#THEIR NAMES BOTH START WITH E AND ARE FIVE LETTERS LONG??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cookie-crumblr · 1 year ago

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The Smell of Smoke

Innocent F! Reader x M!Yandere Bully OC

Part 2~

his info: 🖕✨

part: 1 2 3

!!MINORS DNI!!

CW: !F reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, reader in a skirt, NSFW, YANDERE, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, name calling (bitch, slut, ), BULLYING, stealing, use of toys, non con drugging exhibitionism

You make sure to check your peephole before leaving today. You make sure to make it to class early for a seat closer to the front. And by the gods you make sure to bring pepper spray.

You aren’t allowed weapons on campus… but maybe you can talk your way out of it.

“Move it,” You jump upon hearing Ezra’s voice way too close to you and begin to shiver and breathe heavier.

The person sat next to you scrambles to get away almost forgetting their wallet and phone.

He flops down in the now vacant seat.

You remain sternly faced forward. Trying and failing to just pretend he’s not there.

*Slap!* His open palm lands square over the width of your thigh. “So, bitch, what’s it gon’ be”

“Wh-what’s what gonna be?”

“Do you wan’ do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

His friends surround you both…

“E-easy way…” you don’t even know what he’s talking about, but you’re catching onto his game.

He snaps and they lift you to your feet by your bicep.

You comply, though they’re all taller than you and your shoulder bends uncomfortably.

They walk you shamefully in front of the group, pushing you when you start to slow down or stumble.

You’re taken off campus, and to a store in a strip, that felt like a thirty minute walk away.

The name on the front reads, “Tease” in big black and hot pink letters.

Ezra now personally pushes you towards the door.

“What a-are w-we do—” you start.

“Steal five things, go bitch! Go!” he claps and bends over you speaking in a higher pitch as if he’s telling a dog to go fetch.

He shoves you through the door.

Whiplashed you simply stand for a second, before taking a deep breath.

You grab a few of the first boxes you see, and head towards the back. there’s curtain covered changing areas… There won’t be cameras back there.

Glancing toward the counter where a woman reading a magazine, stands, you sigh. At least she doesn’t look like she’d care if you were stealing.

You slowly open the packages you nabbed and shove the toys in your pockets. You wore a big hoodie so as long as a hand is in the pouch you can cover up the lump and the other two are snug in the band of your skirt.

You still need two more things… but anywhere else you could put them would be too obvious.

You spot something labeled “anal plug” and have an idea… It’s a pretty terrible one, but it’ll definitely work.

You grab that, and one more box, then open up the curtain for hopefully the last time.

Your face is hot as you peel down your wet panties…

You open the first box and put the plug in your bum, trying to avoid thinking about what you are doing. A warmth spreads fast between your legs because of the pressure.

The next box you open is bigger than the other stuff you grabbed…

You contemplate for a second swapping it with one of the smaller things in your pockets, but it would be way too obvious there.

You try and push it in.

Struggling to even get the tip in you quietly grunt.

After a solid minute of trying again and failing, you put it in your mouth before attempting it again.

Thankfully it goes in this time, albeit rather painfully. You allow yourself time to adjust, and breathe.

You try and compose yourself before you walk out as normally as you can.

The bell jingles as you exit.

At first you don’t see Ezra and his gang, and you feel stupid. Maybe you could’ve just waited them out instead of stupidly stealing everything and shoving toys inside yourself.

A window on one of the cars blasting music out front, rolls down, revealing him with a cigarette between his fingers.

“Took ya long enough. Show us what cha copped,” he takes a drag, and inspects you from head to toe as you walk nervously over. You stumble a little, still not used to the toy intrusions.

“Hurry up, slut! we’ve all been bored as shit, I wanna get the fuck out,”

You drop the three things into his palms.

“Yur missin a couple a things,” His smirk becomes frigid and sinister.

You lean into his ear slowly, at first he scowls, before realizing what you’re doing. Then he lifts a hand to block your mouth from the rest of the guys so you can whisper freely into his ear.

“Th-there—d-down—there…” Your face is burning hot.

He busts out laughing, “Oi that’s fuckin rich! Hey guys! The bitch couldn’t wait!” He looks into your eyes, some emotion you can’t catch flashing across his face. “What’re ya waitin for? Bend over and show us already.” His voice is ravenous.

Swallowing, you do as instructed. Your legs shake as you pull your panties down again, and pick up your skirt then lean forward, keeping your eyes screwed shut tight.

They all woop and cheer and laugh at you, and Ezra smiles with what looks almost like pride.

He slaps your ass hard, and you bite your lip to stifle a cry. Then he stands to block you from them as you fix yourself.

Smiling at you devilishly, he now leans down to whisper in your ear, “You know… There were packs of gum and shit up front…”

He gets back into the driver’s seat and pulls off the lot, the other cars follow.

You’re left in the dust, with toys stuffing your holes, alone and embarrassed.

At least they threw your stuff on the ground before they left, so you can call your roommate for a ride.

She doesn’t question why you’re stranded, why you’re sitting weird, or even about yesterday.

Class the next day is quiet.

So are the hallways, you don’t even see any of Ezra’s gang.

You’re mid sigh of relief the next morning when he struts into class late, sporting some new bandages.

“Ezra! We saved ya a seat~” A girl toward the back waves as she greets him.

“Hey, Ezra~ last night was fun!” The girl sat next to the first, calls after.

You try and block him out, until a paper ball hits you in the head.

You ignore the first, and second… But at the third you turn to see him making a gesture for you to open them.

The first one just says “Bitch” and you hold it up to him with a question written on your face.

He mouths “The other one” while rolling his eyes.

The next one says “slut” and you almost laugh imagining showing him that one and feigning ignorance. But you think better than to irritate him.

The last one you unfurl reads

“I got ya a present”

You turn to mouth “thanks?” while shrugging, before you look back toward the front of the class, you notice each one of those girls have a hand on his chest.

You feel a small pang of jealousy. Why is he nice to them? What did you do to deserve the treatment he’s giving you?

On your way out of the room you hear him call after you, “Forgetting something bitch?”

You let out a long sigh through your nose, “coming…”

The two girls are the last to leave they wave on their way out.

While remaining seated he lazily extends a paper bag to you. His smirk is annoying and would make you angry if you weren’t still so scared.

“Wh-What’s wrong with it…?” You snatch the bag and sniff it first.

It smells like a brownie.

You open it, and it looks like a brownie.

He laughs out his nose, while watching you, “If you don’ wan’ it—”

“N-no… It’s fine, i’ll eat it!” You interrupt before he thinks you’re even more ungrateful.

You’re overcome with hope that this is him extending an olive branch!

You bound out of the room, making it on time, you decide to eat it before class officially starts.

It doesn’t really taste all that good… But you can’t be rude. He probably just… Didn’t know a good place! yeah.

you don’t know how far into the lesson you get to before you feel something in your guts shift.

You need to leave right now.

Luckily this isn’t high school and the professors don’t care if you don’t ask.

You make it to the bathroom in time to throw up.

The entire way there you stumbled, and ran into the walls. It feels as though you’re on a ship, that’s swaying in the ocean.

What the fuck kinda sea sickness feeling food poisoning was in that sweet? He must’ve got it from somewhere really terrible on accident.

When you leave you can’t stop giggling.

The giggling turns into crying, where the fuck are you? A hallway? it’s definitely the college corridor but… It’s reminding you of a hallway you’ve seen as a kid.

You were so small…

Now you’re…

What are you?

“Hahaaa” you’re laughing again.

You don’t even notice right away when you trip over your own feet, now you’re falling down the stairs.

Someone grabs you before you can truly fall, and now you really can’t stop laughing.

“H-hey thanks” You turn in what feels like slow motion and see a strange guy holding you.

“You can let go nooowww thanks~ hahhh haha” You try and shimmy yourself free, his hands remain firm.

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pagesfromthevoid · 2 years ago

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Safe & Sound | j.m.

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Canon typical violence. She’s Frank’s niece. Age gap (she’s 32). Mentions of tampons and periods (which idk if that’s a warning needed but just in case)

Author's Note: Casually starting another series (and I have like two more in the works woooooooops)

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

Ellie stared at the letter in her hand, biting her nail as she read it over slowly. Bill and Frank, who they had trekked all this way to see, were dead. She knew Joel wouldn’t be happy about this, but she also knew he wouldn't let her ask anything about it. He didn't let her ask questions, and even when he did, he passed on answering half of them.

He was annoying like that.

“Ellie?”

She looked up from the letter as Joel stepped back into the dining room. Holding up the letter, she gave him a grim look.

“‘To whoever finds this, but probably Joel,’” Ellie read off, waving the envelope some. “Figured I fell under ‘whoever.’”

Joel stared her down for a long moment, before shaking his head. “So they’re dead.”

“Yeah…yeah, they’re dead.” Ellie hesitated, looking between him and the letter. “Do you…?”

“No, no…you can.”

Ellie huffed but began reading, trying her best to be light about it. “‘If you find this, please make sure you check the yard. She should have buried us together, but you and I both know she probably couldn’t have done it alone…’”

Ellie continued reading, brow furrowing as she did. As the letter wrapped up, leaving Joel with everything, she hesitated on Tess’s name —as well as a name that Ellie didn’t recognize. Joel waited, watching her, before taking the letter from her hands. His hands shook some, hesitating a moment before he told Ellie to stay put and stormed outside.

She waited a few minutes, half expecting to hear him scream or something equally as angry, but it never came. Going to peer out the window, she watched as Joel crumpled up the letter and walked to the opened gate. Ellie couldn’t see what he was doing —if he saw something that she couldn’t. But he stood and stared towards the empty town square.

Ellie waited, then stood and moved to peer through the front door screen. Her eyes caught sight of what Joel was watching —a woman carrying a shotgun on her shoulder. Joel was not someone who just let people approach with guns, and Ellie connected pretty quickly that this woman had to be the other person mentioned in Bill’s letter.

“Miller,” the woman called as she got closer, stopping about five feet from the gate. “I assume you know then.”

Joel just nodded, and Ellie decided to make her presence known by stepping out of the house. He looked back at her as the woman pulled her gun from her shoulder. Without hesitation, Joel stepped in front of the barrel, putting his hands up.

“Hey, she’s with me.”

The woman stared at Ellie for a long time, eyes darting between her and Joel. Then finally, her gun lowered and she came closer to the gate, stopping in front of Joel and holding out her hand. He hesitated, but set the crumpled paper in her palm.

From where Ellie stood, she could make out more details about the woman. She was way younger than Joel; didn’t have half the wrinkles or scars. And her hair was far from greying. Her clothes were clean, though overall she seemed to be relatively clean in general. Like she wasn’t just surviving, but actually thriving in this little town of her’s. She even looked healthy –not to say that Joel or Ellie didn’t look healthy, but this woman looked actually healthy. Not like she was just getting by on whatever she could. Like she actually ate meals and drank clean water and lived in a healthy way. Honestly, she was kind of pretty, which didn’t seem fair given no one else probably felt pretty these days.

The woman pulled the letter apart, reading it over slowly. Ellie was pretty sure she was rereading it, since it wasn’t even that long, but Joel wasn’t rushing her, so Ellie decided to let the woman handle whatever she was feeling.

“Frank was sick,” she suddenly said, as if that explained anything. She didn’t look up from the letter. “He was sick even before the outbreak.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Joel managed to say, looking back at Ellie. “You don’t have to come with us. I know Bill’s letter said –,”

“I can’t stay here alone,” she interrupted, and she looked at Ellie now with a small frown. “And I know it’s not easy for a little girl to travel alone with a man.”

“I wouldn’t –,”

“I didn’t say that, you creep,” she immediately countered, giving him a dirty look. Joel glared at her, and Ellie wondered how well the two knew each other before today. “I just said I understand how it’s hard to be a fucking girl travelling with someone who knows jack shit about being a girl. It’s how I got here –with my uncle Frank, alone, at twelve.”

Ellie snickered at her outburst, earning a pointed scowl from Joel. But she ignored him, hopping off the top step of the porch. The woman watched her approach, moving to rest her shotgun on her shoulder again. Then she extended her hand to Ellie, introducing herself with a tired smile.

“I found a box of tampons,” Ellie told her once she introduced herself. “Joel said the station had been picked over –but he was wrong.”

“Find of the century,” she teased, grinning at her before looking back at Joel. “You know how tampons work, cowboy? Or were you just hoping she never started her period?”

“Don’t call me that,” Joel warned, moving away from the two now as he walked to the garage. “And I do, and it wasn’t exactly the first thought I had.”

Ellie snickered at the thought of Joel explaining how tampons worked, but reassured him that there was no reason to teach her. “I already know you stick it in your nose.”

“Ellie, what the fu –,”

The woman laughed however, covering her face as she did so. Ellie felt smug, having made a stranger laugh, even if it was at the expense of the old man in front of her. Though, Joel seemed less than thrilled by the whole thing.

Ellie and her exchanged glances as their laughter died down. Then she motioned to the house. “Water should still be on –it’s hot. I’ll find you both some clean clothes and you can both shower.”

“Holy shit, they have hot water?” Ellie exclaimed, looking up at her with shock and disbelief.

“The hottest,” she promised, motioning them both inside.

Ellie didn’t hesitate to run inside and back up the stairs.

*****

Joel watched Ellie practically trip running up the stairs of the house as he followed Frank’s niece inside. While he understood her excitement –shit, he was excited, if he was being honest –she was going to get herself hurt if she didn’t take it down a few notches. When the door to the bathroom slammed shut, he turned his attention to the woman in front of him, who was motioning for him to follow her to the kitchen.

A thin layer of dust had collected over everything, making that one of the only real signs of abandonment in the house. But the water ran, the power was still on. It was a strange, almost painful, scene of normalcy in their bleak world. Bill and Frank’s always felt like that, though –a brief moment of domesticity before returning to the nightmare that Joel lived in.

With Bill and Frank both dead, however, that feeling of normalcy died with them.

“You look like shit,” she pointed out, breaking through his train of thought.

“Feel like it,” he confirmed, sitting at the counter. She slid an unopened bottle of water to him, and Joel gave a curt nod in thanks. “Been trying to get here for two days now.”

“Where’s Tess?”

The question lingered in the air, hitting him hard in the chest. She knew the answer, and he knew she knew. Joel was good at pushing his feelings aside, but blunt, to the point questions like that didn’t give him a chance to hide. So when he didn’t respond, she leaned on the counter in front of him, brows knit together in concern.

“Okay,” she drawled, looking around the kitchen for a moment. “Then tell me about Ellie. What’s the deal?”

“I’m takin’ her west –to my brother,” he explained, and it wasn’t necessarily a lie. He was going to take her west to Tommy.

“What’s the importance of getting this little girl out west –at the loss of Tess?” She pushed, pulling back from the counter to stand up straight.

“Stop,” he snapped, looking at her now with a sharp glare. “It’s not your business.”

“If I’m coming with you —it is my business,” she retorted, giving him a pointed look.

“Then don’t,” he countered, standing up now as she went through the cabinets.

“And run the risk of being a woman, alone, at the end of the fucking world?” She scoffed, turning around to face him again. Her arms crossed over her chest, but not in a way that felt snarky —it was a softer gesture; one that suggested fear. Joel couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her afraid of anything. Her eyes dropped to the floor for a moment before she looked back up at him. Joel’s brows furrowed as he stood up straighter. “There’s been raiders scoping out the fence —I can’t maintain it, and I can only do so much before they finally figure out how to get through. Don’t…don’t leave me here alone, Joel.”

His jaw clenched as he watched her, instinctively clutching his fists at his side as he considered why she didn’t want to be alone. When Bill and Frank were alive, she was safe here. There wasn’t any reason to be worried about someone getting through —Bill made sure of it. But she was right; she couldn’t maintain this set up. Not alone, not as meticulously as Bill had.

“You’re not stayin’ here alone,” he finally sighed, running a hand over his face, closing his eyes. There wasn’t a valid argument against her coming; and it was what Bill and Frank wanted. “We’re goin’ to Wyoming; my brother is out there.”

“Doesn’t explain the girl,” she pressed, though her tone wasn’t as pushy as before. “Is she your brother’s kid or…?”

“We’re not related,” he confirmed, finally opening the bottle of water she had given him. “She’s…complicated.” Joel realized that he had to explain Ellie to her, or run the risk of her freaking out if she saw the bite. And it was better to explain it now, in a safe place, than later in the open. “She’s…immune to the infection.”

Her arms dropped to her sides slowly as she looked at him in disbelief. “What do you mean she’s immune?”

“I mean, she’s been bitten twice now and hasn’t turned. I’ve been with her both times; and you know me. You know damn well if she was infected, I would —,”

“I know.” She waved him off, the disbelief shifting into confusion as she leaned on the kitchen counter once more. “So what, then? Where are we taking her?”

“There’s a team of Fireflies that apparently think they can make a cure usin’ her. I was asked to take her to them.”

She hummed a bit in response, looking up at him for a few seconds. Joel shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, trying to look anywhere but her.

The first time Joel and Tess had met Bill and Frank was nearly a decade ago. He hadn’t wanted to interact with them; had no desire to bring anyone else into the operation the two had been running. But Tess had insisted on it, saying that Frank had been open and clear about what they had and could trade. Eventually, he had given in and they ended up there in Lincoln, pretending life was normal for just a little while.

That was the same day he’d met her. Barely twenty-two, having been raised in both worlds. Joel hadn’t seen someone as pretty as her in a long time; a healthy glow around her. Shining eyes, and a sweet smile. It felt wrong to find her so attractive at the time –she was so damn young, and the world hadn’t completely ruined her yet. She had been helping Frank tend the garden out back and talking to Tess, who was surprised that a young woman had been living there the entire time.

“She’s my niece,” Frank had explained, wrapping an arm around her shoulders with a small smile. “Bill saved us both, and we’ve been here since.”

Every time they had come back since then –a handful of times over the last decade –she was always there, always just as pretty. Excited when they would bring new things like seeds for fruits or medicine that they couldn’t otherwise get out there on their own. She was quieter then; not necessarily shy, but not willing to interrupt when business was being spoken. Joel could only assume her change in behavior had come the last few years of coping with Frank being sick. And with Bill having taken his life as well…Perhaps she was a bit jaded to the world now. But hell, who wasn’t?

“Come on, cowboy,” she finally decided, motioning for him to follow again. “The truck battery is charging; I’ll go get some clothes for you and Ellie, and we can start packing up supplies.”

He gave her a dirty look, but she ignored him.

“Bill left everything to me,” Joel suddenly announced, following her into the living room. “Well, most of it. He left the house to you.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” she sighed, stopping outside a linen closet. Though she pointed at the couch and told him to sit down. “As if I need a house if I’m going with you.”

“Maybe he thought you’d come back one day,” Joel offered as he sat down. He let out a satisfied groan, sinking into the cushions.

For a few minutes, he didn’t respond to whatever she was saying, instead too caught up in how nice it felt to sit down on something actually soft. His body ached, and he wasn’t the young man he once was. And goddamn, the couch felt fantastic on his aching joints.

“You look like you’re in heaven,” she teased, bringing a box in and setting it on the coffee table. The shower had shut off, and Ellie was yelling about clothes. “You can take a nap, Joel. You look like you need it. It won’t kill you to rest.”

“It’s fine –,”

She threw a shirt at him, hitting him in the face. He scowled, but she was just grinning knowingly. “I’ll bring her clean clothes. You’re gonna shower, and you’re gonna take a nap –me and the kid can start packing up.”

Joel hesitated, staring at the clean flannel in his hands. Then he sighed, caving. “Just don’t let her have a gun.”

“Whatever you say, cowboy.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller

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mindutme · 11 months ago

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Sdefa Sdaturday #1

Sdefa is my newest conlang, started in July of last year. Like T’owal, it isn’t intended to be naturalistic, but it takes that lack of naturalism a lot farther! Instead of being a spoken language, it’s a musical one; its twelve phonemes are the twelve notes of the Western chromatic scale. It’s playable on any chromatic instrument, since you never need to play more than one note at a time. That means you can sing it, too!

If you do sing it, then of course the syllables you sing don’t matter—just the pitches. The word “Sdefa” doesn’t actually mean anything in the language; instead, it’s a sort of transliteration of the language’s “actual” name, which is the sequence of notes E♭ D E F A. In German music terminology, the note E♭ is called “Es,” so here that translates to the letter S. The Germans also call B♭ “B” and B “H,” which is how the great composer J. S. Bach was able to compose using his musical signature, B♭ A C B.

Almost every word in Sdefa is a tiny musical reference, four or five notes long. In fact, B♭ A C B is a Sdefa word, meaning “great,” since Bach is one of the greatest composers of all time. Most of the references are fragments of songs, usually bits that have lyrics that match the meaning of the word. Other references are parts of pieces whose titles match the meaning in some way. Some other words are:

⁕ D A F D, meaning “art,” from the beginning of the theme from Bach’s Art of Fugue

⁕ G C E D, meaning “deep,” from the first four notes of the main theme from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

⁕ E D G F, meaning “moon,” from the song שײן װי די לבֿנה/Sheyn vi di Levuna (“Pretty as the Moon”)

The word “Sdefa” itself isn’t a reference, though; it’s just something that sounded nice both as a sequence of notes and as a spoken word.

It’s not just the syllables that don’t matter if you’re singing Sdefa. Rhythm and register are not part of the language, so D A F D would mean “art” regardless of the note values or octave(s) it’s played in. This allows the language to be flexible, giving a Sdefa text better chance of having a musical quality instead of sounding like a string of random notes. However, since there are so few phonemes and everything can be played in multiple ways, it does mean that most things take a surprising number of notes to say, and that can take a long time unless you use a fast tempo!

Next week I’ll get a bit into the grammar of Sdefa, and explain how the music at the top of the post translates (loosely) into “Sdefa Saturday!”

#conlang #Sdefa

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codfanficedits · 1 year ago

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Before the mask - Part three

Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Because Simon wasn’t born as Ghost.

Wordcount: 2629 | Rating: E! (18+ only!)

Warnings: White man flirting?

A/N: Simon would be around 22/23 in this fic, so it would be set around 2015 ish?

Tags: @batmanunicorns523

God he could feel his heart swell with pride every time he saw you walk around on base with his hoodie on. Technically you weren’t his, yet. But it felt like he were his, proudly walking around with his last name. It was a clear message to all the other men on base, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

You on the other hand were as oblivious as could be. Sure the hoodie was a little big, and it smelled just like him, and on top of that people were giving you strange looks all day long, but you were at work, caring about a hoodie wasn’t exactly your top priority.

It wasn’t until you were in the restroom, after a day that went on a little too long, that you noticed the white letters on the back of the hoodie.

‘Property of Riley.’

“That cheeky fucking bastard.” But did you really mind it? Yes. No. Maybe?

Fuck it was hard to think about it, part of you really just wanted to be friends, nothing was too complicated at the moment, nothing could go wrong. But the other part was very close to going feral for this man, the way he looked, the way he smelled, the way you had been sniffing that fucking hoodie all day.

You were ready to bang on his door when that same door flung open.

No matter what you told yourself, you were damned the moment those soft brown eyes locked with yours and all the sudden you couldn’t be mad about the hoodie anymore.

“I was lo-“

A sheepish smile from the both of you when you started to say the same thing, at the same time.

“I was looking for you.” Simon resumes, he could feel his heart thump in his chest, he had confessed he was in love before, what was making it so damn hard?

“I got permission to leave the base for the night.” He resumed, holding up a set of car keys. “Care to join me?”

You wanted to say no, you were tired, had a long day, you had to rush in the morning AND you had been wearing his stupid hoodie all day, but how could you decline those eyes and that sweet, sweet smile? “Yeah, sure. Might have to change first.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Why? ‘s my hoodie not good enough for you?” Simon teased, pulling you with him by the shoulder of the fabric, just like you had pulled him closer towards you during that skype call. “I figured black would be your taste, given your emo phase and all.” The insecurities he had felt during the night had melted away, seeing you in something that belonged to him had made him strut like a peacock.

“So you did know I was wearing it!” You tried to protest. “I didn’t mean to, you must’ve left it in my room last night.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I’ll make sure to wash it before you get it back.” You promised him, and Simon just responded with a simple hum. If it was up to him you didn’t need to wash it at all.

“Where are we going anyway?” You asked him, as he nearly dragged you towards the car, it was getting dark outside already, and you couldn’t remember there being a reason why he had to drive around.

Simon just shrugged. “We’ll see when we start driving.” He simply responded, it wouldn’t matter where he would go to, as long as it was with you. You gave him those soft butterflies in his stomach, and while he wasn’t comfortable letting you know yet, he would give his kidney to spend five minutes with you.

It stayed quiet when the both of you got into the car, the clicking of the seatbelt being the only noise you could hear before he started the car. Did you have to hold back some drool when he put his hand on the back of your seat to drive the car out of the parking lot?

Yes. Shamelessly yes.

Your knees tilted to his side, just begging to be touched, but neither of you vocalized their longings for the other. And you couldn’t stand the awkward silence that followed, so you leaned a bit forward, wanting to turn on the radio. Simon had the same idea, his eyes on the road, not seeing you already leaning forward. Your hands brushing against each other while Maps from Maroon 5 blared out of the radio.

His hands were warm, hot even, and yours were cold. The both of you pulling their hands back the movements your fingers brushed against each other.

You notice the music was loud so you go to turn it down, you didn’t notice that Ghost’s hand was already on the volume switch. Your hand brushes against his, ice was all you felt. His hands were freezing cold.

“How are your hands so warm?” You ask, putting your hands on your lap.

“How are yours so cold?” He replies, pulling away from the volume switch after he turns down the music.

“Don't answer a question with a question." You chuckled, before you looked out of the window. "I guess I just have bad circulation." You explained. "Now, why the hell are your hands warm like that?" You leaned back into your seat, your fingertips tracing on the back of your hand, feeling the cold skin under your fingertips.

"I don’t know." He responds, putting his warm hand up to your cold one, making a joke about the temperature difference. "I guess I have good circulation." He adds, jokingly mocking your comment from before.

"I didn’t know this before, but when a cold object and a warm object touch, heat is transferred over to the cold object." He explains.

His warm hand begins to transfer heat into your freezing fingers.

"Here, feel." He says.

Your eyebrows rise up at his mocking tone, but you can't help but laugh about it. Your fingers intertwine, but you didn't mind one bit. The warmth of his hand felt welcoming.

"Just so we are clear." You begin. "I’m just holding your hand so I can warm up a little."

"Whatever you say." He chuckles.

Soon, it was Simon who couldn’t remove his hand from yours. As the heat began to transfer, your hand felt incredibly cold on his. The cold was so inviting that even he couldn’t remove it, despite his intentions of doing so before. He never knew he had craved the cold so much before.

"Did you know that humans generate heat, even when you just touch someone?" He adds, rubbing his thumb over your hand. "But for some people, their touch is enough to drive someone insane." He teases.

"Mhm." You hummed softly, you just enjoyed him talk. "Just make sure we don't crash, will ya?" You squeezed his hand softly, not minding having him share his warmth with you, at all.

“Of course." He chuckles, giving your hand another squeeze.

The car continues driving down the empty streets of the city, the light snow flurries falling down from the sky like silent stars. You two were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t even notice that you missed a turn.

You were starting to forget the rest of the taskforce back at the main base. It was only you and Simon in the car, and it felt like you were about to be consumed by the moment.

"It’s a beautiful night." You mentioned as you looked out of the car window.

"Wait. Stop at that gas station for me, will you?" You requested politely, a simple idea brewing inside of your head.

"Sure." He nods, stopping at the nearest gas station.

"What’s up?' He asks, curious as to why you asked him to stop at a gas station.

The snow continues to fall outside of the car, the light breeze causing snowflakes to swirl around in the air like a dance.

You let go of his hand, before you opened the passenger door.

"Stay here." You said, before you went inside. He disliked this part, he wanted to be in control at all times, even in simple situations like this. But he had promised himself that he would try to be better, for you, but mostly for himself.

If you recalled correctly, he had quite a sweet tooth, so you stacked up on some sweet, some soda, and some crisps for yourself.

It wasn't cheap, and you nearly gave yourself a heart attack when you saw the total, but Simon was worth it. With your arms full of snacks you returned, a wide grin on your face.

"If we find a quiet place, we can watch the stars." You said, as you sat back

Simon wasn't expecting you to stock up a bunch of snacks to enjoy together, and it made his heart flutter that you had bought sweets for him, he had told you he liked gummy bears once and you had remembered.

"Sure." He responds, smiling at the gesture.

Once you're both back in the car he starts driving. After a few minutes of driving, he finds a quiet, empty looking spot.

It was just far enough away from the city and main roads that there wouldn't be anyone around for miles. It was a perfect spot for watching the stars, and Simon stops the car.

With a little bit of work you sit down on the cold ground to watch the stars, the snacks and soda divided between the two of them, and you sit on his left side, a different side than in the car.

You hold his other hand, using it to keep her other hand warm, while they stargaze.

Simon is happy to sit down next to you in the fresh snow, which crunches under the weight of your bodies. He holds your hand tightly, still trying to warm up your otherwise freezing hand.

Simon looks over to look at the food and snacks. He picks up a bag of gummy bears and a soda.

He smiles as he watches the stars with you. He leans back on the ground, his head leaning on the car door.

The snow outside of the car had picked up, it had turned into a full-blown snowstorm. The snow was piling up outside, creating a winter wonderland of sorts...

...The snow flurries felt like a flurry of silent stars, swirling and twirling around each other. In that moment, it was hard to believe that there was no magic involved -- how could something so beautiful exist naturally?

"This night is... incredible." Simon whispers to you, holding your hand.

He pulls you closer, using his body to warm it even more, eventually the snow is too heavy to stay outside anymore, so your little idea gets cut short, as you both head to the car again. But the both of you have a smile on your face, and when you turn to Simon you can see a snowflake in his eyelashes, just when you thought those brown eyes couldn’t get prettier, the universe pulls this stunt on you.

“Jezus, it is only October.” Simon huffed. “This American climate is something else. Almost makes me regret going on this exchange program.”

You laugh at his remark. “Speaking about October.” You begin, trying to find something to talk about. “What are you dressing up as for Halloween?”

Simon’s smile fades, and his expression shifts to a serious one, his eyes darkening. “You have to promise you won’t laugh.”

“Okay, okay, I promise!”

“That’s not enough.” Simon teased. “I need you to swear it on something.”

“I swear on my life th-“ You stop your sentence when you see the frown on his face. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. But I’ve seen your life and I want you to swear on something that is worth something.”

The punch you land on his shoulder is harder than you intent it to be, and Simon is pleasantly surprised by your strength. Yet there is an awkward tension. You want to apologize, violence should never be the answer, but he did cross a line. The feelings of guilt seeping in to your soul.

“Shit.” His eyes widen. “I can only imagine what you can do with a plastic bucket.” And with that he eases the tension. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

“I shouldn’t have punched you.” You reply to his apology.

“No, no, it’s okay, I deserved that one. Just remind me that I will never spar with you. I would like to keep my life.”

He rubs his shoulder. “I might even use this as an excuse to get out of training tomorrow morning. Even better, I might tell your dad about it.”

You laugh again. “Worst case I’ll get grounded again.”

As you both laugh, the remaining tension seems to disappear into the thin air. “Right, I won’t make you swear, but please don’t laugh at me.” Simon says and you nod, of course you wouldn’t laugh.

“I was watching The Punisher the other day, and you know how the main character wears a shirt with a skull on it?”

He stops his explanation to see if you’re listening, and you nod to show him that he can continue. “I was thinking about making a skull mask you know, a little something to hide my face, I find those parties a little awkward, and maybe I’ll earn myself a cool callsign or something.” Simon is nervous, worried you’ll laugh at him, but it is just a little smile that curves your lips upward.

“I think that is a pretty cool idea.” You answer, the idea of Simon crafting his own mask seems so endearing to you.

He grins at you. “Thanks.”

“What kind of callsign would you like?” You ask, and he shrugs as he turns the car back on. Your eyes flicker to the clock, and it is indeed getting late.

“The Punisher would be way too cliché.” Simon answers. “But I hope it sparks some creativity around base.”

“What about Ghost?”

“Ghost?”

“Yeah, you move around pretty quiet, and when the enemy spots you, it is already too late.”

“Yeah, but I’m not death.” He retorts.

“That is beside the point.” You answer.

He rolls his eyes playfully before he starts to drive. “I’ll think about it.”

And that answer has to do it for now, you know him well enough to know that it won’t be useful to push it any further.

“What about you?” He asks, his gaze flicking to you for a brief moment.

“Katniss Everdeen.”

A grin forms on his lips. “It would suit you.” He says, but Simon has to hold back a snicker, it is such a cliché, and he loves it so much. In his book, nothing is worse than a person who is trying to force themselves to be unique, it is okay to like mainstream things, and the fact that you’re so content with it, it makes him feel content too.

Before you know it you’re back on base with him, and he stops the car at the entrance. “You go inside already, it is cold and it’s late. I’ll park the car” He says as you unbuckle your belt.

“Thank you Simon, I had a lot of fun.” You say, before you open the passenger door.

Simon smiles, this would have been the perfect time to kiss you, but he is too much of a coward to do it. “I had fun too.”

He sighs as he watches you leave, his eyes lingering on the hoodie you’re wearing. His hoodie, before his eyes shift to your ass, he was a man after all.

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dreamingdormouse · 1 month ago

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Conversations in my house can be WILD.

There are four of us. Me, my husband, and our two kids - an older daughter and a younger son. They're... let's be vague and say 3rd-7th grade. Of all of us, the only one who MIGHT be neurotypical (and I don't give it good odds) is my son. My husband and I have been bookworms since we were very small, we met in a library as middle schoolers. And both kids are very bright and love to acquire new information, although like me they have trouble finishing assignments. Since they're still comparatively young, they haven't yet acquired a lot of niche information if it doesn't relate to their special interests. So conversations often involve a lot of infodumping - from them, if it IS a special interest, or to them, if they're curious.

When I say our discussions can go anywhere, I mean it. A couple days ago we went out for dinner, and our discussions in the car, at the restaurant, and heading home involved some fairly random subjects.

Summaries of five of our topics under the cut, if I've correctly guessed the workings of this button I found. I've never figured out how to make a long post look shorter before!

(1) Why it is PERFECTLY OKAY to pronounce GIF with either a hard or soft "G" sound, even though it abbreviates a word with a hard "G" sound. My daughter's initial reasoning was fairly sound, but unnecessarily prescriptive; we pointed out that English does not require that abbreviations follow the pronunciations of their source words, for example "Laser" is generally pronounced "lay-zer" not "lah-seer," and therefore you shouldn't yell at people that they are wrong just because they use a different pronunciation than you, which would be rude even if they were wrong.

(2) The International Phonetic Alphabet, what a schwa (ə) is and how it sounds (which is kind of like "uh"), how any vowel can make this sound in English (balloon, camel, pencil, carrot, bug), a quick bit of research to discover that this can include "Y" when it's used as a vowel (vinyl), the fact that schwa is the most common sound in the English language, and then that "E" is the most common letter in the English language, which led to both kids counting how many "E"s are in each of our full names, how many vowels, and how many total letters.

(3) How backwards aging would work - this one in itself deserves a whole post, I wrote it up yesterday but it vanished into the void. I'll rewrite it maybe tomorrow.

(4) Who was in town when the kids were born and a VERY brief discussion of the events of both days - not the how-it-works bit, but "waking your dad up at 4am" and "calling the babysitter to watch Daughter when Son was coming" and "Grandma was scheduled to arrive the next day to help, you couldn't have stayed put another 36 hours, you little Early Bird?" kinds of things. The kids were vastly amused by the fact they both started the proceedings at 4am but that my son took twelve hours less to be born than my daughter, which I summarized as "my body got better at it the second time." We were mostly focused on the fact that babies are rarely born on their actual due dates, because that's just an estimate by the doctor; if someone were to somehow show an unborn baby a calendar and say "See here, you're expected to put in an appearance on April 23rd," (why does this person have a posh British accent in my head?) the baby wouldn't know or care what April was. So out-of-town family can't exactly pre-schedule a visit for the day after the birth (especially if the visiting family would need to fly). This came up because we were discussing when their uncle gave my son the nickname that said uncle still uses; it wasn't "when he first saw you," because Uncle wasn't in town that week, it was "when he heard what we named you, the day after you were born."

(5) Why English-speakers call cow meat "beef" but chicken meat "chicken;" the answer involves the Norman conquest, loan words, and classism.

If you're curious about topics 1, 2, or 5, let me know. 3 will be expanded on soon.

#funny #long #long post #family #neurodivergent #its the neurodivergency #kids #infodump #I still want to know why they liked 4am so much

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runwayrunway · 1 year ago

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No. 48 - Eurowings

We're here today to talk about Eurow

Yes, Eurowings! Did you think those five letters started any other words? Silly. Let's discuss the aerosartorial choices of Eurowings, a member of - oh dear - the Lufthansa Group.

Eurowings! Eurowings is a former regional airline formed from the 1990 merger of Nürnberger Flugdienst, a regional airline that I'd heard of, and Reise- und Industrieflug, one I hadn't. After its acquisition by Lufthansa, it has been restructured into a low-cost subsidiary, making it something of the FlyDubai of Germany. That means I am yet again courting a C&D from the Lufthansa Group, and I am delighted to throw myself on this particular blade.

The process of Eurowings's evolution into its current state is somewhat tortuous, involving the cannibalization of its old subsidiary Germanwings (yes, this was subsidiary-ception, and while it happened after 2015 it seems to have been planned before...well, you know) and the establishment of an Austrian subsidiary which was moved to Malta last year and is named - get this - Eurowings Europe.

Eurowings has been going through it of late. Well, of ever, as far as I can tell. If you've ever been frustrated by a delay, spare a thought for the passengers of 2016's Eurowings flight 131, some of whom had their visas expire while stuck in their hotels in Cuba during their 60-hour delay. Every fourth flight could expect six hours or so of unscheduled quality time at the airport. Or, you know, 20 sometimes. 20 hours. Yikes! That's what happens when you start seven long-haul routes with one (1) A330 and a handful of various and sundry wet leases. A lot of their routes have been taken over by Lufthansa proper, which seems eager to kill the brand as soon as possible, and I can't blame them given it's somehow developed a worse reputation than actual Lufthansa. I've never flown with them. They served Boston for literally three entire months, but I wouldn't have flown Eurowings anyway. For my own taste their 'cheap' prices are still fairly expensive.

The Eurowings livery is unfortunately on more than just one plane for the moment. They have 95 A320 family members and four wet-leased Boeing 737s, giving them a very typical fleet for a low cost carrier. And they look like that!

Okay, first and foremost, I want to talk about their logo. It looks a lot like LATAM's logo.

Indeed, they even both use a variation on something adjacent to blue and something adjacent to pink. I think it's definitely a coincidence - they both were unveiled in 2015 - and even if it weren't I don't respect either one enough to defend its honor from the other.

So, those colors. I think I prefer the shades chosen by Eurowings, and in a competent livery design that palette could be extremely effective. I love LATAM's saturated pink and indigo, which made the mostly-white fuselage a disappointment, and I like Eurowings's desaturated fuchsia and cyan as a combination even more, but the lack of fuselage coverage gets even sadder when it's such light colors that fail to contrast against the white at all.

Unlike LATAM, Eurowings makes use of grey as both shading and background. I like this! I think it can make for a nice base to play with and a potential source of some interesting, dynamic designs.

Oh, and the logo is meant to look like an 'E'. I guess I can sort of see it, but it looks more like me attempting to get a pen that's starting hard going again. (Don't mix inks in pens, though. Especially not fountain pens.) Anyway, I don't really love the logo's shape in isolation but I do think it could easily lend itself to some totally acceptable fuselage layouts.

It's the wordmark that I think is interesting. This is about to be a long section about fonts but I promise that one, I have a point, and two, if you keep scrolling it will stop being about fonts.

The typeface used for the Eurowings wordmark is Soleto in medium weight. It was designed by Dalton Maag, a London-and São-Paulo based foundry. You've definitely seen their work around - they've done custom fonts for the likes of Pitney Bowes, Tesco, Fox Sports, Nokia, AT&T, Airbnb, Wix, USA Today, Google, and the flipping BBC, among others. And, well, a few that I would go as far as to say are pretty iconic:

Lush Handwritten is actually gorgeous in Cyrillic, by the way.

I would say they're not my favorite foundry, with a lot of their work trending towards somewhat boring sans-serifs that are not at all to my taste (you will never replace Gill Sans), but they've had some hits. They're also no stranger to airlines - they did a custom typeface for the TUI wordmark, which appears on their livery!

Blue side up appeal aside, I definitely want to someday talk about the strange beast which is TUI, the World's Most Misogynistic Airline.

So you might think that Dalton Maag was commissioned to make a nice custom font family for Eurowings, given Lufthansa literally used their money to commission a slightly different version of Helvetica, but you would be wrong. As their website makes no mention of a custom typeface for Eurowings, despite discussing modified versions of their existing products for other companies (like Fox Sports Cricket being a variant of Aller), I believe they are indeed using off-the-shelf Soleto, available via Dalton Maag's website as well as Adobe Fonts. Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with this, and I, who cannot afford a tablet to redesign the Eurowings livery, am not trying to wealth-shame an airline for not custom-ordering a typeface. They're far from alone. Another Dalton Maag user is Cebu Pacific, which uses Foco in a bold weight to decent effect, and I firmly believe that there's no reason to commission a second Helvetica if you want to use Helvetica. SAS uses Rotis Sans, and that's a massive airline with money to spare.

I just think the contrast here is funny. I could get the right to use the full Soleto font family for the entirety of Runway Runway's branding, title, and body text for one thousand sterling, or around $1350 in USD. This is, to me, a fortune and more money than I've had at any one time in literal years. It's also definitely not what Eurowings paid. I don't know what they paid, because Dalton Maag does custom quotes for unlimited licenses, but I don't want to imagine how much it cost to commission a firm to make a second Helvetica, so this just makes me think that Lufthansa really despises Eurowings. Pointless diversion? Maybe. I just think it's funny.

I think Soleto Medium is on the uglier side. I mean, I really don't like how Eurowings uses it in the same way I don't like Helvetica or the FedEx proprietary font - I really don't like really wide sans serifs used as titling, and I'm not sure why. Is it because it reminds me of elementary school? Is it because I find them sort of illegible? Are they just...ugly? Well, there's no such thing as objective ugliness, but this is my blog and I dislike them. They're certainly not at all memorable, which frequently makes their use something of an epic branding fail.

Soleto looks better than Helvetica, I'll give it that. A lot better. It's not really the typeface, though. It's the usage. While Dalton Maag's website does say:

Soleto is a flexible font family that can adapt itself to a wide variety of uses. [...] [it] is also quite capable of standing on its own.

It opens with:

Soleto is a contemporary sans serif font family with a quietly confident character. It works well for big areas of text, creating an even rhythm and texture, but can also make a statement at larger sizes.

And I think this is totally true, actually. As body text Soleto is fine! (This is via Dalton Maag's TypeTester feature, as are all future samples.)

This is 10pt Soleto medium, and it's a solid if generic sans-serif. Not overly ugly, totally legible. I'm not sure it's meant to be used for a logo, though. When I read 'statement at larger sizes' I think...titling, not airplane livery. A title for a website and an airplane wordmark are just different orders of magnitude.

How about titling? Well, I tried my own name in a couple different weights, and I actually think Soleto looks great in black italic.

This is a bit modern for my own taste, but I think this would look fine as a wordmark. Frankly, I think it would look good as an airline livery! It's not nearly as generic, it's almost a bit stylized even, and it's legible. The italic is always something I think looks nice due to its aerodynamic implications, and with a name as long as mine you don't really notice that this also does that obnoxious thing where the bottoms of certain letters dip beneath the baseline. Let's try some other weights!

Normally I prefer lighter weights in sans serifs, but no, Soleto looks worse the thinner it gets. These are, respectively, Light and Medium. Medium is what Eurowings uses!

Oh, wow, would you look at that! One of their default color combinations is even basically the Eurowings scheme, though in reverse.

Well, this...doesn't look that bad, right? It's boring, but it doesn't actively make me wrinkle my nose.

So why is this such a problem? I mean, let's look at this picture of an airplane, as we do on this blog. I've chosen this picture because you can see a Finnair (post coming soon) plane in the background. Finnair has this neat spiky sci-fi looking wordmark, for which no typeface exists. This wordmark is absolutely huge, and in a very dark blue against white.

Meanwhile, Eurowings's logo is very similarly formatted to Lufthansa's. It's high up and closely spaced, making it feel a little claustrophobic. It's not...as bad as Lufthansa's proprietary Helvetica (Helvetica Neue Neue? Helvetica Ultra-Ultra-Condensed? Hellvetica?) but that's barely a compliment. Lufthansa has theirs well above the window-line all squished together, while Eurowings has the decency to use the windows as the underline you would think they're just perfect to be, but with a typeface that's medium weight, neither thick nor thin and with no italics or serifs, it becomes something of a small blob. To locate something that far up should be a stylistic choice. There should be no default choices in airline liveries. You can design a massive wordmark to cover the fuselage, or something which looks nice when localized to part of it, but you don't just get to do the equivalent of opening your text editor, typing in one word without indenting, and calling that a livery. Lufthansa doesn't get this, and neither, really, does any of the unfortunate airlines in the Lufthansa Group.

The color used doesn't blend into the white, but it also isn't like they're sharply contrasted. It just doesn't particularly draw your eye. It's a wordmark your eyes glide right over and it's not at all memorable. While grey or cyan could have been incorporated somehow to accentuate it, they weren't. For a livery that's mostly white to work, you generally need some sort of really vivid color. Kalitta Air's red and gold or Tibet Airlines' rainbow are examples of good use of a white fuselage. You could use a different background, but they stand on their own, and the white plays an active part in the color palette rather than just being a default canvas for it. Many airlines use black or dark blue for their wordmarks, and while these aren't the most creative choices they're used for a reason. Just look at Finnair. That's some contrast. It's nice and legible and distinct.

Icelandair's two most recent liveries use the same placement for their wordmark as Eurowings and Finnair respectively. Now, I actually like the wordmark on the old livery better. It has those nice trailing serifs and is in small caps, making it memorable and dynamic, and it doesn't feel closely spaced. The name 'Icelandair' teeters on the edge of being too long for this to work, but ultimately pulls it off. The modern livery dispenses with this much nicer font in favor of gigantic letters. While I like this less, it's still serviceable. It is gigantic, legible, and feels as natural as me sprawling out on a couch after work. It's simply expanded to its natural point. Adequately done on both archetypes.

Meanwhile, the lack of color contrast from the white fuselage was perhaps my main criticism of Air Astra's livery, which I otherwise quite like. It's probably the inverse of Eurowings, which is contrasted enough to be acceptable but entirely boring in design - well-designed, but please, please, please let me actually see it.

Eurowings just...well, I'm going to copy and paste exactly what I said earlier. There should be no default choices in airline liveries. You can design a massive wordmark to cover the fuselage, or something which looks nice when localized to part of it, but you don't just get to do the equivalent of opening your text editor, typing in one word without indenting, and calling that a livery.

And, as a final note, something that looks good on a webpage won't always look good on an airplane. The angles you'll see it from are completely different, it has to compete for the rest of the livery for your attention, and you can't necessarily put infinite space around it due to the very physically limited canvas you're working with. The Eurowings wordmark feels vertically cramped more than it does horizontally, because the windows are right below it and immediately above it the fuselage just...ends, from a two-dimensional view. Something looking okay in copy doesn't mean you can transfer it immediately to material.

Lindon Leader talked about this when discussing his design process for the FedEx logo in a very illuminating interview I cited heavily in my FedEx post. He looked at multiple pre-existing fonts but decided to create a custom one, and one of his reasons for this was:

[...] each had its potential limitations downstream in application to thousands of FedEx media, from waybills and embroidered courier caps to FedEx.com and massive signage for aircraft, buildings and vehicles.

Something can look acceptable or even sleek on a webpage, and that same wordmark can look downright horrible when applied to an airplane. I'll say this for FedEx - while I find their logo ugly it is absolutely good at what it needs to do. It looks no worse in any one medium or context than any other, and that's one of the reasons it's successful. It's not to my taste, but it's definitely well-designed, and I think one of the ways to improve the livery would actually be to somehow give it more real estate on the fuselage.

So the wordmark is, in my opinion, an abject failure. It's not even ugly but I mean that in the same way Wolfgang Pauli describes crackpot physics as not even wrong. Like, it's fine. It's nothing showstopping or even memorable enough to be picked out of an identity parade of default webfonts but I don't despise it. It's a common phenomenon and I'm picking on Eurowings because it's there and I know exactly what font was used and thus can mess around with it, not because it's the worst. Much like Lufthansa, it's an opportunistic victim. You know, the sort of post I'll end up hyperlinking to later, because even in its failure it's nothing exceptional.

I will say I enjoy the tiny outline of black on the letters. That's not on the wordmark proper, as rendered on their website m, but adding it was definitely the right move to help the magenta stand out from the white. Once you know about it you can notice how it makes the wordmark pop ever so slightly, turning an unmitigated catastrophe into a mitigated catastrophe. It's almost infuriating that they did this thoughtful little thing when you zoom out and remember what it's in service of. This honestly is a reoccurring thing with Eurowings.

Look at that nice tail design! They could have slapped the logo on and left it at that, like so many other airlines, but they didn't. They use the same nice colors and the overlapping greys to create a design that is clearly their logo while also being abstract and dynamic. There's a lot of shapes, a lot of motion, and a lot of nice shades of cyan and magenta, and I love it!

See that airplane landing in the background? Think about what airline you think it flies for, and stick a pin in that for a minute.

Hey, uh...where's the rest of it, though?

So, yes. Eurowings shares the first five letters of its name with Eurowhite. If you're not familiar with the term (I have a glossary, by the way) it just means a livery that is almost completely white save for logos. One could argue that the fact that the pattern on the tail isn't limited to strictly the tail and does form some sort of attempt at a fuselage design means that Eurowings' livery isn't 'true' Eurowhite, but I'm not going to brook that. Eurowhite is a state of mind. There is a nice, abstract design here which could easily be extended further. There is a grey shade which could be utilized (as it is on the engines, which look like they're lost and wandered onto another livery by accident) and there are infinite ideas to be had on the planet, and instead the majority of the plane is just white.

If one thing is thought of as my thesis from this post, let it be this, said for the third time: there is no such thing as default. Things like this wordmark placement, this type of font, and the primarily white fuselage are not default. The fact that they are common and boring does not make them inherent until replaced. They are still an active choice just as much as designing a livery that doesn't utilize these features is. It was proposed, iterated on, signed off on, and implemented. Airlines don't start with a template they then alter. They start with a vast world of infinite possibilities and decide they want to do the same thing as everyone else - that's a choice just how any other act of cowardice is a choice. I think the misconception that boring design is a result of inertia and lack of effort is a harmful one. It is a choice. They choose to do this.

They do not choose it because it is right for their livery, because they like it. They choose it because it is common, it is safe. It is reliable and it doesn't rock the boat. I've said this before discussing Southwest and Flair - low-cost carriers should be willing to rock the boat. If you're going to advertise yourself as the no-frills option you shouldn't try to look all composed and corporate. You have nothing to lose with being bright and pretty and interesting, so why aren't you?

And that cowardice is what makes me hate it so much. Some liveries are ugly, and some are almost ugly but stop halfway to cower in a Eurowhite bunker in an attempt to stem the bleeding, but there's nothing more tragic than a livery so afraid of being ugly that it cuts off and cauterizes something beautiful. The fear of ugliness is the death of beauty. condor is worth one billion Eurowings.

(No, Eurowings does not fail the Star Alliance Test, though.)

Like many of these designs that sort of just decide to stop after the tail, the longer a plane is the worse the Eurowings livery is on it. This is a very nice tail attached to a big white tube. Sure, Eurowings mostly operates somewhat short aircraft, but that wasn't the case when the livery was designed - back then they had A330s. Even now they have A321s.

Frustratingly, given how much I've ragged on this livery, I do still really like the tail. Even more frustratingly, you can see how easy it would have been to not have it be this way. The end of the cyan stripe almost begs to be held onto, weaved onto the rest of the fuselage, but it just isn't. It looks unfinished. It looks sad.

With all these shades of cyan and magenta to play with, the light heavily alters the way the colors on the tail look. They're never not pretty. It's a lovely colorscheme that's dramatically underutilized. The way it weaves together has so much potential, and it's attached to a white body. It looks like the paint job is unfinished. And that's what I hate the most about Eurowhite - good ideas left to languish, where a bit of custom letterhead does a better job of expressing your identity than an airplane livery.

The one feature Eurowings has towards the front of the plane is this little cheek decal of the Eurowings logo. Nice thought, but it almost looks actively worse when it stands out like that among an otherwise blank space. Plus, it's so small it might as well be a dot. It's cute, but in terms of overall effect on the livery it has the effect of making something mostly white look cluttered, which is just downright bizarre.

Obviously I can't endorse this. While not quite at the Lufthansa Line, with the actual bit of design happening on the tail instead of a sterile block, it doesn't cover much more fuselage than a proper exemplar of the phenomenon, and that's just always going to be a bit of a kneecap. Eurowhite is a state of mind, so much so that I almost think an unremarkable sans-serif font is as much of a codifying feature as a white body despite not being specified anywhere in the term. The same decision-making process leads both places, and the little black outline and cheek stamp and nice tail design just cant overpower that.

I'm giving Eurowings a D+.

Eurowings reminds me most of Saudia. They both have gorgeous colorschemes wasted on a design which burrows itself down as far into the substrate of artistic cowardice as physically possible. It's especially tragic and leaves me fighting myself over my final ratings. It feels wrong to grade such a gorgeous tail so harshly, but the good design features just make the bad package even more insulting. And at the end of the day I just have to put my foot down.

Sometimes I'm generous with grading because an airline is new, or because they're iterating on something that could be taken in a good direction. Eurowings isn't in the process of developing towards something nice, it's just Eurowings. It's an airline that stranded people in Cuba for 60 hours and Lufthansa seems to want it dead. I don't think we'll be getting a Eurowings livery overhaul anytime soon and I'm pessimistic about its longevity in general. Low-cost carriers and subsidiaries of large airlines are both easy come, easy go. Tears in the rain. 'Twas ever thus. Try not to get too attached.

Remember that plane from earlier? Yeah, I've got no clue what airline it flies for, but I don't think I can rule out it being Eurowings. 'Twas ever thus.

#tarmac fashion week #grade: d+#era: 2010s #era: 2020s #region: west/central europe #region: germany #eurowings #low-cost carriers #lufthansa group #air astra #icelandair #lufthansa #tui #finnair

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ducklooney · 1 year ago

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5, 21, 22, 23 for asking and yes, what do you like to draw in terms of have you been passionate about ducks for a long time?

Oh, hi. Hmm…good questions, although you asked a little too much. Also, the questions have been changed under the ordinal letters of the alphabet rather than numbers, but never mind. I'm going!

5. (E) My blog started four and a half years ago (next year it will be five years since I've been on Tumblr), mostly out of dissatisfaction, and to join a new collective that has similar interests as me. Interestingly, I joined when it was Donald's 85th birthday. XD Yeah, I already enjoyed the Ducktales reboot back then (even though it disappointed me in a lot of things at the time), I was still sad that no one mentioned the other Duck media, especially when we talk about the comics, Quack Pack, The Legend of The Three Caballeros and I wanted to take that job into my own hands. So I posted various posts about other Donald Duck media and let me tell you, I succeeded in that. Unfortunately, due to numerous obligations related to the university and at home, there were times and often when I was away for a long time. Still, I'm grateful to the Ducktales reboot for reawakening my feelings of nostalgia and re-reading the Donald Duck comics I used to read when I was a little boy.

21. (U) Actually I am, but more that I am a Christian believer and that I believe in God the Creator, as well as in Jesus who saved us from our sins, as well as in the Holy Spirit. Sometimes I study and read the Bible and go to church. But I'm not a fanatical believer, plus I don't force anyone to believe what I believe. Everyone has the right to their own religion. But I don't like it when my faith is abused through bad mockery and attacks on being a believer.

22. (V) I don't know if you mean the person I love or me personally, but I will answer both. I like in a person who is very pleasant and kind, who likes to draw and respect others and someone who is close to me. And I like to draw, read, write, and sometimes ride my bike outside, when the weather is nice.

23. (W) I don't like it when someone copies me without asking me, without me being mentioned, I don't like it when they insult and when they lie, I especially don't like it when someone insults me in dirty ways, as well as abuses my name as something worst. And I don't like sweet-talking people, I don't like it when someone blocks me, just because we have different views, and I don't like it when someone breaks their promises (either mine or someone else's). And I don't like it when someone insults my religion.

And this particular question, to answer you, I've been drawing since I was young, certainly when I went to school, but I didn't like to draw and I often had terrible drawings. I'm talking about when I drew in the traditional way. I think I have the hardest time painting with water colors. As for drawing itself, and coming back to it, I started four years ago, unfortunately I drew mostly very badly, but over time I learned some methods (and now I practice) and perfected it. If you look at my first drawings and my current drawings, you will see a big difference. I try my best though. Now I need to practice drawing and coloring backgrounds as well as portraits. And as for the ducks, well, I've been watching the classic shorts and reading the comics since I was a kid, but when I was in my teens, I stopped. Yes, I watched a lot of cartoons. In return, the Ducktales reboot is ironically credited, and I've come to love the comics more than before, even collecting those comics. Either online or I buy them. However, I prefer the classics the most, because it is still the best that will always remain. The Legend of The Three Caballeros and re-watching Quack Pack and other cartoons made me even more devoted to ducks.

I hope I satisfied you with your answers. And yes, I tell others to feel free to ask me, if you are interested in something. And yes, those are my opinions and sorry if anyone is offended by this, it's not my intention, just stating my views.

And yes, HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

#ask #ducksinspaceadventure #question #my answers #my opinions #my blog #tumblr #ask game

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5sosfanfictioncatalogue · 1 year ago

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3k-5k Word Fics Masterlist

part two

3 A.M. - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) michael/luke M, 4k

Summary: Five times Michael accidentally meets Luke in the bathroom and the one time he meets him there on purpose.

a little extra credit never hurt anybody - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) michael/ashton T, 4k

Summary: Michael and Ashton used to be best friends when they were younger, unfortunately Michael ditches Ashton for popularity when they get older. Things change when Ashton gets offered extra credit to tutor a failing student. That student so happens to be Michael Clifford.

Crush (ao3) - Calumthoodshands (tndart) luke/calum T, 3k

Summary: It's Calum's birthday, and Luke agreed to come - against his better judgement. Because how the hell is he going to talk to the guy he's had a crush on for over half a year now?

Gay Doesn't Mean Rainbows (ao3) - walking_crisis69 michael/luke T, 3k

Summary: "Your breath tastes like smoke." Luke said as he pulled away, running his fingers through his enemy's hair. "And your breath tastes like rainbows."

happy endings (ao3) - emiliathegreat (puckdummy) calum/ashton E, 3k

Summary: calum starts to visit a local bookstore to spend time with ashton, the cute boy who works there

him (ao3) - dazedlight (opinionoutpost) luke/ashton T, 3k

Summary: "{fifth.} YOU KNOW HIM. you love him. through a thousand lifetimes, across millions of stars, you’d find him, you’d never leave him. you love him, it consumes you, until death do you part."

Or, Luke loves every part of Ashton, and Ashton loves him back.

I Can Read You like My Favourite Book (ao3) - fivesecondsofmae luke/ashton E, 3k

Summary: Luke comes to pick his boyfriend Ashton up after his shift at Irwin Co. Bookstore, but they end up having sex before they make it to dinner.

i got a long-term plan (with short-term fixes) (ao3) - bellawritess michael/luke, jack/alex T, 4k

Summary: Michael comes into the bookstore one day with the weirdest request he’s made of Luke in the almost-year they’ve known each other.

“I need a hot boyfriend,” he announces. “You in?”

Luke frowns very slowly. “To help you find a hot boyfriend?”

“To be my hot boyfriend,” Michael says, like it’s obvious. “Temporarily.”

I’ve Got The Recipe (ao3) - FayeHunter michael/luke T, 4k

Summary: Michael keeps going back to the same coffee shop and no, it has nothing to do with the cute barista.Or 3 times Michael went to Luke’s coffee shop to see him and 1 time Luke visited Michael at his job

Lollipop (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance michael/luke E, 3k

Summary: Seeing Michael flustered on stage after dancing against him was a turn on for Luke. He knew he had to get Michael in his bed; he just had to build up Michael's frustrations and wait for the right time to do it.

make you blush (ao3) - dazedlight (opinionoutpost) luke/ashton T, 5k

Summary: "Luke peers up, and he's sure his heart does stop this time as he shrinks in on himself, worrying at his bottom lip. He really doesn't need this right now. In fact, he needs the opposite of this – he really, really doesn't want to talk to Ashton Irwin at this moment, or any moment, to be honest, because he thinks his stomach might fall out of his ass if he tries."

Or, Luke is a dweeby Year 10 who has a crush on the star of the musical.

(not) just friends (ao3) - galacticsugar michael/luke T, 4k

Summary: His eyes land on the folded paper, drawn in by Luke’s scrawling handwriting.

Specifically, on his name in Luke’s handwriting.

Casually, like he’s being watched, Michael picks up the paper and carefully unfolds it. It’s from one of those hotel room pads, branded with the hotel logo, which Luke improved with some artful squiggles. At the top, it says Michael Mix, the peaks of the Ms rising high above the rest of the letters, both words underlined twice. And below that, a list of songs.

Not Without You (ao3) - pilotmikey michael/luke G, 3k

Summary: Michael doesn’t want to go to prom without a date, but Luke doesn't want to go to prom without Michael.

taking flight (ao3) - strxngersagain luke/calum, michael/ashton G, 5k

Summary: Luke likes routine. He likes getting up every morning in his tiny apartment he shares with Michael and getting the same train to the airport every morning. He likes going to the dive bar on Hunter Street on fridays with his friends. He likes his routine.

————

Luke works at Starbucks at Sydney International Airport. Calum is a security guard at the same airport. Luke spends most of his mornings looking forward to when Calum comes for a coffee on his break. Calum spends most of his mornings looking forward to when he gets to see Luke on his break.

taking the long way home (ao3) - softirwin luke/ashton, michael/calum T, 5k

Summary: “May we have your attention for flight BA8227,” the tinny voice of the announcement says, and Ashton’s stomach sinks. They never announce anything he wants to hear; there’s never any we’ve upgraded hardworking and broke session drummer Ashton Irwin to first class, he’s also been given unlimited air miles and a refund on his overpriced tuna melt. “We are sorry to announce that this flight is delayed by approximately seven hours. This is due to unforeseen adverse weather conditions. I repeat-”

aka their flight is delayed au

Temporary Bliss (ao3) - dxnise michael/calum T, 3k

Summary: And as they fell asleep, bodies close, Calum realized then that if the hero in every story had to have that one tragic flaw that led to his eventual downfall, his would be Michael.

there for you - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) luke/ashton, michael/calum T, 3k

Summary: Luke has been transferred to countless high schools due to the constant bullying. Finally, Luke lands in a high school where he gets to be with Ashton. He thinks it will be better for him, but he underestimated how popular Ashton really is.

this time i’m not leaving without you (ao3) - sourscarlets luke/ashton G, 4k

Summary: Sometimes Luke find himself looking back on his teenage years and wonders about things. He wonders how his old high school teachers are doing, if any of them have retired since he’s left. He thinks about his old classmates and if they are leading the successful lives they all dreamed about when the accepted their diplomas on graduation day.

Luke wonders if Ashton ever thinks about him.

or where Luke is a bartender in New York City when his ex-boyfriend comes in for a drink

We Couldn't Freeze This Moment (ao3) - antisocialhood luke/ashton N/R, 3k

Summary: Ashton's relationship with Luke was a simplistic amount of domestic fluff and vanilla sex.

wherever I am, I’ll come running (ao3) - nothingliketherain (39_killer_queen) michael/ashton T, 4k

Summary: If he’s being honest, Ashton doesn’t know what to do either. Out of Michael’s closest friends he’s the only one who doesn’t have a dog, the least likely to have a vet on speed dial, the least likely to have something like this happen to him before. But instead of calling Luke or Calum for help, he called Ashton.

Because if there’s one thing Ashton does know how to do is take care of Michael.

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #5sos #3k #3k masterlist #5k #5k masterlist #masterlists

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honey-baby-blossom · 2 years ago

Text

peachy! - eddie munson

part one | part two | part three

summary | Eddie arrives for his study session and may finally get answers for your years of distance

warnings | heartbreak, anxiety, crying, cursing, fluffy angst

word count | 4k

notes | it’s been way way WAY too long since I’ve updated or written but I promise here it is, and pending the time and inspiration, love you guys !!!!

Your fingertips were almost numb after so much time flipping and grazing the pages of your novel in your lap. Well, technically it wasn't really yours. Eddie had shoved the thick book in your hands months ago and made you promise to start it once you had finished all the others in the line.

The Hobbit was long, ungodly so, but you knew how much it meant to your Eddie so you started dragging your eyes over the words. Eventually, you'd forgotten Eddie along with all of your other surroundings as you disappeared into Middle Earth and buried yourself in the story.

When you felt Eddie's ringed hand run down your arm from behind, the usual excitement and affection were replaced by irritation and a wave of your hand away from him as you curled your legs under you tighter and turned the next page.

"Betrayed by my own Peachy?" he gasped in faux surprise, sliding into the seat next to you.

"Bilbo just found the Arkenstone, hush," you mumbled, furrowing your eyebrows as you focused harder. Eddie's lips twitched into a smile and scooted closer to you, laying his head gently against your shoulder.

Normally your heart would have stopped in its place, your breath would have caught in your throat, and your mind would have been branded with the five letters that spelled his name, but all your attention was held tightly onto the story in your hands, making the boy's touch on you a comfortable addition. You internally wished the book could resolve itself faster or that he would wait just a few more hours for his affections toward you, that way both could exist, but alas.

"I just wanted to remind you of the show tonight. We're playing my original this time," he reminded you, his voice low in your ear. Now that had your attention. You tucked your finger into the spine and closed the book slightly, turning towards him quickly.

"Wait, Eds, really? I mean, I knew about the show, but your song? I thought Gareth hated it?" you asked excitedly, twisting your torso on the couch to face him. His cheeks flushed pink as he looked down at his ringed fingers twisting against his knee.

"He helped me make a few changes." Your face fell slightly, that classic frown seeping back into your expression. "For the better, I mean. I'm really happy with it," Eddie reassured you, his smile widening at your concern. You nodded with a satisfied grin and turned back to your book, pulling it back open in front of you.

"Of course I'll be there, Eds. Now shoo and let me finish," you said, waving your hand toward him once again. He let out a soft laugh and pressed a short kiss to your temple before coolly getting up and striding out of the library.

Your eyes followed him as he left, bound by a force greater than your own free will to analyze every part of his body as he moved. It was absurd how badly you wanted him back with you, how you wanted him to kiss down your face to your lips and stay there until you both turned blue in the face. It had been weeks and your confidence bar working towards making that move was still slowly inching closer and closer to its finish line.

You were almost certain he felt the same way, which kept that confidence moving forward, but the existing issue of no move being made on either side made it all a slow effort.

But maybe tonight would be enough

Your stomach twisted in on itself from anxiety as you took turns peeking through the blinds to check the driveway and straightening up the mess you called your bedroom. You hated this. Being so afraid of the boy you’d known for so very long. The one you called your best friend until suddenly… you didn’t.

Even now, remembering the night things ended forced tears to your eyes and a lump to your throat. The look on his face when you’d put on the carefully rehearsed facade of aloofness. It broke your heart still, but in all fairness, he’d been the one to start it.

The familiar rumble of Eddie’s van sent your heartbeat skyrocketing as you tore down the stairs of your home to the front door. Eddie’s hair bounced as he hopped out of the vehicle, the unlit cigarette dangling carelessly from his lips. Your chest tightened at the sight of him pulling the lighter from his pocket and flicking the flame to life. He closed his eyes as he took a drag then pulled it away. You watched as his face twisted up painfully before he shook his head quickly and dragged his free hand down his face tiredly. He took another long drag of the cigarette, his slender body leaning back against the door of the van.

He looked the same as how you felt. Torn and anxious and guilty. But you could tell you both had the burning need to finish this out, to find closure even. Still, the sight of the boy you once loved looking so troubled, holding a cigarette between shaky fingers broke what was left of your warm heart. Part of you wanted to pull the door open and pull him into a tight hug, whispering that you were sorry and that you loved him. But you didn’t. You silently watched as he finished smoking and pulled his raggedy backpack over his shoulder before stepping down the path to your front door.

The rhythmic knock echoed through your living room and you took a pregnant pause before pulling it open, trying to push away any lingering vulnerability you didn’t want him to see. He smiled at you as soon as you let your eyes meet his, forcing one of your own to crawl onto your face.

“Peachy,” he said, the dimple in his right cheek shining brightly at you.

“Mr. Munson,” you nodded, stepping to the side so that he could come in. He let out a sharp gasp and held his chest.

“You wound me with that, you know? Makes me sound old,” he said, dropping his bag onto the couch.

“You are old, Eddie. You look like you could be the biological father of half the freshman this year,” you smiled, poking a finger into his side playfully.

“That’s terrible,” he laughed, pulling his jacket off and draping it next to his bag. His Metallica t-shirt was tight on his chest and hugged his waist provocatively. He has to be doing this on purpose, you thought.

“We should probably get started,” you said, turning away to hide your burning pink cheeks. You tucked your hair behind your ears and knelt to sit on the floor next to the table in the center. Eddie watched and slowly followed you, his long legs folding awkwardly under him.

“You brought your copy right?” you asked, pulling your notebook in front of you.

“Copy of what?” Eddie asked, his face blank and clueless. You narrowed your eyes at him and reached behind you for his bag, searching inside for the old copy of the novel he was assigned to read. “Oh! Yeah, I’m not that dumb.”

“Clearly,” you mumbled, flipping through the pages quickly. He leaned closer to you, his long curly hair brushing over your shoulder. You glanced at him and scooted away slightly, making his shoulders slump. “How far have you gotten?”

“A few pages maybe?” he muttered, picking at the ripped strands of his jeans across his knees.

“Eddie,” you sighed, rolling your head back onto the couch behind you.

“I know, I know, okay? It’s just that it feels like a different language, you know? Regular books are hard enough a-and I always have to stop because the words get all jumbled so yeah. A few pages,” he said, frowning sadly. After a moment, you took a breath and patted his knee gently, looking up at his wide eyes. You gave him a soft smile and turned the book to its first page.

You were never all that great at reading aloud. You didn’t like how your voice changed or how dry your mouth got. You felt like you were lit up with a blinding spotlight and hated the pressure of people actually listening to you speak. It also didn’t help to have your entire body pressed up against the boy you’d spent so long trying to erase from your head. You’d forgotten his smell and how his breathing sounded. You couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet he looked curled up next to you. How innocent and curious his wide brown eyes shone every time he asked you a question about the story.

You’d told him about the battle with Grundle and were reaching the dreaded swamp of his mother when your stomach let out a menacing growl. Eddie raised his head from your shoulder, his cheek red from the sustained pressure.

“Hungry, Peach?” he asked with a playful grin. You pursed your lips to hide a smile and flipped through the remaining pages of the book. Just over a hundred. Thankfully he’d been giving the abridged version of the story.

“Maybe we should take a lunch break,” you hummed, folding the corner of the page you were on and closing the book.

He moved behind you like a shadow. You stood up, he stood up. You stretched and stepped into the kitchen, he was barely a foot behind, twisting his arms behind him with a sigh. You finally broke apart when he took a seat on the stool behind the counter to watch you work. You tugged the fridge open with a small smile and chewed on your lip.

“Leftover lasagna?” you called over your shoulder.

“Give it,” he answered, waving his hand toward him. You pulled the glass dish carefully off its shelf, being careful to not knock over the stack of other assorted leftovers next to it. “Where’s the Moms and Pops?”

“Somewhere near South Carolina last I heard,” you said, turning the knobs on the oven before sliding the glass dish inside. You crossed your arms and leaned against the counter opposite Eddie, finally noticing his curious frown asking for more. “Dad got a bonus this Christmas and instead of it going to my college fund, they bought an RV. Cross country roadtrip just the two of them. It’s not bad though. I’ve got the house all to myself until August.

Eddie messed with his rings, staring at the counter in thought for a moment before he spoke.

“So, you’re just…by yourself all the time?” he asked, his voice more gentle than you’d expect. You nodded, brushing a lock of hair back behind your ear. “No friends or…boyfriend to keep you company?”

“No, Eds. It’s been just me for awhile now,” you answered, catchin on to where he was leading you.

“For how long?”

“About two years.”

Eddie’s wide chocolate brown eyes stared into yours from across the kitchen. You wanted nothing more than to look away and shrug the entire interaction off, but he held you in a vice grip. His jaw clenched as he swallowed, his brown mane of hair framing the sharpness of his facial structure.

“Are you ever gonna tell me why?” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. You fought to swallow back the lump growing in the back of your throat.

“It doesn’t matter why anymore. None of it does,” you mumbled, blinking away the tears in your eyes. Flashes of the memory made your vision hazy with tears anyway. It wasn’t your kitchen anymore, it was the Hideout. The back corner. Next to the bathrooms. Where no one could see.

–

Your heart pounded in your chest so hard you were almost scared that the outline would obscure the handmade detailing across your Corroded Coffin t-shirt. Your palms were sweaty as you anticipated the band’s entrance along with the rest of the buzzing- albeit small- audience. You were so close to the stage you could almost hear the band’s low arguing behind the curtain. Finally, you saw him.

Eddie had never looked so in his element, frizzy curls falling along his face and forehead. His bangs were growing in nicely, so much that you noted to give him a long overdue “I told you so” from the day you cut them. His shirt was cropped about halfway, showing off his abdomen lightly decorated with dark hair that disappeared into his ripped jeans. Your wide smile turned into a lustful lip bite as you watched him walk onstage.

His cheeks were hot pink with excitement, a detail only you could notice. To everyone else, he was the sexy lead in an up and coming metal band that hated this crowd just as much as everyone else. But not to you. To you, that was your Eds just excited that he got a few cheers when he walked out from people other than you.

“What’s up, Hawkins?” he said into the mic, his eyes running through the faces in the crowd with a small smile. His eyes landed on you and he shot a wink before looking back up. Your skin felt hotter than before as you watched his ringed fingers slide up and down the neck of his guitar casually. He glanced back to his bandmates to make sure they were ready and turned back forward with a wide smile.

“We’re Corroded Coffin. Get your faces ready for melting.”

You felt overwhelming pride not just for your best friend rocking his ass off on his stage, but for yourself being able to remember four out of the five songs they played (Overkill by Motorhead, Wrathchild by Iron Maiden, Evil Eyes by Dio, and Seek and Destroy by Metallica). Your voice melted into the rest of the crowd as you cheered with the ending of Seek and Destroy. Your lips hurt from smiling and your throat hurt from screaming and your eyes hurt from the lights, but you couldn’t help but feel absolute and total glee as Eddie stepped back up to the mic. His bangs were pressed awkwardly against his forehead with the sweat dripping down his face. His shirt was riding up under his guitar, exposing another tattoo on his side. He looked absolutely devine, like a creature born straight from the gods of rock.

“Thanks, you guys. This uh- This next one is an original. A little slower, but I think you’ll like it,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse from singing. You shouted out a little hoot of excitement and he smiled down at you.

Jeff counted the band off, slapping his drum sticks together for Eddie’s melody on guitar to start. It was different from the other songs, but technically, sounded just as good. Eddie’s fingers tapped the strings against the neck in an intricate sequence.

After so much singing and screaming, his voice had become gravely and slightly hoarse, but that didn’t change how absolutely pretty he sounded as the words bled from his mouth. You stared at him from your place in the crowd, your eyes wide and filled with tears as you tried your hardest not to blink. As the music rose and Jeff picked up his pace on the drums, Eddie looked down at you, his face sweaty and smiling.

“Peachy girl,” he sang, intertwining the melody of his singing with the complex guitar riff he played with his fingers against the guitar. You bubbled out a gleeful sob, covering your mouth behind your fingers bashfully.

Your entire chest felt ready to collapse in on itself as the song tapered off with a final strum from Eddie’s guitar and the crowd erupted into cheers, yours much louder than the rest.

As soon as Eddie started making his way off stage, you were fighting a sea of drunks and bodies to get to him. Everything became elbows and shoulder blades as your small frame tried to weave through the crowd. As you made your way to the front, the familiar white and black Hellfire t-shirts gathered around Eddie made your smile dim slightly. You didn’t anticipate having to wait your turn.

“Eddie!” you called, hoping to catch his attention. The small opening you’d made for yourself was quickly closing just as you watched Eddie’s brown mess of hair disappear down the hallway of the bar with the rest of his club.

Combined with the overwhelming sense of love and vulnerability the song had erupted in your chest, the anxiety of the crowd and tension of being unable to find your best friend tore a thick crack in your mood. You thought you might cry if you had to wait any longer to find him.

You called his name again and pushed your way into the hallway you saw him enter, finally finding relief from the mass of bodies in the venue. In the dim lighting, you curved through the dirty bar, sighing when you finally reached a door to the outside.

It took a sizable amount of your strength to push it open, but once the fresh air hit your face you could hear that familiar laugh of his. You bit your lip with a wide smile and stepped forward to look where the sound came from.

Eddie’s shirt was sweaty and sticking to his back, showing off the lean muscles underneath. His arms looked thick and full as he reached for something in front of him. Over his shoulder you finally saw that he wasn’t alone. He reached for her.

Thin and long. Blonde hair. Her smile was wide and devilish. She looked like the girls in magazines. She didn’t belong to this place. There was no reason she should be here. Unless it’s for him.

Your vision blurred and your breath cut sharp slices in your throat as you let the door slam in on yourself. You pushed past Gareth and Jeff, too overwhelmed to congratulate them for their show and ran back down the hallway.

Everything was red and watery and hot as you found a bathroom. It could have been the men’s for all you knew, but as soon as you found the lock, your knees hit the ground.

In between the heaving shakes of your chest, you tried to breathe. This wasn’t right. Who was she? Why was he leaning towards her and not you? You curled into yourself, hugging your knees tight to your chest, tears staining the dark material of your jeans.

“Peachy girl,” you sang to yourself quietly, through the heavy tears. “My peachy girl.”

“I need some air,” you whispered, shoving tears off your cheeks. You turned on your heels for the front door, your eyes narrowing on the door like the light at the end of the tunnel. You tried to ignore the heavy footsteps following behind and tore the front door open.

The air was colder than it was when you’d gotten home, thick with impending rain. Your arms curled into your chest instantly, the hot skin sizzling almost in the cool air.

“Peachy-“

“Don’t call me that, Eddie,” you whimpered, your bottom lip puckered out with emotion. You saw him out of the corner of your eye, his shoulders tense and fists clenched.

“What do you want me to call you then?” he asked, his voice weak and quiet. You sniffed and wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“I don’t know, Eddie. I don’t remember anymore,” you whispered, hot and heavy tears spilling down your face. For once, you didn’t shrink away when you felt his thick hand brush against your arm, warm and rough.

He stayed quiet, watching your every move for a sign. For anything that told him he could pull you into his chest and not let you go. Not like last time.

“It was that night. The show,” he said finally. Your choked out sob, he took as a yes and nodded. “I never should have sang that fucking song.”

He shook his head and let go of your arm, stepping out in front of you. You sniffed and wiped your cheeks again, your eyes puffy and bloodshot. He looked different like this, defeated in front of you. His shoulders slumped and his pouty lips turned down into a deep frown.

He really didn’t know, you realized. He didn’t even remember her. It was never her.

“Eddie?” you whispered, making his head turn to you quickly, his wide brown eyes seeming larger than ever. “What happened after the show? After the song?”

“You left. And that was it,” he answered, swallowing thickly. You shook your head and rubbed your eyes.

“No, um. You left. A-And the crew all followed you. Those kids worshipped you even then. I lost you so quick. I never even…I never imagined I’d be able to lose you in a crowd.”

Eddie stared at you, his body turning further towards you. You ignored the tears running down your cheeks and the beginnings of rainfall drizzling down beyond your porch.

“I wandered for a little while. Finally found you outside,” you said, choking on your words. You met his eyes with a weak smile. “But you were busy.”

Eddie’s eyes fell shut and let a tear run down his cheek, his face twisting into the epitome of heartbreak if you’d ever seen it.

“I loved you so much, Eddie,” you sobbed, holding your hands to your chest as if it would keep it from spilling your heart onto the floor. He sniffed and wiped his eyes quickly, stepping closer to you. He took your hands into one of his and held it against his own chest.

“Peachy girl, not for one second did I ever…Not for a goddamn second want anyone but you. She was an old friend of Gareth’s, I swear to christ,” he said firmly, his face closer to yours than anyone had been in years. You believed him, finally you did. “It’s always been you. Always will be.”

Like a woman possessed, you leaned into him, lips colliding. He was warm, like a blanket fresh from the dryer, but his lips were still cold. It was absolutely everything you’d dreamed of for so long.

His lips danced against yours elegantly, so much gentler than you would have expected. He tilted your chin up slightly with the bend of his finger, moving you to run the tip of his tongue against your bottom lip. With a soft gasp, he slipped it inside, pulling you tighter into him. Just as you felt yourself start to melt deeper into his touch, he pulled away, lips suddenly hot and puffy.

“Lets go inside, Peachy,” he said, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip. You looked up at him, your face flushed enough that the cold was invisible on your skin. He smiled down at you, warm brown eyes twinkling devilishly.

“Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

Taglist:

@bxnnywriting @pappachismoth @chcolateeyelver @juggernort

#eddie munson blurb #eddie smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie my beloved #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things #joseph quinn #peachy!

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airprime7 · 1 year ago

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Four and vier (four in German, pronounced “fear” but more German) are both 4 letters long. Cinqo (five in Spanish, pronounced “sink-o” but more Spanish) is 5 letters long.

However, four is the only English number which, when spelt out, is the same length as its numerical value. This, however, makes it nicely unique in terms of English names for numbers.

Fifty has 5 letters and seventy has 7 letters. This fact is nice. Therefore fifty-four and seventy-four have letter-counts of 5-4 and 7-4. Thirty-six and forty-five have reversed pairings; their counts are 6-3 and 5-4 respectively. Both of these sum to 9, and the numbers they represent are both multiples of 9, even if reversed.

Forty has its letters in alphabetical order. One (and also first) has its in reverse. These are the only English integers to do so. (Non-integers, such as pi and e, do not count toward this.)

Eighty-eight and thirty-three both are divisible by 11, and 11 letters long.

Eleven plus two = Twelve plus one, both mathematically and anagramatically (they have all the same letters.)

I have many many more nice number facts; perhaps I should start a series of information posts about them. Many of these I retrieved from this site.

its absurd that trio is four letters long and not three

#roseposting #number facts

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magicinaframe-part2 · 1 year ago

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Bizarre

If only, if only. If only I had the skill to come up with alternate lyrics to well-known songs, I would feel truly creative.

If anyone, here, at Tumblr, wants to try on your own and get back to me, that would be good news -- good news for me and, maybe, for you, also.

The word 'bizarre' has the same number of letters as the word 'divorce.' "D-I-V-O-R-C-E" was a popular country and western single from the late 1960s. It was a song that was used in the Hollywood movie FIVE EASY PIECES (U.S. debut date: Sept. 12, 1970), a movie that I recommend.

As a potential song with alternate lyrics, "Bizarre" would be a way for people to deal with the daily proliferation of off-the-wall events taking place in the U.S.

For the record, the Merriam-Webster Dictionary website defines the word 'bizarre' as follows: Strikingly out of the ordinary, such as (a) Odd, extravagant or eccentric in style or mode; (b) Involving sensational contrasts of incongruities.

With that definition in mind, I have to briefly describe a movie that was in theaters throughout the U.S., starting on August 9, 1967.

Sometime in the future, on planet Earth, the nations who call themselves Democratic have banded together into one group of countries, a group that is run by a Council -- with one man, amongst the Council members, chosen as the leader. Technological advances have continued, so that travel to other planets is commonplace, for instance. On Earth, surface travel is usually done with cars that appear to be suspended in the air, without wheels. Travel on Earth also includes aircraft that look like flying saucers.

The democratic nations' security is handled by both police and special security forces.

A space station orbiting the earth is where the main strand of the plot of this movie begins. A special security force Commander, named Mike Halstead, has arrived to get an update on a number of on-going scientific experiments. The experiments have been run by a Corporation, not by the government, and Halstead has thought for a long time -- that is, before the movie started -- that the relationship between the government and the Corporation has to be carefully looked at.

In particular, in Halstead's way of thinking, the Corporation person who is in charge of the scientific experiments is not to be trusted. That character's name is Nurmi.

The bulk of the plot focuses on the reality of Nurmi's scientific experiments. Nurmi has been quietly putting together a new race of 'perfect humans' who, if everything goes according to plan, will take over the government.

Now, this might sound intriguing on paper, as a movie script, but the actual presentation is what I mean by the word 'bizarre' -- and, perhaps a new word has to be found or created, because the Merriam-Webster Dictionary definition does not accurately describe any of the sight and sound information on screen. 'Unbelievable' is too broad, vague. There must be another word.

To anyone who is interested by what I am saying, here, at Tumblr, I recommend the theatrical trailer of the movie THE WILD, WILD PLANET (1966) which can be found at You tube. If you have 2 minutes and 47 seconds that you can spare, the trailer will make clear what I am saying in this piece.

I'm wondering whether any controlled substances were consumed during the production of this movie. And I wish I could find a definitive answer to the following question: Were the scriptwriters and the director sincerely predicting the future or were they having fun and making money? In the real world, one had to have been more important than the other.

-- Drew Simels

#1960s Science Fiction Movies

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nadiasindi · 2 years ago

Video

youtube

(via Confronting inequality is key to ending our housing crisis)

https://www.ocpp.org/2023/01/20/inequality-housing-crisis/?blm_aid=3119109

Gov. Kate Brown Appointed 100 Judges. And now she no longer will be Oregon Governor. She made sure before she leaves, she appointed TWO more Judges to cover her back! Arrest Gov. Brown, Rep. Nancy Nathanson & the Rest of Oregon Criminal Officials who are complicit of losing my fully paid Condo to the Most Criminal Officials late Frohnmayer, late Rep. Ackerman

https://www.facebook.com/AXJ.OR/videos/2043016569268673

https://www.facebook.com/AXJ.OR/?ref=pages_you_manage

The most Criminal Official of Oregon late A.G. Dave Frohnmayer had deleted and removed all the record from Lane County that shows I'd changed my name to Nadia Sindi then he lift my old name Faika M. Sindi and changed the first letter of my name made it Saika Findi!! and trapped me with a Criminal record since 1987!This had happened when late A.G. Frohnmayer was Oregon A.G. https://www.amazon.com/Without-Evidence-Anna-Gunn/dp/B076C44SWD/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&hvadid=77721795906863&hvbmt=be&hvdev=c&hvqmt=e&keywords=without+evidence+movie&qid=1634744148&sr=8-1. http://www.salem-news.com/articles/january112014/corruption-petition-ns.php?fbclid=IwAR0n668Efngx8J3l95dUI5tufiMmD73OQWgy2oCp2eovOjeokwQRFW2AbWA https://uomatters.com/tag/dave-frohnmayer-uo-president?fbclid=IwAR1qI1qm6ta1TnXfI9F1r-vjv9XMemLhurXjKptJsvUPHiDJJaFcdmriLhM https://www.wweek.com/portland/article-21195-reputation-for-rent.html https://www.wweek.com/portland/blog-30283-u-of-o-prof-files-bar-complaint-in-long-v-kroger-case.html https://www.dailyemerald.com/archives/uo-president-faces-ethics-complaints/article_de9248c1-bf32-53ea-9a2b-8b67c4c08ad1.html https://www.thefreelibrary.com/University+president+faces+ethics+complaint.-a0153374882?fbclid=IwAR1lSXHpNvxvFW0TxkLDBhjELusnbonQkvyk8I3L7Ovt2UnNodwONa0nD2o Late Oregon A.G. Dave Frohnmayer and Both D.A. Doug Harcleroad, Alex Gardner with the Lane County Sheriff, trapped me in a criminal record since 1987. They have changed the first letter in my first name to "S" So I couldn't expunge it! http://petitions.moveon.org/sign/justice-for-nadia-sindi My life with Liberal Klans in Oregon! Arab/Muslim Americans are treated less than animals! We are called Sand N… We are being prosecuted on a daily basis! High tech lynching, institutionally racism! Especially for Arab women!! Oregon late A.G. Dave Frohnmayer had my SS# blocked & prevented me from getting employed, made me homeless and jobless! Dave Frohnmayer was the one who started & initiated the fraud of Foreclosed-houses & taking over our homes! His bank robber Rep.Bob Ackerman, Doug McCool, UO Prof. Margaret Hallock. Hired Scarlet Lee/Barnhart Associates. Forged my family’s signature. Gave our fully paid Condo to the thief Broker Bob Ogle, his mom Karen Ogle was working in the USA Consulate in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. She administered the power of attorney to have my sister's signature, and added her son to the deed. Sold without my signature! Bob Ackerman had never responded to the Summon from the Court, and the sheriff never served me or arrested him either!! ThIs is what kind of criminal government we have in Oregon!! Arrest Rep. Bob Ackerman, Doug McCool, Broker Bob Ogle, his mom Karen Ogle, Scarlet Lee/Barnhart Associates, UO Prof. Margaret Hallock, Wells Fargo Both D.A. Doug Harcleroad, Alex Gardner told me they have NO JURISDICTION on Frohnmayer! Oregon criminal Officials are complicit with these crimes against me! Both EPD, Lane County Sheriff Dept. and the FBI had been told to step down from investigating the bank robber Rep. Bob Ackerman & the rest of Lane County Criminal Officials are complicit with him! I ran five times for public offices! Voter Fraud & Sedition by Lane County government to protect & cover up for the two criminals Frohnmayer & Ackerman!! The Oregon government is complicit with their crimes!! https://facebook.com/groups/justice4nadiasindi… http://davefrohnmayer.com Please sign petitions. https://change.org/petitions/a-g-eric-holder-sent-jeff-merkley-gov-john-kitzhaber-investigate-abuse-of-power-and-criminal-forgery-by-former-oregon-a-g-david-frohnmayer-and-lane-county-government#share…. Dave Frohnmayer was going to kill me by sending some fabricated story after he called the manager where I used to live to tell her he was waiting for him to pick him up from the Airport! Then Frohnmayer sent me a team of Doctors for Mental health to Evaluate me!

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sonofarathorn · 3 years ago

Text

catharsis

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.1k

Rating: E |18+ only|

Warnings: Friends to…FWB. Drinking (both parties). Banter. Makeout Sessions. Oral (m + f receiving). Biting. PinV. Fluff towards the end.

Summary: The night before a major court case you seek Matt out for some much needed relief.

A/N: Honestly intended for this to be more in the vein of hatefucking, but it turned into something a little sweeter with a lot more longing and I’m not mad at it. Hope you all enjoy! Edit made by @saradika

You walk down the dark street, heels clacking against the semi-wet concrete.

Not even the buckets of rain the skies hammered on the city today can stop the nightlife. As soon as the sun dips below the horizon it starts to stir around you. Hell’s Kitchen might be crazy, but at least it was consistent.

There’s a bar on your right and noisy rock music filters out of it, along with day drunks now trying to sober up on their way home. A group of bikers lean against the wall. They leave you be, but you can feel the weight of their stares on your body as you pass them.

It sends a trickle of cold revulsion down your spine, but you roll your shoulders back, clutch your purse a little tighter, and continue on. You keep your head up and your sharp eyes forward: this wasn’t the best part of town, and you were keen on making it to your destination in one piece.

The place in question looms ahead of you. A dreary red brick building, even worse now in the dark. There’s a light on in one of the dirty windows on the second floor. Somebody’s home. You really hope it’s the person you’re looking for.

You push the squealing front door open and climb the rickety stairs. The light flickers, bouncing off of the peeling paint and dripping pipes. A roach scuttles away out of the corner of your eye and you accidentally kick what has to be the fourth plastic water bottle littering the small hallway.

Great. Your hand gingerly rests against the doorknob. Gotta be truly desperate coming here.

You stare at the words gracing the office window for an ungodly amount of time. Spend what feels like five minutes tracing the block letters over and over again. Just two names–sixteen letters–but it must have cost them a fortune. It’s cute. Official.

Now if only they could do something about the state of the rest of the building.

You take a deep breath, swallow your pride and turn the knob.

“Hello?” You call. “Matt? Foggy? Anybody in here?” You hold your breath, hoping the voice that answers is the one you want to hear. It would be mortifying having to explain to Foggy what you were doing here.

But soon comes the telltale click-clack of the metal cane, and the doorway to one of the “offices” is no longer empty. Matt walks into the hallway, head tilted to the side. He says your name softly, face alight as if he’s happy you’re there.

He looks infuriatingly handsome, dressed in a plain grey suit that wouldn’t warrant a second glance on any other guy. His tie is uncharacteristically missing and the top two buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, exposing a smattering of hair as dark as the stubble that dots his jaw. So this is what Matt looked like after hours.

You stop short. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Lucky guess.” He shrugs. “I still know how your voice sounds.”

Your eyebrows furrow. Matt has always been freakily perceptive, sure, but you hadn’t seen him in almost a year, let alone spoken to him. You don’t quite buy the excuse, but you shrug it off anyways.

“So, counselor.” Matt grins. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Cut the shit, Murdock.” You brush past him into what passes for his office. “We’re well past formalities.”

It’s not much bigger than a walk-in closet and sparse. There’s a desk by the window, complete with a shitty Dell computer, a big pile of papers and a couple ratty chairs.

Matt chuckles and follows you into the office. “Never thought I’d see you here. Didn’t think you knew where our office was.” He closes the door and sits on the edge of his desk.

You throw your coat over the back of one of the chairs and slump into it. “Don’t flatter yourself. I had to look it up. But I love what you’ve done with the place. Feels…quaint.”

He smirks, taking the insult in stride. “Thought you and your partner would be busy preparing for your big trial tomorrow.”

“My associate is an idiot. I’m completely on my own with this one.”

“You’re with Jensen now, right? I remember him, he wasn’t that bad.”

“He thought a ‘hung jury’ was some kind of compliment.” You groan, dropping your head into your hands.

Matt snorts. “Jesus, how did he pass the bar?”

“Idiots pass the bar all the time. You don’t need to be a lawyer, just a decent test taker with unearned white male confidence.” You sigh. “And trust me, Jensen has plenty of that to spare.” You rub your temples. “Biggest case of my career and I’ve got a fucking trust fund baby riding shotgun.”

He nudges your foot. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You can handle whatever faceless court-appointed nobody they throw your way. You were always Columbia’s brightest.”

“So were you, and look where it got you.” You dig your manicured nail into a flap of chipped paint.

Matt shrugs. “I’ve got a good practice. I’m helping people with a partner I can actually stand. Can you say the same?”

You press your lips together, the glare you shoot him falls on blind eyes. “Finally getting right with God then, huh? Or are you just taking charity cases out of the kindness of your heart?” You raise your eyebrows. “You and Foggy deserved better than a rat-infested building, Matty.”

“They exterminated the rats.” He shakes his head. “Haven’t seen one in days.”

“Ha-ha.” You roll your eyes. “It could be like the good old days again. You, me and Foggy were the dream team. I mean you could have an office with a view of the city by now. Everyone would know you guys’ names.”

Matt tilts his head to the side, those red glasses of his glint off the warm light. Impenetrable. “What are you really doing here? I know it’s not for a trip down memory lane,” he asks, voice clipped. “Or to offer me a job. I already said no once.”

“Can’t old friends catch up and have a drink?” You ask.

“Old friends?” The corner of his lips lift into a smile. “Cut the shit. You know we’re well past formalities,” he parrots your words back at you.

You bite your bottom lip, heartbeat flitting in your chest. Yes, you were well past formalities and you were well past friendship.

“Well if you don’t want to, then I guess I’ll just go home.” You stand, draping your purse back over your shoulder. “Goodbye, Matty.”

He grabs your wrist. “Wait.”

“Yes?”

Matt pauses for a while. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was studying you. For a moment you stand there in the fading twilight, frozen chest to chest and breathing the same air. Finally, he speaks.

“I don’t have anything…to drink I mean. We’d have to go to a bar– that is if you can stand to be seen in such a seedy part of town,” Matt teases. “What would Jensen and all your pretentious friends at L and Z say?”

You ignore the dig. “We don’t have to go anywhere.” You pull the brown liquor bottle from your purse. “I brought my own. It’s Macallan, your favorite.”

Matt takes the bottle from you and runs his fingers over the front of it. “That’s an expensive bottle.”

“I have expensive clients.” You grin. “Guess it would be too much to expect you guys to have actual glasses?”

“Mugs are in the kitchen.” He points towards the door. “Though if I remember correctly, you were more of a drink-from-the-bottle kind of gal.”

“Oh don’t be so barbaric, Matthew.” You pull your arm from his grip. “A scotch this fine is made to be savored.”

You find the chipped mugs on a drying rack in their sorry excuse for a kitchen and bring them back.

Matt’s completely ditched his suit jacket and his sleeves have been rolled up, exposing his forearms. He’s pulled his office chair out from behind the desk and sits in it with an ankle draped over his knee. The bottle is open, the foil and lid dropped haphazardly onto the desk. The trash looks at home amongst all the other clutter.

You toe your heels off and settle into the chair across from him, pouring a healthy amount of scotch into the ceramic mug. Matt swirls his offered drink around a few times before taking a sip.

“Expensive clients indeed.” He visibly relaxes as the warmth spreads through his body.

“Certainly packs more of a punch than chickens.”

“You heard about the chickens?”

“People talk. Couple more animals and you and Foggy can build a farm.”

Matt takes another drink of scotch in lieu of arguing. “How’s the case coming?”

“You know I can’t talk about it.”

“You don’t have to give me specifics.” He rests his chin in his hand. “Just tell me how you feel about it? Confident?”

You take a deep breath. “I think I’m gonna win.”

“Even with your crappy associate?”

“Even with my crappy associate,” you confirm. “Our case is solid. I’ll probably be up against a newbie. All I need is for Jensen to keep his mouth shut and we’re golden.”

Matt holds his drink up in a toast. “And you’ll have that office with a view in no time. Do you think they’ll give you your own, or will you have to share?”

You finish your drink and pour another. “You think you’re better than me, just cuz you do pro bono work out of some hovel?”

“You think you’re better than me because you work for expensive clients out of a skyscraper downtown?” He counters, reaching for the bottle but you hold it away from him.

“Charity doesn’t pay student loans, Matty,” you reply sullenly. “Not all of us could get scholarships, some of us had to sell our souls to the devil.”

“You could quit and work here. Do something that actually makes a difference in the world. Foggy and I could really use you.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

You clench your jaw. “Can’t.”

Matt leans forward. “Let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot,” you try really hard to keep your voice nonchalant, but his barbed words still sting.

“Why come here? Why not go out with Jensen or any of your new friends at Landman and Zack?” He asks.

“Feel like I’m on the stand.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You take a drink to avoid the question for a moment. “Maybe I just wanted to see a familiar face.”

He hums something that almost sounds like the Cheers theme song. “Didn’t think you were the sentimental type.”

“I’m not,” you snap. “And if you’re gonna be an asshole then I’ll call myself a cab.”

“Don’t. I’m sorry.” Matt holds his hands up. “Pour me another drink?”

You do, watching the amber liquid slosh against the dark green paint of his mug.

“Remember the semester me, you and Foggy won moot court?” You ask.

“You mean the bender we went on after that had us stumbling down Broadway at 3 am?” Matt smiles fondly. “Yeah, I remember. I’m surprised you remember anything about that night. I had to drag you home.”

You almost laugh at the memory. You and Foggy singing show tunes as you passed the closed theaters. Matt wedged between the two of you, holding you steady with an arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Not only had he dragged you home that night, but he tucked you in and slept on your couch to make sure you were alright.

“I remember you.” You scrape your nail against the chip on the mug’s lip. “You were shockingly alert, even after three drinks.”

“Yeah well, who else was going to keep you and Foggy out of trouble?”

“It started raining and you gave me your jacket.” It smelled like cologne–spiced and woody–if you breathe deeply enough, you can almost smell it. You wonder if the same scent still clings to his dress shirt now. “I never gave it back to you.”

“I didn’t want it back,” Matt says quietly. “Or I would have asked.”

Your breath catches in the back of your throat. “I..I don’t have it anymore.”

“That’s a shame. It looked really good on you.” There’s no sarcasm in his tone anymore.

“Wanna know why I really came here?” You set the mug onto the floor beside the mostly-full bottle.

Matt nods.

“I came.” You pause, gathering up the courage to really speak your mind. “I came because I had a shitty day, and I knew, very, very deep down, that seeing you would make it better.”

“Really?” Matt raises his eyebrows.

You scoff. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“You missed me.”

“A teeny tiny bit.”

“C’mooon.”

“Matt,” you say as a warning. “Don’t be a dick. Not right now.”

He tips the rest of the contents of his mug down his throat and sets it aside. “Alright.” He rubs his hands on his thighs. “You came here because you thought I could make you feel better. How do you want me to do that? Some friendly legal advice? A pep talk?”

You shake your head reflexively. “Remember those long nights during finals week? After Foggy called it and went back to your place?” You’re venturing into dangerous territory now, the alcohol making you bolder.

Matt rubs his jaw. “Another trip down memory lane?”

“A more eventful one.” You play with your fingers.

Matt scoots to the edge of his chair, gently pressing into your space. “There were a lot of long nights. You’ll have to be specific.” His breath fans over cheek and you have to stop yourself from shivering.

“The ones that happened during our senior year.” You’re drawn forward towards him like a comet. “Tended to happen on nights like these.” You poke at his empty mug. “When you and I were alone and a little intoxicated.”

He presses his lips together and slowly shakes his head. “I’m having trouble recalling.” He brushes his thumb against the back of your hand. “Think you should remind me.”

Your muscles tense up and heat floods your body. You stare at him, catching a glimpse of yourself reflected in the red lenses of your glasses. Here you were, so close to getting what you came here for in the first place and you couldn’t fucking move. You sit frozen, lips mere inches away from Matt’s, unable to close the cavernous distance between you.

He makes the choice for you, bumping his nose against yours clumsily before he can finally slot his lips over yours. Your hands curl into the collar of his shirt instantly, sealing him in place. He grabs the leg of your chair and pulls you even closer as your lips dance a tango. It’s messy and off-beat, but God is it electrifying.

You can taste the scotch on him, and your tongue licks out greedily in search of more. Matt moans against your lips, tilting his head to kiss you deeper. You’re lightheaded now, unsure if this weightless sensation was from Matt’s syrupy kisses, the alcohol or some combination of both.

He kisses you until your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest, and then, as if he knows the effect he has on your body, Matt pulls away and gives you a moment to breathe.

“I thought you didn’t remember.” You press your forehead to his, and though he’s right there even this meager distance is too far.

“Couldn’t forget that if I tried.” Matt pulls his glasses off and leans back to set them on the desk behind him.

“Did you try?” You follow him and Matt shakes his head with a quiet laugh.

He pulls you onto his lap. “No,” he whispers, and then he’s kissing the life out of you once again.

Your fingers slide up his firm chest, fumbling to undo the small buttons of his dress shirt. It takes even more time to accomplish the task now that you’re under the influence. Matt has an easier time undoing the buttons of your silk blouse. He’s pushing the shirt off your shoulders and squeezing your breasts through your lacy bra in no time.

You press a sigh into his mouth as your fingers come in contact with his chest. You run your fingers through the curly hair that resides there and Matt all but purrs. His hands slide up and under the cami you wear and pull it off of you.

Suddenly you feel entirely vulnerable.

Matt’s already reaching for the clasp of your bra, but you push his hands away.

“What?” His eyebrows furrow.

“Shush.” You climb out of his lap and drop onto your knees in front of him. “Sit back.” You undo his belt buckle with slightly steadier fingers.

“Wait,” Matt cocks his head to the side. “Are you sure? About all of this?”

“Yes,” you breathe, mouth already dry and lips longing to be wrapped around him. “I want you. Do you want me?”

He gently cups your chin. “I always wanted you.” Matt says and leans back in his office chair and spreads his legs.

You palm the very noticeable imprint of his cock as your mouth slowly follows the trail of hair down to the waistband of his dress pants and Matt groans, lifting his hips in search of more pressure. The button of his pants is a little easier to work with, and you manage to get them and his boxers down and around his ankles with little resistance.

Matt’s cock rests against his chiseled stomach, hard and lean just like him. You spit into your palm and the curse he lets out is colored by a chuckle at your shamelessness. That all changes to a choked moan when your fingers wrap around him.

“Shit,” he huffs, head tilting back as you stroke him. “Yeah. Just like that.”

You hum under your breath, squeezing him a little tighter. Your lips sweep across the expanse of his muscled thigh, higher and higher until they brush against the base of his dick. You mouth at it with little licks until Matt’s all but squirming beneath you.

Slowly, oh so achingly slowly, you leave opened mouthed kisses up the shaft, tracing each ridge and vein with your tongue. The taste of him is one still etched deep within you; soap and sweat. It brings memories of tipsy nights long ago, the taste of cheap beer and greasy food. The fumble of clothes and the slide of sweaty skin as the two of you tried to find catharsis through each other.

Translucent pearls of cum bead on the tip of his cock. You lick them off with a quiet moan.

Matt fights for control above you. His shaky fingers dig into the plastic chair, knuckles so taut they turn white from exertion. It’s a losing battle, you can see that in the way his hips lift towards your face. When you look up, you find his face is a mask hard and dark with lust.

“Something you want, Matty?”

“Don’t make me beg, sweetheart,” Matt wiggles in the seat.

A sinful smile creeps over your face and you lean forward to lap at the head of his cock once more. Matt clenches his jaw. He swears you could make Adam fall again.

“What if I want you to beg?” You pair the words with another twist of your wrist.

“Then we’re in for a long night.” His voice rumbles deep in his chest.

You purse your lips. “Think you could outlast me?”

Matt scoffss. “I’ve been told I’m very stubborn.” He spreads his legs a little wider. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Yeah?” You bite your bottom lip. .

“Yeah.” He presses a gentle hand against the back of your neck and guides you forward.

Your lips part around the tip of his cock taking him into the warm confines of your mouth. The broken noise that falls from his chapped lips lights a fire inside of you. You swallow down more and more of him hoping for more of those sweet jagged sounds.

“Ah.” Matt lifts his unseeing eyes to the ceiling. Harsh breaths fall from his nose. “That’s it.”

He’s heavy on your tongue, stretching your lips open. Your tongue swirls along the underside of him, hands still stroking him slowly. It’s a lethal combination, the kind that makes his toes curl up in his dress shoes. Matt’s chest rises and falls quickly, those intoxicating noises coming faster and faster. Each one makes your clit ache, and soon you’re pressing your thighs together for some kind of relief.

It’s almost ridiculous just how much sucking him off turns you on.

You press down further onto him, ignoring the ache in your jaw and the dribbles of spit that collect at the corner of your mouth. Greed twists in your gut like a leaping flame. You want as much of him as you can take and then some. You want the taste of him on your tongue, coating the back of your throat.

A hand sneaks it’s way between his thighs, gently squeezing his balls and a moan rips out of his throat.

“Fuck.” Matt’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His hips snap up into your mouth, and you gag as his cock hits the back of your throat. “Oh shit.”

You’ve always loved the effect you have on him. Love the way that sweet altar boy composure comes tumbling down the moment you fall to your knees for him. He’s scrambling now, muttering curses under his breath as he fumbles to regain restraint. His cock twitches dangerously between your lips, spurts of come leak onto your tongue.

Matt only lasts another ten seconds before he’s ripping you away from him.

You suck in unrestricted breaths with a cough and wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Why’d you make me stop?” You ask innocently, as if he wasn’t just about to come down the back of your throat.

“You’re trouble,” he says breathlessly. And then after a beat and with a much steadier voice. “Sit on my desk.” Matt pulls his pants back up around his waist but leaves them undone.

You take his hands and guide him back towards the desk. It squeals and rocks as you climb onto it, but Matt shows no worry. His hand cups your face and he pulls you back into a searing kiss, wasting no time in pushing his tongue into your mouth so he can taste himself. His hands roam again, intent to finish his mission of getting you completely naked.

Matt undoes your bra and tosses it somewhere behind him. His lips leave yours to trail across your jaw and down your neck, leaving sloppy kisses and nips in their wake. He buries his nose into your shoulder, pausing to deeply inhale the scent of your perfume.

Jasmine. His favorite.

“Did you wear that for me?” He mumbles, tucking a kiss against your pulse.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.” You play coy, but the truth is you absolutely did.

Matt grins against your shoulder. He cups your breasts, thumb teasing your peaked nipple. “Mmm. I’m gonna say you did,” he mumbles, and then his lips latch onto the side of your breast.

You let out a quiet huff of his name. Matt buries his face between your breasts, alternating between licking and sucking. Every once in a while he delivers a bite that makes you gasp.

“You’re gonna leave a mark,” you scold.

“Good,” he whispers cheekily and his teeth dig into your skin a little harsher.

You bite your bottom lip, legs spreading a bit when Matt finally pulls himself away from your chest and tugs at the waistband of your slacks. He pulls them down and leaves them in a heap under the desk.

Matt’s a bit frantic as he shoves the papers to the side and pushes you back onto your elbows. His lips are hurried, not the reverent pace he was using before. They sweep down your stomach and wrap themselves around your clothed clit before you can even ask for it.

Your back arches, and you rock your hips up against his mouth. Matt shushes you and pulls your panties to the side, exposing yourself to his tongue. He licks at you like a man starved, tongue tracing up and down your dripping cunt until you are dizzy with pleasure.

Matt slurps your clit into his mouth, working at it with his lips and tongue. Your arms give out from underneath you and you fall flat onto the piles of folders. His name drips from your lips in broken pleas and shattered whimpers, intoxicating as the scotch that now sits abandoned in the corner of the room.

The intensity with which he feasts on you is blinding. Matt uses your twisted panties to pull you flush against his mouth. He’s all over you. Hot, wet and relentless. The slide of his lips and tongue steal the breath from your lungs, the burn of his stubble provokes reedy cries from your throat.

Your chest heaves and your thighs shake, wrapped around Matt’s head like a vice. You’re gushing all over his face and still he presses even closer to you.

“Yes, Matty, please.” You tangle your fingers into his hair, holding him against you as you chase the orgasm you’re so desperately close to.

“Want you to watch,” he mumbles. “Are you looking?”

You muster up all your available strength and lift your head. “Y-yeah.”

“Tell me what you see.” The smirk on Matt’s face looks like it was delivered by the Devil himself.

He sucks your clit back into his mouth, tongue flicking against it. When you don’t speak, too choked up by the sensations, Matt bites your inner thigh in warning.

“Look so hot,” you stutter out. “Your–ah– your face is all wet. Like you’ve been drowning in me.”

Matt groans, lips still wrapped around your clit and you jump.

“Can barely see you, my thighs are wrapped around your head so tight.” You pinch your nipples.

He hums and hooks your leg over his shoulder, still trying to get closer. His nails dig crescents into your thigh. Matt flattens his tongue against you in broad strokes that make you see stars. You’re almost to that glorious edge, you can feel it coming, spreading slowly through your veins.

“Oh, don’t stop,” you shout. “Feels so good. I’m gonna come.”

Matt mumbles something against you that you can’t understand, could be encouragement, could be praise, but it doesn’t matter. The dam has broken and you’re already coming with a sharp cry of his name. You give and give and Matt eagerly takes, lips smacking against your pussy.

He’s crazy with the taste of you, tucking sated moans between sloppy kisses. They only heighten the waves of pleasure that ripple through you. Clumsy, repeated cries of his name tumble from your lips and into the air. You really, really hope the building is truly empty. How embarrassing would it be for someone else to hear you right now. Utterly shattered and near tears as your orgasm rips through you.

Matt pulls away from you with one last kiss to your sensitive clit. You fall limp onto the desk, suddenly very aware of the way your sweaty skin prickles in the stuffy air.

“Always sound so pretty when you let go for me,” Matt whispers against your inner thigh.

You roll your head to the side, limbs heavy as you slowly drift back down to earth. Matt grins smugly, wearing your slick on his face like a badge of honor. You cup his chin and sweep your thumb over his face. His lips part, sucking the digit into his mouth. Another hot spike of desire races through your body when his tongue cleans your finger off.

“Gonna fuck me now or what?” You ask, voice still a little raw from shouting.

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Thinking about it.” He rests his chin on your thigh and his thumb rubs circles into your calf.

“What’s stopping you?” You brush his hair out of his face. “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired on me.”

He curls his fingers into the waistband of your panties and lets them snap back against your skin. “These, for one thing.”

“So take ‘em off and fuck me.”

Matt hooks his pointer finger into the ruined lace and tugs it down slightly. “What color are they?” He whispers against your hip.

“Red.”

He smirks, and his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “‘Course they are.” He slides them off of you and stands between your legs.

The press of his lips against yours almost distracts you from the fact that your underwear mysteriously disappears. Almost.

Matt’s shirt joins the haphazard collection of clothes on the floor and his pants fall around his ankles once again. “You got a condom?”

“In my purse.” You slide off the rickety desk and root around in your fallen purse for the foil packet. “Got it.” You climb back onto your perch and tear the wrapper open with your teeth.

Matt hisses through his teeth when you roll the condom onto his stiff cock. You stroke him a few times and guide the head of his cock to rest against the seam of your cunt.

He hooks your legs around his waist and groans at the warmth of your pussy. “You sure?” He nudges his nose against yours.

“I’m sure.” You wrap your arms around his neck. “Fuck me, Matty,” you breathe against his lips.

Matt grips your hip tightly and thrusts into you slowly. Your lips drop open in a breathless gasp as he fills you inch by aching inch. He feels incredible inside of you, cock spreading you with a gentle burn that you can feel in the soles of your feet. Matt groans again as his hips meet yours.

“Shit.” His head falls against your chest, hand falling to curl around your knee. “Gimme a sec. It’s been a while.”

You stay tightly pressed together, just breathing each other in. Your fingertips skate across his slender shoulders, down the broad expanse of his back and back up again. You’re intending for the touch to be soothing, but judging from the hammer of his heart against your chest you’re having the opposite effect.

Slowly, and with what seems like a lot of willpower, Matt drags his hips back and pushes them forward again. Thus begins the teasing rhythm he sets– a slow back and forth. All the way in. All the way out.

He’s savoring you. The hug of your walls. The filthy noise of your cunt as he fills you over and over. Each and every one of your sharp inhales and exhales. The scrape of your nails against his lower back. He indulges in all of it.

But it’s not enough for you, this languid drag of his cock within you. You want more. And you let him know as much by digging your heel into the small of his back and rocking forward to meet his next thrust.

“Faster,” you whine. “Harder.”

Matt sucks in a harsh breath. He yanks you to the edge of the desk and snaps his hips against yours. His arms snake around your waist, lifting your hips slightly to change the angle.

The sudden change leaves you scrambling for something to hold on. Your hands leave his body and wrap around the edge of the desk. You’re dangerously close to losing your balance and falling flat on your back once more.

“Fuck yeah, Matt. Just like that, baby. Yes!” You cry.

“How’s it feel?” His jaw ticks with effort, but his pace doesn’t falter.

You stare up at the ceiling with heavy-lidded eyes. “So fucking good.

“Yeah?” Matt kisses your chin.

“You always fuck me so good.” Your heartbeat thuds in your ear, your thighs quiver with the impending weight of your orgasm.

He grunts, nose buried right against your pulse. “Music to my ears, honey.” One of his hands sneaks between your joined bodies and rubs messily at your clit. “Want you to come for me now. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, so lost in the pleasure you forget that Matt can’t see you.

He grins against your neck. “I’m gonna assume that was a yes.” The pressure between your legs grows. “Don’t hold back on me, honey. Wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make.”

You gasp when he bites your neck, sure to leave a bruise behind. The pain sends you over the edge and you come with a choked yelp. You give Matt what he wants; all the sighs and hoarse cries of pleasure he so desperately craved.

Your legs lock around Matt’s waist, trapping him in the heat of your cunt and triggering his own release. He spills into the condom with breathy moans.

Matt collapses against you, pressing you down onto the desk. His lips sweep up and down your neck and over the teeth marks dug into your skin. Ones you’ll have to cover before trial tomorrow. You’d tell him off if you were in your right mind. But after he’d just fucked you within an inch of your life, you were inclined to forgive him for the hassle.

You run your fingers through his sweaty hair, listening to his harsh breaths as he gains his bearings.

You’re the first one to break the comfortable silence some minutes later. “Just like old times?”

“Just like old times.” Matt presses his forehead against your collarbone.

He slips his softening dick from inside you and pulls the condom off. You watch him search for the metal trash can beside his desk. His movements are surprisingly smooth, even with his pants dropped around his ankles. You chalk it up to his familiarity of the space.

You set to the task of getting dressed. First your slacks, sans panties– you had a sneaking suspicion Matt had those tucked away in his back pocket.

“I need my underwear back.” You tell him, pulling your bra off of the desktop where it had landed.

Matt feigns innocence. “I’ll let you know if I see ‘em.”

“Hardy-har.” You roll your eyes. “C’mon, Matt, those were my favorite pair.” You pull your bra straps up over your shoulder and start smoothing out your wrinkled shirt.

“Your favorite pair, huh?” He pulls his pants back up and buckles his belt. “That’s a shame. Guess you’ll just have to come back and get them another time.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “And what happens when Foggy or Karen finds a pair of lacy red panties in your office? How are you gonna explain that one?”

“I’ll say they’re a very generous gift from a client,” he jokes. “A good luck charm.”

You snort. “You’re a fiend.” You button up your shirt. “I want them back.”

Matt shoves a hand in his pocket, presumably fondling the panties he just pocketed. “You’ll get them back.”

Eventually.

Now dressed, you locate Matt’s shirt and help him into it. You stand in front of him as you slowly fasten the buttons. He wraps his arms around your waist, stealing kisses every so often as you help him.

“Just like old times.” You smooth down the collar and step back.

You pause, the two of you poised and waiting for…something. Some cosmic sign, maybe a voice from the heavens urging you to stay together. It never comes, and eventually you turn away from Matt.

“I should go.” You shrug on your coat. “Gotta be up early for court tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry. You’ve got this.” Matt holds up the bottle of scotch. “And when you win, you can come back here and we’ll finish this bottle.”

You smile. His faith in you blooms warm in your chest like the sun. “Goodnight, Matt.”

“Get home safe.”

“I will.” You throw your purse over your shoulder and walk out the door.

Once outside, you pause and look back up at the second floor. The light’s still on in the office and Matt’s silhouette frames the window. You swear, as impossible as it is, that he’s watching you. The thought, though ludicrous, brings you a sense of comfort and security.

You wrap that warmth around you and let it guide you home.

[Tags]

@saradika @denisovan @rae-gar-targaryen @luxurybeskar

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #marvel #orion writes

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