#as any good english bulldog should be i guess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kharmii · 2 years

Text

Omegaverse/Blankshipping

Someone sent me an anonymous ask talking about Omegaverse, but they ended it with this: *not an anti or looking for a fight tho! just really interested in fd history overall. plus i vibe w literary analysis :) pls dont answer this ask! this was an impulse info-dump on my end lol*

I'll respect that, but I want to talk about a few points they wrote on here for the fun of it. Save it about touching grass. I do that all damn day. Sometimes I just want to go online and say some goofy shit. (USUAL WARNINGS APPLY: R-18 EXPLICIT OFFENSIVE)

Anon wrote: tho tbh i am kinda sour about the fact that male omegas dont have periods :))

Really?! That seems misogynistic and also unhealthy af. Since this whole fandom is a dog analogy to me, I'd compare male omegas to those grody messes of English bulldogs that are unable to do all aspects of breeding without human intervention. They should have let natural selection run its course and let all those flabby lumps of flesh die out. After all, they can't birth without c-sections, and they can't even do the deed to make puppies. Breeders have to rely on artificial insemination.

Whoever created this kink obviously didn't world build outside of the asinine fetish. A male omega would obviously require a c-section so they don't hemorrhage to death squeezing an infant out their rectum, and they would most certainly have a period, but the menstrual blood might not have any place to go except back up into whatever version of ovaries they have. Then from there it would turn into fibrous tissue surrounding all vital organs. They'd all need routine laparoscopies done to remove the severe endometriosis growing around their vital organs, otherwise they'd constantly be in the fetal position suffering severe chronic pain.

Also they wrote: it's mostly a way to make your mlm ships "work". wc i guess makes abo theoretically weird and harmful w the way it makes gay ships approximate heterosexual relationships? also there is some ingrained misogyny to it... its a slippery, slipper slope. but nggl, thats not something you should put into mind as much! the things ppl enjoy are not complete reflections of their beliefs or who they are hehe

It doesn't work with mirror twins who are genetic copies of each other and therefore can't be opposite genders.

The blankshippers keep throwing out that 'your fantasies have nothing to do with who you are irl', and they have this huge persecution complex like they think so many people are out to judge them and harass them. -Come to find out, they are cliquish and JUDGEMENTAL AS FUUUUUCK. They will stew over some little slight and then label you as a horrible person over it....but don't you dare judge them for the sick-ass weird shit they are into. I found this out when a bunch of them were gossiping on Discord about me (it's fine; you can keep on keepin' on and I won't hold it against you *wink*). Two of them blocked me, so I can say mean stuff about them, and they will only find out if someone goes out of their way to tell them.

One clown, "Tombstone" was secretly stewing with resentment while we interacted back-and-forth when I'd reblog his/her posts. I thought we were having fun, but this person didn't like how I interpreted fan art wrong when I'd attribute my head canons to other artists images, and I supposedly used the word 'retard' when reblogging one of his/her posts. The only time I remember (goofing around) doing this was a long-ass time ago, calling Emmet a 'crazy-retarded God-killer'. I thought he/she might have been talking about this, but no go. He/she said that I should stop saying mean stuff about Emmet on his/her posts, yet he/she constantly dehumanizes Emmet, is into torture porn about the twins, and turns them into a serial killers and/or monsters. There's nothing meaner than that.

Another clown, "Dingo" is like....good riddance. This artist makes Emmet's facial expressions look mentally retarded af. He/she likes drawing Ingo's jacket but has issues with Emmet's for some odd reason. Also, he/she is the one who did a gross bull/cow drawing where Ingo was wearing a full arm glove that presumably goes up a cow's vagina that's roomy enough to accommodate an entire human arm. -Nothing gross and inappropriate about that. Nope. No sir. -Also did dog-fucker. I can almost see the invisible stink lines coming out of them.

The worst part is that he/she draws the twins looking gross and skanky with scruffy hair. They don't seem like the skeevy tramp-stamp sort of dudes. Sure, they look like clownish creepy puppets, but they also look rather crisp and shiny and fresh. They look like the sort of guys who would smell pretty....walking into a room engulfed in a cloud of good-smelling cologne. Even when Ingo was in Hisui, I'd bet he was the type to bathe in the hot springs twice a month, instead of just once a month like is customary for Pearl Clan members. When he'd reunite with Emmet and be told he was rather ripe, he'd reply, "Why...I was just in the hot springs a week and a half ago!"

Art credit to: ℃эŁ@cal_1d2d Twitter.

#omegaverse #fandumb fail #srsly tho #dumbest ass crap #troll post #because i can #english bulldogs #persecution complex #gossip #ask me about my million stupid bj aus #submas

6 notes · View notes

statticscribbles · 4 years

Text

Keyed In

Summary: Sweet Pea/Reader Request: Soulmate AU! Whatever your soulmate draws/ writes on their skin ends up on yours, reader constantly forgetting things and being distracted; Sweet Pea being used to it and writing reminders for her on his hands etc. Extra fluff please

“What’s on your arm?” Veronica questions and you shrug. “Groceries.” She nods reading down the list; before she laughs. “Key’s in L pocket. What does that mean?” You blink pulling over your jacket. “Oh; it’s where I put my keys. He reminds me about it when I forget.” “Did your soulmate remind you where your keys are again?” Betty asks smiling as she sits down into the conversation. “Yeah, he does that sometimes; it’s nice knowing he’s looking out for me.” “You do realize that means he knows who you are! We have to find him!!” “Or her.” “No girl has handwriting that illegible.” “Don’t be mean to him! He’s my soulmate!”

“Who’s your soulmate?” Jughead asks as he sits down. “Well I don’t know; but he’s a sweetheart. He’s always writing down where I put stuff and making sure that I remember to finish homework for class; I swear he’s the reason I’m passing english, I’d never remember when the essays are due without him.” “You know that sounds kind of creepy right? Like your soulmate is watching you all the time.” Cheryl asks and you shake your head.

“He doesn’t just do that, he’ll write his own stuff down too! Besides what do you and your soulmate write then?” You laugh when Cheryl rolls up her sleeve revealing hearts and doodles of flowers. You roll up your other arm showing her something similar. “Left arm is notes and right arm is for fun.” “Okay that tops me by a mile.” Archie laughs strings of doodled jewel’s and random notes in flowing cursive. “Wow that’s some really-“ You watch Veronica pull out a marker scribbling something on her arm, Archie frowns watching a line of circles wrap around his wrist; an arrow forms point to his left and he turns as Veronica bumps her matching arm against his.

“Oh, holy shit.” “I can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out.” “I don’t pay attention when people draw on themselves! My dad said it was rude to stare!” Archie defends himself, Veronica scooting closer and linking there arms. “It’s okay Archie my parents taught me the same. It faded on his arm.” “Yeah it does that once you meet, if I draw something it’ll show up, but it wont be as vibrant, as noticeable because we’ve met, we’re not searching for each other anymore.” Cheryl and you nod at Veronica’s explanation. “Same happened for me and Betts.” “Does that mean were going on a soulmate hunt for you then?” You roll your eyes when Cheryl shakes you excitedly.

“We can look for yours while were at it!” You grin and Cheryl shakes her head. “No one soulmate at a time!.” “Fine. I guess I’m up first then.” “So all we do is keep an eye out for anyone with matching lists and reminders. Could you write something to him so we know what to look for.” Archie nods. “Uhh, okay; what do I write?” Everyone shrugs. “Just whatever you want.” You chew your lip, instead of writing you doddle a snake wrapping around your wrist. “Why a snake?” “I think he’s a Serpent, or at least in a gang he writes weird lists sometimes.” “Has he written one we can see?” “Not recently.” You shrug.

Cheryl is interviewing the Bulldogs and half of the student body grabbing at there wrists while Betty and veronica apologetically explain what she’s doing. Jughead’s on Serpent duty, asking about anyone who has a snake on them goes about as well as he expected. “Not your tattoo you idiots!” He groans as everyone laughs. “You gotta be specific Jones!” “I was; I asked if any of you had a drawn on snake!” “The fuck you think a tattoo is?” You laugh in the background sitting next to Toni. “Sorry about dragging you all to Pop’s like this.” She shrugs doodling a daisy chain on her wrist, you can’t help but stare up her arm, doodles of flowers looping up them.

“Oh; your soulmate likes flowers then?” Toni laughs. “She likes pretty things.” You nudge her arm slightly. Narrowing your eyes at the cherry that’s been drawn in the crook of her elbow. “Hidden message; sort of a way for us to recognise each other if we ever meet.” “Not exactly hidden is it.” You laugh and Toni rolls her eyes. “It is if you don’t go snooping on my arm Y/N.” You shake your head. “I didn’t mean you.” You nod gesturing to where Cheryl and Veronica have entered, Cheryl wearing her cherry print cardigan. “See?” You wave her over and she beams. “Holy fuck.” Toni mumbles. You laugh and Cheryl arches an eyebrow at you. ‘What?” “Nothing, just still trying to find my soulmate, Ronnie, can we talk to Jughead. Enjoy.” You wave slightly and leave Cheryl and Toni to talk.

“What’s wrong now Y/N?” “I’m really happy for Ronnie and Cheryl but like I was supposed to find my soulmate; I don’t want to say anything cause I feel like I’ll be whining.” You slump in your seat Kevin patting your back. “Fangs’ add another shake, vanilla right?” You nod pressing your forehead into the table. “Come on Y/N its okay to be bothered by not getting what you expect.” “I know but I feel like I’m being bitter.”

“And what if you are? Be a bitter bitch then.” You turn when Fangs slides next to Kevin and another Serpent nods to the spot next to you. “Sweet Pea, pleasure.” He smiles and you nod. ‘Y/N.” “Hey you have a snake on your wrist, did you guys tell Jones this is whoever’s soulmate he’s looking for?” “No they’re looking for me; I’m trying to find my soulmate.” Sweet Pea nods in understanding. “So what’s the sudden rush to find him?” “I just; he’s helped me through so much I just want to be able to meet him and thank him; at the least.”

“I’m sure you’ve helped him just as much.” You laugh shaking your head as you pull the shake they got you over. “I doubt it; he’s reminded me where to find my keys at least fifty times; helped me pass english by helping me study; and; just, he’s been there for me so much, even though I‘ve never met him.” “Well yeah that’s why he’s your soulmate right?” Fangs nods and you frown. “I know like everyone says that but just; ugh you remember what I was like before you met Fangs right?”’ Kevin’s nods and you finish your shake. “I should get home; call today a wrap.” “Y/N We were thinking about at the game; we could do like a cheer or something so- Oh are you going home?” You nod, yawning. “Yeah; just a little bummed over everything that, dammit.” “Whats wrong now scatter brain? You forget your wallet? You gonna dine and dash Kevin?” You shake your head chewing your lip. “I can’t find my keys; I swear i-“ “Left pocket.” Everyone turns to stare at Sweet Pea.

“You were just going to let her leave!!?” You cringe back as Cheryl shouts at him. Toni looks shocked but you can see the smile under her surprise. “Cheryl it’s fine; I get him not wanting to-“ You’re jerked back Sweet Pea pulling you back into your seat in the booth. “If you think for one second it’s cause I don’t want you; I’ll fight you in the parking lot.” “Sweet’s I don’t even remember where I put my keys; you have to write it down for me; do you really think I could take you in a fight?” “Okay bad choice but just; don’t think that okay?” You shrug. “Why wouldn’t I I mean-.”

“Hold on.” Sweet Pea pauses your pity party turning and glaring at everyone else who’ve excitedly gathered round. ‘Will you all fuck off please. I’m sure you’ll be able to pull ever detail out of us tomorrow okay. Can we have an alone moment.” Cheryl smirks arm looping wth Toni’s and dragging her, Fangs and Kevin off. Jughead nods to Sweet Pea before he, Betty, Veronica and Archie leave as well. “I would ask for you to continue but I don’t care about whatever reasons you have for thinking you’re not worth it to me. My opinion of you is not for you to decide.” He smiles warmly and you sigh. “I’m pretty useless on my own; I don’t have any good skills like you; I’m not in a gang, I can barely remember to get to school on time let alone-“ “Good thing you’re not alone then; you have me.” “But-“ He nudges your chin up as he leans over kissing your cheek.

“Isn’t it a little better in person at least.” You swallow nodding. “Much better in person.” You add in smiling up at him. “Since we’re soulmate’s I should get to know more about you right?” “Of course; I think it only makes sense since you’ve helped me with my keys so many times you learn where I live.” You watch Sweet Pea jerk surprised. “Besides it’ll give them something to talk about.” You wink flickering your eyes to the side where Sweet Pea tracks them to see everyone piled in Cheryl’s car watching.

“How do you feel about motorcycles?” You grin as he offers you a helmet and you swing your leg over winking at the car as they all quickly look away. “So what lie are we going with? We made out for hours? We’re running away to get married? We’ve decided to start a band?” “Well one of those wont be lying.” “Which one?” You grin at him leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. “Guess.”

Support My Writing?

#sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea reader insert #sweet pea x you #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x y/n #jordan connor #jordan connor imagine #jordan connor x you #jordan connor reader insert #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale reader insert #stattic

75 notes · View notes

sage-nebula · 4 years

Note

Hello! I know that it is not actually a pokemon type so to speak but I'm staring down an essay deadline with less than half the word count. Would you mind talking about your favourite pokemon that is a dog or canine? Like the pokemons that are also dogs? Does that make sense? Sorry I'm very sleep deprived right now. Thank you so much for always being such a lovely presence on my dash and I hope you have a brilliant day!

Thank you for the compliments, and I would be glad to talk about some of my favorite PokéCanines! I’ll talk about all of my favorite canine pokémon, though please do note that I am leaving out the Ecruteak Trio because it is hotly debated whether they are canines or not and I do not feel like getting into that tonight. (For the record, I feel that Entei is definitely canine, Raikou is feline, and Suicune is too hard to tell, but still, I don’t want to get into it, so I will leave it at that.)

Growlithe / Arcanine — Probably my favorite of the canines for personal, sentimental reasons. When I imagined my previous dog in the Pokémon world, I imagined her as a Growlithe who would evolve into an Arcanine, because the PokéWorld doesn’t have a sheltie pokémon and I felt that the fluff and warmth of Growlithe fit her best, along with the ‘Dex descriptions of them being very loyal and willing to do anything to protect their trainer. My previous dog was exactly like that. But I also feel that Arcanine would be just such a wonderful pokémon to be companions with because they are gigantic, fire-breathing fluffy puppies, and riding them across the countryside would be AMAZING. (Not that I live in the countryside, but I do live in the midwest, so the plains are everywhere and not hard to find.) They’re just so good.

Smeargle — Okay, I will admit, Smeargle loses some points for being bipedal. HOWEVER. They gain those points back by virtue of how cool they are! While they’re not very useful in battle, sadly, due to low stats and the like, Smeargle are cool because each Smeargle has a different color paint (it’s not really paint, more a bodily fluid they use like paint, but close enough), and that as they grow up they let other Smeargle that they are close put their pawprints on their back. (So in other words, Smeargle A let’s Smeargle B use Smeargle B’s ink to put Smeargle B’s pawprints on Smeargle A’s back.) The ‘Dex always says “comrades,” but listen . . . we know what it means when two Smeargle have each other’s pawprints on their back. They are in love.

Houndour / Houndoom — ACTUAL HELLHOUNDS, THEY ARE GREAT. True, the fact that their breath smells like sulfur is kind of gross, but their design and concept are so incredibly cool, and I also just absolutely love the mental image of a Houndour puppy having gigantic paws they have yet to grow into. It’s just the absolute cutest. I also like to imagine that my current dog would be a mixed-breed Houndour and Poochyena in the PokéWorld, so there’s that, too.

Flareon & Umbreon — Listen, some of the Eeveelutions look like felines, some of them look like canines, and others (such as Jolteon) make it really hard to tell. But I’m convinced that Flareon and Umbreon are both canines, and I love them both. FIRST of all, Flareon DOES NOT deserve the hate it gets. It is small and soft and so incredibly warm, it CAN be useful in battle, and most importantly, FLAREON WAS NOT THE FALSE PROPHET AND DID NOTHING WRONG, EVERYONE WHO HATED FLAREON DURING TPP SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF THEMSELVES. If you don’t know what I’m talking about there, you don’t need to know about it, but just know that Flareon had a lot of libel posted about it and it was completely unacceptable. As for Umbreon, Umbreon is the Eeveelution I connect with the most given that I am naturally nocturnal, and I love how its rings grow stronger depending on what phase the moon is in. Shiny Umbreon is also choice. They’re definitely the best two Eeveelutions (though Espeon is also up there, sorry Espeon, although Espeon is also one of the feline ones and so shouldn’t be discussed here anyway).

Poochyena / Mightyena — As discussed in another ask, technically hyenas are not canines (or felines), but I’m still going to include them here because the localization team at the very least thought that Poochyena looked like a puppy (“pooch”), hence its name. I LOVE these two. Although my Mightyena ended up underperforming in AlphaSapphire, I’ve always loved the scruffy look contrasted with how loving and puppylike they can be. Also, again, I like to think of my current dog as a mixed breed Houndour/Poochyena, so there’s that, too.

Absol — Absol is another contested one, but I always thought Absol looked canine to me, so I’m going to count it. Absol is wonderful because it not only has a super cool design (though could also benefit from a dual typing, I feel), but also because this is another poor baby who has had so much unfortunate slander spread about it. Absol just wants to help! Absol wants to warn people! And people decide that instead of being grateful, they want to blame the messenger!! Absol does not deserve this at all, and the world likewise does not deserve Absol. That is a fact.

Lillipup / Herdier / Stoutland — Before anyone says anything, NO, these are not shelties. Lillipup is more like a yorkshire terrier, and while Herdier and Stoutland seem like they could be herding dogs of some kind (it’s even in Herdier’s name), I can assure you they do not resemble shelties. More like they resemble oversized yorkies. REGARDLESS, I loved them. Lillipup is adorable, so is Herdier, and while Stoutland is less cute and more gruff, it is also an absolute BEAST. BW confused me because I always took Cheren down easily, but Bianca regularly fucked up my shit with her Stoutland. (And yet they tried to make Stoutland Cheren’s ace in the sequels, smh . . .) My Stoutland was also very reliable. Very good doggos, 10/10

Rockruff / Lycanroc — WOLVES!!! FINALLY WOLVES!!! oh my GOD I waited SEVEN GENERATIONS for this!! To be fair, when I was a child I mistook MIghtyena for a wolf because of the coloring and the fact that it looked like a canine, but as I got older I learned the truth and was back to being disappointed. And while the fact that this line is pure rock (which has a million weaknesses) is disappointing, and while I’m also not fond of Midnight Form being bipedal, I can forgive it because we finally have wolves AND ALSO Rockruff is adorable and perfect AND ALSO because so is Midday Form. Plus, despite rock-type having so many weaknesses, my Midday Lycanroc is pretty strong, so. It works out.

Yamper / Boltund — Okay, I will level with you: a corgi evolving into a greyhound is kind of weird. Also, I do question why they used yorkshire terriers in Unova when they should have saved them for Galar, and instead maybe had like, American bull terriers (a.k.a. pitbulls) in Unova instead (although I guess some could argue that Snubbul / Granbull are pitbulls, but I disagree, I think they look more like English bulldogs than pitbulls). Regardless though, anyone who says that Yamper is anything other than adorable does not have eyes (the puppy has a heart on its butt), and also they are the GOODEST of puppers in how they bring your pokéballs back to you. And while it took me a bit to get used to Boltund, my Boltund, Poppy, is AMAZING and love her very, very much. This line is great and I love them. ♥

Zacian & Zamazenta — FINALLY, SOME LEGENDARY WOLVES!! And not only are they legendary wolves, but one has a tuft of fur it can turn into a shield around its neck and the other CARRIES A SWORD IN ITS MOUTH, HOW BADASS IS THAT. I do get a little annoyed when people call them doggos when they are actually wolfos, but that doesn’t change how excited I was to have some legendary wolves at last, particularly ones dedicated to beating up hellspawn from space. I love them, they are beautiful, 10/10.

So those are my favorite canine pokémon!! If anyone disagrees with any of these pokémon being canines, I do not care and I do not want to fight about it, please do not send discourse my way. And as a final note, here are two lists of future canines / dog breeds I hope to see in future gens:

Dog Breeds: SHELTIES, miniature schnauzers, Italian greyhounds, German shepherds, Siberian huskies, dachshunds, shiba inu, some kind of spaniel, chihuahua (and it HAS to be fighting-type, it HAS to), and many others. You can never have too many doggos.

I also have to have one more final grievance at the fact that we didn’t get shelties in Galar either considering that sheltie is a nickname for shetland sheepdog, and this breed of dog ORIGINATED IN SCOTLAND, which at least part of Galar (particularly the Crown Tundra) was inspired by, ffs Game Freak why did you miss this opportunity.

Wild Canines: Maned wolves, African wolf, African wild dog, dingos, coyotes, and just more wolves in general, honestly. I would say more foxes too, but we already have several fox lines, and while I wouldn’t say no to them, I want to see more wolves get attention first.

Anyway, thanks for asking!! I love Pokémon and I love canines, so this was a fun ask!

#pokemon #bladeangelx

11 notes · View notes

stattic-writes · 5 years

Text

Keyed In

https://statticscribbles.tumblr.com/post/639099629845233664/masterlist

Support My Writing?

#sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea #jordan connor #jordan connor imagine #riverdale #riverdale cw #riverdale imagine #riverdale fandom #riverdale reader insert #soulmate au #written #female reader #female reader insert

236 notes · View notes

marvelhero-fics · 5 years

Text

The Dog Park

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Request: @feeling-graveyard: something where tom holland meets y/n at a dog park because their dogs are playing really well, then it kicks off from there? love your writing sm!!

A/N: Sorry this took a little while, I went away and didn't have my laptop with me but I hope it’s sort of what you wanted. I actually really enjoyed writing this!! Let me know if you think I should continue it? Maybe even make it a bit of a series???? xxxx

Word Count: 1,170

Warning: literally nothing, swearing?? a bit of fluff

It was approaching December in London, and the chilly weather had really set in for the coming months. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean your dogs needed any less walking. Your figure was wrapped in jumpers, a large scarf, and a coat, while jeans and boots covered your lower body. You’d just arrived at your local dog park to take your English Bulldog, Marty, and your Boxer Cross, Pluto, for their daily walk.

The black and red dog leads hung over your shoulder and your hands were secured in your coat pockets. Pluto and Marty walked just in front of you off their leads, generally being well trained enough to come back when they were called.

It was early morning, meaning the park was currently quite empty, but you enjoyed it that way. The half-an-hour walk was always quite peaceful, and it gave you a nice moment to think about everything. Without being bombarded by work or everything else you had to worry about that day.

You were pulled from your thoughts as Marty rushed away from you, towards a rolling, fluorescent tennis ball. Pluto, however, had the mind of a goldfish, and never stayed interested enough to chase after balls.

Your pace picked up ever-so-slightly to follow Marty, he had short, stumpy legs so he generally didn’t run very fast. You called his name a few times to try grasp his attention, however, he clearly thought the ball was far more interesting. His mouth wrapped around the ball and he dropped to the floor to begin chewing on it.

“Marty! Drop it! That’s not yours!” You scolded him, trying to pull the tennis ball from his teeth, only getting slobber all over your fingers. A small, blue, Staffordshire Bull Terrier ran up to you, her front paws jumping up on your knee.

“Hello sweetheart, I’m guessing this is your ball.” Your voice went slightly higher pitched as you spoke to the dog in front of you, moving your hand from Marty to her.

“Tessa! Come here!” Someone spoke as he approached you, his voice directed towards the blue dog on your knee. “I’m sorry about her.” He added, his British accent thick in his voice.

“It’s no trouble, she’s gorgeous by the way.” You replied, patting Tessa as she rubbed up against you, “Is she a pure Staffy?”

“Yea, she is.” He responded, looking down at you with a smile, showing off his straight, white teeth.

“I’m guessing that ball is yours?” You asked, standing up next to Tom as you motioned towards the tennis ball that your Bulldog was ruining.

“It is, or it was, it looks like it’s yours now.” Tom said with a laugh, as your other dog, Pluto began to play with Tessa.

“Yea, sorry about Marty, he doesn't have much of a sense of personal belongings, and he’s generally just pretty stupid.” You replied, smiling over at Tom, his wide grin felt very contagious.

“Is he a pure English Bulldog?” Tom queried, bending down to pat him.

“He is. I’m pretty sure Staffies just bet out Bulldogs this year for Britains best dog.” You commented, a slight cheekiness in your tone.

“They did, I’ve heard their personalities are pretty similar, but I mean, based on looks...” Tom motioned towards Marty’s face.

Your hand moved to your chest, your jaw dropping slightly in a jokingly shocked manor, “are you telling me you don’t think Marty’s gorgeous?”

Tom simply chuckled in response, “I’ve never met a dog named Marty.” Tom stood back up next to you, he was quite close to you, his frame clearly slightly taller and larger than you.

“Yea, he’s named after Marty McFly from Back to the Future.” You explained, your hands pushing Pluto and Tessa off you as they both jumped up against your jeans, before returning to playing with each other.

“Holy shit, I love that movie, I’m a huge fan of Michael J Fox.” Tom replied, his eyes lighting up. You nervously fiddled with some rings on your finger, both of your dogs leashes still resting over your shoulders.

“Well, me too.” You grinned up at Tom, taking a moment to really look at him. He had large piercing brown eyes with long brunette hair that poked out under his beanie. Not to mention, one of the strongest jaw-lines you’d ever seen. “I’m sorry, I just- I really think I recognise you from somewhere? Where’d you go to school?” You questioned, not being able to figure out where you’d seem him before.

“Definitely not the same school as you, I would remember a face like yours” He countered, overly flirtatiously. You shook your head as you tried to hide the rosy flush appearing on your cheeks.

“Seriously, I swear I know you?” You pushed, your body moving closer to his to stare intently at his face.

After a moment, he retaliated, “I’m an actor.” He looked very amused in his response as you continued examining his features.

“Holy fuck! That’s it! You’re in- um- the Spider-Man one, right?” You responded, pushing against his arm in a motion of realisation, feeling quite proud of yourself.

“I am, I actually play Spider-Man.” He said, through laughter.

“It’s because of the accent I didn’t recognise you, that Queens accent is so good? I honestly had no idea you were British.” You explained. To be fair, you weren't a huge superhero fan and had probably only seen the movie once anyway.

“Thank you. If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do?” He asked, taking the attention away from himself.

“Nothing anywhere near as interesting as you,” You laughed, “I do interior design.” You added.

“That’s interesting!” Tom stated, “at least you’re not an accountant or something.”

“Yea, I definitely couldn't do accounting.” You laughed, “I’m sorry, I should probably know this, but what’s your name?”

“I can’t believe you don't know my name.” He jokingly shook his head, acting upset.

“I mean, I could just search it up if you won’t tell me.” You snickered, wriggling your phone in your hand.

“Tom, I’m Tom. And that’s Tessa incase you missed that.” He motioned towards his gorgeous blue Staffy.

“Well Tom, it’s nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N), and that's Marty, and this guy is Pluto.” You replied, motioning towards your Bulldog and Boxer.

“It’s nice to meet you too, (Y/N). What way are you walking?” His eyes met yours once again.

“Well, I was going to walk these two for a little longer, or at least until this lazy guy gives up, but that way.” You motioned towards your left.

“Perfect, Tessa needs to be walked some more too, and I’m also heading that way. Care to walk together?” He asked, his smile extremely inviting.

“I mean, I think I have too, those two are just having such a good time together.” You laughed, looking over at Tessa and Pluto. Tom looked at you with delight as the 5 of you walked off together.

377 notes · View notes

chidorifarcloud · 5 years

Text

15 QUESTIONS + 15 MUTUALS

Are you named after anyone?

Nope! I had to be named Jessica which I swear is one of the most common name. I either had school or worked with multiple ones. Though in my youth I went by Jessie and as I got older it has switched over to Jess (which my childhood best friend always called me.) April was on the table as well, since...I was born in April.

My mother said my middle name should be Grace - because of my lack of it. Surprisingly enough, I was in dance/color guard. I wasn’t bad, just not good..I just tend to be a bit clumsy at times, but I have grown very good at catching myself.

Last time you cried?

On and off this month, mostly because of the going ons of Bitty. Everytime I think about what may need to be done, tears.

Do you have any kids?

No. I don’t think children are in the cards for me. But I lots of fur babies!

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Sometimes. Mostly around those that know me well though to take it as such.

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Demeanor. Need to decide if friend or foe!

What’s your eye color?

Blue-ish? Hazel? Maybe. They used to be a much much brighter blue in my youth, but they have mellowed out into this mild blue/gray.

Scary movie or happy ending?

Why not both? Both is good. I do love a good horror movie, LOVE to watch them with @roger-holmes. He..isn’t used to watching horror but he is mostly a good trooper about it. Happy endings are definitely a way to go when I need a pick me up movie.

Any special talents?

Okay. So it is going to sound weird..but I could do this since I was a child. I have a fairly long tongue and can fold it over and just leave it that way. It’s generally how I keep it in my mouth too, particularly when I’m tired.

Not so much a talent..but weird fact about me I guess.

Where were you born?

Good ole Virginia.

Hobbies?

Gaming, I had more but I’ve just kind of fallen out of the loop. I do fully intend in picking up a few once again. I used to be an avid reader, but that recently just been bleh. I can’t get into anything. Annnnd..maybe swimming & running again. Maybe DIY house stuff too.

Do you have any pets?

The BEST picture I have off all three. Maggie was a wee one here. So from left to right. Bitty, Roxie and lil Maggie. They are my precious babies.

What sports have you played?

Man..I did a lot because my parents liked to keep me busy. When I was super little I did gymnastics, but I didn’t get far there because I was too scared to do backflips. Then when I was 7-8, I started competitive swimming till age 18. (even got varsity freshman year!) Tennis and field hockey. My best friend was super good at offensive in field hocky, while I was super good at defense.

I also did colorguard, but that wasn’t so much a sport.

How tall are you?

Five foot, nine inches.

Favorite subjects in school?

I liked English/Literature a lot. I used to be very good at it. Marine biology would be a close second.

Dream job?

I’d love to work with animals as a veterinary assistant or abused animals. I’m really good at setting animals at ease. For example - Sayo’s mom recently got a dog. Big girl, build like a battling ram, she is an american bulldog. She was sadly abused, was terrified of everyone. Sayo had to watch her one evening while they went out of town and asked if I could come try to help with her since they tried earlier and couldn’t get her to come out. Long story short: While she was a little skittish, she came to me and went out for me. Now that she’s in a better place and more secure she’ll climb up in my lap and think she is a lap dog!

My Dad was like that too, always great with animals and kids.

Tagged by: @mai-takeda 🌸

Tagging: @moonhartsffxiv @roger-holmes @ex-atomos @igniskatsocs @nightbearers @dellebecque @aethersent @righthererightzao @chantokahkol @renofmanyalts @kasumi-ffxiv @yuki-yukichan @hannish-rogue @oleandre-ffxiv @eaotheelf & anyone that wants to!

(and always, if you aren’t comfy with OOC questions, don’t feel like you have to do it!)

#ooc #15 questions for 15 mutuals

9 notes · View notes

diinofayce · 6 years

Text

Dog Days

This is for @magellan-88 600 follower crack challenge. I’ve never written crack before, so sorry if this is a weird and awkward mess! My prompt was ‘You owe me!’.

Pairing: None that’s prominent. Hints of Steve x Reader | Word Count: 2,207 | Warnings: Language, hints of kinky stuff | Summary: When Bruce’s new experiment in the lab goes wrong and targets Tony, Steve, Bucky, and Peter how will Y/N handle the dogs of the Avengers?

“You owe me,” Bruce said pointing at the four dogs that were chasing each other around the lab.

“Bruce! I’m allergic!” You argued, looking down at the small beagle puppy at your feet. It was high strung and bouncing around your ankles yapping incessantly as you tried to talk to Bruce.

You huffed and scooted the puppy away with your foot towards the Airedale that carefully knocked the excited puppy over with his front paw trying to get him to calm down and hold still.

“How did this even happen?” You ask looking at the Siberian Husky with three legs that was sniffing a discarded metal arm the ground, his ears pulled back in distress.

He whined softly at the Golden Retriever that lumbered over to him and booped noses. You stifled a giggle at the mental image of Steve and Bucky back in their human bodies giving each other Eskimo kisses.

“Well, okay. So I was working on this molecule displacement theory. It might have gone off while they were bickering and distracting me,” Bruce explained tentatively, gesturing at the four dogs.

“So, let me get this straight. They irritated you so you rearranged their molecules to turn Steve, Buck, Tony, and Peter into dogs?”

“Yes, I mean no, well, not quite. Either way, I need time to figure out how to reverse it. And you lost that bet about Hulk being able to drink eight glasses of milk in an hour…by quite a bit mind you. So you owe me. I need you to take them out of the lab for a few hours, please?” Bruce wheedled and you groaned.

“God, but I’m so allergic,” you whined already feeling stuffy, waltzing over to Tony’s part of the lab and digging through his drawers. You came across four collars in a drawer that you knew he kept for naughty times and looked at the four dogs. All four of them cocked their eyes at you while, Airedale Tony growled - probably for you even knowing about his kinky sex drawer. Bending over you fit a collar to each of them and looked around finding some rope and tying them to the collars.

“You have three hours, Banner,” you demanded, pointing a finger sternly at him. Bruce raised his hands up in surrender and you whistled for the four furry Avengers.

“Alright, boys, let’s go let you run around the dog park.”

Bucky let out a huffing bark at you and you looked at him sheepishly as he walk/hopped along. “We’ll walk slow,” you promised him and led them out of the lab.

~*~

Once at the dog park a few blocks from the tower you untied your teammates and let them bound around with the other dogs. You sat down on a nearby bench to watch them and Bucky hopped over to you, laying down at your feet with a doggy grunt.

“You’re such a grouchy dog,” you laugh and pat him on the top of his head, before sneezing softly. Bucky’s eyes rolled up to you and he growled softly before turning his icy glare to a bouncing Peter.

Peter as a beagle puppy made so much sense to you as you watched him jump and bark endlessly, causing dogs that weren’t with you to eye him reproachfully.

“Is he telling all the other dogs our secret?” You asked Bucky and he let out what you could only guess was a bark of laughter.

You watched as Tony and Steve tried to herd the small puppy away from the other dogs and tsked softly, pulling your phone out to try and get some emails answered. You knew you would have to file the accident report up to Fury, but figured you could put that off until the boys were back to normal. You didn’t notice the approach of a handsome stranger until Bucky was softly growling at your feet.

You looked up from your phone and smiled at the gentleman who cautiously approached you, eyeing Bucky warily.

“Don’t mind him, he’s all bark,” you laugh and the guy nods with a chuckle and sits down next to you.

“Hi, I’m Josh,” the man said, his green eyes twinkling and extending a hand for you to take.

“Y/N.” You offer shaking his hand. “Which one’s yours?” You notice how much that makes you seem like a mom at a playground and you shake your head at yourself.

“The Dalmatian and the Border Collie,” Josh answered pointing. “Jasper and Runner.”

You smile and nod, observing Steve staring down Josh’s Dalmatian while Tony stood protectively over a still yapping Peter while someone’s Pit Bull tried to sniff at them.

“I have the Golden Retriever - Steve, the Airedale - Tony, the Beagle is Peter, and this oaf down here is Bucky.”

“That’s quite the crew and those are quite some names. I always find it amusing when people give their pets people names,” Josh laughed and you smiled tightly. “Except this big guy. You got a nice doggy name, didn’t you?” Josh teased, reaching down and ruffling Bucky’s scruff. Bucky growled more forcefully this time and Josh backed away slowly with a nervous chuckle.

“Eh, Buck has some issues from the pound,” you explained lamely, wincing as Bucky’s eyes rolled back in a doggy glare. You were however extremely amused at him having a ‘doggy name’ and didn’t foresee yourself dropping that subject any time soon.

Steve loped over, caring Peter by the scruff of the neck in his teeth and plopped him down on top of Bucky who let out a soft boof before trapping Peter under his front paw. Steve looked back behind him, expecting Tony to have been following only to see him sniffing up a beautiful, black furred Samoyed. Steve let out a sharp bark causing Tony to jump and look back at the group of you. You could almost see the irritation on his doggy face.

“They all certainly have a lot of personality,” Josh noted.

“Yeah, yeah they do,” you agree. “Buck, c’mon, stop squashing him.” You nudge Bucky’s paw off of Peter with your foot and Peter immediately bounds over and launches himself at Steve with his new found freedom. Steve huffs and falls over backwards, letting the puppy jump onto of his ribcage in victory. Bucky shakes his head, his ears flapping and tongue lolling out from the New York summer heat before standing shakily and hopping over to where Tony was circling the Samoyed.

“That’s going to end in a fight,” you groan and Josh follows your gaze.

“Should you stop them?”

“Naw, they’ve been needing another tousle for a while.” You answer going back to your emails.

“Well, listen, maybe you’d like to get dinner. Sans canines?” Josh asked suddenly and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry, I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh! Well, that’s alright then,” Josh responded a little put out, leaning back on the bench and petting Runner when he came up to the two of you.

Steve trotted over to you, watching with blue eyes as Peter bounded off after Bucky - jumping at biting at his tail, before sitting down at your feet and putting his head on your lap. You sighed and pet his head softly, sneezing again, but continued scratching behind his ears.

“How does your boyfriend handle you being around such over protective dogs all the time?” Josh asked eyeing Steve.

“My boyfriend has a pretty commanding presence of his own,” you say vaguely and groan when Steve licks your hand, leaving sticky drool on your palm. “Gross, Steven!” you whine looking around for somewhere to wipe your hand before settling on the leg of your pants. You ignored Josh who was looking at you strangely and diverted your attention to your chirping phone.

Bruce’s picture came up on the screen and you excitedly answered his call. “Bruce, tell me you figured out how to reverse this,” you begged as you watched Bucky successfully take down Tony even with one paw, before Tony managed to upturn Bucky and bite at his arm. Peter barking and jumping around them happily, probably cheering on Tony in puppy language. “Steve, go stop that,” you hissed waving off to the others. Steve made a groaning noise and lumbered off to the others, letting out a few authoritative barks, causing the three to pause.

“Yeah. Yeah I think so. I’m gonna run a quick test but I should be ready by the time you’re back,” Bruce said and you heard a machine whirring to life in the background.

“What kind of test?” you ask.

“Well. I needed a baseline and you took all four with you. Happy had come down looking for Tony to take him to a meeting and one thing led to another.”

“Oh my god, Bruce! Since when did you become such a mad scientist?” you hiss, turning your back to a very confused and concerned looking Josh. You whistle for the dogs who all come bounding over to you, Tony trying to look like he was doing it because he wanted too, not because you called him.

Picking up the rope you pinched your phone between your ear and your shoulder and loop the rope through all their collars. “Just have it figured out, Bruce! We’re on our way.” You hung up the phone and smiled awkwardly at Josh. “Well, it was nice meeting you. Um, have a good rest of your…yeah,” with that you tugged on the ropes and drug the Avenging dogs out of the dog park.

~*~

You walked into the lab just in time to see Bruce place an English Bulldog on a metal table. Rushing to the computer console he pushed a few buttons and a machine that looked like something out of a Bond movie shot a ray of pink light at the dog. By the time the light dissipated, Happy was left sitting on the table looking confused as he itched behind his ear.

“What in the hell was that?” Happy asked, getting angry. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” With that Happy slid off the table and stomped out of the lab not even pausing to look at you or the four dogs you had dragging behind you.

Bruce clapped his hands together, grinning wide with success. “See! I told you I’d fix it!” Bruce exclaimed and rushed over to pick up little Beagle Peter.

You reach out hesitantly but then pull your hand back. You were thinking you probably shouldn’t start with the kid, but you did just watch it successfully work on Happy. With a few buttons and a flash of pink light Peter sat back on the table.

“Oh, wow, guys! That was so cool! I talked to all those dogs and they understood me! Gosh, that was incredible!” Peter rambled animatedly before bounding over and grabbing Tony’s front paws, causing the curly haired dog to growl from his chest.

“Maybe we should leave them like this for a few days! I mean, Mr. Stark even got a new girlfriend out of it!” Peter joked, causing Tony to bite him sharply on the wrist causing Peter to drop his paws. “Or not, not is fine.” Peter backpedaled, shrugging nonchalantly.

Bruce helped you lift Bucky onto the table next. “I sent an email to Shuri asking her to fly out here to help reattach Bucky’s arm. I doubt it’ll magic itself back onto him,” you commented, lifting one of the vibranium fingers of the abandoned arm that sat on a different table. Bucky whined as the pink light flooded him and when he was himself again he glowered sourly at his open socket.

Bruce helped Bucky fit the sleeve on his shoulder with a sigh. “Tony should know how to do it too,” Bucky said hoarsely. You wondered how his throat was feeling after his day of being a growly grumpus.

“If he’s willing to do it, you did defeat him with one little paw,” you teased as Bruce lifted Tony onto the table next.

Hopping off the table and straightening his tie, Tony frowned at you. “He did not defeat me. I successfully turned the tables on that one,” Tony argued rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “All I smell is ass.”

“That’s nothing new,” you mutter under your breath, Bucky chuckling softly behind you.

Once Steve was back to normal you rushed over and threw yourself in his arms. “Thank Gods you’re back. I seriously was not about to let you in our bed all furry like that. Although, you still smell like dog,” you comment and reached up to actually take a look at the kinky collar you had put on him from Tony’s drawer. ‘Daddy’s Princess’ was scrawled across the black leather in pink rhinestones.

“Oh, this is very cute,” you comment, looking at the other three who just remembered they were wearing collars of their own. Bucky’s was a hoop gag, Tony’s had spikes and Peter’s just a simple metal. Steve blushed and pulled the clasp off, throwing it at Tony.

“Yeah, we’re never going to talk about this ever again,” Steve demanded using his Captain America voice.

“Aw, but what will I do with all these pictures?” you ask opening your camera reel and flipping through all the various doggy day photos.

“Delete all that footage!” the three men yelled. “I want to see!” Peter demanded excitedly.

#maggieslaughfest #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #avengers #marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel fandom #marvel fanfic #avengers x you #avengers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes #peter parker #tony stark #steve rogers

440 notes · View notes

jugandbettsdetectiveagency · 6 years

Text

(I’ve been having a really rough couple of days, so I thought in an attempt to shake myself out/do something else/just distract myself, I’d post a snippet of a fic I’ve been working on now and then (subject to any edits of course), so I hope you enjoy! Also sorry about the lack of read more, I’m not able to get onto my laptop at the minute)

CUCKOO

Jughead pulls out some of the books in his locker; he’s slowly been emptying it out for weeks, taking things as and when he’ll no longer need them for class. The sight is somewhat bittersweet, in that his locker is just one more thing that won’t belong to him anymore, a place where he could keep his things solely his, now to be recycled, given to someone else. His stickers and notes would no longer litter the door, the picture of him and Jellybean from the summer his grandparents had let him come and visit already moved to his wallet, his books and folders gone from their permanent place inside. Locker 235 would have no memory of Jughead Jones beyond tape residue, just like most of his peers.

Jughead internally rolls his eyes at himself, not wanting to sink to the level of waxing poetic over an empty locker. The slam of the door coincides with another loud noise echoing down the corridor.

“Betty! Betty, wait!”

He knows the name. He knows the voice calling it. He hasn’t spoken to the owner of either in a long time.

Surreptitiously as possible, Jughead casts his gaze over his shoulder, one hand still raised and resting against the dial on his locker.

The first thing he sees is Betty striding purposefully down the hall, shoulders back and hair flying about her face. The weather’s been at a steady eighty degrees for the past few weeks now, and the smooth curve of her shoulders are exposed in the sleeveless, white top she’s wearing. Begrudgingly, Jughead’s eyes fall to the strip of skin between the hem of her shirt and the band of her jeans that’s showing. Just as quickly he moves them down to the pink Keds on her feet and back up to her face. He can’t put his finger on it, but there’s something that’s almost un-Betty like about her today.

Or maybe there isn’t. As her eyes find his on her way down the hall, he realises that it’s been a while since they’ve looked each other in the eye. What does he know about Betty Cooper anymore?

The corner of her mouth ticks up into something resembling a smile and Jughead’s stomach somersaults. As soon as it’s there, it’s gone, Betty turning away, and he’s left wondering if—knowing that—he imagined it. The lingering feeling in his abdomen says otherwise, but Jughead’s got more sense than to listen to his gut.

Betty scoops her hair into one hand, pulling it into a soft of makeshift ponytail while ducking her head towards the ground, lifting the strands from the back of her neck, relieving the heat, and it strikes him. He doesn’t remember a day when Betty hadn’t worn her hair up to school, in all the years he’s known her. The change makes him feel uneasy, in the same way that his emptying locker had done.

“Betty, would you just listen?” The voice comes again, closer this time. Jughead looks further to his right and sees the owner, barrelling down the hallway, expression pained, thick brows pinched.

Archie could have easily caught up to Betty, Jughead thinks, watching the boy that used to be his friend trail behind her forlornly. She’s not particularly running down the hall, and four years of school sanctioned sports hadn’t exactly left Archie out of shape. No, there’s something else stopping him from reaching out to her.

Jughead may be a social outcast—a self-identified loner—but he’s not completely oblivious. He’s privy to the churning of the rumour mill, as much as the next student.

Golden girl Betty Cooper had walked in on her footballer boyfriend, Archie Andrews, in flagrante with her best friend, Veronica Lodge.

Maybe being popular wasn’t all it cracked up to be. At least at this end of the social spectrum no one cared about the enthralling details of your private life. At Betty and Archie’s heights? They were the proverbial fuel of the high school hierarchy.

But, that wasn’t his problem, Jughead thinks as he lets slip a small sigh, tuning out Archie’s continuing pleas by replacing his headphones and turning in the opposite direction. They’d abandoned him. Whatever trials and tribulations became the prom king and queen were none of his business anymore.

Right?

“Five, four, three, two…” Jughead has taken to actually muttering a countdown out loud like some teen cliche as he watches the second hand drag by in slow motion. It’s his last class of the day (there’s some saving grace in that it’s English—going out on something of a high) and the bell is so close to ringing he can practically feel the vibrations in the air.

The small, red hand finally reaches the twelve, and just like that it’s all over. The shrill ringing of the bell sounds and almost simultaneously a cheer erupts from the majority of seniors surrounding him.

Jughead looks over just in time to see Ethel Muggs rolling her eyes at the farce around them. “You’d think none of them remember these are the best days of our lives,” she mutters sarcastically, and Jughead lifts the corner of his lips in a smirk.

“Thought that was college?” he quips back. Ethel laughs with him as they both gather their things and head for the exit.

“Have a good summer, Jughead. I’ll see you around, maybe?” Ethel asks as they step into the blinding sun (another eighty degreer) and head down the front steps to the parking lot.

“Sure. You too, Ethel.” He’s not sure if they actually will cross paths again, but he supposes he should make some sort of effort to keep in contact with the girl who’s been nothing but a friend to him over the past few years. Bonding by mutual exile might be more appropriate as a label, but the sentiment is still there. Jughead can’t imagine keeping in touch with anyone from Riverdale, though. Too many loose ends to get knotted. His hometown had served its purpose; he’d got his education and his grades, and now it was time for the next step: out.

He isn’t looking up as he approaches his truck, which is why when a familiar pair of pink Keds come into view he’s almost stepping on them before he realises there’s someone leaning against the driver’s side door.

“Whoa, what—” he blurts out, stumbling to a stop.

Betty’s got one ankle crossed over the other where she leans. The jeans have been replaced by a denim skirt today, the length of her legs on display. She’s been taking advantage of the sun, Jughead thinks, as his eyes involuntary trail them. She’s wearing another sleeveless top, this time tucked into her waistband. Her hair’s down again.

Betty smiles, a small thing really, and Jughead frowns.

“Hey, Jug.” It’s been a while since he’s heard his name in her voice—it prods at unwelcome memories, buried somewhere near those memories of his mom’s happy stories. “How are you?”

“How am I?” Jughead repeats, thoroughly confused. He has no idea where this is coming from, or why she’s here, what she wants, but he didn’t expect that to be the first thing she asks. He doesn’t say anything more and her smile falters a little before it’s back.

“Um, this is your truck, right?” Now he’s completely lost.

“I have the keys,” he replies wryly, lifting them up like proof. She giggles again, and he wishes, with a flush, that she’d stop.

“I know this is a bit out of the blue but I need a ride later and I was wondering if you’d mind driving me. Gas money provided, of course,” she says somewhat shyly, gathering her hair into that attempt at a fleeting ponytail again.

“What?” Jughead asks eloquently, his mouth refusing to close fully.

“Please?” Betty asks again, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. Her green eyes are wide and pleading, chipping away at Jughead’s resolve with each passing moment.

“Where do you need to go?” the remains of his rational side thinks to ask, garnering as much information as possible before he agrees to be her chauffeur (because he will agree, he thinks with a pang of self-pity).

Betty chews on her lip some more before answering. “Would it influence your decision at all if I decided to keep the location on a need to know basis? As in, when you need to know, you’ll know,” she says apprehensively.

Jughead wonders if drawing this out any longer will preserve some of his pride, which will definitely disappear when he says yes. He tries to chalk it down to morbid curiosity. “Sure, I guess,” he tries to sound vague, like that’s doing any favours.

Betty’s face lights up with a mixture of relief and gratefulness, and she leans in towards him before she stops herself, instead reaching out and laying a hand on his forearm. “Thank you, Juggie! Pick me up at eight?”

She’s gone before he can answer, and he thinks it wasn’t really a question anyway. The spot where her hand had been against his skin burns the whole ride home.

“I’m not gonna go,” Jughead tells himself more than he tells his friends, rolling a beer mat absently between his hands.

“And abandon Princess Peach in her hour of need? Yeah, right,” Sweet Pea scoffs from his position in front of the Street Fighter machine in the corner of the Whyte Wyrm, not even looking up from the intense game he appears to be caught up in.

“Shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jughead hollers back, chucking the mat at the back of Sweet Pea’s head. His friend lifts one hand briefly to flip him the bird before going back to his game.

Jughead had wanted to transfer to Southside High his sophomore year of high school, but his dad had refused, despite them living in the district. FP had been unmovable in his desire for Jughead to get the best out of school that he could, and no matter his allegiance to the Southside, he knew that didn’t come on this side of the tracks.

It had been hard not to resent his father for metaphorically feeding him to the dogs (Bulldogs, to be precise) in that way, but the further he got from the initial sting of betrayal—and the two month stint living at the Twilight Drive-In—the more thankful for the decision he’d become. It was true that Jughead felt far more affiliation with the kids, like Sweet Pea, like Toni, that grew up on the same side of town as he did. There was a toughened skin, a pessimistic outlook, that developed amongst all of the Southside kids early on that made them feel united—as much as any leather jacket could.

Another thing his father had refused him was an initiation into the Serpents, into gang life—another thing to set him apart from the people that lived around him. FP didn’t want that for Jughead, and while he could understand a father’s desire to protect his son, Jughead couldn’t help but feel shunned, an outsider amongst outsiders. It only made him more determined to pass through Riverdale on his way to more.

Despite this, the kids on the Southside were far more accepting of him than the ones at school ever were, and there was a comfortable cushion to fall back on in his friends here that even a self-professed loner needed sometimes.

“He’s not wrong. You have got something of a hero complex,” Toni smirks from behind the bar, wiping down the sticky surface. Jughead feels his face burn and doesn’t try to disagree. “We all know you’re gonna go.”

“We don’t know that,” Jughead tries to defend lamely.

“Oh, Jones. It’s a sad, but familiar tale. And we all know it includes you going to do whatever bidding the Mother Teresa of the Northside wants you to do,” she lifts a pointed brow at him.

“What does she want you to do?” Sweet Pea chimes back in with a genuine curiosity.

“She didn’t really give me much to go on,” Jughead shrugs, stealing a handful of peanuts from the packet Toni has open on the bar.

“Guess you’ll have to go and find out,” she says coyly.

“I still might not go,” he repeats after a few beats, his words met with a chorus of groans.

At five minutes to eight, Jughead slowly pulls up to the curb on Elm Street. It bothers him how easily he’s remembered Betty’s address, and the one next door to it. A swell of sympathy grows for Betty as he thinks about having to live next door to the boyfriend that hurt her. Still, even though he doesn’t know what Betty’s plans are post-high school, he assumes that it won’t be the arrangement for much longer.

He isn’t quite sure how to announce himself, and decides on waiting in the truck for Betty to come out. As the clock ticks over he expects the shiny, red door to swing open but nothing happens. His fingers twitch towards the door handle as the minutes pass by and nothing moves in the still of the night, but finally something catches his eye.

There’s a shadow passing down the side of the Cooper house, scaling its way down the trellis that crawls its way up to the side window. The shape forms into a person, all long legs and loose, blonde hair, finally landing on the porch with a dull thud.

Betty hurries down the steps and all but flies into the truck, eyes bright and breathing heavily. Absently, Jughead notes she’s wearing a pair of denim shorts.

“You came,” she exclaims, still in something of a hushed whisper, body turned towards him on the bench seat.

“Said I would,” Jughead replies casually with a lift of his eyebrows, like he hadn’t spent all afternoon locked in an internal debate about that very fact. He can practically feel the heat radiating off her bronzed skin. “Front door out of order?” he jokes with a jerk of his thumb in the direction of the house.

Betty shrugs, the dusting of pink across her cheeks matching that creeping in around the early evening sky. “This is something of an unauthorised outing,” she leans in to tell him. She smells like the smokey air of summer barbecues, with an undertone of something sweet, like some kind of flower he doesn’t know the name of. “I trust you’ll keep it confidential,” she grins, teasing.

“Scouts’ honour,” he drawls, holding up three fingers before putting the truck in gear.

He hears a light snort and turns to her questioningly. “You were never a scout,” she scoffs with conviction, rolling down her window to let some of the stifling night air in.

Jughead jolts in surprise and wonders what else she remembers about him. He clears his throat, grasping the steering wheel with both hands. “So, where are we going? I kind of need to know,” he asks, bringing them back to her earlier terms.

“Right,” she chuckles, pointing in front of them, indicating straight on. Jughead pulls away from the curb as she continues to talk. “Do you know where Veronica Lodge lives?”

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead au #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #just a snippet

249 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

you know everything i know (crameron) - chapter 5/5 - akita

A/N: its finally finished!! this is where, for me, it felt like it came to its natural end. i hope everyone whose been reading this so far has enjoyed it, and i hope you enjoy this chapter. feedback would be appreciated, here or at @aqakita

Brianna woke up to the smell of food. Or rather, Brianna woke up for the second time to the smell of food - she woke up the first time to Kameron groaning from the stiffness of her limbs, and then her terrible attempt at clambering over her to get out of bed. When she stirred the first time, she phoned up the school to let them know she couldn’t work that day. Not wanting to get up yet, the blonde just settled back under the covers, taking Kameron’s pillow to cuddle as soon as she was out of the room. She considered staying here a little longer, breathing in the fading notes of perfume and detergent on the covers, but the rumbling of her stomach soon got the best of her.

Shuffling lazily down into the living room, still carrying the pillow for whatever reason, Brianna made her way over to the couch. Her blanket was still there, albeit a little pushed up into the corner, so assumably, Kameron had been sat down here on her own for a bit. She hoped she’d not somehow driven her out of the bed; she wasn’t paying attention to the time when the redhead left the room. Slumping into the bunched up blankets, she pulled the pillow close to her chest, watching the kitchen doorway.

Something was shouted from the kitchen, but it was distorted by the source talking with their mouth full. A moment later, Kameron appeared around the door frame, repeating the ‘good morning’ she’d attempted through her toast. There was still the sizzling sound of food in the frying pan, and Brianna wondered if that toast was essentially some kind of appetizer. Regardless, she returned the greeting and fidgeted in her spot, pulling the blanket around her for comfort.

“I don’t know if you’re as picky as you used to be, but I’m making me a full breakfast. You can come in and look for something you want.” “But I just got comfortable, Kammy,” She whined, kicking her little legs in a fake fuss, before she moved from her seat, pushing past the figure in the doorway. Part of her wanted to tease the redhead for what looked like a large full English breakfast for herself, but she realised she did have muscle mass to retain. After pawing through the fridge and cupboards, Brianna eventually settled on two pop tarts. They were from when Suzie last stayed, it turned out.

“You often babysit your niece?” “Kind of. Usually see her at least once every two weeks. Her mum’s a single mum so I think it’s fair to give her a break from time to time. Plus, the company’s kind of nice.” Brianna chuckled, before turning around and jumping out of her skin when she saw a cat staring through the kitchen window.

“Oh! Cricket’s here!” Kameron cracked open the window, letting the skinny, chirping cat into the house, “She was a stray but she’s now sort of my cat. I got her spayed when I found her and she’s in the house a lot, but she still has free reign. Plus, I’m not exactly allowed to keep pets here, so I don’t like to tell people she lives here.” “Why does she sound like that?” Brianna asked as she scratched the cat’s head, listening to the strange crackly meow she kept making. “I don’t know, but it’s why I called her Cricket.”

The blonde continued to fuss the feline as Kameron served herself breakfast, offering a slice of bacon to the cat, and then a bit of a sausage. It was very clear that this cat was pretty spoiled, and that her lithe frame must have been reflective of athleticism. Plus, she was a grazer cat, who had a bowl of biscuits in the garden, and another in the pantry - or at least, that was the defence for giving her people food. Kameron dropped down to give the little black and white shorthair a fuss, before heading to the dining table. When the pop tarts were cooked, the blonde joined her. A part of her was jealous of all the food the other had, though she knew she wouldn’t have enjoyed most of it.

“I would have made you the same if you’d asked.” “I don’t want it. Too greasy.” Too much of a meal, Kameron mused, but didn’t say it. Brianna had always favoured snacks over actual nourishment, something that used to drive her crazy when they were younger. She didn’t see how she could get by on so little, but she could see now how that wasn’t under her control - she should just let the blonde have what she wanted. Besides, she seemed to have at least dinner a day. “Is this a normal breakfast for you?” “Actually, no. Usually I have some toast and a protein shake. While this would be good in terms of calories to burn in a work out for energy, the sluggishness and heaviness would make it hard.”

She didn’t expect a proper answer, but it made her smile none the less, “So it’s a treat, then?” “Yeah, I guess it is.” It somehow took longer for Brianna to finish the pop tarts than it took for Kameron to eat the whole cooked meal, but it seemed that a mixture of stopping to speak and picking at her food had been slowing her down. When she finally finished, Kameron took her plate, and placed their dishes in the dishwasher. “You left your blanket on the couch, right?” “Yeah?” “Maybe we could sit under it and watch some films? Just use today to relax and enjoy ourselves.”

Brianna’s eyes lit up with a smile, and she watched as Kameron glanced over a small cabinet. She still had DVDs? “C’mon grandma, pick a film.” “Shut up,” Kameron rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder, “I didn’t spend as much on a blu-ray player as I did to not use it.” After a moment, she sat down on the floor, clearly struggling to pick something good or appropriate. “So, quick update, I don’t have any movies here that aren’t for children apparently. We could watch the Winnie the Pooh movie?” “Sorry, you have no movies that aren’t kids movies?” “Well, technically, I do. I don’t know where I put them though but I didn’t want to leave them here incase Suzie puts on The Exorcist while I’m out of the room or something.” “Winnie the Pooh it is then.”

Once Kameron set it up, she came over to the couch, getting comfortable beside the blonde and tugging some of the quilt over herself. Offering an arm, she pulled Brianna close, leaning her head against her’s and smiling a little. It was nice to be sat here with someone more or less her own age for once. Plus, it meant she could probably talk through the film and not be shushed any time she opened her mouth, even though she and Suzie had watched this so many times it was a surprise that the blu-ray player still worked. There was, for Brianna anyway, a disadvantage to Kameron’s frequent viewing and general company.

The singing.

It wasn’t that Kameron was a bad singer, but it was that she seemed to know the whole film by heart. Every now and then, she’d look down at Brianna, smile, and apologize, but after a few moments of silence, she would start again. It did occur that this happened a lot when they were younger, because they would sit in either of their living rooms watching children’s TV when they were small. And, back then, Kameron used to always sing the theme from ‘The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh’. It was good to know she was no less annoying with remembering theme tunes.

“Okay, I’ve got a challenge for you,” Brianna teased, “Don’t sing that song Tigger sings.” “You’ve seen this before?” “I put it on one Christmas for my class. Anyway, no singing.” “That’s fine, I can do that.”

Like hell she could. As soon as Tigger started singing, she bit her lip, looking between Brianna and the screen. “This shouldn’t be this hard! I’m a grown woman!” Rolling her eyes, she resorted to tapping her fingers on the quilt, roughly in time. Then, she whipped her head around at Brianna when she heard: “All you need is a little bit of tiggerization!” “This isn’t fair!”

Brianna was beaming, though she stopped at that point, not actually remembering many more of the words. To her surprise, Kameron managed to keep quiet through it, though it was clear she was struggling. “Suzie might tell me to shut up any time I talk but at least she lets me sing along with her.” “It’s cute that you join in with her so much though.” “Well, she don’t know any of the kids around here anyway, so I may as well be a fun Aunt so she doesn’t have to be bored. Plus, a movie’s been a good homework incentive.” “You’re a good aunt, she’s lucky to have you. She’d spoke to me about you before, but didn’t mention you by name until the day you came to pick her up.”

The rest of the movie seemed to fly by, especially after she put the captions on to let Brianna join in with it a little more. They reminisced for a while over the old cartoons they watched as kids, and the games they used to play. “Remember when we were playing british bulldogs before it was banned? That game was a nightmare.” Kameron chuckled, automatically rubbing the back of her head, “I remember getting knocked to the ground hard and getting sent home incase I got a concussion. You know what was worse though? That time I clocked you with a conker.” “My mum took me to A&E for that one, that hurt like hell.”

Kameron reached gently out to the smaller woman’s face, brushing her thumb over the part of her brow where she’d hit her in the face with a conker all those years ago. “Can you feel it? The little raised scar?” “Yeah,” Pulling her hand back, she chuckled a little, “I’m still sorry about that.” “It’s way back in the past now. Things from the past should be left there.” There was a sense of mild, coded animosity to the way she said it, but it wasn’t directed at the ginger as much as it was at herself. Kameron looked aptly puzzled, but before she could ask, they were both distracted by the chirping cat jumping up onto the couch with them.

Brianna scratched her nails lightly over the top of the feline’s head, smiling down at her as she padded over to settle on the quilt. The conversation was getting too nostalgic, and she could feel herself putting a guard up, not wanting to delve into past feelings right now. However, Kameron was clearly aware of the way she’d started to bristle, and had fallen silent, as if trying to think of the right thing to say. “Least we’re out of there now though. Well, you’re not quite out of school.” “No, and I have even more strenuous hours than I did as a student.”

Shifting to stand, Kameron pushed the blanket from her lap, carefully setting it down as not to disturb the cat that was kneading the covers over Brianna’s lap. She gave the cat a quick head rub, and a kiss on the nose. Just as she stepped away, she caught a defiant: “I don’t get one of those?” Rolling her eyes, she moved over to the blonde and kissed her on the head, “Is that better?” Flustered, she mumbled, “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” “Don’t doubt how nice I can be.”

As she left the room, Brianna turned her attention to the cat, trying to focus more on the soft texture of the fur than her growing nervousness. Now wasn’t the time to start overthinking things - she’d be staying here another night it seemed, since the gas man hadn’t called to give her the all clear. And, truthfully, she wanted to stay another night. She was having a lot of fun. But sitting together at breakfast, sleeping in the same bed, the kiss on the head - they all felt so undeniably domestic. They felt like the things she’d yearned for, and though they brought a warmth to her heart, her happiness was getting tarnished by doubt.

Overthinking things would just break her heart more that she was doing herself. It was just like before; saying something would ruin everything. Maybe there was less to ruin now, since they weren’t in each other’s lives every day, and had only been re-acquainted for a short time. In truth, she was fairly sure Kameron knew about her past feelings, so it wouldn’t be a surprise, or something out of place, if she made it clear those feelings were still there. Musing on how she could just come out with it, she realised she was setting herself up for disappointment again.

When Kameron came back into the living room, Brianna tried to hide the way she tensed up. The redhead settled down beside her, holding a photo album in her hands. Immediately, she had to push the cat away, who was trying to find a way to sit on that instead. “I had this in the storage room. There’s a bunch of photos from when we were kids, not just school ones. And a lot of pictures of family pets and stuff, but there are ones with just us.”

Shifting a little closer, keeping a hand on the cat who still seemed keen on sitting on the book, Brianna leaned in to see the pages a little better. There were baby photos of Kameron that she was very quick to tease her on, musing that she was a chubby baby, and how cute she looked in pink. But, a page or two in, there were pictures of them both as babies. “Oh my God, you were tiny back then too,” Kameron was quick on that, “This must have been not long after your mum got you.” “God I know,” Chuckling, she pointed to the hands holding her, “Look how short her nails are, she never wears them like that anymore.” “Honestly, you can’t change a baby with long nails though. Don’t wanna scratch the kid and…” Kameron grimaced, “Babies are messy.”

They flicked through a few more photos, cooing over the ones of them as toddlers, and the first day of school photos. “I’ll never understand why my parents thought it’d be nice to take a photo of me crying.” “It shows vulnerability, Kameron. Then again, you cried all the time as a kid.” Fake sniffling, she whined, “I can’t believe you’d say that.” Flicking over the page, she dropped her facade when she saw a certain photo.

They were both about five years old in the picture. Kameron, with her cheeks and nose roaned with freckles, donning a white sunhat and an ice cream stained Winnie the Pooh t-shirt, leaning against Brianna, who’s cheeks were rouged with a sunburn that contrasted the bright blue of her shirt and her flaxen hair. Both were grinning widely, sat beneath an old oak tree that stood still in the park near their old houses. “I remember that summer, that was the same year my mum took us on that trip to the beach, and you cried every night because you got homesick,” Brianna grinned a little, “You know, that might have been the first time we shared a bed?” “I think you’re right. Then we just kind of stuck with that any time we had sleepovers.”

When they flicked the page over, they were presented with a photo similar to the one they just saw. Still under that same oak tree, wearing those same clothes, still sat beside each other. But, in this picture, Brianna was kissing Kameron’s cheek. In the photo below, it was the other way around. “We were so cute,” Kameron chuckled, glimpsing between the blonde and the picture. She was a little teary eyed at the memory, smiling slightly. “I miss that, when we were kids. We didn’t have to worry about anything.” “You don’t need to worry about anything now,” The ginger returned, before asking a more serious, “Do you?” “Nothing really, no. Just getting in my head all the time, but aside from this whole gas leak thing, I don’t have that much to really get worked up over.”

Kameron wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and kissing her on the temple, “I’m here for you if you need it. Or even if you don’t.” “Thanks.” Dipping her head into her neck, moving up to lean on her and keeping the cat stable on her lap as she did, Brianna flicked the page over. The pictures went on until they left senior school, and the remaining photos were mostly of Kameron with her sister and niece. Emotional and nostalgic after living their pasts through pictures, Kameron put the photo album down on the coffee table, and pulled Brianna into a tighter hug. It was a little surprising at first, but she wrapped her arms around her in return, nuzzling into her neck.

“I’m so glad you’re back in my life,” Kameron mumbled into her ear, trying to suppress the waver in her voice, “You matter too much to me to want that distance back.” Rubbing the woman’s back, she playfully responded, “There, there, big guy. But… I’m glad too. I missed you a lot. I love you.” Squeezing her tighter, she returned a quiet, “I love you too,” before moving away, looking a little contemplative. “What is it?” Now, Brianna was panicking inside. Had she just put her foot in her mouth with that? “Not to ask something vague or cryptic, but… have things changed since seniors?”

The blonde, for a moment, froze. She knew what Kameron was asking, which confirmed that she knew how she felt. Two attempts to speak, but no sound came out, and she squinted her eyes in a strained discomfort as she tried to think of the right way to answer. Setting herself up for heartbreak would be a mistake, and answering the question truthfully felt like it could be an irreversible error.

So, instead of giving a straightforward response, she asked, “What do you mean?” Frustrated that she’d have to now explain herself, Kameron scowled a little, “I’m not going to respond badly to either answer, but, did you used to like me? People told me you did, but I didn’t want to believe it if I didn’t hear it from you.” “Yes.” “Have things changed?” Kameron’s eyes softened, and she looked at her with a tilted head, taking a hand and squeezing it. “Not really.” “Good.”

That was far from what she expected to hear. She expected to hear that she thought so, that she wasn’t surprised, and that she was sorry but she didn’t feel the same way. ‘Good’ was such a blunt answer, but it was better by miles than she could have expected. For a moment, Brianna just stared at her dumbfounded, partly from shock, and partly waiting to see if she would expand on that. “Two things,” She finally elaborated, “First, I liked you too, but I didn’t know if that was just because I put the idea in my head. And second, when I saw you again, it was like a flood of feelings came back to me.” “I felt the same thing!” Brianna interjected, squeezing her hand tightly enough that it made Kameron flinch, “Sorry, but, yeah, that was how it felt. I’ve been winding myself up over this the whole time. You could have told me earlier.” “I would’ve if I had the nerve, but it didn’t feel right.”

The cat jumped down from the couch, allowing Brianna to get more comfortable. She shifted slightly, smiling warmly, before draping her arms around Kameron’s neck as she turned to face her a little more. Muscular arms tightened around her waist and tugged her a little closer as she leaned in to nuzzle noses with her. Unsurprisingly, it went a little clumsily, and she hit their noses a little too hard, making Brianna laugh more than anything.

“Oaf. You always do that.” “I’m sorry I haven’t got perfect depth perception like you.” “That doesn’t matter! Go in gently. Try again.” Though it felt tedious, Kameron moved back to lean in again, surprised to find that the command was a trick. She did go in more delicately, leaving option for Brianna to tilt her head up and catch her lips. Though she was briefly caught off guard, she kissed back softly. When Brianna pulled away, they both couldn’t help but grin, Kameron giving a shaky, flustered chuckle as she looked away, trying to recollect herself. She glimpsed back down toward the blonde, who eyed her with a nervous excitement in her eye. “I love you.” “I love you too.”

#kameron michaels #miz cracker #crameron #lesbian au #akita #rpdr fanfiction #submission #you know everything I know #s10

41 notes · View notes

roadjourney-blog · 6 years

Text

Writing Challenge Three

1. Leah. I don’t mind the name itself. I would’ve preferred something more rare since it’s pretty much the most common middle name in the country. (It’s pronounce like Lea or Lee and not like the normal pronunciation of its spelling). It SHOULD’VE been spelled differently. I’m SUPPOSED to have the same middle name as my paternal grandmother (pronunciation is the same but spelling isn’t). My father apparently had a blonde moment the day I was born.

2. I had my ears pierced as a gift from my best friend, at the time, for my 18th birthday. I decided I didn’t like it and they were filled back in. Tattoos is another story. I have 3 cherries on the back of my right shoulder (I picked them because I could draw them at the time. For more details read previous posts). A few years later I got a music note tattooed on each ear. A few years after that I got 3 ribbon tattoos on the front of my left leg (a pink one for Breast Cancer, a red one because I pledge to be drug free, and a grey one with Jim written under it (my uncle Jimmy passed away from Brain Cancer in 2014)). That same year I got my semi-matching tattoo with Jaclyn. It’s on the back of my left leg and is a blue arrow. I want many more but for now that’s all I’ve got.

3. Has already been answered.

4. I feel like this one should be saved for a later date.

5. My three favorite colors: Teal (like the American Spirit cigarette box), sunset orange, forest green.

6. Hmmm. Autumn. I love the changing of temperature for one-it’s no longer unbearably hot outside but it’s not yet freezing temperatures outside. I also love wearing sweaters. :) But what I really love is the trees changing colors.

7. I first came across Tumblr many moons ago from a friend. It was an addiction there for a while. Haven’t been back since until recent days. We’ll see how long this time around lasts.

8. I’m definitely a couch potato. I have no exercising habits. But it is a 2019 goal to start exercising.

9. Favorite meme? I guess the Birdbox ones.

10. I no longer have any pets. I would like to have some fish again as well as a pet pig, an English bulldog and a French bulldog. I also kinda want a turtle or two and a black goat.

11. Top three favorite bands: David Bowie, Kacey Musgraves, Phil Collins. In that order.

12. Harry Potter: OMG! WHY DIDN’T I READ THIS SOONER! SO GOOD! Does that answer the question?

13. Mean Girls: Love Rachel McAdams. Can’t really stand Lindsay Lohan. Or Tina Fey. It’s okay. Very quotable. Fetch.

14. Just the basics for now. Bigger post later. I have an older half-brother (same mom) named Blake who is married to a woman 3 days older than him named Amanda, an older half-sister (same dad) named Amanda, a younger stepsister named Erica, a younger stepbrother named Joey who is married to Tori, and a younger stepsister named Kayleigh who is married to Jason. I have 8 nieces and nephews between them all (4 of each).

15. Favorite junk food? WAY TOO LONG OF A LIST

16. Since the question is favorite Disney princess MOVIE and not just favorite Disney princess, I’d have to go with Beauty & the Beast.

17. Ugg boots. I’m not very fashionable so I don’t care.

18. Yes, I do.

19. NAER :)

20. I do and they’re for me to be able to see.

21. Does Greek mythology count? I am kind of obsessed with studying it...

22. Does billiards and bowling count? I also love watching Baseball.

23. She used to irritate me. These days she’s growing on me. Except for her political beliefs.

24. Hmmm. I think the last movie I saw in theaters was Crimes of Grindelwald.

25. I honestly cannot remember what the last book I read was. More goals to work on for 2019.

26. SOOOO many places on my list. Ireland. England. Greece. Italy. France. Not to mention a TON of places State side.

27. Weird question but okay. 3 favorite girl names: Adaline, Bonnie, Sabine. 3 favorite boy names: Jack, Edward, Reed. 3 favorite names for a pet: Bowie, Padfoot, Charlie.

28. First celebrity crush: If the question is first EVER it would be George Clooney. If the question is the first on my current list it would be Tom Hiddleston.

29. Glee: I like that show. It’s funny that happens to be a question since I was actually watching that show earlier.

30. Most recent picture has already been shown. That picture was taken 12 days ago. I’m not taking another one right now so deal.

1 note · View note

bamfcoyotetango · 7 years

Note

Number 7, Chaleigh please. 😁

Oh gosh, this is so very late but the Muses ate the prompt and gave me this .

7. Fake Relationship AU

Hand In My Hand

Raleigh's in the middle of setting up the music for the piano when Hansen, their bartender for the night, cleared his throat behind Raleigh.

"You need help cutting the citrus?" He asked sympathetically.

All the bartenders hate citrus and Raleigh's pretty good with a knife.

The only problem was that Hansen didn't ask for help.

Like... Ever.

"Yeah, actually. I, err, I've been meanin' t' talk with you." Hansen relented, his broad shoulders slumping in a show of emotion Raleigh didn't expect.

"Oh?" Raleigh arranged the music and left the wide performance platform, careful to step over the wires the sound crew hid under the rich red carpet. "Any reason in particular?"

The other man handed over a knife, a cutting board and a bag of mixed citrus. "Look, I know I'm not... the most social."

Raleigh snorted at that, "No shit."

"Oi, fuck off yeah? I'm trying here." Hansen growled defensively before he sighed. "I've got a problem."

"... And you think I can fix it?" He countered dryly as he sliced the fruits into multi-colored discs. "I know I'm the bar's handyman and all but uh, I normally don't fix people as a rule."

"Yes." The blunt honesty has Raleigh setting down his knife and turning to face Hansen. "Look, you're pretty enough that my Dad might be fooled inta thinkin' we're datin', alright? He knows I don't swing too often the other way and Mako's like my sister so I can't ask her an' the rest of the bartenders-"

Raleigh held up a hand and mulled it over, parsing out the basics of it in under two minutes. It wasn't exactly a secret that Raleigh appreciated multiple types of people. Hansen might've been a surly jerk but damn if he didn't fill out his bar polo shirt nicely. "You want me to date you... because your Dad is a hard ass?"

"Look, he's coming to visit in a few months an' he keeps a hairy eyeball on my social media, yeah? He knows when I'm not datin' and he gets all sad an' mopey like he didn't do a job 'n a half raising me. My old man wants to see me happy. So... are you in or what?" Hansen grumbled even as he rubbed at his nose.

Raleigh thought of his Maman, in remission, being overjoyed that her middle child finally found someone.

"I'll make you a deal," He allowed carefully, "if this is for your Dad, then it's also gotta be for my Maman. She's in remission and now she's tryin' to meddle in my love-life. You break her heart and I'll break your face. I'll pretend to date your ass for her sake if nothing else."

"What about...?"

Raleigh gritted his teeth and sucked in a calming breath. "Let's just say he's a bastard."

"... Oh. I guess we need to outline what's not okay to touch as a topic." Hansen pointed out.

"Yeah, might be a good idea." He admitted.

"For starters, don't ask about Mum and I won't ask about the rat bastard."

"Got it."

"By the way... M' name's Chuck." Chuck held out his hand and Raleigh shook it.

"Raleigh."

Chuck, for all of his asshole tendencies, was pretty decent with the whole dating thing.

Once Raleigh got past the scowl and the snark and the Alaskan-sized chip on his shoulder, that is.

He'd even bothered to ask Raleigh for his favorite flower (sunflowers) and had presented them with a scowl at the start of their next 'date'.

Somewhere along the way, dating Chuck had become less obligation and started to feel like... something Raleigh shouldn't enjoy as much as he did.

He shouldn't enjoy the under-the-breath quips that were so sarcastic that Raleigh actually cracked up laughing when he caught them.

He shouldn't sneak glances when Chuck closed his eyes and reveled in the wind coming off of the sea.

He shouldn't save a sunflower from each bouquet Chuck "remembered" to bring.

Raleigh spun a thick stem between his fingers and quietly admitted to himself that if he fell in love with Chuck, it might not be so bad.

It wasn't like the ginger bastard would ever return his feelings after all.

Raleigh was one of, it turned out, a lucky three people who had Chuck's phone number.

""So, Chuck hasn't called in and I have it on good authority that you're dating. I got the Kaidonovskies to cover his shift but could you do us all a huge favor and go check on him?"" Sergio asked. ""He's never done this before so I'm a little worried.""

"I'm on it, Serg. I'll let you know what's up, okay?" Raleigh hummed and then scrubbed a hand down his face as he texted Chuck.

Raleigh: Where r u?

It took near five minutes for Chuck to respond, which was way longer than his usual five seconds.

Chuck: m sick

Chuck: don't come over

Chuck: if I die u get my dog

He snorted, texting as he grabbed his jacket, his scarf and his washable surgical mask Mako had given him for his birthday.

Raleigh: drama llama

Raleigh: Ur not gonna die

Raleigh: I'm coming over

Chuck appeared to rouse at that.

Chuck: NO

If Chuck thought he could out-stubborn Raleigh, he had another thing coming.

Raleigh: YES

Raleigh: I'm making you homemade soup

Raleigh: u giant wiener

Chuck didn't respond for several moments as if shocked that Raleigh would do something that nice.

Chuck: U need my address

Chuck: Or did u expect to kno

Chuck: where I live, u wanker

He did laugh at that, midway through testing a tomato with his fingers.

Raleigh: I could ask Mako

Raleigh: She'll provide the info

Raleigh: with half the hassle that

Raleigh: Ur giving me

Raleigh: btw

Raleigh: R u allergic to tomato?

His phone buzzed with the response as Raleigh finished grocery shopping.

Chuck: no, not allergic to tomato

Chuck: pick up some tissue

As though he sensed he was being a little rude, he followed it with another text.

Chuck: ... pls?

Raleigh shook his head, flicked on his voice-to-text app and said, "Already on it period. Send."

Chuck sent the address and Raleigh pulled over into a gas station to input the address. He paused, contemplated labeling it 'U Grumpy Bastard' and then grinned at it occurred to him.

Chuck's address ended up as 'My Dumbass

An English bulldog sat in his way, Raleigh's arms aching as the grocery bags creaked.

"Uh, hi, pup. Could you do me a favor—"

"Max, get." Chuck rasped, poking his dog with his socked foot to let Raleigh into his apartment.

He toed off his boots out of habit and nudged them into a vaguely neat pile near the door.

Raleigh set all the bags down, found the trash can and the fridge and got to work.

By the time the tomato soup was bubbling on the stove, Chuck had been served eucalyptus tea, meds and tissues, in that order.

Raleigh absently texted Sergio as he watched his soup, keeping half an eye on a bemused and snuffling Chuck. He reigned in the urge to kiss the frown off of Chuck's face.

Chuck frowned and then wrote on the whiteboard Raleigh had brought from home.

'What? Do I have something in my face?'

"Nah. Just an old habit from when my sister was sick. She'd sneak off the couch and then get me sick cause she likes to cuddle when she's loopy on meds." He deflected as he poked at the soup.

The squeak of the marker was proceeded by Chuck gathering his blanket nest and sitting on the tall chair next to the counter.

'U have siblings?'

"Mm, two. Yancy's the oldest and Jazzy's the youngest. I'm the middle kiddo."

'Why tomato soup?'

"I'll have you know that Maman and my Mémé would skin me alive if I fed you anything else aside from this. It's supposed to be loaded with nutrients and good protein to help you get better." He countered with a raised brow.

'Meme??'

"French for Grandma. Maman is Mom." Raleigh explained. He pulled out the bacon, frowned and asked, "Where's your frying pan?"

'Under the stove.'

"... You don't cook, clearly, cause otherwise you'd know that that's the broiler, not a drawer. Also, these are really nice pans and it's a shame they don't get used more often." He talked mostly to himself but Chuck blew a raspberry from behind the covers. "It's true."

'Don't b rude. It's my space u know.'

"Supposed to be our space, remember? Shit, should I move in?" Raleigh asked and Chuck shook his head hard enough to negate that.

'NO.'

Chuck wrote quickly and then thrust it out as Raleigh patted the bacon to get the excess grease off.

'I'm already regretting asking u, alright? The last thing I need is to see u in ur undies. I bet u wear whities.'

"Hey! I wear boxer briefs, you jerk. Tightey-whities are soooo last season. Also, Jazz would murder me for that fashion crime. She's majoring in it and if I'm related to her, I'm gonna not cause her pain by dressing, and I quote, 'like a fisherman with no sense'. She's already tried to kill my sweaters, okay?" Raleigh grumbled as he dumped most of the bacon into the soup.

'Wait. Seriously?'

"Yeah, seriously."

'Ur jumpers r how I know it's u. No one else at the bar wears them like u do.' If Raleigh tilted it right, it might've been a compliment but Chuck didn't do those.

"Uhhhh, thanks, I think. Now, eat your soup and rest some more, alright?" Raleigh served up a decent bowl that would go down well with Chuck and reserved the rest of the soup in the pot, closing it with a lid. "Don't even think about ruining my soup by sticking it in the microwave. Heat it up on the stove on low." He looked at Max. "Do I need to take Max for a poop?"

'Probably. His lead's in the hall.'

Raleigh grabbed the red leash and Max was suddenly at his feet, butt wagging furiously.

He barely had room to tug on his boots.

"I'll be back! Finish that soup, Chuck!" The door closed with a clunk behind him. He laughed when Max tugged him down the street, barely giving him time to shrug on his jacket and wrap his scarf up the right way.

"Is that Max I hear?" Max boofed and somehow his butt wiggled even harder. "It is~" An older woman was sitting on the porch, her hands cradling a warm drink with a blanket in her lap. "Oh! You're not Chuck!"

"Ahh, no. He's sick," Raleigh mentioned with a shrug, his muscles straining as Max tugged on the leash in this woman's direction. "Max, pas maintenant*." He chided.

"You must be that friend of his."

"... Umm," Raleigh's face heated up as he thought about Chuck, who was probably miserably eating his soup and scrubbed at the back of his neck.

"Oh, I see. How long?" Her confidential tone made Raleigh want to combust from embarassment.

"Coupla months," he choked out, "Gotta go, ma'am, Max is, umm..."

"Go on. Chuck's got himself a keeper! You tell him Mrs. Gage said so, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Raleigh agreed as Max tugged on the leash again.

"Chuck, I swear to God that you've got the nosiest neighbors—" Raleigh froze at the sight of a man who could only be Chuck's Dad.

He let Max off the leash on autopilot after he closed the door, hanging it up like he'd seen it earlier. Raleigh kicked off his boots again and set them against the foyer frame, this time a great deal neater than they'd been before.

"You must be Raleigh," the man said as though he hadn't thrown their whole plan out of wack. "I'm Herc."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." He let his manners take over, a smile on his face as he shook the offered hand. "Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee?"

'Dad doesn't do tea.' When the whiteboard popped up from the couch, it seemed Chuck had retreated back with his blanket nest.

"Mm, coffee then?" Raleigh hummed as Herc looked between them. "Milk? Creamer?"

"Creamer, if you don't mind."

He busied himself preparing two cups of coffee and then dug into the supplies he'd organized on the counter, muttering to himself in Korean as he read the instructions for the citron tea he'd brought over.

"Coffee 'n creamer for us, tea for Chuck. Don't make that face. It's gonna feel nice and it's yuzu, vaguely lemony with honey." He sat next to Chuck, reaching to adjust the blankets and handing over the tea.

'Ur gonna get sick.'

"Mmm, yeah, probably. Do I look like I mind?" Raleigh pointed out as he gently pecked Chuck on the lips. Chuck grumbled wordlessly but snuggled closer as he drank his tea. He made a noise of surprise at the taste and looked at Raleigh with a wordless question. "So-Yi suggested it when I dropped by the bar. Y'know, half of them thought you got in a fight or dropped off the face of the planet. Being sick never even occurred to them."

'Liar.'

"No, that's what you get when literally three people have your number, you dumbass." He bickered back, looking up when a muffled laugh brought him back to their current situation.

Right.

Chuck's Dad.

"Y'know, I almost didn't believe my son when he said he was dating someone. He works hard and doesn't remember to leave time for himself but I can see he's in good hands with you." The pride Herc had for his son was clear in nearly every word he spoke.

"Yeah, well I could've said the same a while back. Chuck's sweet under like, fifteen layers of asshole, but you gotta have enough patience for the layers." Raleigh ribbed Chuck gently, letting himself touch instead of shying away from Chuck. They had to make this convincing—At least that was how he justified it to himself. "Mmm, you've got a fever." He told Chuck as he brushed the damp ginger hair away from Chuck's forehead.

'No shit, u wanker. What r u doing?'

Raleigh leaned in close and whispered his answer, "I'm being your boyfriend, hell practically the perfect one. The least your dumbass could do is play along, right?"

Chuck huffed at that and leaned into the casual touch. 'whatever. R we still doing that ice thing?'

"Like I'm gonna miss the chance to see you fall on your ass?" Raleigh teased. "We'll just have to reschedule for when you're better."

"I'll leave you two to be cutesy." Herc chuckled and Raleigh nearly face palmed.

They were totally—"Oh God, I'm the worst host-"

'Sorry Dad.'

"Don't be sorry. You two remind me of a better time." Herc only smiled at them and let himself out, nudging Max away from the door with his foot out of years of practice.

Raleigh practically turned the air blue with French curses before he sighed. "At least your Dad's convinced?"

"Why'd you kiss me?" Chuck's voice, as raspy as it was, caught his attention immediately.

"We're supposed to be dating. If I really was your boyfriend, I wouldn't let a cold keep me from kissing you. You were just so adorably grumpy," Raleigh replied before he caught what came out of his mouth. "I-I mean, I've gone and done it with my other relationships, y'know, so I thought you wouldn't mind—"

"Raleigh." Chuck's gaze cut off his voice faster than anything else. "Did you call me adorably grumpy?"

"No," he denied it quickly, valiantly trying to ignore how his face felt like it was on fire.

"You sure?"

"Yes!"

"Raleigh, I-"

"I think I might be in love with you." He blurted and then slapped both of his hands over his mouth in shock.

Oh he was so screwed; Chuck was going to break off their agreement, break up with him even though they weren't really dating and why did that thought hurt so much?

Raleigh made to stand, one foot planted on the floor when Chuck's hand shot out and grabbed the front of his sweater.

"I thought it was hopeless," Chuck coughed before he continued hoarsely. "that there was no way in a million years that sunshine personified would ever like me enough, but you said... You said you're in love with me."

Huh. Weren't they a match made in heaven; oblivious as hell until one of them confessed.

Raleigh settled back into the blankets and whispered, "'Sunshine personified'? Really?"

"Don't you start, Rahleigh."

"Well, since we're actually dating, there is a way to shut me up."

He was going to regret it later, he knew, but the feel of Chuck's tongue in his mouth over-rode the resignation of being sick right along with his boyfriend.

Mako only laughed when Raleigh whined about being sick.

16 notes · View notes

lyravellas · 7 years

Text

Here There Be Gerblins Part 1: TAZ Pre-Finale Relisten Recap

I’m doing the uncut version. Pray for me.

Travis has his entire character and backstory locked and loaded prior to the pilot. Justin has come up with the name Taako. Both of these things are equally ridiculous in completely different ways.

BONUS: Justin: “I’m playing a wizard and his name is spelled T-A-A-K-O.” Travis: “So like… Tae… Tae-koh?” Justin: “Well, I mean, it’s-” Griffin: “Is your wizard named… are you naming your god damn wizard Taco?”

Travis describes Magnus’s stats as “everything’s twenties across the board, plus twenties on all of his skill checks, and he has a magic sword that kills people in one hit” and the fact that this is NOT ACTUALLY THAT FAR OFF FROM CURRENT MAGNUS is absolutely wild

Taako was originally an acolyte of Oghma, god of wizardly shit. That tidbit got dusted real fast, probably for the best.

Clint actually says that Merle being a good dancer is a character trait in this episode. In the Legato/Voidfish loop Clint studies interpretive jazz dance at the conservatory. Good job Clint

Motion to make points of inspiration being fucking useless into an IPRE meme even though that doesn’t make any sense.

When Clint remarks about his inexperience with D&D Travis actually says, word for word, “I honestly believe that dad is going to be the best one at this game. I mean skill, you gotta roll your dice and not blow it.” Holy shit does this particular tune change. Poor Clint and his cursed rolls.

Clint describes some no-bakes that Justin made and Griffin says he should be the one DMing the game. Clint McElroy superhero campaign for next arc confirmed?

Travis proposes ‘Steve Smith’ as an alternative name for Gundren Rockseeker. ‘Here lies the town of Phandalin, tragically destroyed by Steve Smith’ is one hell of a concept.

Fun fact: The very first roll in The Adventure Zone is to MapQuest fucking Phandalin.

Barry Bluejeans is undeniably a Very Good Name. However, it’s also pretty god damn easy to come up with a better name than Sildar Hallwinter, which sounds like what you’d get if you stuffed a broom handle up someone’s ass and asked them to freestyle some baby names.

Ruby the tiny pet bulldog that looks like two butts with some legs in the middle is my favorite character and I hope she’s okay.

“I’m studying my cantrips.” “YOU CAN JUST SAY MASTURBATING DAD”

Pretty much the moment I personally was like “Well I guess the McElroys own my ass now”

The first thing Merle tries to do in combat is cast a buff on the party and Griffin tells him not to do it to conserve spell slots. And thus, Merle’s shitty cleric origin story begins.

Taako gets the first kill of the campaign. He’s helped out quite a bit by Merle, though, who gets the first attack of the campaign. Magnus gets the first ‘leap off of shit and do something vaguely ridiculous’ action of the campaign.

Holy shit. Justin’s original Taako voice is absolutely ridiculous. It’s like an affected snake inhaled helium and also knew how to speak English.

“You could roll an investigation check on the dead horses.” “I rolled a two.” “You’re like ‘Wow look at these big dead dogs’”

Side note: I just got my brother into TAZ today and he absolutely lost his shit at this part.

Merle successfully casts a buff on Magnus in their second fight against an overpass gerblin. I think I might need to start a ‘Merle’s not actually a shitty cleric’ tally.

Taako chilling on the overpass while Merle and Magnus get pachinko’d around the cave by a wall of water is pretty much par for the course in terms of the THB dynamic later on and I love it.

The “I got too horny from the killing” goof is the weirdest source of nostalgia for me because even though this podcast snowballed into a wonderful amalgamation of comedy, emotion, and joy from that point forward, it is also just objectively a dude talking about how killing someone made him horny. So.

I’m keeping a running list of Shit That Probably Isn’t Technically Canon Anymore But Is Still Canon In My Soul. So far I’ve got:

Taako carries around a copy of “Seven Habits of Highly Effective Elves”. Three of these habits are “looking at trees”, “long hair”, and “hackey sack”.

Merle has 1,999 party points.

Magnus carries a vanity mirror with him everywhere he goes to touch up his sideburns on Sundays.

I also think I’m going to be keeping a running list of “Things That Could Potentially Be Useful If The McElroys Remember Them”. So far I’ve got:

Taako’s fucking “Seven Habits of Highly Effective Elves” bathroom reader apparently allows him to rest once per day and recover some expended spell slots, somehow.

Apparently Taako has a couple cantrips called “Shield” and “Mage Armor”. I have no idea what these things do but considering Taako’s clownshit AC throughout the campaign I assume they might have been useful at some point earlier on in the game?

Taako has advantage on saving throws against being charmed and magic can’t put him to sleep hot damn flipwizard got skills

That’s it for this episode! It was a very fucking long one. Have a lovely fantasy day!

348 notes · View notes

werenzki · 7 years

Text

Sidney Crosby #2

shalanos said: Could I request a Sidney Crosby imagine where he, and y/n, who works for the team, supposedly "hate" each other, and don't get along, but they both actually really like each other, and they don't confess that until they get into a huge argument, and they end up kissing? Thanks, love 💕

A/N: apologizing for the wait on requests has been my thing as of late, but hey i got to like all of them!!! so sorry but thanks for another request! i’ve been loving them :) hope you liked it!

Word Count: 2,078

“Do you ever get day off?” Geno asked you as you were going through your purse to find your lipstick that was unfortunately wearing off between each video being recorded. You chuckled at the large Russian, who’s broken English always managed to put a smile on your face, but you were quick to shake your head in response.

“I’m here just as much, if not more, than all you guys,” you stated while grabbing onto your lipstick. You used the reflection on your phone to reapply, making faces in order to get every part of your now dark pink lips.

“You should get day off,” he said with a smile.

“Tell my boss that,” you chuckled and took a seat beside him.

“I will,” he nodded. You shook your head at him and then looked around the room. This next video being recorded was including another player, NHL most loved captain and ironically you’re least favourite. Sidney was currently on his phone in the corner of the room, laughing - which for some stupid reason made your stomach flutter - at something before seeing he was being watched and saying his goodbyes.

“Sorry,” he muttered while walking around the cameras.

You took a deep breath as Sidney sat down on the other side of you. Geno made a snide comment about Sidney talking to some girl, but Sidney shot him down and said it was his mom. Regardless, he had you behind schedule now. Little do these guys know, but you had a lot more to do that sit here and look pretty. You had several jobs, not to mention since you didn’t get many days off you were hoping to get out of here early and go grocery shopping before the store closed.

“Alright, so online there’s this video going around, it’s called the best friend versus boyfriend tag,” you exclaimed - both to the camera in front of the three of you, and to the two men sitting beside you. “But obviously neither of these guys are my boyfriends, but I’d say they were pretty good friends, right?” You asked, smiling at them both.

“Yes,” Geno nodded with a smile.

You turned to Sid, catching the little snort from him before he nodded and muttered, “sure,”

It took everything inside of you to not roll your eyes at him, but instead turning back to the camera and keeping it professional. With a smile on your face, you explained the little game a little more. Basically you were going to ask pretty generic questions and the guys would have to guess what you’d answer them. Whoever got the most points won, proving they were the better best friend. And as they grabbed the white boards and felt markers that sat beside them, you had all your money on Geno.

“Alright, first question,” you paused and gave them both a smile, “what’s my favourite colour?”

You gave them a moment to write it down, Geno being first to turn his white board to face the camera and then Sidney lazily scribbled something down before turning his as well. Judging by his posture and his facial expression, he was not enjoying this already. A part of you was sort of happy to see him suffer so much from just having to do this video with you, but also a part of you was already upset with him.

“Geno, what did you write?” You questioned, peeking at his board.

“Pink,” he said out loud.

“And Sidney,” you turned to see - surprisingly, the right answer on his board.

“Red,” he shrugged.

“One point for Sidney,” you said with a - very fake - smile. Geno muttered something, in Russian, which made you genuinely chuckle now. “Don’t worry, Geno, I’m sure you’ll get on the points board soon,”

“Next question,” Sidney said, sounding eager to get on with the video. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes now, making a mental note to edit that out later.

“Alright,” you licked your lips - the main reason your lipstick was constantly wearing off - and read out the next question you had written in your notes. “What’s my dogs name?” You asked, glancing at both the boys again.

“I’m really supposed to know this?” Sidney asked, shaking his head but looking down at his white board. Geno had already written down his answer, meaning that you’ve obviously mentioned it and that Sidney should actually know it. You actually never shut up about your bulldog puppy, you were also always posting about him on your social media’s too. He’s even made it on the Penguins official Instagram page too.

“Geno,” you smiled at him.

“Duke,” he said while flipping over his white board.

Sidney rolled his eyes and shook his head again, turning his board over to show that he had written down ‘Charlie’ in big letters. You chuckled and looked up at him. He gave you a settle glare in return.

“See, Geno, already tied up,” you smiled at Sidney before turning back to look at your notes.

You went through another six questions. Geno managed to get 4-out-of-6 right, while Sidney got no more points. The questions weren’t too hard, only one made sense that the two wouldn’t know the answer - you added it more to be silly than anything else. But honestly, you weren’t surprised at the final score between the two boys sitting beside you. As you signed off, giving the camera a wave before your camera man stopped recording, Geno was relaxing beside you - Sidney, on the other hand, jumped up after the video had ended.

Honestly, you were so done with his behaviour. Geno looked up from his phone as Sidney exited the room, raising his eyebrows at his teammate’s sudden quick departure. You shook your head and stood up from your seat. Geno then turned his attention to you, eyebrows still raised as you excused yourself and walked off after Sidney.

“Sidney,” you called out after him. He stopped and turned around, looking straight at you with narrowed eyes and his lips in a thin line. The hallway was empty besides the two of you. The rest of the team would be in for practice any moment now though.

“What?” He asked, annoyance laced with the one word.

You took a deep breath and a few more steps towards him. “Look,” you began, “I am really getting tired of this,”

“Of what?” He questioned, his arms now crossed at his chest.

“This,” you pointed at him, “I like my job, I really like it actually, but when you go and disrespect me day in and day out it makes it a lot harder than it should be. I’m so tired of you shutting me down during videos or even just ignoring my presents any time I’m in the same damn room as you. Nearly every other guy on the team has put in an effort to get to know me even a little, and when I started this job I expected the captain of the team to be the first to put in some freaking effort,”

“Just because I don’t know your dogs name or that you grew up in Pittsburgh, that makes me a shitty person?” He questioned, eyebrows now drawn together in an angered look.

“No, what makes you a shitty person is that way you act around me. Take me seriously, Sid, cause I’m not just going to go away anytime soon,”

“No?” He was taunting you now.

“Not unless you be that shitty person and get me fired,” you said, putting out your daily fear between the two of you. As much as you tried to convince yourself Sidney didn’t have that power, he really did.

“You really think that little of me?” He asked.

“I really believe you’ve treated me that way, yes,”

“Wow,” he breathed out and let his arms drop to his sides now.

“Wow?” The anger had fueled up inside of you now. With your hands curled up into fists at your sides and your lips pushed together before they opened to say some more stupid things that could potentially get you fired. “This is what I’m saying! Why can’t you just talk to me normally? I’m really not that bad-”

To say you were caught off guard by what happened next would be such an understatement. Sidney took one step towards you, one hand making soft contact with your cheek while his lips made rough contact with yours. Your breath was taken away from you as Sidney’s lips touched yours. Then his other hand found your hip, suddenly making you release that one breath and move your lips against his. For a moment the two of you stood in that hallway and kissed. Your hands were no longer in fists at your sides, but instead resting on his chest while you kissed him.

“Whoa,” the sudden voice made both you and Sidney pull back from each other in a bit of shock. Sidney turned around and you peeked around him to see Bryan Rust standing there with Olli Matta. They both looked just about as shocked as you and Sidney did.

“Sorry,” Olli said and then chuckled. “Just unexpected,”

“Totally,” Bryan agreed. Then they two of them walked past you guys and into the dressing room. This was about to be the talk of the team for who knows how long now. You let out a deep breath and looked anywhere but to the man standing beside you. The one that you were shouting at one second, then making out with the next.

“Sorry,” Sidney said.

His apology took you by surprise, causing you to look right at him now. He was licking his lips, you looked down at them to see the faint dark lip tint on them, which caused you to smile. As much as you probably didn’t want to admit it, you really enjoyed kissing him.

“For, uh, for how I’ve been treating you,” Sidney said, “I just, uh, I’ve been trying to avoid... That,” he stated while motioning around your face - obviously referring to the kiss.

“I see,” you nodded while rolling your lips into your mouth. “Care to elaborate on... That?” You asked, catching how you sounded like the usual reporter you were.

Sidney chuckled, shaking his head slightly and looking down before looking back up at you through his lashes. “I’m not really sure,” he admitted. “I kind of like you,”

“Well, I kind of like you too,”

“Dating isn’t really easy for me,” he said.

“Nothing’s easy, Sid,”

“Got that right,” he chuckled. You smiled then, the realization of just how much you liked this guy was settling in. The feeling had always sort of scratched the surface, but you managed to push it back with each eye roll he gave you or arrogant remark directed to you. But after that kiss, well that changed everything.

“Sidney,” a loud voice boomed down the hallway. You both looked down to see the head coach peeking his head out of his office. He signalled for Sidney to come to him with a wave of two fingers. Sidney nodded to him but then turned back to you.

“I’ll text you,”

“You don’t even have my number,” you stated.

Sidney smiled and took a few steps backwards, “I’ll get it, trust me,”

You chuckled and shook your head at him before he sent you a wink and then turned around to walk into the room he was beckoned into. Just then a few more guys from the team walked by, giving the two of you a weird look before walking past you and into the dressing room. They’d be caught up soon enough. You leaned back against the wall and took a moment to yourself, knowing that you had to walk into the dressing room sooner or later to gather your stuff and your camera man too.

“Where Sid?” Geno smirked at you as you walked into the room. He was sitting with Rust and Latang, and had clearly been informed. You rolled your eyes and picked up your purse from where you had left it. “Should’ve kept that video idea for later, then would have been best friend versus boyfriend,”

“Ha, ha,” you said before taking out your lipstick and reapplying your lipstick yet again. You now were just hoping Sid had wiped his lips before talking to the coach.

#sid mine #sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #pittsburgh penguins #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

148 notes · View notes

bagleywrightlectures · 7 years

Text

Uselessness, Responsibility, & Whacking Away in the Foundry (among other things): a Q&A with Geoffrey Nutter

Bill Carty: So as part of the class yesterday [Nutter’s “Twenty Poems in a Day” at Hugo House], you had this compendium of lists, all those lists, and I was just curious how you see those lists working their way into your work, and maybe more generally, how your teaching reflects your writing.

Geoffrey Nutter: Yes. I suppose the exercises I give in the sessions are versions of exercises I’ve given myself, on some level: most often—probably—unconsciously. The Compendium began as a tool to help students to smuggle as much of the physical world, as many images, as possible into their poems. You need to know that there are things, and then you need to know the names of things if you want to write poems. A certain kind of poet wants to get every possible thing in the world into his poems. But aside from that special kind of compulsive inclusiveness, all poets need to get the world into their poems. The Compendium quickly became more of an outgrowth of my own compulsions: in a way, it’s a sort of giant list poem that I invite other poets to pick through and borrow from. When it comes down to it, the idea, at this point, that it’s a teaching tool really just serves to legitimize my own obsessive gathering impulse. The lists in the Compendium are totally useless. They’re not going to teach you anything. On facing pages you’ll find a list of types of waterfalls, the names of water-features on the moon, salutations from the Paston Letters, a list of every word Marianne Moore used only once in her collected poems (this found in the word frequency index to the concordance to her poems); Pope’s description of his grotto in a letter; and names of different kinds of butterflies, clocks, birds, minerals, glass patterns, and the elements of a fernery. I have an intuitive sense of what belongs and what doesn’t. So it’s really a commonplace book that I think of as a sort of big, raw poem-in-progress, but also a resource I hope other poets can use pieces of for their own poems.

BC: Well, that’s like poetry, in general, right?

GN: Compulsion.

BC: Obsessiveness. At one point you said you viscerally reject pronouncements about what poetry should be or do, and you were talking about that in terms of—I can’t remember if it was exactly pertaining to politics in poetry—and you were kind of arguing for a poetry of the lyric moment, and I kind of feel the same way, drawn to quote-unquote political poetry that is like Virgil’s Eclogues: the shepherds are in the fields, the war is there, it’s present in their lives. If you could talk more about that—the lyric moment, and politics in poetry—what you said was really interesting.

GN: Yeah, I don’t remember exactly what I said which confirms I’m just making it up, but…It’s funny you mention Virgil’s Eclogues: a poem that is definitely “of its time” but it’s also something so utterly strange and beautiful, and nearly impossible to “get.” A very difficult work to teach! As for these pronouncements I was alluding to: I’m on Facebook and sometimes I’ll see some very strident statement about, oh, you know—‘our responsibility as poets’—and I don’t think we have any responsibility as poets. I think we have responsibilities as people, all kinds of responsibilities, but as poets, I don’t think we have any. I get infuriated when I read things like that, because: says who? The Law can tell me I have responsibility to do something, and I might have a responsibility to provide for my children, and I have responsibilities as the citizen of a democracy, but as far as my having responsibility as a poet, I have no responsibility except to write poems.

BC: You spoke of ‘negative capability,’ this Keats phrase, this idea that poetry doesn’t set out with a purpose, per se. Any individual poem has to be open to all this possibility, and I see that a lot in the end of your poems, in that they don’t seem to end so much as open into a new place. How do you know when a poem is over?

GN: I guess I don’t. I guess I have no idea [laughter]. But yes—I guess I don’t return much to—maybe I’m just undisciplined, but I never return to what I was talking about at the beginning of the poem. I don’t really feel like I should. I don’t really feel—I feel it’s somehow lazy to stay on subject (laughing). You start a poem about something, and you want to forget about it as soon as possible, I guess. The best kind of poem, I think, would be a kind of “exquisite corpse” where you yourself are the several players—and you immediately forget what came before, but you’re so in synch with the other “players” that it all somehow comes together. There, I suppose, is a way of thinking about negative capability. There’s poor Winston Churchill the bulldog, being left alone as you move on to talking about something else—but hopefully those disparate things do come together? Like all the other disparate things in life that come together. Don’t they? They do. [laughter]

BC: I feel obliged to shout out Richard Hugo, his “Writing Off the Subject.” Moving away from it, but also kind of forgetting about the subject.

GN: Absolutely. That again, is sort of like escaping obligations. I sound like a deadbeat dad: ’Deadbeat Dad Poetry.’ Negative capability is a pretty essential thing, and I think something that can be instructive to the strident pronouncements about what poems are supposed to do in the age of Trump. We want to be writing the poem of our moment. But good poetry is always of the moment. It’s not going to be of the moment just because it’s about the moment, right? We don’t really know what the moment is until much later, away from the moment, anyway.

BC: Yeah. I have two thoughts there. One is, I was just remembering Mary Ruefle, in her Wave collection of essays, Madness, Rack, and Honey, she talks about how the term negative capability has “become like a sickness unto death to me,” and the fact that she hears it—she compares it to the US Constitution, in that in can be interpreted by anyone in any way—

GN: I think that’s probably right, I probably got it wrong!

BC: Well, that’s just an aside. What’s it like to correspond with Mary Ruefle?

GN: She sends these wonderful objects, some that she makes and some that are found. She’s really devoted to objects and the notion that correspondences should also be beautiful objects. Mary is an amazing poet and an amazing artist—and a beautiful spirit.

BC: Yeah. Going back to your previous comment about poetry ‘of this time,’ I was wondering about the way you bring together different sources—you use a lot of old texts, and I was wondering how you think about time. It’s something I always think about, like, what is time in a poem? And how do you—why do you look to those older sources for language?

GN: Because they’re there. And they’re part of reading and they should be—whatever I’m reading is kind of rolling around in my head. I don’t know, it might be one of those things you don’t examine very much. I like beautiful, complex language that captures something like the movements of consciousness. I like reading 17th century poetry, for example, so I’m not sure—I think poems are constantly moving through time in a strange way. There’s a lot of time warping going on in poems, in the language and the rhythms and the sequences that move like a dream, like they do in waking life, so—we can use language from all times in a single poem, we’re rebuilding a language in each poem, I suppose.

I love reading poems from, say, Chaucer—where you can see someone rebuilding a language, reconstructing this old thing and making it new—and it’s sort of like you’re there with him in the foundry, while he’s whacking away at this lumpen, glowing piece of metal that’s becoming English, and then inventing words like “stoned.” [laughter] Right? I mean: “He was a-stone-ed.”

BC: Oh, Astonished?

GN: Yeah…and stoned!

BC: Wow, I didn’t even think about that—is that the etymology?

GN: I mean, I’m no English professor. [laughter]

BC: This is a selfish question because I’ve been banging my head against this series of poems for a while, and the title poem in Cities at Dawn is a serial poem—also, yesterday in class you had us write a serial love poem—so I was curious what the process was behind writing a serial poem.

GN: That poem is the oldest poem in the book, it’s at least ten years old, and I don’t really know how I wrote that. It’s unlike any of the other poems in the book in that it would just be these quick fragments where I was writing language in a very strange way, but I was trying to capture something, I’m not exactly sure what. I wish I could answer questions about it, but I just can’t.

I’m not particularly happy with it, but then later I look back and think, oh, it’s not the worst thing in the world.

BC: Yeah I do that, look back and think oh, well, not today. Can’t look at those today. What about, thinking about revision—I was putting that first poem in the book on Facebook, so I was looking for it online, and it was actually available at Gulf Coast, under a different title, an earlier version.

GN: I mainly revise when I’m getting a book ready, starting to put everything together and ripping things apart. Like fixing a boiler.

BC: What’s your process of putting a book together?

GN: I use a typewriter, so I’ve got a bunch of typescript, and I go back through all these copies and start combining—once I sort of decide that ‘now’ is the time to put a book together, then I really do all the careful revising. Most of it happens there.

Audience: You said you like to read 17th century poets—what poets do you think of as your predecessors? Who do you look to for inspiration?

GN: Vaughan, Pope, Wyatt, Dickinson, Bishop, Moore, Stevens, Spenser, Basho, Wang Wei, etc. and 17th century poets, 18th century poets, 19th century poets, 20th century poets—all, any. I am also inspired by prose: Sir Thomas Browne, Emerson, Woolf, Laurence Sterne, Liebling, etc.; I love haiku, and feel like learning about it is an important kind of apprenticeship. They’re all kindred spirits. We should all be reading around a lot, in a lot of different eras and traditions, and not just our own, although those are important too. All of the poets dead and living are our friends and kindred spirits.

Audience: I was in the workshop and I’m just thinking about this whole issue of politics and poetry, and I was thinking how it felt safer to me, being in that room yesterday. And what I’ve been feeling lately is a lack of feeling, a lack of the affective in civic life. So there is something in poetry—

GN: Say that again?

Audience: Something like a void in terms of affective life in our social fabric today, because of the political context in which were living. In that sense, poetry could be considered political, if we think about just in terms of this affective context that it provides us. I don’t know. It seems to me that the best politics would be one that would allow that to emerge in our everyday life. If that makes sense.

GN: I think so. I mean, in poetry, we’re using language in a very careful way. And in trying to find the right word, right, which—we’re surrounded by language that is garbage, that is manipulation, that is total enemy to the life of the imagination and the life of the soul. And poetry is about finding the right word for something in the outside world—for the objective world, the object world—out of love for the object. It is also about finding language for the interior world, but that is also, in its way, an objective world that is “outside” us and ultimately unknown and foreign to us. When you find the right word for the object, the thing outside of you, touching it is extending outside yourself toward the word. Basho said something like that, that you have to almost become the thing. You can’t do that unless you find the right word. And you can’t find the right word unless you extend out of yourself toward and into the thing. So there’s a weird kind of simultaneity there. But the point of that is that language—Wallace Stevens said something about the ‘morality of the right sensation,’ and I think there is an ethical dimension to it, though “morality” is a word with too much baggage attached to it. I think there is a radical and ultimate moral neutrality with poetry, but I think there is an ethical dimension to this idea that language is precise. Language is precise when an identity with the thing is established. But it doesn’t have to be an imitation of something that exists, it just has to invoke something in a precise way. This might happen in the realms of connotation and music, so essentially important to poetry and its setting of worlds into motion.

Does that answer the question? In some way? [laughter] Should I continue until I hit the mark?

Audience: Yes. It is a soullessness in the contemporary era we’re living in. So, to flip that idea around, of what is political in poetry, as a response.

GN: Yes. But every age, in a way—Poetry, in its world-building and image-making, points to a world of possibilities and alternatives. It articulates a resounding NO to the world of Trump and his corrupt and bankrupt cartel. I mean, poetry—what was happening in that room was a kind of acceleration in the rhythms of the spirit, if only for the moment we were there—a rebuke to Trump’s world. It’s subversive, actually, and I think this kind of uselessness is subversive. In North Korea you’re not going to see someone writing poetry about a seashell—unless the seashell is some kind of allegory for the State or the people or the dear leader or what have you. Because the poem about the seashell qua seashell is not doing anything or producing anything or furthering any cause. It’s made in a spirit of disinterestedness that can itself be transformative. In Stalinist Russia, the state wanted to “eradicate the society of chess,” because it was a time-wasting activity, something done for its own sake that offered no contribution to the community. I think I lot of us poets have a nagging feeling that the pursuit of poetry is immoral or a waste of time for similar reasons. And yet for some reason, we—poets and others—have this strange need for poetry and its dreams, intuitions, precisions, psychic accelerations, and its beauties. The disinterestedness of poetry, however, is in a different category from that which includes activism, because then we enter the realm of out and out morality, obligation, righteousness, and utility: responsibility; these things are absolutely essential, and essential to our feeling that we are part of the human community, but poetry is in a different category.

BC: that’s a really tempting place to end.

GN: Uselessness? Oh God. [laughter]

This conversation took place after a reading Geoffrey gave in the Fireside Room at Hotel Sorrento, March 26, 2016.

1 note · View note