#No Oxford comma for Edge

[alphabravohotel]

BP Fallon: What is your real-life dream.

Edge: To fulfill my potential, creatively, spiritually and intellectually. And see my kids, my family and friends do the same.

[whatthefishh]

Sativa

Rydal Keener x f!reader

Part of the Oxford Comma series

Warnings: drug use (weed), studying excessively, oral (f receiving), mentions of p in v sex, baby cow eyes.

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: this took me way longer than I intended to write, it’s been a really difficult time in my mind for me and to those who are waiting for requests / chapters of other fics ily for being patient with me ❤️ huge thanks to my lovely mutuals who helped me, especially @xbellaxcarolinax for reading it over several times 🌹 love you

The room was slowly filling with the distinct smell of marijuana, little puffs of air spilling from Rydal’s lips as he took yet another drag of his joint before he tried to proposition you again.

“Wanna take a break now? It’s not like you can absorb the information by just staring at the textbook. Doesn’t work that way.”

You only sigh in response.

“A little smoke might make all those theories seem a little less… theoretical, yknow?” He laughs at the end of his quip like he finds himself extremely amusing.

“Oh, you think me finally giving in to your bad influence will help me pass this exam? You really think that’s the best way to study right now? Really?”

“Not a bad influence, princess, just wanna help you relax,” Rydal says while pushing your hair over your shoulder from where he was lying on his side next to you.

Smacking his hand away, you huff in annoyance. This wasn’t the first time he’s offered it to you, and it was never pressuring. He offered because he offered everything to you, and this was just another one of those things. You didn’t mind the smell. It was just irritating when you were trying to study and were very clearly stressed.

Rydal had learned these concepts from childhood, the topics of discussion in class were the same ones he’d have with his family at dinner, with his father over drinks at the early age of 14 back when he was obsessed with being just like him. The books on the syllabus were his summer readings as a child, the younger version of him desperate to impress with big words and bigger ideas, learning the hows and why’s of socialism when all his peers were riding their bicycles around the neighborhood. He didn’t have to focus as much as you did at this moment. And right now? Your brain was at its limit, barely digesting the words on the pages in front of you.

You lowered the textbook into your lap, turning to look down at him. His head was on the pillow next to you, eyes boring into yours calmly.

You felt your resolve slipping.

“None of this makes sense anymore.”

“What doesn’t?” He asked quietly, changing his teasing tone to match your somber one.

“It’s like, it’s like I’m reading the same thing over and over but I know—“

“You already know everything, you’re overthinking—“

“No, that’s what you think, but the last time I talked to your dad and he full-on tested me—“

“—wasn’t testing you, it came up organically so that doesn’t count—“

“Yes! Yes, he was! Who casually asks someone what their opinion on direct versus indirect democracies is over lunch? Like, what the fuck was I supposed to say?” Your voice is bordering on shrill, the memory of Lawrence’s unimpressed gaze and your face heating up in embarrassment as you struggled for words flashing through your mind.

“I’m sure he’d love hearing your rehearsed opinion next time. For now, though, I’d love to hear your opinion on something else.”

“Does it have to do with our actual reading material or does it have something to do with getting lost in a cloud of smoke with you?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“I just wanna make you feel better, baby, is that so wrong?” Rydal is looking up at you, unwavering, moving to finger the edge of the sweater you had on before dipping his hand underneath to rest on your back.

Looking at him with those eyes, the intense deep stare he held; his pink lips and their slight upturn, gentle and playful all at once —you made up your mind.

Propping your hand to take the joint from him, he doesn’t give it but instead, he sits up to guide it to your lips himself, his other hand clutching your waist. Rydal rests the tip of it against your lips, his eyes watching the way you wrap them around it delicately and you swear you could see his pupils dilate and hear his breathing slow down.

“Take it nice and slow, deep breath,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your mouth as you inhale, “hold it, that’s it. Good girl. Now slowly exhale.”

You did as you were told, feeling the smoke fill up your lungs and burn slightly as you held it, and then exhaled straight into Rydal’s face.

“Oh god, sorry I didn’t realize how close—“

Before you could finish speaking, he took a deep drag of the joint and hungrily pressed his lips against yours, inadvertently blowing the smoke into your mouth while doing so. You could feel his warm breath mixing with yours, your hearts beating in unison as his lips worked yours. The almost sweet and earthy taste of the weed seeps into your lungs as his tongue claims your mouth. Everything was overwhelming and thrilling and arousing and beautiful and he felt so good right then that you wanted to claw your way into his lap and stay there, burrow into his chest until you were warm and safe.

Rydal would keep you safe, with him. He would.

Pulling apart for air, you don’t remember who moved first but he was tossing your textbook on the floor while you were peeling your sweater off, the room becoming instantly warmer, the need to be closer to him making you antsy. Needy.

The effects of the smoke kicked in sometime between kissing Rydal stupid and him taking off your bottoms, his eyes stripping you faster than his hands could. You were clutching his shoulders, desperate to keep him close especially once the weight settled over you and your limbs felt heavier.

He had to stay close, you couldn’t let him leave you at this moment. Your arousal mixed with the slight paranoia that came with the high resulted in a very strong desire to stay as close as you could to Rydal, needing him more than you could put into words. You hoped he understood from how tight you were holding him, from how much you were whining when he dragged a finger down your soaked panties.

You flopped back against his pillows and despite being naked, you didn’t feel cold, your eyes and nipples pointed to the ceiling as he kissed his way down your tummy. He already laved your breasts with his mouth, the traces of saliva he left behind from wrapping his mouth around your peaks now making them pebble in the evening air. Rydal’s hands were everywhere, his tongue dipping out every few seconds to taste your skin. The effects of the high made you hypersensitive to the maelstrom of sensations, his touches feeling ten times more powerful and intimate than usual.

You didn’t realize it, but you were making all the pretty and perfect noises for him, breathy moans louder than usual while he explored your soft skin, harshly panting and voice wavering on little moans. You were driving him up the wall, his hips softly grinding into his blanket for some relief while he mouthed over the top of your underwear.

Rydal’s mouth wrapped around your clothed clit, letting his drool soak the material until he could suck it and hear your shocked squeal of pleasure. You buried your hands in his soft hair, strands slipping through like gossamer.

He lifted his mouth an inch just to hook a finger around the gusset and plant an open mouth kiss on the very core of you. He was sweet like that.

Apparently, your panties were too much of an obstruction for him as they were ripped from your legs a moment later so that he could spread you open with his fingers. Licking a stripe up your dripping cunt, Rydal dived in, eyes closed, his nose gently nudging your clit while he tongued at your opening. He continued to tongue fuck you, slowly moving in and out of your little hole leaving you gasping and moaning lowly, tugging on his hair. He continued this little routine; licking up your peeled-back core, tonguing inside your cunt, and then to rile you up that much more, he would let his teeth graze your clit.

Rydal’s fingers were stuck gripping your thighs, leaving indents from how tight he had to hold you down just so you’d stop squirming. You were so restless from him edging you, almost cumming several times but he’d pull back, blowing cool air on your core just to take you all the way again. Occasionally, he would moan into you, swirling his tongue around your clit just to suckle on it sweetly as if it were honey he was drinking on. You were whining pathetically as you buck your hips up into his mouth, the synthetic dose of dopamine only serving to heighten your pleasure. Your limbs felt heavy, you could’ve been 10 feet underground, plunged deep within the earth itself, body like lead, and the only thing you could focus on was the way Rydal’s mouth lapped at you, slurping obscenely as he made you choke on a moan.

This time around, he didn’t let up, his tongue working double time as he stared up at you, his hands pushing your thighs further apart to give him the space to fuck you with his tongue with purpose. He was intent on making you cum, fucking finally. You tried to ask, tried to form the words to beg him – maybe you did, maybe you were begging him more than you usually did, maybe that’s why he was finally giving in to you, you really couldn’t remember what you were saying – but it seemed he wasn’t stopping. Reaching up with one hand to entwine his fingers with yours and resting it on your tummy, he groaned, almost as if giving you the permission you were waiting for to let go, that it was okay, that he’d take care of you, catch you when you inevitably fall.

And fall you did. Hard.

Eyes shutting, head thrown back, floating and sinking simultaneously, his mattress was soaked not only with your release but with sweat, your body feeling seven different emotions at once as you finally came into his eagerly awaiting mouth. Rydal was there just as he promised, made you feel good – brilliant, intoxicated, euphoric – true to his word.

The comedown was… interesting.

Rydal was still holding your hand, thumb rubbing the back of your palm while he nuzzled your thigh, resting his head and blinking up at you while you caught your breath. He was a sight to behold, his gorgeous hair mussed from your restless hands, lips shiny and swollen from use and his eyes, so fucking deep and loving and still hungry.

The giggling started, hazy thoughts from the high making it hard to stop, taking the weight off your chest as it continued. Thinking about how you were aggressively pushing his hands away from you just moments before letting you wreck his comforter had you covering your face, releasing another peal of laughter. Rydal’s lazy half-smile while watching you only made it worse, knowing he thought you were a lightweight and would definitely tease you about it later. Kissing his way back up your body, pressing his mouth lovingly on your soft parts, he met you at his pillow, smiling down at you prettily. You sigh after the last little laugh leaves your chest, eyes sparkling up at him and suddenly feeling bashful.

“Never heard you beg so nicely before,” he says, smiling, kissing the corner of your mouth before snickering at your embarrassed groan. “‘Pleasepleaseplease, oh GOD–’”

“Ssshhhhhhutthefuckup oh my god, I did not sound like that,” you shoved your hands on his face, hastily trying to cover his mouth from speaking and imitating you again. Your cheeks burned. You didn’t sound like that, right?

“Mmmph, yeah actually, you’re right. It was much worse,” he managed, despite your fingers slipping into (his?) mouth. After gently removing them, he held them down against the bed before leaning forward to hover right above your lips, “it’s okay, baby, I liked it. Can you do it again for me?”

And then he held your gaze, like a fucking siren, knowing exactly the effect he had on you and your now achingly empty pussy, the muscles clenching around nothing as he let his breath mingle with yours. Rydal didn’t kiss you, just stared at you with his eyelids low waiting for you to beg him.

“Are you gonna let me take care of you? Gonna ask me nicely?” He was so close but kept himself away until the only thing you could focus on was syncing up the movement of your lungs. His denial only made you want him more, desperation bleeding out from you.

“Mhmm,” you whimpered.

“Yeah? That the best you can do?”

“P-please.”

“There it is,” he mumbled, gripping his length in one hand, lining himself up to slowly push himself in, the fat tip of him stealing your breath.

Rydal never got enough of the way your sweet pussy gripped him, and made sure to pull as many soft pleas out of you as he could for the rest of the night.

[cherrygirlystuff]

How to Host the Perfect Indie Sleaze Revival Party: From Playlist to Outfit

Ready to Host the Perfect Indie Sleaze Revival Party?

Hey babe! 🌟 Have you been dreaming of throwing the ultimate indie sleaze revival party? You know, the kind where everyone’s dancing like it’s 2008, surrounded by nostalgic vibes, killer outfits, and the perfect playlist? Well, you’re in luck because I’ve got you covered with a step-by-step guide to bringing back those chaotic, carefree house party vibes. From the right music to the ideal décor, here’s everything you need to host a party that’ll make your friends feel like they’ve stepped back in time (in the best way possible). Let’s dive in! 🎉🖤

Step 1: Curate the Ultimate Indie Sleaze Playlist 🎸

No indie sleaze revival party is complete without the perfect playlist. The music sets the tone for the entire night, so it’s gotta be on point. Here’s how to put together a playlist that’ll get everyone in the mood to dance, sing, and maybe even start a mosh pit (okay, maybe not, but you get the idea).

1.1. The Classics: Start with the Essentials 🎧

You can’t have an indie sleaze party without the anthems that defined the era. Think of tracks from the likes of MGMT, The Strokes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and Arctic Monkeys. These songs are non-negotiable—they’re the backbone of your playlist.

"Electric Feel" by MGMT: This song is a must for setting the perfect party vibe.

"Last Nite" by The Strokes: Instant crowd-pleaser, guaranteed to get everyone singing along.

"Heads Will Roll" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs: The ultimate indie sleaze dance track.

1.2. Hidden Gems: Mix in Some Deep Cuts 💽

Sprinkle in some lesser-known tracks to keep the playlist fresh and exciting. These are the songs that true indie fans will appreciate, and they’ll add an extra layer of authenticity to your party.

"Paper Planes" by M.I.A.: Not exactly a deep cut, but it’s a track that brings a bit of edge and rebellion to the mix.

"Gold Lion" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs: A killer track that’s perfect for transitioning between dance breaks.

"Oxford Comma" by Vampire Weekend: Quirky and fun, this one will have everyone bopping along.

1.3. Modern Indie: Add Some New Vibes 🎤

Throw in a few tracks from today’s indie artists who are channeling that early 2000s energy. It’ll keep your playlist feeling fresh while still maintaining that nostalgic vibe.

"Want You Back" by Haim: Modern indie with a retro vibe, perfect for the dance floor.

"Bags" by Clairo: A slower track for when you want to give everyone a breather.

"The Less I Know The Better" by Tame Impala: Newer, but with a sound that fits right into your indie sleaze playlist.

Step 2: Nail the Indie Sleaze Décor 🖤

Now that your playlist is sorted, let’s talk décor. The indie sleaze aesthetic is all about grunge, chaos, and a little bit of glam. Here’s how to transform your space into the ultimate party venue.

2.1. Lighting: Dim, Moody, and Mysterious 💡

Forget bright, overhead lights—indie sleaze is all about creating a moody, intimate atmosphere.

Fairy Lights and String Lights: Hang them everywhere—around mirrors, along walls, over furniture. They add a cozy, grungy vibe.

Lava Lamps and Neon Signs: These add that perfect retro touch and a bit of color to your space.

Candles: Scatter them around the room (safely!) for a flickering, mysterious vibe. Bonus points if you use black or deep red candles for extra drama.

2.2. DIY Décor: Embrace the Messy, Eclectic Look 🎨

Indie sleaze décor isn’t about perfection—it’s about throwing together a mix of styles and letting it all come together in a way that feels effortlessly cool.

Vintage Posters and Band Flyers: Cover your walls with posters of indie bands, old gig flyers, and polaroids. You can even make a collage wall with random magazine cutouts and art prints.

Mismatched Furniture and Rugs: Don’t worry about everything matching. The more eclectic, the better. Throw down a few old rugs, bring out the vintage chairs, and let it all clash in the best way possible.

Record Players and Vinyls: Set up a record player in the corner with a stack of vinyl records. Even if you don’t play them all night, they add to the vibe and make a great conversation starter.

Step 3: Dress the Part—Indie Sleaze Outfits 💁‍♀️

Your outfit sets the tone for the night, so make sure you’re dressed to impress in true indie sleaze style. Think skinny jeans, band tees, vintage finds, and a little bit of glam.

3.1. Classic Indie Sleaze: Keep It Edgy 🖤

For that authentic indie sleaze look, it’s all about mixing grunge with glam.

Skinny Jeans and Band Tees: Start with a pair of tight, distressed skinny jeans and your favorite band tee. Bonus points if it’s a bit faded or oversized.

Leather Jackets and Denim Vests: Layer up with a leather jacket or a worn-in denim vest. These are indie sleaze staples that instantly elevate your look.

Chunky Boots or Converse: Complete the outfit with a pair of chunky combat boots or classic Converse. Scuffed-up is totally fine—it adds to the charm.

3.2. Glitz and Glam: Add Some Sparkle ✨

Indie sleaze isn’t just about grunge—it’s about mixing in some unexpected glam elements too.

Sequined Tops and Shiny Accessories: Throw on a sequined crop top or a metallic skirt for a touch of sparkle. Pair it with a statement necklace or chunky jewelry to make your outfit pop.

Messy Hair and Bold Makeup: Keep your hair tousled and a bit messy. For makeup, go for a smudged smoky eye, bold eyeliner, and a dark lip. It’s all about that effortlessly cool, slightly disheveled look.

3.3. Final Touches: The Indie Sleaze Attitude 😎

The most important part of your outfit? Your attitude. Indie sleaze is all about being confident, carefree, and just a little bit rebellious. So throw on your outfit, crank up the tunes, and own the night!

Step 4: Party Like It’s 2008—Let Loose and Have Fun! 🎉

You’ve got the playlist, the décor, and the outfit—all that’s left is to have the best time ever. Here are a few tips to keep the party going all night:

Create a Dance Floor: Clear out some space and let your guests dance their hearts out. With the right music and atmosphere, it won’t take long for everyone to start moving.

Polaroids and Disposable Cameras: Hand out disposable cameras or set up a polaroid station. The grainy, candid photos will capture the night perfectly and give everyone something to take home.

Signature Drinks: Whip up a few indie-inspired cocktails or mocktails. Think classic drinks with a twist—like a grungy take on a cosmopolitan or a neon-hued punch.

Final Thoughts, Gorgeous: Your Indie Sleaze Revival Awaits 🌟

And there you have it, babe! Your ultimate guide to throwing the perfect indie sleaze revival party. From the playlist to the outfit, you’ve got everything you need to create a night filled with nostalgia, great vibes, and unforgettable memories. So send out those invites, start planning, and get ready to party like it’s the early 2000s all over again!

What’s your go-to track for an indie sleaze party? Drop your faves in the comments—I’m always looking to add more tunes to my playlist! 💕

[mangokittokatsu]

Honeybee

Sebby lovely this is for you!!! Happy birthday my love!!!!! 💖💖💖 @sebsxphia

Robert “Bob” Floyd x Little! Reader x Natasha “Phoenix” Trace

WC: 2.1k

Tags: age regression, tooth rotting fluff, overuse of the Oxford comma

A day. That’s the only way you could truly describe how your shift had gone, it had been a day. It hadn’t even been overly bad yet here you were, tears stinging your eyes and blurring your vision as you fumbled with your keys to try and unlock the front door when it swings open before you find the right key, revealing Bob on the other side. You look up at his smiling face and let out an involuntary whimper and a wet sigh that borders on a sob, feeling a fuzziness start to take over the edges of your mind as you lurch forward into his arms, “Bobby…” you whine while burying your face into his neck, the tears finally spilling over with a broken sob. He startles for a split second before firmly wrapping his arms around you and pulling you inside, kicking the door shut with his heel as he gently shushes you and rubs your back in soothing circles.

He leads you over to the couch and sits you down where Natasha is watching you in concern, scooting over to allow Bob the space to sandwich you between them as she presses up against your back, feeling your sobs course through your body. She hums quietly before she brings her hand up to your hair and lightly scratches her short nails across your scalp, “oh baby girl,” she lets out with a sympathetic sigh, “it’s ok, we’re here.” She whispers to you in a soft tone and you feel yourself quickly slipping, the stress of the day catching up to you as you melt into their soft touches and words. You slightly remove your face from Bob’s shoulder to press your head into Natasha’s touch with a broken whine, the two of them holding you and letting you cry between them in their arms.

Bob pulls one of his hands out from between you and Natasha once your sobs settle out into sniffles and hiccups, cupping your jaw and guiding your face up to look at him as he swipes his thumb across your cheek to wipe the tears away, “do you wanna talk about it, baby girl?” You shake your head, not knowing how to put it into words, at least not right now, “jus’ want you an’ mommy, ‘m tired”, you whimper out, your voice rough from crying, and lean into his hand as his face softens in understanding. “That’s ok honeybee, whenever you’re ready. We’ve got you, we’re here. Do you want to watch a movie? Or do you just wanna cuddle with me and mommy?” You don’t respond at first, just letting yourself feel their touches and slip further down before looking back up at Bob, “wanna watch a movie” you eventually decide, “can we have snacks?” Your glassy eyes and quiet voice cause a soft smile to break out on his face before he leans in to press a kiss to your nose, “of course we can honeybee.”

You feel Natasha shift behind you, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you firmly against her chest in a tight hug. Your eyes slip closed as her warm breath puffs against your scalp before she places a gentle kiss to the crown of your head before she pulls away, shushing you and wrapping the throw blanket from the back of the couch around you when you whine at the loss and sudden cold against your back, “just a minute little one, I’m just grabbing a few things for us. Just stay right here and cuddle with daddy and I’ll be right back”. With one last kiss to your head she disappears towards the kitchen as you burrow into Bob’s chest, wrapping the blanket tighter around yourself and eagerly sucking and nibbling on his fingers when he offers them, still sniffling and hiccuping softly with the occasional stray tear escaping your eyes. He hums a random lullaby to you softly, the vibrations spreading through his chest soothing you further, breathing out a soft, shuddering sigh through your nose as you let yourself relax into his hold.

A few minutes go by before Natasha returns, barely juggling a bowl of popcorn as well as some cut up fruit, always insisting on making sure you had balanced snacks, along with a couple juice boxes and water bottles. You let out a quiet giggle around Bob’s fingers as she unceremoniously dumped them onto the coffee table in front of the couch. She looks at you in adoration when you giggle, as if she’s hearing the heavens sing, before plopping back onto the couch next to you and pressing herself up against you where you’ve settled yourself in Bob’s lap while she was gone with your head tucked under his chin. She readjusts you a bit so your legs are draped across her thighs, bringing the three of you as close together as possible. One of her hands grabs yours and squeezes gently as she brushes your hair out of your face. Your eyes are half closed, the stress of the day melting away as exhaustion takes over while Natasha picks a movie for you. It’s something lighthearted that you’ve all seen enough times to quote so you don't have to focus on it. She reaches across your legs and grabs the bowl of popcorn and sets it in your lap, picking up the fruit next and coaxing Bob’s fingers out of your mouth as you pout before she holds a piece out to you and pops it into your mouth, “there we go baby girl, doing so good for us, our perfect little honeybee.”

The three of you continue sitting there, your head tucked under Bob’s chin with his arms wrapped around you and gently rocking as the movie plays quietly on the screen, Natasha gently rubbing your legs while feeding you pieces of popcorn and fruit and giving you sips of your juice box. She occasionally hums along to whatever song is playing in the movie, both of them never stopping their whispers of sweet nothings and praises. You barely register when the credits start rolling, completely melted into their touches and soft words and regressed with your face buried into Bob’s stomach, having slowly shifted down over the course of the movie. You’re gently chewing on the edge of his shirt and getting it wet but he couldn’t care less. His hand is resting in your hair, running his fingers through it and occasionally working out any small tangles he happens to snag while Natasha’s hand rubs soothing circles against the skin of your hip with her thumb where your shirt rode up. She looks over at Bob, nudging her shoulder against his to get his attention and nodding her head in the direction of the stairs. A silent way of telling him it was time for bed before she leans down to talk to you softly, “baby girl, c’mon, let’s get up and go to bed. Do you want me or daddy to carry you or do you wanna walk by yourself?”

You just let out a whine in response, burying your face further into Bob’s stomach as he lets out a soft chuckle, “I know you’re comfy baby girl but you’ll be more comfy in bed, you can even wear one of my sweatshirts to sleep tonight instead of your own pajamas, how does that sound? I know how much you love the one that I’ve still got from the academy and it’s nice and clean.” He waits for you to respond, pulling his hand out of your hair as you wiggle around to sit up slightly, the edge of his shirt dropping from your mouth in the process and watching as you blink a few times, gathering your slow thoughts and nodding in agreement, “ok daddy, c’n mommy carry me to bed?” A soft smile stretches across her face, her eyes filled with love for you as you look at her with hopeful, glassy eyes and she tucks your messy hair behind your ear before she leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, “of course I can honeybee, anytime you want.”

She untangles herself from the blankets and out from under your legs so she can sit you upright, promptly scooping you up and propping you on her hip as she stands. You shiver at the cold from the loss of the blanket and your Bobby’s warmth and she lets out a sympathetic coo, “Bobby wrap their blanket around them will you? Can’t have our little one getting cold while we go upstairs now can we?” She gently sways as Bob stands up, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders and kissing your cheek, “I’ll be right up baby girl, I’m just gonna clean up while mommy gets you all ready for bed, ok?” His soft words float through your head as you sleepily nod, your head already resting against Natasha’s shoulder with your eyes closed as she turns and carries you up the stairs.

You open your eyes as she sets you down on a hard surface and you frown as you register that you’re not in bed but on the bathroom counter in the en suite, seeing Natasha already grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste, involuntarily letting out a quiet whine from high in the back of your throat in slight protest.

She lets out a soft sigh, “I know darling, but you’ve gotta brush your teeth, I can help you tonight ok? And you can keep your blankie nice and warm around your shoulders.” Her voice a gentle tone but holding no room for argument, you let her rest her hand on your cheek and brush your teeth for you. Knowing that if she takes too long you’ll start to protest, she finishes up quickly. It’s not the most thorough job by her standards but it’s enough for tonight. She hands you a cup of water and instructs you to rinse your mouth as she brushes your hair and begins to braid it for the night, never ending the stream of praise and sweet nothings that drift past her lips through the entire process, “There’s my good girl, so good for me and daddy, I’m almost done and then we can go get you all comfy in bed ok?” She ties off the end of your hair and scoops you up back into her arms to carry you back into the bedroom.

Bob is waiting for you when you walk back through the door, he’s slipped his academy sweatshirt on for a few minutes to make sure it’s nice and warm and smells more like him. He watches Natasha set you gently on the bed and get you changed into a pair of sleep shorts. He quickly removes his sweatshirt and slips the soft material over your head and helps you guide your arms through the sleeves when she takes your shirt off, making sure you don’t get cold. You gently flap the ends of the too long sleeves around over your hands with a soft, happy squeal, bringing the tattered edge of the sleeve up to your mouth and softly chewing on it. Bob and Natasha watching you with matching smiles, looking at you like you’re the most perfect thing in the world and to them you are. Bob pulls the covers back and lays down, guiding you up to lie next to him, “c’mon baby girl, there we go, we’ve got you.” He wraps his arm around you, tucking you against him as you lay your head on his chest. You look up at him with sleepy eyes, shining at him like he hung the moon and he feels his heart melt as he brings his other hand up to brush against your cheek. Natasha climbs into bed behind you, pressing herself against your other side and placing a soft kiss to your shoulder, “love you so much honeybee, always so perfect for us.” Somewhere far in the back of your mind is the faint thought that they’ll want you to talk about your day sometime tomorrow, but that doesn’t matter. Not when you’re safe and relaxed in their arms, their scent surrounding you and lulling you further towards sleep along with their gentle touches, humming as you press your cheek further against Bob’s chest.

“L’ve you and daddy, momma. ‘M sleepy”

“Go to sleep little one, we’ll be right here when you wake up and we’ll do whatever you wanna do tomorrow”, Bob shushes you for one final time. He feels your breathing even out against his side, soft puffs of your breath ghosting across his collarbone as you let yourself fall asleep finally. You drift off knowing he’s telling the truth, exhaustion settled deep in your bones from the day, but feeling beyond safe. Beyond loved and cared for, right here in their arms. Their perfect baby girl that they’d do anything for, as long as it meant you were happy.

[shepherds-of-haven]

For the writing ask meme:

What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

What is your deepest joy about writing?

Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage. (i’m not picking one, just grab something that was fun to write!)

Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

-emeraldgreaves

What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

My writing ritual, up until around May, was like a little bit cursed: I'd typically write from 10 PM to around 4 or 5 AM, which is obviously not great. I'd also put on a show that was guaranteed to not distract me on extremely low volume (like 1 out of 100) in the background, so a show I'd seen a million times before, like the Office or Bob's Burgers.

Since coming back from a trip to Europe, though, I saw an opportunity to reset a schedule I'd kept to for the last 12 years and have now been rising and writing at a more appropriate time! Nowadays my writing ritual is going to the library, putting on fantasy or TTRPG orchestral music (particularly by Ivan Duch, who is composing the music for the game) in my earbuds, and clacking away! This ritual is only cursed in that some really weird shit happens sometimes at the library, but sometimes I get around that by reserving a study room for myself or me and my partner. 😌

What is your deepest joy about writing?

Hmmm, it seems cheap to say all of it! I think the satisfaction of completing a story that you've not only mapped out and plotted through, but actually executed, and then elicited strong emotional responses from others (hopefully as according to plan) as a result of all of that hard work is a truly joyful thing to experience. But just writing about the characters, exploring their psychology, and especially building their relationships to each other is also a huge part of it, and it's also a joy to explore and flesh out and create an entire new world for them to exist in... I just love all of it!

Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage. (i’m not picking one, just grab something that was fun to write!)

Around him, Scythia stirred to life beneath the skin-soaking warmth of early morning. It was just past dawn, so the heat of the day was not yet beating down on the city like a hammer against an anvil; but in an hour or two, it would edge close to brutal. Herald tipped his head back and let himself absorb the sights and sounds of the city while he still could. Long-necked white herons—called sword-birds for their vicious beaks—dueled together in lazy displays in the streets. Charcoal-eyed concurs beckoned him from curtained doorways, then caught sight of his own brand of ownership and looked away. There was the heavy, acrid scent of fuel and machine oil as he passed the Metal District, where mechanics in their garages toiled away on the racers and war rigs that crisscrossed the Badlands in choking clouds of dust. Underneath a shabby awning, a suntouched fortune-teller gave advice to a lean, restless merc with scarred shoulders and a face studded with fearsome metal rings.

This is from my current novel manuscript, which I keep telling people is like a cross between Mad Max and X-Men, but it's really evolved to become this more magical and intricate science fantasy, because I can't stay away from magic and humanoid/alien races and disparate cultures and, like, oppression and persecution, I guess. I really thought it was going to be a gritty dieselpunk adventure with machine guns and monster trucks and things, which it still has, but I think this passage (from the first chapter) kind of showcases its latest vibe, which is a bit more mystical and fantastical, as well. I've rewritten the first chapter at least five or six times, with this particular passage only being appended in the fourth or so iteration, so I think it's a good way of seeing (to me, the only one who read the first few drafts) how far the world has come, when the city and its environs weren't really described at all! I also just like the rhythm of the passage: there's something about it that feels satisfying. :)

Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

It's an absolute vital necessity to me. It actively bothers me when I see the Oxford comma not being used... I will always use the Oxford comma. You could pry it from my cold, dead hands and I'd still be using it on my gravestone!

[reborrowing]

1, 2, 5, and 34 for the weird writer questions! I'm curious lol

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

Georgia, usually, but I’m good with any sans serif fonts. I’m not sure why Georgia gets a pass, but it’s the only serif font I like working in.

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

I actually prefer writing by hand! I just lose track of my notebooks. When I was younger and had less places I might go and write, I did write exclusively by hand, in pen. I find it’s easier to get into a flow on paper plus I’m less tempted to edit as I go and instead get a soft edit when I’m typing things up. But I can’t save notebook writing to the cloud, so keyboard it is.

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

I’m having trouble thinking of anything that fits here, because obviously it’s 100% true and doesn’t count as a superstition /j. Uhhhh, there’s the easier writing by hand, and also I think everything is worse if I write with black-on-white or white-on-black. I write in different pastel colors on gray or cream and change the colors to help with writer’s block.

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

controversial opinion maybe but: it so doesn’t fucking matter

like there’s edge cases where you absolutely should use or not use it to clear ambiguity and if you’re writing for a publication you likely have a style guide to follow, otherwise go with what your heart tells you. Punctuation is largely a matter of convention and formal English has plenty of examples of sentences both with and without the Oxford comma. They’re both fine.

If you enjoy dying on the hill for or against the Oxford comma though, be my guest. I won’t read anything with poorly formatted dialogue so I do get pet peeves about punctuation.

[patricia-taxxon]

What do you make of grapes, chocolate and carnations? What do you make of Oxford commas?

the 'and' is the last comma, u don't need to put it in. the memey edge case of "my parents, hitler and god" or whatever are rare enough that they can just be rephrased.

[noloveforned]

start your weekend off tonight with four hours of no love for ned on wlur from 8pm until midnight. for those with busy schedules, you can catch up with last week's show on mixcloud whenever you get a chance!

no love for ned on wlur – march 15th, 2024 from 8-10pm

artist // track // album // label vampire weekend // oxford comma // vampire weekend // xl vanishing twin // life drummer // life drummer 7" // sub pop horsebeach // let me stay in tonight // things to keep alive // re:warm torrey // slow blues // torrey // slumberland charlène darling // disparais // la porte // disciples klapper // inner drive // high for no reason // mangel the vovos // ernie // lilla gubben // blossom rot three body problem // thinner skin // the dark edge of the dancefloor // twice as high superette // touch me // tiger // flying nun new radiant storm king // founder's day // singular, no article // rainbow quartz the burning hell // no peace // garbage island // you've changed the cakekitchen // everything's going to work out just fine // everything's going to work out just fine // freek caleb daily // if i could only fly // live at trafo in jenna, germany on december 7th, 2022 // moone erika angell // one // the obsession with her voice // constellation kim gordon // tree house // the collective // matador dave harrington, max jaffe and patrick shiroishi // dance of the white shadow and golden kite // speak, moment // arthur king presents gary peacock // flower crystals // december poems // ecm paul weiner quartet // spirale // spirale // mad about neue grafik featuring brother portrait // black // transmissions from total refreshment centre compilation // blue note billy woods and blockhead featuring aesop rock and homeboy sandman // wonderful // known unknowns // backwoodz studioz yungmorpheus // revenge // states of precarity // de rap winkel maxo featuring sharp // appletree // smile // love turl liv.e // on my mind // f.r.a.n.k. // street corner music home boy and the c.o.l. // i saw you dancing // out break // tidal waves looper // up a tree again // up a tree // mute hairband // paris // two two seven compilation // prefect richard hamilton // yellow datsun car // yellow datsun car 7" // feral kid melenas // 1986 // ahora // trouble in mind patio // performance // collection // fire talk the parallelograms // papageno // dream on daisy 7” // cloudberry

[whitepersonaltmusicbracket]

notable yeah yeah yeahs songs:

heads will roll, maps, spitting off the edge of the world

notable vampire weekend songs:

a-punk, oxford comma, unbelievers

[fontainebleau22]

For the Weird Questions For Writers; 1, 28, and 34?

Thank you so much for the asks!

What font do you write in? Do you actually care, or is that just the default? I write in Times New Roman, and I care about it a lot. I don't like any other font, particularly not sans-serif ones, and I feel it looks like me on the page. It isn't the default, but I will carefully switch into it on every programme.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Oh, gosh, it's Dr Lynch, isn't it, my OC who I added to Rose Creek for the Winter's Lease series. He's just such fun to write - a big man with pronounced opinions and a booming voice, bounding with energy and making his patients feel exhausted as soon as he walks into the room. John Julius Lynch, medical genius! I love the chance to add Dr Lynch to a scene.

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

Ooh, I'm found out! I hate the Oxford comma. I loathe it. I think it's fussy and unnecessary, and that most of the so-called justifications for using it are far-fetched edge cases with no bearing on reality. I would add one for clarity if it were truly necessary, but I personally have never written a sentence in which it was needed.

I'm actually on a mission in my academic writing to cut other unnecessary commas - the one that gets me is at the start of a sentence when you say, e.f. 'In most situations this happens.' There is no possible need for a comma after 'In most situations' - there's no pause in the sentence, and it's not a separate clause. I ruthlessly cut those commas out, and then usually my editors add them in again afterwards.

[disappointingyet]

Sex, Lies, And Videotape

Director Steven Soderbergh Stars Andie MacDowell, James Spader, Laura San Giacomo, Peter Gallagher USA 1989 Language English 1hr 40mins Colour 

The one about... sex, lies and videotape

It feels extremely unlikely that I didn’t watch this movie back in the day, either around the time when it came out on (yes) videotape or when Steven Soderbergh became a thing again in the late 1990s and I was getting paid to write about film. I don’t, though, have a memory of watching it and seeing it now didn’t produce a bunch of ‘oh, yeah, that’ moments. But that’s also been the case with movies I know for a fact I saw in the 1980s or ‘90s, so this will be forever unresolved…

Whether I had previously seen it or not, I knew the set-up. As promised, it does involve sex, lies and videotape.* Ann (Andie MacDowell) is married to smug, fast-rising lawyer John (Peter Gallagher) and is anxious and depressed. Meanwhile, John is having an affair with Cynthia (Laura San Giacomo), Ann’s boho sister. Into this situation arrives Graham (James Spader), once John’s frat-boy chum but now a guy who travels light and asks highly personal questions without preamble. 

Uptight, house-proud Ann should be freaked out by Graham but finds him intriguing, and that’s how the disruption begins.

This is a true four-hander – the only other character who we get any sense of is a barfly who thinks doing a lousy impersonation of Brando in Apocalypse Now amounts to flirting. It’s a movie written as a movie but shares something in common with tightly wound play adaptations like Neil LaBute’s In The Company Of Men. (I also thought, in passing, of this year’s Kinds Of Kindness, although unlike that film, SL&V has no trace of Tales Of The Unexpected to it.)

Which brings us to Andie MacDowell - I’ve become increasingly fascinated by the way Margaret Qualley (one of the actors in all the sequences of Kinds Of Kindness) looks like her mother but has such a contrasting screen vibe. MQ’s presence in a film is usually relaxed about most things, not least sex. MacDowell, meanwhile, is some mixture of on-edge, aloof or baffled. For a long time, I felt she was wooden and considered her name in a cast as a bad sign. 

But she’s effective as the unintentional object of desire in films as far apart in vibe and quality as St Elmo’s Fire and Groundhog Day. And it’s hard to think of who could have been a better fit here, starting off convincingly uncomprehending but picking up power as her belief system crumbles. I struggle to imagine a more effective use of her particular screen presence.

Spader is peak Spader, San Giacomo good value and Gallagher is fine as the yuppie prick although if the script had given him more nuance, he could have brought that out.

In later years, Soderbergh would come to be known as a director who likes colour filters, extreme lenses and other visual devices. Here we have the videotape of the title – austere-looking b&w footage of women talking about sex that Graham shoots. It’s appears on our screen fairly sparingly – enough so we get the idea but don't feel like we’re trapped watching low-quality tape. 

SL&V is a terrific film – it’s spare and focused with a sense of momentum, it’s perfectly cast and sharply written. The main reason it broke out of the indie ghetto was the title – a piece of marketing genius – but there was clearly enough there that it still worked for that audience that wouldn’t have seen if it had been called, I don’t know, Cheaters.

*The many, many, many headlines etc riffing on the title tend to leave out the annoying Oxford comma.

[alphabravohotel]

Bono, Edge, and David Letterman walk into a pub in Dublin....

No, really!

Can't wait to see this!

Photos by Ronan Donnelly and swiped from U2Songs

[timomaraus]

November 29, 2023

CNN Comma placement in Pence book draws attention of Jan. 6 investigators, ABC News reports (Editor's Note: Will the Oxford Comma be replaced by the Pence Comma?)

CNN How you can have a more organized brain and life (Editor's Note: Let's face it, for some of us it's way too late for that sort of thing.)

CNN The US economy grew by 5.2% in the third quarter, even faster than previously estimated (Editor's Note: Boy, those Biden economic policies are just ruinous, aren't they?)

CNN From turtle doves to lords-a-leaping, the price of the '12 Days of Christmas' just hit a record high (Editor's Note: Record high also describes the condition one would have to be in to purchase all of those things.)

CNN After firing third coach in four years, Carolina Panthers owners wants next coach to be able to eulogize him (Editor's Note: Because "these terrible coaches are killing me?")

CNN Kraft's newest Mac & Cheese is ditching cheese (Editor's Note: There are those who would say that Kraft ditched cheese years ago, they're just admitting it now.)

Washington Post Compare your life expectancy with other around the world (Editor's Note: Well, there's a nice morbid activity for your day.)

CNN What gives the 'birthplace of sake' its edge? (Editor's Note: Mostly it's too many of the locals drinking too much of the product.)

CNN Speaker Mike Johnson says he has 'real reservations' over expelling Santos (Editor's Note: Yes, this entire precedent of requiring accountability, honesty and lack of felonious behavior could be a frightening standard to set for our congressional representatives.)

[mugglesauce]

It wasn't the ridicule or the abandonment that finally drove him over the edge. It wasn't even the horrific onslaught of being stuck helping to improve hastily written office memos through the worst of the early aughts, only to be replaced by websites, of all things..

No, all that he was made of steel tough enough to endure. But when they came for his friend, his lifelong companion, Oxford Comma, at long last Clippy drew his blades.

[crocophant]

@withinadream27 tagged me to talk about where my username comes from

So, i’ve gone through several names here on this site, and i have the urls hoarded to save links as needed if you’re on a browser, so let’s go. this got long, so i put it under a cut. sorry mobile users!

my first one was eldritchgummybear, because I was going through a Lovecraft phase and also gummybears are neat

then it gets fuzzy because throughout hs/beginning of college, i changed my url often enough that idk the order anymore

but then i was inheiritancedispute-chan, because dangan ronpa

i had auntiejake because of a dw fic,”auntie jo’s cosmic jumble sale” (my blog title was some variation on this for several years following this until we settled on the current)

jakeofthewastes because howl’s moving castle was A Mood, and so was the witch

i did santaphant at one point as a holiday version of crocophant,

raimentsofthedalishpariah because Merrill from Dragon Age is love/life

hiroyukisakai because i was in an Iron Chef phase because that’s a good show (the japanese version, the american one tries too hard to be as campy but doesn’t succeed in playing it straight when needed) and hiroyuki sakai, the iron chef french is both bae goals, and an inspirational chef

jemesenscommemerde is my (occasional) “i’ve got the flu” blog but it started because i actually had strep my senior year of hs, and felt like shit all day through rehearsal for lsoh and everything. it’s just “i feel like shit” but in french!

i was damnituna for a long while, because someone, (*cough* GLUEGUNSHOTS *cough*) kept changing their url like every day for a month or something so like i was tired of that shit

but crocophant, which is the one i’ve come back to most often, is my favorite

this is not because i have a great and abiding love for portmanteaux (i do but that’s not the point). this is not even because sophie’s world by jostein gaarder, where the idea to why the atoms don’t arrange themselves into that shape and from which i shamelessly stole the word and branded myself around that

it’s because, in all honesty, i feel like a crocophant some times: some weird amalgamation of two things, not sure of the delineations therein, and in my own comfy corner, i like being that queer being no one really knows how to process.

so yeah, i guess i tag @gluegunshots, @chocvocado @partyhatjigglypuff @yourangryfacetiouslover, and @nancydrewish

[ashleybenlove]

When you pause the trailer for long enough on Netflix, it’ll show you this and I love the description:

Join Hiccup, Astrid, Snotlout, and the rest of the Dragon Riders as they tame volcanoes and beasts alike, while facing a menacing new Dragon Hunter.

I like that Snotlout gets namedropped here along with Hiccup and Astrid and also volcanoes. 

I bet he’d be super pleased about that.