#Janice On Ice

[indigospyder]

[thebellearchives]

the amount of bots i’ve been blocking daily isn’t even funny 😭 like i know bots are basically part of the tumblr experience but this is ridiculous 💀💀

[spiritdreamt]

@consumare asked: ❛  are you bleeding?  ❜

percy shifts her weight or maybe she sways on her feet, wincing at the sting of her multitude of cuts. she's sure her car upholstery is ruined, and when she glances down she discovers she's dripping blood onto dr. lecter's stoop. "sorry," is her immediate response, her voice tight and her eyes shimmering in the light shining over his shoulder. she'd managed not to cry the whole way here, been barely tethered to her body the whole drive over, but now she can feel the stinging on her arm and face & the terror of the night's events comes rushing back. "she got—she was mad about something else, and she was drinking, and i messed up, and she—" her voice breaks, a small shake of her head. "she threw her glass at the wall, and it... it broke and it hit me. i'm sorry, i couldn't stay there and i didn't know where else to go, i just needed help."

[rayzerr208]

So I'm starting out with d&d, learning the basics so to speak, we are doing a starter campaign at the minute and even though there was 6 missing the 4 we had had a pretty chaotic session. For context we were raiding an ice temple looking for an ice orb.

To summerize:

One of us (Character name : valour) who was on 1 HP got punched by a npc we saved (Janice) which caused exactly 1 damage and killed him.

Said player (valour) had frozen Janice's friend alive in an ice block, so of course, after valour was killed we froze him. He stayed like that until just before the session finished .

After this happened another player (character name: wyvern) and I (character name: Odette) went into another room where there were ice spiders. We got into a combat situation in which I killed one and tamed the other.

I now have a giant (mountable) spider aswell as a deer-cat (called Forest) as pets.

At the end of the session we got the guy we were getting stuff for to resurrect the ones frozen in ice.

So now we have 2 npc guard friend that we only saved because they believe in ice bees.

🧊🧊+🐝🐝= ice bees

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Can’t Break Tradition

cairo sweet x female reader

summary: You and Cairo are rivals in the workplace. What’s with all the tension at your holiday party?

word count: 3k

a/n: office life au. Merry Christmas!

————

“So I hear you’re still gunning for that promotion huh?”

You shrug, “Mhmm yeah” you say uninterested as your eyes dart around the lavish ballroom your company rented for the holiday party. The massive chandeliers, fancy ice sculptures, and bustling crowd do little to distract from your real focus tonight.

The rando from the IT department that you managed to find yourself in a conversation with responds. “Is that why you and Cairo have this whole thing going on?”

That gets your attention. Your gaze snaps to him, your brows furrowing slightly. “Whole thing?”

“You know what I mean,” he laughs waving his arm off like you said a joke. “Everyone knows," he says leaning in like he's about to share some juicy gossip. "I heard from Iris, who heard from Janice, who heard Winnie talking to Glenn, that apparently Cairo sabotaged your presentation last week so she could take over your clients." He finished cautiously.

Of course you knew what he meant by whole thing. Everyone in your department—Writing and Communications, knew that you and Cairo Sweet were both sworn enemies. Joining the company at the same time, in the same position, had practically set the stage for it—like fate had decided you were destined to clash.

What surprised you is that the tale of you and her had reached other departments. And considering the fact that this was the third person tonight to bring up Cairo to you, it was clear your dislike for each other hadn't gone unnoticed by anyone in the company.

As the IT guy rambled on about something, your eyes finally found what you were looking for. There she was: Cairo Sweet, standing at the top of the grand staircase. Draped in a perfectly tailored red dress that hugged her figure just right, she descended the steps with an effortless grace, completely aware to the sea of male coworkers now openly gawking at her.

You tugged at your red tie, the fabric suddenly feeling too tight against your collar, and scoffed under your breath. “Someone clearly mistook ‘holiday party’ for the Met Gala. Totally unprofessional,” you muttered, the sneer in your voice unmistakable.

“I think she looks incredible,” the IT guy said, glancing at you with a grin.

You shot him a sharp side-eye and rolled your eyes for good measure before scanning the room again. Cairo had disappeared from view, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of irritation as you tried to pinpoint where she’d gone.

Knowing where she was meant knowing where to avoid.

“Seriously, though,” the IT guy continued, oblivious to your distraction. “You two really know how to keep everyone entertained. I mean, the banter, the glares—it’s like you’re living in a rom-com, only without the romance part.”

You snorted, finally tearing your gaze away from the crowd. “You sure are right about that. There’s nothing romantic about Sweet. She’s all ego and sabotage wrapped in a designer dress.”

The IT guy just shrugged, clearly amused. “If you say so. Anyways, good luck with that promotion. Looks like she’s already working the room.” He pointed toward the bar, where Cairo was now standing, chatting animatedly with a group of senior managers.

You clenched your jaw, the sight of her effortless charm setting you on edge. Of course, she was already playing the game. Cairo Sweet didn’t just show up—she made sure everyone noticed her.

Determined not to let her get under your skin, you grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server and made your way across the room. You weren’t about to let her win tonight.

But just as you reached the edge of the bar, Cairo turned, her sharp gaze locking onto yours like a heat-seeking missile. Her lips curved into a smirk, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with tension.

“Y/n,” she greeted smoothly, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “Enjoying the party?”

“Trying to,” you shot back, your voice laced with sarcasm. “Though it’s hard to relax when certain people keep making everything about them.”

Her smirk widened, and she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just enough for only you to hear. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, you know.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, your colleague and best friend Glenn’s voice cut in.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, you two,” he said, stepping between you with a grin. “Can’t you at least pretend to get along for one night? It’s the holidays.”

“Tell that to her,” you said, jerking your thumb toward Cairo.

“Please,” Cairo scoffed, crossing her arms. “If anyone needs a lesson in playing nice, it’s you.”

Glenn laughed, clearly unfazed by the tension. “Classic you two. Anyway, don’t let me interrupt. Just thought I’d enjoy the show while it lasts.”

As Glenn stepped away, Cairo leaned in again, her eyes glinting with something you’ve seen countless times. “Careful, Y/n. Keep glaring at me like that, and people might think you actually care.”

With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there, your champagne untouched and your pulse racing.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate her, you sure spend a lot of time looking for her,” Glenn says turning around and rejoining the conversation, holding a drink in one hand and his trademark grin on full display.

You groaned internally. Of course, Glenn had to watch that interaction. Your best friend always had a knack for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. “Don’t start,” you muttered, shooting him a warning look.

“What? I’m just saying,” He teased, leaning casually against the nearby bar. “First thing you do when you walk into a room is look for her. It’s like clockwork.”

“I wasn’t looking for her,” you lied, adjusting your tie again.

Glenn barked out a laugh. “Right. And I’m next in line for CEO. Come on, admit it—you love the drama. You and Cairo going at it is like some kind of soap opera for this office. My sister says even her team takes bets on who’s gonna snap first.”

You rolled your eyes, though your stomach twisted at the mention of Winnie. Of course, Glenn’s sister would be involved— Cairo and Winnie were practically inseparable. And if Winnie was anything—she was observant. If Winnie was running her mouth about you and Cairo, then there was no telling what kind of nonsense the office was spinning.

“Winnie doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” you said firmly.

Glenn raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure she doesn’t. Look, I get it. Cairo can be... intense. But you’ve gotta admit, she keeps you on your toes. Maybe that’s why you’re so obsessed with hating her.”

“Obsessed?” you repeated, incredulous. “I’m not obsessed. She’s just—”

“Here we go,” Glenn interrupted with a grin, gesturing for you to continue. “Let me guess. She’s arrogant, competitive, impossible to work with—did I miss anything?”

You scowled, crossing your arms. “She’s all of that and more. Trust me, if I could avoid her, I would.”

Your friend smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Uh-huh. Sure. But you’d be bored out of your mind without her around. Admit it, she makes things interesting.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat as your eyes found Cairo again. She was across the room now, laughing at something Winnie said, her smile lighting up the space around her.

Glenn followed your gaze and let out a low whistle. “Man, if that’s what hatred looks like, then sign me up.”

You tore your eyes away, glaring at him. “Shut up, G.”

He just laughed, clapping you on the shoulder. “Whatever you say, buddy. But if there's something else going on,” he winks, "Then feel free to confide in me."

You shook your head, as he walked off looking to network with someone that could probably make him the next CEO. You gave up on the champagne and flag the bartender down to make you something stronger.

The bartender, a sharp-eyed woman with a no-nonsense air, approached with a towel slung over her shoulder. She tilted her head, her lips quirking in an amused smile as she set a tumbler in front of you. "Let me guess—bad night already?"

You sighed, resting your elbows on the bar. "You have no idea."

As she mixed your drink, she glanced at you, her brow lifting. "You’re Y/n, right?"

You froze. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

She leaned closer, dropping her voice conspiratorially. "I’ve heard the whispers. You and Sweet." Her lips pulled into a smirk. "You guys really hate each other that much, or is it just for show?"

You groaned, rubbing a hand over your face. "Seriously? Even the bartender knows?"

She laughed, sliding your drink across the bar. "Hey, I’ve got ears. And let me tell you, office gossip is way more entertaining than the soap operas my grandma used to watch. People are saying it’s like the ultimate rivalry. You know, ‘will they or won’t they.’"

"It’s a ‘won’t they,’" you muttered, taking a sip of your drink. "Definitely a ‘won’t they.’"

The bartender shrugged, unconvinced. "If you say so. But honestly, you two sound like you’re either gonna kill each other or..." She trailed off, her smirk widening.

"Don’t even finish that sentence," you warned, pointing at her with your glass, looking around you for prying ears.

She chuckled, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll drop it. For now."

As you took another sip, you glanced down the bar and froze. There she was—Cairo—leaning casually against the counter, her red dress shimmering under the dim lights. Beside her, some overly confident guy was clearly trying his luck, gesturing animatedly as he spoke. Cairo’s smile didn’t falter, but you could tell from the way her body angled slightly away from him that she wasn’t interested.

Your grip on the glass tightened.

The bartender, noticing your shift in attention, followed your gaze. "Ah, there she is. The infamous Cairo. Gotta admit, she’s got style."

The bartender then noticed her pushy company. "Looks like someone’s got her hands full."

You rolled your eyes, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp. "Yeah, well, she can handle it."

"Sure she can," the bartender said with a smirk. "But you’re still watching, aren’t you?"

You ignored the comment, setting the empty glass on the counter. "Thanks for the drink," you said curtly before standing and adjusting your tie.

Your focus already zeroed in on the scene unfolding at the other end of the bar. You knew more than anything that Cairo could handle this situation herself, but your legs had a mind of their own.

By the time you reached her, just as you’d predicted, the guy was already retreating, his shoulders slumping with dejection. Cairo’s sharp gaze followed him for a second before shifting to you. Her expression softened, ever so slightly, but her voice remained crisp.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Y/l/n?" she asked, tilting her head.

You slid into the space the guy had just vacated, leaning casually against the bar. "Just doing my civic duty. Looked like you were stuck with a walking HR complaint."

Cairo smirked, a flicker of amusement crossing her face. "And here I thought you were avoiding me tonight. How uncharacteristic of you."

You shrugged, signaling to the bartender for another drink. "Not everything’s about you, Sweet. I was thirsty."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, a playful glint hidden beneath her usual sharpness. "Right. And yet, here you are, conveniently stationed right next to me."

The bartender slides you another drink.

You met her gaze, holding it for a beat longer than necessary. "If you want to believe the universe keeps throwing us together, who am I to argue?"

"Well," she said, her voice quieter but no less cutting, "the universe must have a cruel sense of humor."

You smirked, setting your glass down. "Or it just knows how much fun we have hating each other."

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "You have no idea."

Before you could respond, someone from your team called her name from across the room. Cairo straightened, her professional mask sliding back into place with ease.

"Looks like I’m needed," she said, her tone light but her eyes lingering on yours for just a moment too long.

"Don’t let me keep you," you said, stepping aside.

As she walked away, you couldn’t help but watch her go, the familiar mix of emotions churning in your chest.

————

The evening progressed with a blur of polite conversation and forced laughs as you navigated the crowd. Glenn eventually found you again, dragging you toward a smaller room just off the main ballroom where some of the younger employees, including Winnie, had apparently decided to congregate.

“Come on, Y/n, this is where the real party’s happening,” Glenn said, grinning as he pulled you along.

The room was cozier than the grand ballroom, with dim lighting and a more relaxed vibe. People were sprawled on couches, perched on armrests, or standing in clusters, laughing and chatting over drinks. The hum of conversation was punctuated by bursts of laughter as someone commanded the group with an animated story.

You scanned the room, and your stomach flipped when you spotted Cairo sitting comfortably on the armrest of a couch, a drink in hand and a look of mild amusement on her face as she listened to whatever Winnie was telling. Great. Of course she was here.

“Y/n!” Winnie called out, spotting you and immediately waving you over. “Come join us. We were just talking about your legendary showdown with Cairo last month.”

You rolled your eyes as Glenn shoved you toward the group. “Can we not?” you muttered, but it was too late.

Cairo’s gaze flicked to you, her expression unreadable, but you swore there was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

The evening wore on, and the atmosphere grew increasingly relaxed as more drinks flowed. Someone turned on music, and a few people started dancing in the center of the room. Glenn, ever the life of the party, was in his element, cracking jokes and keeping everyone entertained.

Then, out of nowhere, someone shouted, “Mistletoe!”

The room fell silent as heads turned, eyes scanning for the culprits. You froze, your gaze darting up instinctively. There it was—dangling innocently from the ceiling above you. And of course when you turn to see who had occupied the space behind you—Cairo.

“Oh, this is too good,” Glenn said, his grin so wide it practically split his face. “Y/n and Cairo, under the mistletoe? This is golden.”

Winnie’s laughter rang out, and someone else whistled. “Rules are rules, you two!”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as the room erupted into cheers and chants of, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Cairo, ever composed, arched an eyebrow at you, her lips quirking into a half-smile that only you could see.

You swallowed, your heart hammering in your chest as every eye in the room bore into you. There was no escape, no snarky comment that could deflect this situation.

“Oh, come on, guys. I’m not trying to deal with HR on Monday,” you said with a dry laugh, taking a small step back from Cairo and the mistletoe.

From the crowd, Glenn’s voice rang out, loud and clear, “Boo! Loser! HR’s not invited to this party!”

The room erupted into laughter and cheers, with someone else shouting, “Yeah, live a little, Y/n!”

Before you could respond, Cairo rolls her eyes, and sighs dramatically like what she's about to do will take the life out of her. "I guess we can't break tradition."

And then her lips brushed yours in a soft, little more than corporate friendly, fleeting, yet enough to send a spark through your entire body kiss. The room erupted into cheers and whoops as she pulled back, her expression unreadable.

You immediately wiped your lips as Cairo turned on her heel and walked away into the crowd, leaving you standing there, dazed and entirely unsure of what the hell just happened.

You blinked, still rooted to the spot, before your feet carried you instinctively toward Glenn and Winnie. Glenn’s face lit up the moment he saw you, his mouth opening to unleash whatever snarky comment was brewing.

“Don’t,” you snapped sharply, holding up a hand, your voice laced with a warning edge that made him laugh even harder.

Winnie raised her glass in mock salute, biting back a grin. “What? No post-mistletoe debrief?”

You groaned, rubbing a hand down your face. “I hate both of you.”

Glenn smirked. “Sure you do, buddy. Sure you do.”

————

Moments later in a dimly lit private room in the venue, the faint thrum of the music from the party outside is barely audible through the thick walls. Cairo’s hands are tangled in your hair, her touch possessive and demanding as her back presses against the edge of a table. Her lips are on yours, urgent and searing, leaving no space for hesitation.

You gasp softly, breaking away just long enough to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. Cairo’s dark eyes lock onto yours, her flushed face illuminated by the faint glow of fairy lights strung along the walls.

“You didn’t have to look that disgusted when you kissed me,” she breathes, her voice low but edged with challenge.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you tease, lips quirking into a smirk. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

Her expression hardens playfully, and before you can react, she grabs your red tie—the one you deliberately wore to match with her dress. She tightens it just enough around her fist to make you stumble closer—and pulls you into a kiss that obliterates any thought of teasing. It’s heated, raw, and dripping with hours of pent-up tension. Her nails rake lightly against the back of your neck as her other hand fists the fabric of your shirt, holding you close like she can’t bear to let go.

Your hands find her waist, fingers digging into the silky fabric of her dress as you kiss her back with equal fervor, pouring every ounce of your secret into the moment. The world outside could have been burning to the ground, and neither of you would have noticed.

When you finally pull away for air, your forehead rests against hers, both of you panting. A grin spreads across your face as you take in her disheveled hair and swollen lips. “Think anyone suspects us after that kiss under the mistletoe?”

Cairo shakes her head slightly, her lips barely an inch from yours. “Not a chance,” she murmurs, her voice a mix of satisfaction and mischief. “They’re too busy thinking we hate each other.”

“Good,” you reply, your grin turning sly as you capture her lips again. This time, the kiss is slower but no less passionate, a promise that this secret, this fire between you, is yours alone.

For now.

Taglist: @cobaltperun @machyishere @freakshow2501 @nwestra @mcchicken88 @101rizzlrr @snowdrop1026 @ilovesneezing069 @btay3115 @burntoutghost

[mastcrmarksman]

Being the mostly by the book security chief that this ship deserved and needed was hard. It's not the hardest thing, something something the profoundness of looking into one's self, gazing at their deepest ugliest wound and trying to heal it; quitting from the rot he caused to himself. That is the hardest thing and crawling back after relapse. The amount of paperwork and protocol, the need to straighten his boot laces and try to do things in a halfway place between Spock and Kirk and McCoy was hard, harder than most.

Getting Kirk to sign off on Clint's telling him NO was the hardest thing today and the scariest was going to Janice with his tail between his legs, begging for her help. She's impressive, clearly way underpaid and could probably be in some bigwig higher adminstrative position. Clint won't say that to her, if only because something tells him that if they lost Janice; her job posiition would be hard to fill with anyone other than her.

❝ Trust me, you should have seen his notes on it. ❞ She also should have listened in on the two iowans late hour chats, with Jim trying to sweet talk Clint his way. It almost worked, it always almost worked (has worked). There's a hopeful look that Janice will help figure out how to soften this no; because it was a NO.

There's a groan when she mentions to rewrite this; office time was what this job really entitled and most of them knew how stellar (not) his essays were during his academy years. Playing catch up with the finer jargon that was Starfleet approriate ate up his time. ❝ That, Janny, is why you're the best! I owe you something, BIG! ❞ He's already got the proposal he could make for this revision to sweeten Janice's delivery.

❝ You name it! ❞

𝚜𝚑𝚎       𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳       𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎  𝚑𝚒𝚖.       𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜  𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚕𝚢  the  vibe  she  goes  for.       scary,       but  somehow  approachable  when  needed.       as  soon  as  the  CSO  is  in  her  view  with  that  almost  apologetic  expression,       she  takes  a  deep  breath  to  get  herself  in  a  perfectly  relaxed  position.       ❝          hi  Clint.          ❞       she  greets  him,       ignoring  the  variation  of  her  name.       she’s  fully  immersed  in  the  problem  Barton  presents  her.       a  disapproving  ‘tsk’  hits  the  roof  of  her  palate  while  scanning  the  document's  contents.      

❝          do  you  seriously  think  he  will  sign  it       ?       it  says  in       BOLD       that  it  is  against  protocol.       breaking  protocol  is  part  of  his       IDENTITY.       he  must  have  hated  reading this.          ❞       the  blonde  sighs,       wondering  how  they  can’t  see  such  an  obvious  mistake.

oh  well,       this  way,       she  has  a       JOB       on  the  ship.      

❝          okay,       𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜  𝚘𝚞𝚛  𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗  𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗       :       take  this  back  and  have  it  rewritten  to  emphasize  the  danger  it  poses  to  the  Enterprise  and  its  crew.       then  make  a  proposal  that  you       CAN       get  clearance  for  —  any  security  proposal,       it  doesn’t  matter  what  it  is.       attach  it  to  the  end  of  your  revised  copy.       i’ll  use  it  to  appease  him.          ❞       she  needs  to  come  up  with  something  to  compliment  the  captain  with  too,       or  give  cute  news  about  his  wife  before  the  conversation.       she  hands  the  document  back.       ❝          easy  enough       ?       find  me  when  you’re  ready.          ❞

[angelwiththeblue-box]

most insane lines from pibe that i havent stopped thinking about

when the problems run up youre running away (humpty dumpty)

try that door that doors locked try that door that doors locked all the doors are locked- hope to see your sister on the other side (murk of merkmere)

"michealangelo, we need your help" "cowabunga" (whimsy on wheels)

and put myself on a shelf but i called it a rafter and i laid on my back and i painted a ceiling can you relate to that? (whimsy on wheels)

is it a real crush or am i crushing on a crush (mallapalooza)

and when i look at you or our other friends, i think i don't really care what happens as long as it never ends (mallapalooza)

if i didn't fight for every crumb i ate i would end up bereft of life (animal style)

and it can be hard to be incredible when sometimes you wanna be fine, yes im janice wood but i wanna take my time i don't want to be great i just wanna be good (trade school musical 2)

FUCK YEAH SHES TALKING BOUT ARTISINAL ICE (trade school musical 2)

can we make this part short the part where we don't talk and can we make this part sweet the part where we finally come back and meet (bonus points for can we move past can we move past can we move past) (backwards compatible)

everytime jess/mary says huge wrong (backwards compatible)

hey windella learn about me girl! (heebie jeebies)

socrates gets on his knees when he sees a fellow with my finesse and ease (heebie jeebies)

ill tell my story it doesnt have be gory it doesnt have to be boring ill tell my own story tell your own story (heebie jeebies)

[mxflowercheck]

Erica Ortegas and Christine Chapel are besties, a lot of people think they're dating or one of them has a crush on the other. NO. Very platonic besties for many years. They kissed once. It was like Janice and Damian kissing in the end of Mean Girls.

Erica: ..not to like. offend you. but that was awful

Christine: god YES i am happy you agree

Erica: chips, ice cream, the shittiest romcom they have in the cinema now?

Christine: yeah, let's go, and i will tell you about my latest date!

Erica: i feel the "that bastard" somewhere in the story

[lokis-army-77]

Left behind

Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 1884

After a funeral, Eddie feels he's being left alone and says some hurtful things to the reader. After some time apart at home, he comes to apologize and is assured by the reader that she will never leave him.

Warning: Talk of death, at a funeral, angst, fluff, Eddie says some mean things.

A/N: I'm so sorry..

Masterlist

The wind whipped around us and the chill it brought stung like ice. My cheeks had already started to turn pink from the cold, my nose numb and as red as could be. A December afternoon in Indiana is a dreary thing, put a funeral on top of it and it's the physical manifestation of Depression. 

I stood just behind Eddie, who was dressed in his only suit with his long hair pulled back in a bun out of his face. My own black dress clung to me in the wind, the bottom hem whipping around at my knees. 

The pastor provided by the funeral home spoke in a bored and monotonous tone, by this point I had drowned him out. I was too concerned for Eddie right now to worry about being led to christ while we buried a loved one. 

He was hiding it well. No emotion showing on his beautiful face. His eyes almost glazed over as he bored a hole into the casket. 

It was a simple thing, the cheapest we could afford. Grey aluminum with the smallest casket spray on top. Those flowers weren't even the nicest and the wind was doing a number on the soft white petals. 

Quietly, I placed my hand on Eddie's shoulder, letting him know I was there for him. I felt him stiffen before reluctantly pulling my hand away. 

Looking around us, only a hand full of people were gathered. A few guys who worked at the plant and a waitress from the diner we visited almost every Saturday morning. 

They all gave me sad smiles when they caught my eye. I gave them one back. 

I hadn’t noticed the preacher had stopped talking until a hand was cupping my own. Turning around it was the waitress. 

"Saturday mornings sure aren't gonna be the same without him." She squeezed my hand. "I've got a casserole with your name on it, just come on by the diner and I'll bring it out to you." 

I shook my head. "No, no, Mrs. Janice, that's too much. You didn't have to do that." 

"Oh Hun, you shouldn't have to worry about cooking or finding food when you're going through a loss." She pouted. "Come on by and I'll give it to you and if you need any more, just give me a call." 

"Yes ma'am. Thank you."  I gave her a tight smile and she left. 

Next were the three plant workers who introduced themselves as, Randy, Carl, and Jimmy. They gave their condolences as they shook my hand before taking off. 

The Pastor was last. "Mrs. Munson," he started. I only nodded not wanting to correct him on the fact that I wasn't married to Eddie yet, only engaged. "They are going to start lowering the casket. I don't know if you want to watch that but you can if you would like." 

"Thank you, I think we might." 

"Well then, I'll be on my way. I'm very sorry for your loss." He turned on his heel and followed the others through the cemetery to where all the vehicles had been parked. 

I went back to Eddie, who hadn’t moved to talk to anyone. 

"Eddie, sweetheart, why don't we go? Hum?" I linked my arm with his. 

He didn't budge when I pulled on his arm so I stood there with him as he stared and I watched the men begin to lower the casket into the ground and shovel the mound of dirt back into the hole. 

Once they were finished and gone we still stayed standing, looking at the grave with the casket spray decorating the dirt. It was getting colder by the minute since the sun was starting to set and Eddie still hadn't given any sign that he wasn't a statue. 

"Eddie?" I question, going to stand in front of him, eyes searching his face. "Eddie please, I need you to say something, move, anything." I couldn’t hide the wobble of worry coming through in my voice. 

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, then closed it again. 

"Want me to give you a minute alone?" He nodded. "Okay. I'll be in the car when you're ready to go." 

Slowly I let go of him and braced myself against the wind towards the car. Slipping into the passenger seat, I hurriedly turned the key and started the ignition, thankful for the heater. 

Ten minutes later, Eddie opens the driver's side door. The rush of cold air taking away the warmth had me shivering once again. 

He sat quietly for a few seconds before suddenly slamming his hand shown onto the steering wheel. 

"Fuck!" 

I jumped, startled at his outburst. That was the only sign of emotion he had shown since this morning. 

"Fuck! fuck! fuck!" Each shout was emphasized by him hitting the wheel. 

"Eds, be careful, don't want you hurting yourself." 

I reached over pushing his hands down into his lap. His breathing had become rapid and his eyes were no longer glossed over. The haze cleared up and nothing but anger shone through. 

"Why do I keep being left alone?" 

I place my hand on his shoulder and rub my thumb into the tissue. "What do you mean, baby?" 

"Everyone fucking leaves me all alone at some point or another. First, it was my old man, then mom died, and now Wayne." His words were warped with anger and frustration. "You'll probably leave me too. You might at well go now while I'm already in pain. Rip my heart out while it's already broken, it would be better than leading me on." 

I shook my head at his words. "Eddie, what are you saying? I'm not going to leave you, ever." 

He looks up at me, eyes rimmed in red as tears he's been holding in for days begin to pour. 

"Didn't you fucking hear me? Everyone always leaves me." The crack in his voice was only the beginning of Eddie’s breakdown. "I'm just a worthless kid from a worthless family and if you knew any better you would run like hell." 

"Eddie don't say that, please. I know it's hard right now but we'll get through this." I tried to comfort him but I didn't know what to say. 

"That's easy for you to say, Wayne wasn't your Uncle. He didn't take care of you when you were dropped off at his doorstep because your dad was an abusive asshole and your mother had you get you away from him. He didn't struggle, morning, day, and night just to keep you fed and let himself starve. He wasn’t yours then and he’s not yours now." 

Eddies hand came up to swat mine away from him and when he did I placed it in my lap. Too stunned by his words to speak I just sat quietly. 

I thought to myself, He doesn't mean to be rude. The man who raised him just died. He needs time and space. He doesn't mean it. 

We sit in silence while Eddie drives us back to our apartment. I fiddle my thumbs and sneak careful glances over at him. Silent tears streamed down his face and my fingers itched to wipe them from his cheeks. My heart ached at the sight of him barely holding it together.

“Eddie, maybe I should drive?” The statement came out more as a question as I watched him struggle to stay on one side of the road. 

“No.” It came out in a rasp then he cleared his throat. “No, I’m fine. I always drive.” 

He wiped the tears from his eyes and stepped on the gas more. After that, the drive went more smoothly. No more veering into the other lane or stopping too long at a red light turned green. 

Finally home we went inside. The darkness added to the somber mood and the quietness rang in my ears. 

“I’m gonna heat up some dinner, okay?” I spoke, heading into the kitchen to take the leftovers out of the fridge. 

Eddie only grunted in response, kicking off his nice shoes and languidly undoing his tie. I listened to him slowly walking to our room before the door clicked shut. 

As I stood there, the refrigerator door wide open, I let the slip. A choked cry erupted from my chest and my hands came up suddenly to cover my mouth. I had wanted to be strong for Eddie, a shoulder he could come cry on if he needed, a support for him to fall on.  But honestly, I was almost as broken as he was. 

Wayne might not have been related to me but when Eddie and I became the best of friends in Junior High, he took me right in. He had looked after me like I had wanted my own father too. He’s the one that finally talked some sense into Eddie and I, separately, and made us realize we liked one another. 

None of that was equivalent to what he had with Eddie but what Eddie had said to me in the car had stung and although I knew it was coming from a place of grief, I couldn’t help but cry. 

Staggering back into the counter, I slid down them to the floor, head hanging into my knees as I let myself weep, body shaking. It felt good to cry even if my face began to feel puffy and my throat had a huge lump in it. 

I don’t know how long I stayed like that, but when the fridge door finally closed and a warm body sat next to me on the kitchen floor, I realized that my body ached from being there and my tears had all but dried up. 

Eddie slung his arm over my back, pulling me in closer to him, his other hand smoothed back my hair, fingers catching in the knots. 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He apologized. 

“It’s okay,” I mumbled into my legs. “You were just letting out your emotions.” 

“Even so, I shouldn't have said what I did. It was unfair of me.” He sniffled. 

Looking up my puffy swollen face met his and I gave him a short sorrowful smile. He gave me one back. 

“Eddie, truly, you don't have to apologize.” I sit up and lean into him. “I should have just given you some space.” 

He shook his head but didn’t reply, I think he knew arguing with me would yield nothing. We held each other on the floor for a while longer before finally I stood to my feet, reached down for his hand, and pulled him up. 

“I love you Eddie Munson and I promise I will never leave you.” I gently lace my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, he had let it down from its bun at some point, and pulled him down to my lips. Kissing him like this, soft and sweet and full of all the love I could give, felt wonderful. Like being cleansed of all your worry and strife with white-hot fire. 

“God, you’re too good for me Sweetheart. I really don’t know what I would do without you.” He pulled away, cupping my face in his hands. 

“You won’t ever have to find out.”

[etapereine]

It is fire's nature to strive upward

Mathieu van der Poel, 2024 Paris-Roubaix (Gruber Images) | Dictionary.com | Remco Evenepoel, 2022 Liège-Bastogne-Liège (Gruber Images) | Jonas Vingegaard, 2022 Tour de France Stage 11 (Team Jumbo Visma) | "Fire and Ice" (Robert Frost) | Tadej Pogačar, 2023 Tour de France Stage 9 (Gruber Images) | Jonas Vingegaard, 2023 Tour de France Stage 17 (Gruber Images) | Fire Weather: A True Story from a Hotter World (John Vaillant) | Felix Gall, 2023 Tour de France Stage 17 (Marco Bertorello/AFP/Getty Images) | Tour de France: Unchained, Episode 4 | Mathieu van der Poel, 2023 UCI Road World Championships (Gruber Images) | "Horses" (Wendell Berry) | Dictionary.com | Marc Soler and Tadej Pogačar, 2023 Tour de France Stage 17 (Gruber Images) | "Horses" (Wendell Berry) | Giulio Ciccone, 2023 Tour de France Stage 14 (Marco Bertorello/Getty Images) | Tadej Pogačar, 2023 Tour de France Stage 9 (UAE Team Emirates) | "Tour de France races on to Carcassonne despite 40°C heatwave" (CyclingNews) | Dictionary.com | Jonas Vingegaard, 2022 Tour de France Stage 13 (Tim de Waele/Getty Images) | "Tour de France races on to Carcassonne despite 40°C heatwave" (CyclingNews) | "Soaring temperatures turn up the heat on Tour de France peloton: ‘It was a furnace’" (Velo Magazine) | "Tour de France 2022 Climate-Related Risks" (Janice Kai Chen/Washington Post) | Tom Pidcock, 2022 Tour de France Stage 14 (Gruber Images) | Romain Bardet, 2022 Tour de France Stage 17 (Gruber Images) | "Soaring temperatures turn up the heat on Tour de France peloton: ‘It was a furnace’" (Velo Magazine) | Gilberto Simoni, 2004 Tour de France Stage 17 (Doug Pensinger/Getty Images)

[indigospyder]

Since my post has reached DOUBLE the notes I was expecting (tysm btw), I’ll get to work on drawing Miss Janice “On Ice” Smith, AND show my drawing of Leonardo and Randal that I’ve been doing for shits and giggles.

… once I’m done coloring it ofc

[rhapsodynew]

The friendship of Grace Slick and Janis Joplin

Girls with the same radical missions have become kindred spirits, instead of being competitors. They both proved that women can not only keep up with men in the music industry, but also surpass them in many ways.

Little is known about the friendship of the blues star and the Jefferson Airplane soloist, but judging by the remaining stories, she was close and strong. For example, in the recently released book Janis Joplin: Days & Summers, today's birthday girl Grace recalls Joplin's amazing vocal gift:

"Janice was a wonderful, witty wild woman who drank just like me—straight out of a pint. Why waste time on glasses? Like Otis Redding, it was simply impossible to turn away when she was on stage. She stamped her feet, shook her hair, and went from a whisper to a real scream in a split second... I didn't want to listen to anyone after her."

She talked about their friendship in 2019 in an interview for Uncut magazine:

"People who write books really misunderstand Janice. The woman I knew giggled, she laughed so much, and she was fun. Very noisy, very outspoken, very funny. Texas women tend to be like that. Everyone called us fire and ice. I was ice, and she was fire. But I think she's more of a symbol of those times than I am. She had more style. I have a normal voice, but she really went beyond it."

Ice and fire were such a prominent tandem in the hippie era that a line from Fleetwood Mac's 1982 song "Gypsy" is even dedicated to their friendship. Kristin McVie mentions the Velvet Underground clothing store in San Francisco, where she often saw the couple.

Joplin and Slick have few videos left together, and one of them is their performance at a rock festival in California in 1968

[wt-nv-quotes]

Of course, Janice is a young woman, not a kid anymore, but no one’s too old for ice cream. Esteban just adores ice cream. His favorite flavor at the moment is Nacho Cheese. Just like his dad. Me, I mean. Carlos’s favorite flavor is Cool Ranch.

[squoxle]

✏ TNAIT: Pilot l.at fanfic

➢ pairing: none | wc: 400 | cw: profanity, jokes of death | plot: intro

Not to sound like an overdramatic, hormonal teenager, but my life is so over.

Everything was perfect. I had my friends, my prestige, and my parents' respect. I was on the path to obtaining my degree and enjoying every minute of my college years. But since the beginning of this stupid semester, it has been one thing after another.

Initially, I spent hours studying my ass off, but outside of that I never had time for anything else...

Wake up. Study. Practice. Go home. Study some more. Go to sleep.

Fucking Groundhog Day...every day...

So to keep me sane, I started to do whatever I wanted and my coursework was put on the back burner. Sure, I've been able to actually hang out with my friends, but my grades look like shit.

And midterm reports will be uploaded today. My parents are gonna fucking bury me alive.

Introducing the small friend group that will likely attend my funeral.

[ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ]

ɴᴀᴍᴇ: Abigail Amelia Grant (or just Abby)

ᴀɢᴇ: 19...until August

ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ: Beautiful, blonde, perfect body

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ: Sometimes toxic, mostly sweet, lowkey in love with Jake -- a.k.a. your number 1 best friend

ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴜꜱ: Horny...

[ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ]

ɴᴀᴍᴇ: Xoey (can't remember her middle name) García

ᴀɢᴇ: 20

ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ: Long chocolate brown hair with bleached bangs, big brown eyes with a mole directly under the right one

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ: Fiesty, can come off as bitchy, but that's just the way she is -- she also had a threesome with Jake.

ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴜꜱ: I honestly don't know...she's kinda hard to read.

[ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ]

ɴᴀᴍᴇ: Nova Diamond Moore

ᴀɢᴇ: 18

ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ: Curly hair, face like a baby (also her nickname), and thick in the humblest way

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ: Sweet as hell and usually pretty silly, until it's time to be serious of course

ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴜꜱ: Hungry -- she asked if we could go out for ice cream later...too bad I have a family dinner to attend.

[ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ]

ɴᴀᴍᴇ: Janice Fatima Jones (sometimes we call her JJ)

ᴀɢᴇ: 21

ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ: Shoulder-length wavy black hair, can't really distinguish her ethnicity...but I know her dad is white

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ: Can be uncomfortably formal at times, but she's usually pretty chill. Don't expect to find her at a party though, her dad is kinda the dean of this university.

ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴜꜱ: Neutral -- that's what she said when I asked lol

[ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ]

ɴᴀᴍᴇ: Sim Jaeyun (we just call him Jake)

ᴀɢᴇ: 21 until November

ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ: Cute, sexy puppy -- Abby's words, not mine.

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ: Goofy, sweet, and UGH! I can't even say it -- Abby's words, not mine.

ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴜꜱ: Missing me -- Abby's words, not mine.

Well...hopefully whatever happens tonight doesn't actually end my life...

(I know it's a day early, but I couldn't wait any longer :\)

Thanks for reading this little intro to my series. [Series Masterlist]

Click this link to go to my main masterlist and stay tuned for the next episodes.

CURRENT TAGLIST: @chlorinecake @addictedtohobi @nikisdubblchococake @laylasbunbunny @urfavberry @antonitty @billiondollarworth @meowbini

[thatbanditqueen]

A Basic Training Snippet

Life has been very cruel and gotten between me and my favorite pastime... writing delusional scenarios in which I, I mean my original characters, dated Elvis Presley. So I thought for fun I would just share a very short snippet from the chapter of Basic Training I am working on, in which Elvis invites Bess to spend the weekend with him in Waco at the house of his friend, DJ and TV host Eddie Fadal.

This is very rough, I am not sure if it sounds like Elvis, I need to go back through it once I finish the chapter. I haven't even had anyone alpha this. However, I had at one point told @be-my-ally I would participate in the writing prompt "weather" and post Sunday (yesterday) and so this is my very pathetic attempt to just post something that at least mentions weather in passing...

If you want to read or catch up on this WIP you can find it here

“Well, you know I’m mainly a legs and ass man, through and through, but boy oh boy, Bessie is stacked. I tell ya what. Fa sho. I don’t know how it's possible, but they’re even bigger when you got ‘em in ya hands. Why you nodding Lamar, you ain’t ever gotten to second base, quit lyin.”

The rain had stopped by the time Bess opened her eyes again to find the bed empty, though she could still hear the drip drop of water through the hole. There it was, like an inverted nipple in the middle of the new glossy pink wall, a perfect round sphere with layers of drywall caved in around the edges where the firework had shot through. The smell of cigarettes wafted in from outside, along with a set of men's voices.  Bess was about to call to them when she heard Elvis say the word “Anita.”

There was laughter, then the sound of slaps and skids along concrete, as if a scuffle had broken out, followed by more laughter.

“Shit, but you’re wrong, Rex, cuz there are really only two types of girls. See, with ‘Nita, she is a good girl, but she puts it all on the table. If I’m happy, she’s happy, that’s all she wants. She let's it all hang out. All I gotta do is look at her and smile and she’s gonesville. But then, then there are the ones who keep it all tied up. You know, you saw it Lamar, when I come down here, Anita was ballin her damn eyes out. Now Bess, Bess’d never let you see her cry. Not if she can halp it. She plays it cool. But when you touch her you can feel her vibrating underneath that ice, jus enough to know her motor's running. And boy, when you get it going, what a motor. When she cries out, man, you know ya really earned it. Know what I mean?" 

There was some muffled laughter, and Bess couldn’t quite hear everything, but what she did hear made her face flush a deep crimson red.

“Oh, well I found out last night.  I swear, Bess tastes so fresh and sweet, I know I’m the first guy she let touch her.”

“Nah, a college girl?”

“What do you know, huh, lardass? Reckon I been with seventy five, no, I mean a hundred or more girls. Trust me, I know women, that girl spent college with her nose in her books.”

“Now you got your nose in her - OW - what the fuck?”

“I don’t wanna hear you talk bout her like that, got it?”

“But you just -”

“But you just, but you just, just mind ya goddamn manners.”

Bess sat there, unsure if she wanted to keep listening, but as she turned she was distracted by a dark set of eyes staring her from the doorway. She pulled the strap of her nightie up, and smoothed her hair back as she smiled at Janice Fadal.

“Mommy told me not to wake you up, so I’ve just been sitting here waiting. Ready to do my make up again?”

Bess nodded, relaxing as she stood and patted the little girl’s head.

“Sure, just let me get dressed, huh?’

Then Janice’s slick little tongue curved up and licked the bottom of Bess’ wrist.

“I don’t think you taste like ice cream at all. More like salt. “

*******************************************************************

more to come, let me know what you think....

@whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @lookingforrainbows @arrolyn1114 @moonchild-daniella @richardslady121 @ab4eva @i-r-i-n-a-a @eliseinmemphis @kingdomforapony @everythingelvispresley @dkayfixates @artlover8992 @freudianslumber @amydarcimarie @toreigh @18lkpeters @yynneessmons @ashtag6887 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @returntopresley @rjmartin11 @bigromansgirl @louisejoy86 @notstefaniepresley

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Fate is Definitely Drunk

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: fluff-ish, very meet cute if meet cute was more panicked and frozen in shock, cursing b/c I can’t write without cursing apparently

Word Count: 1,050

Summary: Everyone has the words their soulmate will first say to them written on their skin somewhere. You have the most average words in the known universe so you assume you’ll have a soulmate that matches that. Fate ain’t happy you underestimated her.

A/N: This is part of my marvel soulmate series. I did a whole thing. Sort of.

Soul marks were a funny thing. Mysterious. Unpredictable. Seemingly random. Science tried to understand it, but no matter how many studies they pushed out there never seemed to be a concrete answer. Some people referred to the marks as, ‘Scrawls of Fate’. That’s what it had to be, right? Fate pulling the strings, dragging people together, and creating happy endings or whatever.

You weren’t bitter.

And yes, that’s probably what bitter people said, but you were not bitter.

Not more than the average human at least.

You’ve seen dream couples meet because of the words on their skin. You had a friend in elementary school find her soulmate in the first grade. Yes, they got stuck with words said by their toddler selves, but they were stupid happy. You had just attended their wedding six months ago. It was sickeningly beautiful. Most of the couples you’ve seen get strung together were doing pretty well. Nothing special or crazy unique, but they were content.

That was the goal, right?

To be content.

Anything above that was just extra, and there was nothing wrong with extra, but if you walked around thinking the fates owed you extra then of course you’d be disappointed. That was your view of it at least. Even as a kid you never really got worked up over your words. They were simple, average, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a handful of other people in the world had the exact same mark as you coincidentally.

‘Terrible weather, huh?’

Your soul mark was literally the epitome of small talk. You’ve seen a lot worse though. A friend in high school had the words, ‘Fucking fish’ on their arm. You were still very curious as to how that would’ve come up in conversation. Maybe you needed to reach out to him later just to see if he had met his soulmate yet.

The sound of your name brought your eyes up from the table in surprise. The gaze of all the other brand-new interns were zoned in on you, and the only reason you remembered the initial ice-breaker question was because it had put you off on the tangent your brain got stuck on.

“Nope.” You shook your head quickly and offered the group a smile that you hoped was less awkward and more ‘happy to be here’, “No significant other at the moment.”

The group leader, your new boss, was a chirpy brunette named Janice who was living her best life right now. Her smile filled her entire face and she seemed to radiate sunshine. Which was cool for her, but you couldn’t imagine being that excited on a Monday morning unless you were on something.

“I was hoping Tim would be back by now.” Janice hummed, drumming her nails on the table, “I was gonna have him pick you guys up some coffee. Nothing like a caffeine boost before we move onto the program training.”

You raised a hand, “I’ll go grab us some coffee.”

“You will?” Janice beamed. “You’re a saint. Just tell the barista that I sent you.”

The group gave you their orders, that you jotted down into your phone, then you hurried out of the boardroom with a sigh of relief. It was nice to finally stretch your legs after being stuck in there for the last couple hours. Honestly, you were so thankful to have this job. You were just a low-level grunt working the mail room and answering phones, but you were a low-level grunt at Stark Industries. Everybody said that’d look fantastic on your resume and since you had no real future plans right now it seemed like a safe bet.

The coffee stand was on the first floor in the lobby and was packed. It took a good ten minutes just to get to the front of the line, but you weren’t in any kind of rush. You ordered the coffees then wandered off to the side to wait for them to be made. Your eyes drifted to the large lobby windows that were currently being pelted with rain. You loved storms. It was funny that rainy days brought you such comfort, but you always figured it tied into your soul mark. You were never actively hoping for anything, but maybe your subconscious just knew this would be the setting you’d find the one in.

The barista called out your name and you turned away from the view. You grabbed the drink carrier that had five cups balanced on it. Before going upstairs, you drifted a little closer to the front doors and paused for just another second to stare outside. The board room you were stuck in had no windows at all, and only this close to the door could you smell and hear the rain.

Someone stopped a couple steps to your left and you couldn’t help but look over at them as they undid the clasp holding their umbrella closed. It took two seconds for you to realize that the person standing beside you with their umbrella was Captain America. Your eyes widened in shock. He always looked so big and in charge on the news, and in person he was legitimately intimidating. Tall stature, broad shoulders, and God, he was good looking. As in, who the hell had the right to look so good so casually??

Captain America glanced at you, his blue eyes meeting your gaze, and though your brain screamed at you to look away and not stare like a frozen creeper, you couldn’t move a muscle. You just stood there looking like the idiot you felt like. He politely gave you a tiny nod and warm smile. Captain America motioned to the door, “Terrible weather, huh?”

You felt the words on your shoulder tingle and your jaw fell loose in disbelief. Captain America just gave you one more nod before walking to the door. He opened his umbrella and you lost sight of him out in the storm amongst all the other walking umbrellas.

Had he just…?

Had you just…?

The drink carrier slipped from your hands and five full cups of coffee hit the tiled floor causing a disaster at your feet. You couldn’t even register that people were looking at you or that the hot coffee had burned your through your pants’ leg or that you were now standing in a pool of caffeine.

You gasped, “Oh, fuck me.”

[next chapter]