing on his teammate at all, and it’s so silly and endearing all at once that he feels heat bloom in his chest and finds himself unsure whether to laugh or smile fondly.

“Still,” says Dawson, and it takes Luke a second to force his stupid crushing brain to focus on the words and not just the lips they’re coming out of, “you couldn’t’ve let me win once? Spare my poor, fragile ego?”

Luke does laugh now, tilting his head back slightly from the force of it. He closes his eyes, too, without really meaning to, and when he rights the position of his head and opens them again, Dawson is looking at him with a look in his eyes that he can’t exactly place.

Which is kind of weird. But Luke has already promised himself a while ago, when he first realized he actually had a crush on his teammate, that he was going to do his damnedest to act completely normally around Dawson at all times, and he might as well apply that to odd behaviour from Dawson as well. Besides, it isn’t like the unreadable look on Dawson’s face is the kind of look Luke hopes it is, as much as that sucks - he’s long since accepted that the other boy will never return his feelings and he’ll be stuck uselessly pining until he either finds someone else to like or the feelings go away on their own.

With all that in mind, Luke clears his throat a bit, trying to ignore the blush creeping onto his face because Dawson hasn’t stopped staring at him with that look in his eyes, and says as lightheartedly as possible, “C’mon, Merc, you know I don’t let anyone else win. You wanna beat me, you’ve gotta earn it.” He gently bumps Dawson’s knee with his, smiling as normally as he’s able while his cheeks slowly turn the color of a sunrise. “I’m gonna go grab a Gatorade before we play again, you want-”

He doesn’t get to finish his question. Because all of a sudden Dawson’s eyes have gone from unreadable to determined, and he’s sitting forward again, and then he’s leaning over and his lips, those lips that Luke has been dreaming about for longer than he really wants to admit, are on Luke’s, and just like that Luke is being kissed by the boy he’s just finished reminding himself he’ll never be able to have.

For a second or two, Luke’s body turns to ice, and he just sits there like an idiot, completely still. It isn’t until Dawson falters, seeming to fully realize what he’s doing and panic, and his mouth starts to pull away from Luke’s that Luke finally manages to kick himself out of shock and into action. He chases Dawson, pressing his lips firmly back onto the other boy’s, and this time it’s Dawson’s turn to briefly freeze before he starts responding.

And once he does start responding - Jesus, it’s the best kiss Luke’s ever had. Dawson, even though he’s only two years older and can’t have that much more experience, clearly knows what he’s doing, moving his lips near-perfectly in sync with Luke’s and giving just the right amount of gentle pressure. Luke finds his hands wandering up to tangle themselves in the older boy’s hair, and in return he feels one of Dawson’s hands come to rest on his thigh, acting as a brace for his teammate as Dawson pushes himself impossibly closer to him.

When they finally break apart for air, Luke feels like it’s been an eternity and a single instant all at once. They don’t go far from each other, faces still close enough that they’re panting the same air, their noses just barely brushing together. Dawson’s pupils are blown wide, his hair is messy where Luke still has his hands in it, and his lips are kiss-swollen in the same way Luke imagines his own must be. He’s never looked more attractive, and Luke can feel the heat that had spread through his chest earlier growing even further, becoming a raging inferno of something that feels like genuine love as Luke gazes at the beautiful boy he’s just finished kissing.

Still a bit out of breath, Dawson murmurs, “You’re so fucking good-looking when you laugh.”

So that was the look in his eyes, then, and the reason behind it. Luke knows, logically, that they should have an actual conversation now, that they should talk about how long they’ve both been feelings the feelings they clearly share despite how much Luke thought the opposite. They should be responsible young adults and discuss where they go from here, whether they’ll actually enter into a relationship and what that could look like. They should stop, take a moment, and come up with an actual plan.

But Luke’s never really been that good at planning. And despite everything, how much responsibility he already has that most people his age don’t even have to think about, he’s still a twenty-year-old with a beautiful boy in front of him - a boy he’s been fantasizing about kissing for months, who has just given him the best surprise of his life by making that fantasy come true and making it better than he could’ve dreamed.

So right now, Luke decides to wait until a little later to be responsible. Right now, he just smiles as Dawson, so wide he feels like it’s going to split his face, and closes the short gap between their lips.

taglist: @hughes-jack, @gayhughes, @square-opossums, @hiya-itsamber, @yoontwin (let me know if you want to be added or removed!!)

[iam93percentstardust]

Aaaaand some more kisses

thigh kisses + “can we do that again?”

Hi fren!!

We have officially bumped the rating up to E! So warning if you're not here for smut :)

There was one other nonny who requested this as well, but! I got enough prompts for a whole second fic, so the other part of thigh kisses for nonny will be coming then <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

~

Tony has irregular heats. In the entire time Steve has known him, he’s only had one heat to Rhodey’s four. That one happened only about a month or so after they started dating (officially, not the kiss in Natasha’s dorm), and Tony had been very apologetic about not being ready to share it. Steve had waved off his apologies and said he understood—omegas who tend to nest, like Tony, also tend to be very private about their heats, and it’s a vulnerable time anyway—and said if Tony felt comfortable the next time his heat came around, he would be honored to share it with him.

Even so, knowing how irregular Tony’s heats are, he’d still been surprised when Tony had approached him a week ago, told him that he would be going into heat, and asked him if he’d like to share it with him. It had taken him a moment for the words to really register through the fantasies his brain conjured up at the scent of Tony’s pre-heat, but they had and then he’d bellowed, “Yes!” so loudly that his RA had checked on him to make sure he was doing okay.

He'd taken time off from practice though both the coach and Tony had insisted he at least be present at the game on Saturday, even if he’s not playing. Tony had done the grocery shopping, though Steve had brought a pack of Gatorade to satisfy his urges to provide, which is good since Tony had forgotten them.

And now he’s in Tony’s nest, staring down at his heat-slick omega writhing on his fingers. He’s never been in here before. Tony has another bedroom that they’ve spent time in, just as luxurious, and Steve has never been offended that he hasn’t been invited into his nest. It’s a beautiful nest, all silks and gossamer fabrics and expensive pillows and deep, rich colors. Steve’s artistic eye would probably spend quite a bit of time appreciating it, if it weren’t for the fact that Tony is imminently more interesting than a bit of interior decoration.

“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he breathes, pressing the words into the soft skin of Tony’s thigh. “Can you take another one?”

Tony tosses his head from side to side on the pillow, sobbing, “Want you.”

“You’ve got me,” Steve teases, punctuating his statement with a sharp bite to his leg. Tony gasps, thigh twitching in Steve’s grip.

“Want your knot,” Tony whines. And, yeah, Steve wants to give him that too, but he wants Tony to come for him first.

“Not yet,” he says and soothes the sting by kissing a line up to the crease of Tony’s hip. Tony arches toward his mouth, but Steve skips over that entirely and moves on to the other leg. He’s a little harsher here, nipping instead of just sucking, and when he pulls his mouth away, it’s to see a column of little bruises left on Tony’s creamy skin. The picture is so satisfying that he moves back to his other thigh and does the same thing there, creating two perfectly symmetrical rows.

“You’re supposed to be taking care of me,” Tony complains as Steve eyes his work with satisfaction. “You are a horrible, terrible alpha.”

“And you’re a demanding brat,” Steve replies, sinking his teeth into Tony’s thigh one more time. Tony sobs and comes, back arching so high off the pillows that only his shoulders and hips remain flat as his little cock jerks on his stomach.

Steve smiles smugly, pulls his fingers out, and lines himself up instead. “But,” he adds, “I suppose that I’ll take care of you now.”

He thrusts in before Tony can do more than glare at him. Tony keens, hands scrabbling at the pillows until Steve takes them in his own and pins them flat. He’s been fingering Tony for most of the last hour, and he’s desperate to come, so the pace he sets is hard and fast, shifting the two of them up the bed every time he slams back in. Tony smears kisses across his face, wherever he can reach, babbling words of love—until Steve gets his hand around his cock and then it’s all about how sensitive he is and how much a brute Steve is and he hates him, did he know that?

But Steve is determined to make Tony come one more time, so he staves off his own orgasm through sheer determination until Tony lets out a pained moan and comes again. And it’s only then that he lets himself come, lets his knot catch just behind Tony’s rim, filling his little hole because they’re both clean and Tony can’t have kids anyway, so why can’t he be as full as he likes?

Later, after he’s pulled out and rested his head on Tony’s stomach, waiting for the next wave to come on them, Tony says, “Can we do that again?”

“What, fucking?” Steve asks.

Tony swats his head. “Don’t be crude,” he says primly, which is rich, coming from him. “I mean, the thing with my legs. You sure seemed to like those, babe.”

“You have nice legs,” Steve muses, tilting his head to the side and pressing a soft kiss to the closest one.

“I do,” Tony agrees because he’s never heard of modesty a day in his life. “And no one’s ever paid attention to them.”

“Well, all you had to do was ask,” Steve replies and shifts down the nest to start lavishing attention on them all over again.

[torchickentacos]

I've developed a new strategy to countering unhelpful urges to self sabotage out of spite- This approach is 'Would my friends* yell at me** for this?'

So, currently I'm dealing with the ordeal of 'if one more person tells me to drink more water for my chronic illness, as if I don't know my own chronic illness better than they do, then I'm going to intentionally drink as little water as I can for a week in response'. Unfortunately, 1.) I live with people who tell me this often, usually in spats they started, so I'd be drinking... not much water, and 2.) self sabotage is fine and great and fun (not really) until it's at the expense of your own health (really) so I've had to figure out ways to get my brain to back down from this. Because I have gone through with it before to bad results with frustratingly little satisfaction at the end of the spiteful road. Mostly, it just makes me black out more.

The current working strategy for...not-doing-this is 'would my friends yell at me for intentionally dehydrating myself', or 'would my friends yell at me for calling ritz crackers an adequate lunch' or 'would my friends yell at me for telling my parents I'm going on a walk, only to go sit on the curb a block over in January for an hour'? The answer tends to be yes.

Because here's the thing. Will I do health/wellbeing things out of compliance to authority? No. I actively want to do them less every time I'm told to, at this point. It makes me want to become the problem people think I am. HOWEVER, I will do these things for myself, my own future and wellbeing, and for my friends who care about said future and wellbeing. SO FAR this approach of stopping and asking, 'would [friend's name(s)] appreciate this?' actually works really well, because no, they'd absolutely not appreciate me doing that, and I currently value their opinion far more than other people's.

So congrats to my friends for getting me to drink water (or gatorade, or liquid IV or whatever else) by existing!

*This includes mutuals. Feel free to substitute with 'would I get a concerned anon about this?'.

**Note that my friends are lovely and would not actually yell at me <3 Some of them might give me some negative discord react emojis about it though lmfao :drew: :deadash6: :imnotmadimjustdisappointed:

[beechaotic]

Sooo, apparently neighbor Jason has a Kinda-Brother.

Idk his name, but he looks suspiciously like Timothy Drake-Wayne. I only looked at his back though, so I’m probably wrong.

Anyway, I asked about it later and Jason said he comes over at least once a month to play random indie/obscure competitive video games. Apparently, Jason usually wins. Not that I’m surprised. He doesn’t really do much when he’s in his apartment (I stopped by a couple times to drop stuff off).

He sounds kinda lonely though, cuz he doesn’t have anyone else over ever. However, he IS coming over once a week to teach us how to cook (properly).

Anyway, he didn’t appreciate my Gatorade Bread. It was very delicious. He didn’t even try it. He just called it an “abomination” and “an affront to all baked goods”. He’s a character, that one.

[thatonetwig]

Hood x Void stuffs because they won't get out of my head.

Dynamic: Cocky, egotistical, and short dude alongside his partner, who's nice, humble, and tall; thinks of their partner as a bit of a handful, but still loves them anyways.

Headcanons:

• Void has a habit of stealing his boyfriend's hoodies whenever he feels like it. He doesn't have a reason for doing it apart from, "They’re super comfy."

• Jet REALLY doesn't like Hood despite him and Void being together for a good amount of time (he's jealous that Hood is taking away Void's attention from him). He still tries to claw out his eyes if he picks him up.

• Hood sometimes sings the chorus/backing vocals and does the mixing for some of Void's songs. Void secretly finds Hood's voice to be great and wants to include him in a song or two with a lead part, but his ego hasn't allowed him to do that (at least not yet).

• The Accretions like Hood as a person, but they're just a bit apprehensive of who he's associated with and keep an eye on him and Void in case anything happens.

• Void let Hood brush his hair once, and then never again (Hood doesn't have any, and Void has a full head of hair, so I think you can guess what happened there).

• Speaking of hair, Void does let Hood play with his hair sometimes when it's just them because both of them like the feeling of it. Void does like Hood's head too...because it's a reflective surface and he gets to look at himself in it.

• Hood's main way of expressing his love is through physical gestures such as small kisses and quick hugs (he doesn't get to hold them out for longer very often, but loves every second of it when he does get to).

• Void's main way of expressing his love is through gift giving, such as merch from his concerts and other things related to him. Occasionally, though, he'll throw in an alternative gift such as an expensive microphone or a DJ turntable. Hood appreciates everything he gets from him.

• The reason why most of their hugs and kisses don’t usually last longer than a minute is because Void isn't used to physical touch. He likes the feeling of what's being done to him, but he feels uncomfortable at the same time and pulls away. When they do last longer than a minute (which is rarely), Void loves it just as much as Hood does and doesn't want to let him go.

Some Vocaloid songs I associate with these two:

• Kanadetomosusora - Sasanomaly (feat. Hatsune Miku)

• Lonely Universe - Aqu3ra (feat. flower and Hatsune Miku)

• It’s Just Life - nulut (feat. flower and Yuzuki Yukari

Finally, some Incorrect Quotes that may or may not be OOC!

• Hood: OKAY, YOU KNOW WHAT?! TIME OUT! GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE! GET UP THERE!

Void: *Climbing* THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!!

• Hood: Are you ready to commit?

Void: Like, a crime or a relationship?

• Void: I’m having salad for dinner!

Hood:

Void: Well, fruit salad.

Void: Actually, it’s mostly grapes.

Hood:

Void: Okay, it’s all grapes.

Void: Fermented grapes.

Hood:

Void:

Hood:

Void: It’s wine.

Void: I’m having wine for dinner.

• Void: *sighs* I have no friends...

Hood:

Hood: *coughs* Bitch, what am I? A roach?!

• Hood: Void? What are you doing here?

Void, wearing a hawaiian shirt, sunglasses and holding a gatorade: My best.

• Void: How do tall people possibly sleep at night when the blanket can't possibly cover you?

Hood: Void, it's four o'clock in the morning.

Void: So, you can't sleep, huh? Is it because of the blanket?

• Void, to Hood: I'm leaving for the weekend, so I hid 100 dollars in your room for food. Clean your room, and you will find it.

• Void: There is no i in happyness…

Hood: There is if you fucking spell it right.

• Hood: I can’t tell if you’re a genius or just incredibly arrogant.

Void: Well, on a good day, I’m both.

Also:

*Void is about to go on stage and there is no mirror*

"Hood! Could you come here for a sec? I need to borrow the back of your head!"

Anyway, thank you for reading my propaganda about two gay grapes! Hope you enjoyed!

[yaboirezzy]

What head cannons do you have about the erma characters?

Anything you wanna see for the next chapters?

Oh this one's fun

Erma

- She's a little gremlin who would stab you if she doesn't like you without warning

- She screeches when she's really upset like King in that one moment of TOH

- "Sleep, what's that? It's 2 AM on a Saturday"

Amy

- The tired mom of the Blairwoods Gang (her and Terry are an old married couple /hj)

- Will fight get the blood of anything and I mean ANYTHING for her family friends

- "Here I am sipping coffee from my (don't talk until empty) mug in the morning with my friends all waiting patiently for me to finish it...what am I doing?"

Terry

- The troublemaking dad of the gang (Him and Amy bicker a lot)

- Is actually built like a sad wet dog who cares about his friends too much but doesn't want to admit it

- "Amy told me that eating cookie dough and sipping gatorade for breakfast is a bad idea, well just watch me!"

Connor

- The only normal one of the group

- He's the nephew or cousin of a certain ginger who is full of himself and has a formidable chin

- "Guys while I do appreciate your concern, I can assure you all that I am fine and not slowly decomposing"

Sidney

- Though she's quiet and shy, she can be the most violent one when needed

- She likes inventing stuff out of the junk she found

- "Hey Erma, are these blueprints of a giant robot belong to your mom? it has her signature and it looks really good"

Emily

- She's super durable, she can tank hits and still walk like a sunshine

- The Tails to Erma's Sonic or the Donkey to Erma's Shrek

- "Ermwa! This dwink I found called 'monstur' is weally good, wets dwink it together!"

Emiko

- She was way more chaotic after she meets Sam but before Erma

- One of her chaotic ideas involved building a giant yokai-bot like a certain norwegian commie

- "Hey honey, what do you think of this hat?" "It looks great!" "Hmm yeah, it also goes really well with the giant robot" "Heh heh...wait what?"

Sam

- You may not believe it but he is what the peak dilf male looks like

- He's actually super dense especially during his younger years with Emiko

- "Sometimes I wonder what I taste like?"

Emiko: "Oh I can help you with that~"

(Yeah you can see how insane I am-)

As for the future chapters, I'd take anything that isn't traumatizing again