#bUT tinfoil party time

[teethkid67]

lunch break :P

bp!tubbo and tommy sharing some rations in pogtopia for @sixteenth-day-event prompt "kindness" :3 i think about bptubbo risking his stupid skin to feed his loser bestie&co often

[acquiescest]

irt the lrb what would you say if i said liam & noel spent new years 2023 together in paris

what would you say if i said liam bought the house in france (the one with noel's name carved into the walls) in march 2023 and that month noel talked about wanting to spend several months in paris

which could mean nothing

[pavloving]

best ending possible of the worst season LOL

[coff33andb00ks]

İdk i just got hit with this shitty idea 😭😭 drabble list thingy 5 40 60 64 and 70. BUT WITH ACADEMIC RIVAL OSCAR? IDK ITS KINDA STUPİD BUT STİLL 😭😭

driver + number = drabble <3

warning: author knows nothing about academia 😳

"Idiots, they're all idiots."

You glanced up at the sound of his voice, perplexed. Then, realizing he couldn't possibly be talking to you, you turned back to your work. You'd come here in the hopes that you'd be able to finish your paper without the distractions in your dorm, and so far–

Thud.

The heavy backpack landed on the tabletop with much more force than necessary and you glared at its owner, who - horrifically - was pulling out the chair across from you. As usual he was wearing his stupid burgundy shirt under his stupid black hoodie, and his hair was falling into his eyes with that stupid little swoop.

The only thing stupid about Oscar Piastri was his lack of style.

"You don't mind do you?" he asked, already settling into the chair with his coffee.

"I'm annoyed, to put it mildly," you muttered, staring at the backpack crushing the corner of your pencil pouch.

"Ah well, the feeling's mutual." He pulled his backpack towards him and threw down a copy of the local newspaper. Odd, that he actually read a physical newspaper instead of getting his news online like everyone else born after 1985.

You carefully maneuvered your pencil pouch closer to yourself and tried to focus on your paper. Intent to ignore him, you managed to type out two whole sentences before he snapped open the newspaper. Darting your eyes towards him, you watched the morning sunlight dance over the angle of his jaw.

Too bad he was such an insufferable know it all. Half the students that you knew from the classes you shared with him called him Hermes Granger behind his back, he was that bad. Always had the correct answers in lecture. Always top marks. Always, always, always, while you were just behind him.

Except the one time, but he'd been in hospital due to his roommate Lando accidentally tripping him and fracturing his rib, so that didn't really count.

"Did you hear about this?" he asked suddenly, thrusting the newspaper in your direction.

You looked from the paper to him, half expecting him to pull it away before you could take it. He didn't though, and you turned it so you could read the small headline.

No Evidence of Foul Play in Missing Money

Frowning, you read the small blurb about thousands of dollars that had seemingly vanished from a local charity. "How can there be no foul play?" you asked after reading it through twice. "It was there one day and gone the next."

Oscar nodded. "Exactly. And you know who's on the board, right?"

"Dude, I barely know my roommate's name most days..."

"Yeah I reckon you've got too many classes–"

You narrowed your eyes at that, missing half of the rest of what he said.

"–the mayor."

You snorted on a laugh. "Are you insinuating the mayor stole the money?"

He wasn't laughing. Or smiling. In fact, you were pretty sure you'd never seen Oscar smile. Well, that pained half smile when Lando dragged him to a party, but otherwise...

"You can't be serious," you said. "He's the mayor. He's got plenty of money."

"Does he?"

Rolling your eyes, you slid your laptop close and tried to focus on your work again. "Didn't have you down as a conspiracy theorist."

"It's not a conspiracy theory though?"

"The mayor, who lives in a mansion and drives a Ferrari, stealing ten thousand dollars from a charity?"

"People in power have stolen less. He's very good at hiding secrets. Like his brother's company being behind the factory buyout last year? The government doesn't want you to know this, but every one of them are crooked."

"What do they put in your coffee?" you asked with a roll of your eyes. "Do you get a tinfoil hat to go with it?"

He scoffed. "I thought you were smart."

That surprised you. You didn't think Oscar thought about you at all. "So what do you suggest, Oscar? We storm city hall and demand the mayor give the money back?"

He pursed his lips and dipped his head to one side as though to indicate the idea had merit. "Or we could sneak in after hours and poke around."

"Break into the mayor's office," you clarified.

He nodded. "Tonight after dinner?"

"Set off alarms, get arrested, and go to jail."

He winced. "Yeah, maybe not our brightest idea."

"Excuse me, did you–"

"But we can still do dinner, yeah?"

"Idiots. They are all idiots." / "I'm annoyed, to say it mildly." / "The feeling is mutual." / "The government doesn't want you to know about this." / "Not our brightest idea."

[whore-ibly-hot]

OMG SPEAKING OF MARRIAGE honeymoon with Joey or like anyone really what would Fritz honeymoon be like? Like I'd assume they didn't get one cause man's busy

Honey-mooning with Joey would be fairly simple, he'd take you to the inn or motel of one of the slightly larger nearby farming towns, and treat you to all the southern comfort food and hospitality you could want. He'd get you a nice breakfast, and flowers, but in the evening he'd make it very clear that he wants to begin the process of knocking you up. He will back off if you tell him to, but he'll make his intentions known. He just wants you knocked up as quickly as possible, and as much as he wants to enjoy the honeymoon he mostly just wants you back in the farm, acclimating to life with his family and getting settled in. It'll feel all that more real that your truly his once he can wake up in his own bed, with you their everyday.

"I hope you liked dinner, I've never been to that restaurants before, but my chicken was great. Um, darlin'? I know your probably stuffed, but are you too stuffed to work up the energy to go for a roll in the hay with your new husband?"

Fritz wouldn't be able to spend anytime honey mooning with his bride, and as a traditionalist this upsets him. Instead, he'll settle for a very extravagant one night wedding and ceremony away from the small town he's stationed at. He wants to give his bride the luxury you've never been accustomed too. You'll meet all his fellow military officials, and be shown off like one of Fritz medals. That night, he doesn't let you do anything during the consumption of the marriage. He wants to worship you, not the other way around. He will insist on some sort of white lingerie being sent in, as he wants you looking like a bride when he takes you, but he doesn't want to ruin your dress or suit. He asks beforehand if he'll be able to start trying for a baby that evening.

"Being a woman is not enough for a slimy cadet or confident rookie to simply respect you my poor dear, and I am sorry for their behavior. Being an officers bride should help, but we get new soldiers so often on the front lines, they may not know."

"What are you saying?"

"I think it'll be a little more obvious your an officers wife if you're walking around with a little bump next time we go to town. All for your safety, of course."

BONUS!!!: Mattias doesn't have the money for a big wedding or an extravagant honeymoon, but while he may not have the money, he has the spirit to party, and he knows others who do. The entire wedding reception is held as a block party at his mother's home in old Harlem, and the guests are a mix of neighbors and family. Mattias loves his family, and his perfect way to solidify a marriage is to blend you in with them. His biggest regret about the wedding is his father wasn't there to see him get married, so it's also nice for him to be around his Mami at a time like this. He loves how the two of you get along, and the two of them share stories of Mattias's papa, from when he was alive.

Mattias cannot handle it when his sees you playing with his young primos and primas, and the other neighborhood kids. Dancing with them and helping them reach the tinfoil trays to get food onto their plates. This results in him returning back to your apartment and immediately begging to dick you down, and give you a baby.

"Cmon, pretty girl!" He's kissing up on your neck, pulling you out of your reception outfit. "Gotta have you, mi esposa guapa, give you some kids. I've been shaking with nerves and energy all day, and I can't exactly fight it off at a block party. So please-"

"Let's make some hijos..."

[trash-gobby]

Summary: You've had a long night, and it's about to get even longer. Showing up at your friends Halloween party, you think your in for a night of being the local wallflower. However, after catching the eye of a certain creature of the night, your about to find that there is much more that can happen in a few short hours then drinking, dancing and having a good.

There is so much blood to spill and so little time.

Word Count: 5.9K

Pairing(s): Dwayne X GN!Reader

Characters: Dwayne, Reader, David, Marko, Paul, Michael Emerson, Star, Laddie Thompson

RATING: PG

⚠️ Warnings!: Vampire!Michael, mild violence, sexual themes, some stalking elements, non-consensual blood drinking, drugs and drinking

Note: I still need to do some more editing on this, I just was so excited to post that I had to do it now lmao 🤣

______________________________________________________________

It felt like walking into another world aglow with strobing lights from a cheap disco ball, heart beating to the tune of Rockwell and air thick with the musky smell of sweaty skin. You narrowly avoided a collision with two party-goers, heavily intoxicated and too busy necking to actually notice that other human beings existed and also needed to use the front door, whilst making your way inside.

Their commitment was admirable, not only to their costumes -peanut butter and jelly- but to each other. How people managed to be so attached to each other it seemed like not even the force of gravity and common sense could keep them apart was a mystery not even you felt god could solve.

The house was heaving with people.The halls were crammed with costumed people talking loudly over the music, drinking, and laughing loudly at jokes that were most likely only funny because of the aforementioned alcohol. You tried your best to squeeze through the masses of those hanging in the hall, slightly regretting your choice of costume. The wings were getting in the way more than you’d thought. 

The costume of choice was a simple angel outfit made mostly out of spare materials you’d found lying around in your best friend's art studio. It was a simple white tank top, jeans, the wings themselves made out of wire, tinfoil and glittering fake plastic jewels. The halo was a headband with the halo attached to the top made also out of wire and tinfoil. It’s not like this dollar store outfit was that much different from anyone else’s

You’d already spotted a couple other party guests with equally low effort halloween costumes. One guy you saw in the living room passing the open double doors, was dressed in probably the laziest cookie monster outfit ever. A blue baseball cap with giant foam balls glued to them, the dark sharpie pupils pointing in different directions. The only reason the costume was even identifiable was that the guy was making stupid joke references to the kids show to one of the girls he was clearly trying to impress.

At least you could be comforted in the fact that you weren’t that sad. Although you were getting there.

The light at the end of the crowded hall beckoned you. Beyond would be the kitchen, and hopefully a beer which you could nurse for the rest of the night while hiding in a corner where no one would bother you.

The only reason you were here was as moral support for your best friend who had begged that you come out for once. “It’s Halloween,” they said. “Come out and socialize” for once, they said.

Yeah, some socializing you were gonna do. They weren’t even anywhere to be seen and the only other people to talk to were either too drunk to hold a sentence together, or their only interest was getting into each other's pants. No thank you.

Finally reaching the end of the hall, you squeezed your way past some party-goers who had decided that blocking the doorway was more important than having any kind of common decency.

“Watch yourself,” you had nearly knocked one of the guys drinks as you passed through the doorway. You didn’t even bother to stop or apologize, you didn’t want to talk to any of these people. It was rude, and you knew that, but you just weren’t in the mood for politeness.

Every surface of the kitchen was covered. Whether it was the gaudy red plastic solo cups, or the various chip bowls and pizza boxes, not a single surface was unoccupied. Thankfully it was much more empty in here for some reason, then in the rest of the house. Not by much though.

The light hurts your eyes with its oppressive white fluorescent glow, making you squint. The bare bulb flickers slightly as you make your way over to the island counter in the center of the kitchen. Gingerly you lifted one of the lids of the leaning tower of pizza boxes to see a couple slices of Hawaiian style pizza. Go figure that would be the only kind of pizza people hadn’t completely consumed.

Lucky for you, you weren’t that picky.

“Hey, you made it!” A familiar voice called out to you. Turning your head to the doorway you’d just passed through, you saw your friend standing there, having parted the sea of people blocking them much more easily then you had.

They were dressed in a much more elaborate costume then most of the people at the party you’d seen. A very TV show accurate Morticia Addams, complete with the nicely combed wig and curve-hugging black dress. She looked fantastic. You knew somewhere around had to be her boyfriend dressed as Gomez. They’d been planning the whole couple-costume thing for months. They’d changed their concept several times. First it was Bonnie and Clyde, then Mickey and Minnie, and finally settling on the current getup.

“Yeah, work let out a little earlier than expected and I thought I'd drop by and at least try to get a free meal,” Grinning, Y/F chuckled at your comment and made her way over to you, a beer clutched in her hand. “Well, I’m glad there is enough leftovers for you to make it a meal.”

You nod before taking a bite out of the slice you’ve procured. It tastes like cheap pizza always tastes. Greasy plasticy cheese, with the pineapple pieces being just a bit too sweet. The cut ham tastes more like something which is attempting to masquerade as meat rather than the real deal.

“Only the best quality pies here,” Y/F jokes as she sees the expression on your face.

“You don’t say,” you manage to reply between chewing, and swallowing the cardboard-masquerading-as-food before trying to place it down discreetly on one of the used paper plates.

“If you come outside we can get you a hotdog. We started grilling a new batch, and there’s apple bobbing. And ooh I almost forgot about the bonfire.” She was going to drag you outside, and as you looked over out the kitchen window, which showed the backyard, your stomach sank. There was no escaping the masses of people out back. However, now that Y/F had started mentioning all the things she’d set up, you knew you were going out back there whether you wanted to or not.

“Do I have a choice?” Your last ditch effort of asking was obviously in vain. She gave you a look which told you what you’d already known. At least there were hotdogs promised.

______________________________________________________________________________

Y/F’s backyard was massive. An open space of evenly cut grass which backed onto a forest which was even more massive. Her house was at the edge of town, isolated enough that the music and mayhem was not going to be overheard by neighbors.

The typically immaculate lawn was packed full of people. As you came out the back with your friend, you could hear now where the loud music was coming from. Someone had made sure to bring a massive stereo system outside onto the deck. A tall lanky kid you recognized from campus was DJing with a clunky looking remote.

Not far from the deck, in the center of the grassy lawn was a truly impressive bonfire burning in Y/F’s fire pit. You’d been over for a bonfire before with Y/F’s family to celebrate Guy Fawkes Night. Her father was English and made a point of making sure his kids participated in some traditions of his own youth.

Little did he know it would be used by a bunch of drunk uni students on Halloween to set the spooky chaotic atmosphere. Or in this case an atmosphere of drunken chaos where more people were attempting to mosh to the ghostbusters theme blasting from the speakers in low effort costumes, then scare each other. Unless your fear was getting thrown up on, or getting elbowed in the face.

“The grill isn’t far off from the bonfire. Come on,” before you could even respond or react, Y/F was already wading through the throng of people. You had no choice but to follow.

Avoiding most of the people messing around in the designated area for dancing -it couldn’t really be called a dance floor- people stepping out of the way as you went. Trying your best not to hit people with your wings was more of a challenge than expected. At least the way they glowed in the fire-light made you noticeable enough that those around you knew to let you through. No having to tap shoulders or push through. That was a small mercy. 

“Cool costume,” one of the women you passed said.

You turned to thank her, and while turning back to your journey across the lawn you were met with the firm surface of someone’s back. The sudden contact caused the halo on your head, which was already precariously placed to get flung onto the ground.

Just what you needed. Mumbling apologies, you bent down to pick up your fallen costume piece. Before you could gather up your belongings an arm leather-clad comes into view, hand wrapping around the headband.

Looking up your vision tracing up the arm to the man who it was attached to. Immediately, your face started to heat up as you locked eyes with the man in front of you.

He was handsome in a dark and mysterious type of way you were sure lots of girls who were into bad boys would begin salivating over. You weren’t that kind of person, you had to remind yourself.

His hair was long and dark, but not as dark as his eyes. It was like looking into two dark pools of midnight, intense with how they held your gaze. Not to mention the face that held those piercing eyes was beautiful, with his strong jaw and sharp contours.

This is who you’d run into? Well… shit.

His outfit felt the most out of place weirdly. More like street clothes than an actual costume. Leather jacket with a leopard clawing its way up the arm which wasn’t currently holding onto your halo headband.

Your eyes briefly lingered on the man’s bare sculpted chest underneath the jacket. He clearly made physical activity a regular part of his routine.

The way the firelight played across his face only enhanced the intensity of the eye contact between the two of you. The shadows played off the features of his face in a way that was both sexy and sinister and you couldn’t decide which were making you feel these strange feelings which were cropping up.

He then smiled, breaking your reverie, holding out the halo to you. 

“T-thanks,” you said, taking it back from him feeling self-conscious all of the sudden under his gaze. “I’m sorry for running straight into you.”

“No problem,” his voice was deep in a way that crawled up your spine and into your gut making your stomach flip. Damn…

Feeling awkward just standing there, you looked around to see where Y/F had gone. You were only met with strangers who had come up behind you, sizing you up in a way that made you feel less like a person and more like an item at a buffet table.

They were boys of varying stature, all dressed in similar punk streetwear to the man you’d just run into. Various shades of black with the exception of one man with a jacket covered in different coloured patches.

“Look what you found here, found a new friend for the night?” The man with the elaborate patch jacket said, giggling as he did and moving in way too close to you, causing you to take a step back.

He was a strange man, long hair which was dirty blonde, curly, in the mullet-esqu style which was popular among the more grungy youths. The shortest of the group, he sure made up for it with a presence that was large. It felt like witnessing the personification of bottled lightning.

“Marko, careful, you're scaring them. Calm down,” one of the other men stepped forward, placing his hand on the shoulder of the shorter man. “Sorry, he can be a lot.” Icy blue eyes held your gaze.

“Uh,” you didn’t know what to say. Friend for the night? What the heck was that supposed to mean? “It’s fine, I mean no problem.”

There was a pause in which it allowed you to take in the man who had addressed you. His bleach blonde hair, long heavy winter coat, not necessarily appropriate for the California weather, and the clear air he gave off of being the ringleader. His energy was infectious and his gaze able to pin you down and make you feel a twinge of fear mixed with an odd attraction.

“I’m David,”  he stuck out his glove clad hand at me, a subtle smirk playing across his lips. You accepted the offer, feeling the strength he was holding back in his grip.

“This is Marko, and yes he’s always like this,” David broke eye contact to look over at Marko who was chewing on the thumb of his own riding gloves, promptly causing him to pull it from his mouth. “And this is Michael.”

The man he signaled to was the only one who’d remained completely out of this little exchange for the most part until his name was mentioned. He was the most sedate, preferring to eye up the crowd around the other men then to pay attention to what was going on, now he had his eyes back on the group, giving you a small sympathetic smile. At least you're sure he knew how you probably felt during this strange exchange.

“Um, I’m Y/N. It was nice meeting all of you, but I really need to find my friend.” Your attempt to extract yourself from this strange group of men must have seemed pretty blatant. It wasn’t that they were doing anything outwardly bad, just that something about them made you feel like a deer caught in the sightline of a predator. You needed to move, get away.

Awkwardly walking backwards, you ended up bumping shoulders with the man who you’d ran into earlier. “Sorry, sorry.”

He chuckled in response, moving to let you pass. His eyes were the most transfixing to you of all the men, causing your gaze to linger on his for a moment before you turned around. Making your way back into the throng of people you felt oddly relieved to be leaving that group behind.

You didn’t want to look back over your shoulder as you went, until you were sure that you’d gained some distance. Finally taking a moment to look around, you realized you had ended up roughly in the area of the grill. There were several cheap folding tables packed with beer, chips and dip. A large punch bowl filled with a dubious substance you knew you weren’t going to touch.

Making your way along the table, you could see Y/F’s boyfriend at the grill wearing an apron over the Gomez Addams classic pin-striped suit.

“Hey Y/N!” your friend called from not far behind the grill, holding two jumbo hotdogs in each hand. “I lost track of you. Where did you go?”

“Just got lost in the crowd, you're a really fast walker you know,” you joked, as Y/F handed you one of the dogs.

“Well, I do have a lot of people to entertain and long legs,” she responded, before taking a bite out of her food. “I didn’t know what you wanted on yours so I just left it plain. You can get condiments over there.”

You looked over, taking in a chaotic mess of a foldout table. Some slightly crusty looking condiments, sad crumbly napkins and a red solo cup which held only a couple of plastic knives and forks.

Picking up the ketchup gingerly, you went about preparing your meal. Moving about the table, your thoughts wandered to mundane things. How you weren’t excited to be going back to work Monday for a double shift at the diner, how Y/F was gonna enlist you in the morning to clean and hassle the hungover part-goers out of the house. Inevitably you would have to spend the rest of your morning before work helping scub puke out of the living room carpet. Just great.

Satisfied that you’d applied the amount of toppings to your liking, it was time to find a seat or at least somewhere out of the way to stand. The thought crossed your mind to just go back inside and hide from the party in Y/F’s father's study, which was strictly off limits. No one would be allowed in on pain of death except for the family. You had been in there once or twice when you'd been over for dinner, and Y/F had gotten permission to borrow her father's telescope. You would both hang in the dark of the office with the giant eye of the device looking out into the night. Y/F’s father would be there of course, pointing out where you should look in the sky to see the different constellations. You'd never been there without him and Y/F before though. For all you knew, her father probably locked the door. It was worth checking out if you could find time to slip away after a little while.

For now you settled for spending the next hour and a half with Y/F, some of her friends from work and her boyfriend. The conversation was good, if not a little stilted by the fact that a couple of them were pretty drunk. It was easy enough to pretend you knew what some of them were talking about with the excuse of eating so you didn't have to answer any questions or comments. Letting the comfort of familiar voices wash over you, allowing some of your composure to return. It was nice to have a moment of peace among good company for a while. It was easy to forget about your problems, but the exhaustion of social interaction did start to nag at you as the hour went on.

A few times your eyes swept over the crowd of guests. It was likely that half of them were people who Y/F knew, and the other was people who had invited friends, who had invited their friends. Strangers who had just decided to tag along for the free beer and company. The party was reaching its peak, with the yard heaving with sweaty bodies of everyone dancing, eating and socializing.

The small comforts of being surrounded by a few recognizable faces started to fade as strangers began joining the fray of conversation. At some point Y/F was pulled away to deal with something, abandoning you to entertain people you had never met before, who were too intoxicated to hold any meaningful conversation with. Now was your chance to take a break. Get some space between you and the throng.

You abandoned your used napkins on one of the fold-out tables as you began to work your way back through the crowd again. This time without bumping into any more strangers, though it seemed strange that you didn’t, considering the closely packed crowd.

As you maneuvered your way towards the house, your eyes were drawn to the people you passed by, almost like you were searching for someone. All you seemed to see were strangers in a variety of costumes mingling, none meeting your eye for longer than it took to politely acknowledge your presence or look away. Only when you reached the house and looked back before entering, did you realize it was the man from earlier you had been trying to pick out of the crowd. However, if he was somewhere out there among the others you didn’t notice. It wasn’t really worth lingering on if you wanted to go find somewhere to take a break.

If the backyard was crowded, then Y/F’s house was absolutely bursting at the seams with activity. The kitchen counters were overflowing with cups, food, and paper cutlery. As you made your way into the front hallway, avoiding the living room, you heard the sound of something fragile smash. This was followed by raucous hooting and laughter. Whatever it was that broke, you hoped it wasn't something Y/F’s parents were going to skewer her for.

The lighting in the hall was dim and murky with a smoky haze that made you cough. Someone, or a couple someone's, had decided that hotboxing the front hall was a great idea. Passing by you met the bloodshot eyes of a clearly stoned Han Solo, with his arm slung around an equally stoned Wonder Woman. Her cheap black party wig askew on her head. There were a couple others leaning around them, partially blocking the stairs. As you passed they moved, lethargic in their countenance. Nearly tripping over one of the stoners legs, you ascended into the upper floor.

It was much less crowded and noisy. Most of the people there were either waiting to use the bathroom, or having their own little huddled quiet conversations. As you passed the guest bedroom you heard the sound of giggling and low moan. Now you'd never be able to look at that room or those sheets again the same way. Gross. Another thing you would have to help wash in the morning.

You could see the door at the end of the upper hall, no one between you and your goal in sight. As you made your way, you noted that no one lingered close by, the door having a piece of paper taped to it saying that it was off limits for guests “on pain of death.” The sharpie all caps must have really hammered the point home, because as you opened the door the sweet sound of silence met you. The loudest thing which met your ears was the muffled base of music.

You shuffled around the room, trying desperately not to knock anything off one of the side tables by the door as you searched the wall for the lightswitch. It was blocked slightly by a picture frame which had tilted, causing you to try steadying it as you flicked on the light.

It was a small lamp which came on overhead, casting a tranquil orange glow across the office space. Your feet shuffled across the throw rug, as you admired the tall book shelves. Stacks of books on all manner of nonfiction topics, most of them academic in nature. There were a couple yellowed spy thriller paperbacks near the bottom of the shelf closest to the large window on the opposite side of the room. The shades were still drawn, the telescope standing before it, waiting for someone to look out into the night sky.

You felt the temptation, the draw towards it, but you knew it was probably a bad idea to open the curtains with the lights on. Y/F might come check, and you’d get a stern talking to for going in the office and trying to escape the party. Instead you opted to pull out the creaky rolling desk chair and sit down while fiddling with the flimsy elastic holding the wings to your back. They had really been chafing and you could see where they had started leaving a red irritated line against your shoulders.

Slipping the elastics off, one snapped, causing you to let out a frustrated sigh. Well, it was only a matter of time before these cheap things broke. At this point removing the halo felt necessary. Maybe you could fix the wings if you bothered looking in the desk for tape or stapler, but you really didn’t think you should touch anything. If you broke something you most likely wouldn’t be let back into the office ever again.

Laying the wings and halo down on the desk it was impressive how clean Y/F’s father kept his workspace. The desk held a glass paperweight that looked quite hefty and a wooden desk organizer filled with a couple folders. Nothing worth snooping through, not that you really felt like trying to bother looking through anything.

Stretching, you felt your neck crack, releasing some tension. It was good to have some time to yourself for a couple minutes. All you’d been doing all day was interacting with people. From customers, friends, and strangers, it had been a lot to process. 

Your mind wandered back to that man you’d bumped into. His piercing gaze had made you feel both like a prey animal caught in the crosshairs of a hunter, and yet, at the same time there had been a thrill to it. Not often did you feel like anyone looked at you with a semblance of interest outside of a passing glance or a friendly smile. For once, having someone size you up was even a little flattering in a strange way. Though there was something strange about the others he had been with.

The way they had all surrounded you was a little disconcerting, and how one of them –Marko you thought– had joked about you being a friend for the night. It was almost like you weren’t even really a person, but a piece of meat. The thought of that curdled whatever sense of elation you got out of your little connection with the stranger you had bumped into. Guys like that were bound to be more trouble than they were worth, and the last thing you needed in your busy life was trouble.

As this thought crossed through your mind, it was like the Gods had heard your little inner monologue, and responded with the lights in the room going out, plunging the office into almost complete darkness. You sat up quickly, causing your head to spin, blood rushing through your ears.

There hadn’t been a sound of the light switch going off or of anyone entering the room.

Stumbling to your feet, you smashed your hip into the side of the desk, grunting, as you reached out and used the wall as a guide to try and find the light switch again. However, when you finally did, flicking it seemed to do nothing. Had the power gone out?

The only light in the room came from a crack within the heavy curtains. Their form letting in the smallest amount of glow from the fire pit outside. At first you could hear some commotion as people seemed to have realized that something was wrong, and there seemed to be some disgruntled booing.

You carefully made your way to the window, pulling the curtains open slightly to see what was happening. The yard was lit by the pit, the grill going strong and some music still coming from a portable radio. However, most of the guests seemed to be looking around wondering in their own little huddles, what was going on.

“Someone get the music working” a voice yelled from somewhere below you. Likely from one of the windows in the kitchen. Vaguely you could make out the heavily shadowed figure of Y/F striding across the yard, with another friend in town, politely mumbling apologies to guests as she passed.

Your eyes followed her progress as she got closer to the house. Before she entered was when the screaming started.

At first I thought it was someone messing around in the darkened first floor. However, that was short lived as people began to pour out of the back door, the first of the stampede knocking Y/F out of the way aggressively.

This only served to further plunge into chaos the already confused crowd of people outside. Most stood in place watching as others ran past, others started running away as well. Most likely in their drunk or high minds they thought it was a fight, the police or they just saw people running and didn't want to get caught just standing around if anything was really wrong.

As the first scream cut out though, more began to join it, along with yells of fear cut off as if severed violently. Among the shouts was also the sound of furniture being thrown, glass breaking. All of it from below you, as a few more people exited. One was a woman who appeared, from the distance to be soaked in something dark. She staggered a couple steps in a daze, before falling forward onto the grass.

The few people near her didn't even bother to check if she was okay, instead opting to turn and run as fast as they could in the opposite direction. The whole unfolding madness made your stomach drop, something cold worming its way into your gut.

The animal instinct the fear you were feeling was what kept you there, in the half light of a slightly pulled back curtain. What got you to move was when you heard the crashing off a window breaking. The thing thrown through it was a strange, almost unidentifiable mass of limbs. Two bodies entwined that fell heavily to the ground.

A man, familiar to you in the firelight. His face smeared with a dark redness, mouth pulled back into a snarl, like some kind of wild animal. Blonde hair wild, face distorted beyond anything human. Below him, the contorted and broken figure of… Y/F’s boyfriend.

His suit shredded along the chest, something looking like deep gashes, –clawmarks perhaps?-- along his skin. What got you to really step back, besides the shock, was the look on his face. A pure mix of confusion and horror, neck ripped to shreds so that it seemed his head was almost severed.

The curtains swished back into place, as you stepped away. The image already burned onto the inside of your eyelids. A permanent mental tattoo which no amount of mental coverup would hide.

Some small part of you hoped that what you'd just seen and the commotion you could still hear was all just a prank. A prank that had gone wrong, but one that was harmless.

Backing up more into the darkness, you felt almost suspended in a void between action and processing what you had just seen. More noise from below your feet, almost violent as more voices rise up. They are incomprehensible, but completely clear in how much terror was behind them. It felt like you were standing in place suspended in the darkness for hours, which in actuality was likely minutes. The hair on your arms raised, body still with only subtle tremors and jumps at any sound from below.

Slowly, painfully so, the noise began to die down, yelling faded. The sounds of breaking glass and ransacking quieted until it felt like you were standing in the deep dark belly of something dead. The only perceptible thing being the hammering of your racing heart-beat in your ears.

You hadn't noticed when the trembling had started in your legs until now. It had become full shakes, causing you to crumple onto the office carpet. Lacing your fingers behind your neck pressing your forehead to the soft fabric and taking in deep breaths. 

You weren't going to panic, you had to keep it together. Whatever was going on couldn't be that bad. Or, at least if it was bad, it was over now.

The panic was sudden though, as if it was in reaction to something outside your perception. An animal fear which your subconscious had picked up on, but had yet to communicate to you in any tangible, logical way.

Until you heard it.

The smallest of shuffling, like fabric rubbing together softly. You almost wanted to dismiss it as something your mind had conjured up in the following silence, after so much chaos. The floor made a soft creaking sound, which made you perk up so you were looking into the almost pitch black gloom of a barely lit space in the office.

You could make out nothing but blackness in a space between two bookshelves where the sound had come from. For a moment all you could do was look and hope, maybe you were wrong about something being there.

There was movement in the black. As if resolving itself out of nothingness, a tall figure moved towards you. No clear features could be made out, but it didn't matter. The shiver that worked its way up your body was enough to awaken your flight response.

Up from your knees you quickly backed up away from the advancing form until you smashed into the back of a side-table. The lamp placed upon it came crashing to the ground. Back to the wall, hand scrabbling for the handle to the door you must have looked down for a second on instinct. 

In that split second the figure was upon you. Up close you could smell musk and the faint acrid smell of smoke burning your nostrils. The force with which the arms of this person grabbed you were so aggressive you knew it was likely going to leave a bruise.

You let out a cry as you felt the nails of this stranger dig into your skin, drawing blood, body slammed onto the wall knocking the breath out of your lungs. They had crowded your personal space, leaning their body flush to yours, head burying into your exposed neck.

You pushed against this attacker, feeling the overwhelming heat of them against you, as if they were suffering from a high fever. Their hair brushed against your cheek, something scraping your neck. Stubble possibly?

For some reason in your messed up terrified brain found that it wanted to focus more on how much the scratching tickled then any other sensation.

“Get off me!” Your voice was lower in volume and cracked at the end with the bubbling terror in your gut. The scratching lead way to lips brushing your tender flesh, finding that sensitive spot, making you flinch away.

In response one of those talon-like hands moved, with inhuman swiftness from your arm to grasp your head. Tangled in your hair, you were forced still as your neck was wrenched to the side painfully to create easier access.

Tears prickled your eyes as you tried using your now free arm to push and scratch at the person holding you. But it was like trying to push against a stone statue, as if gravity had multiplied the weight of not just your attacker, but made your weight meaningless.

“Please,” was the last word you were able to work out of your lips in a strangled whisper before the scratching sensation began to overwhelm you again. Slowly it bloomed from an irritating tickle, to an itch, to finally a slow rising burn. As if a mosquito bite had evolved first to a bee sting and then a knife being driven down your throat.

The pain was radiant, stunning in its ability to dwarf any other feelings, almost euphoric. It was as if all your body had ever known or had been was this singular moment of sharp suffering. The feeling of something hot, and sticky touched your lips, working it's way into your mouth and on your tongue.

The taste, reminded you of the smell of oak burning and steel. The substance worked its way down your spasming throat. Your last thought before consciousness left you was how you wished you could scream.

To be concluded in part two…

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Disclaimer in advance: I haven't watched season 4 or 5 in their entirety, nor do I intend to, so maybe I'm missing info. Most of my knowledge comes from lurking in the fandom.

Why do you think the show was seemingly allergic to allowing their main characters to make any sort of meaningful progress? At the end of season 1, Ladybug comes into possession of the Miraculous grimoire, a major clue that "Hey, Hawkmoth is probably Gabriel Agreste" and then the Collector immediately ends with her and Adrien placing him completely above suspicion (I actually don't mind this, it makes sense for Gabe to throw the two off the trail, but to the best of my knowledge, this is the only time the protagonists make any headway toward Hawk Moth's identity. I wish they had done more active investigation.)

The power up potions show up during Syren, except... they don't do much in the way of a "power up." They're used exceedingly sparingly, and really only let LB and CN compensate for environmental challenge. Nothing else, no actual evolution. This could've been a way to show LB getting more in sync with her powers, being able to create specific solutions to her problems. You could've had similar moments for Chat Noir, upgrade like the ranged cataclysm Chat Blanc could use, or something to do with bad luck. Instead, it was a cheap gimmick.

The temp heroes start getting called in beginning with Sapotis, except that most of them are called in because... you're here and I need this incredibly specific power, which you just so happen to be perfectly suited for. Shut up and do nothing follow orders. (The episode Party Crasher and King Monkey being the most egregious example, imo. Then again, i havent watched Penalteam, and I'm told that episode is far worse). The temp heroes don't really add anything to the plot (Save Rena suddenly being Ladybug's confidant, but that's a rant for another day.), except to cause conflict with CN, and they're all gone as of the Season 4 finale anyway.

Speaking of season 4, the charms. Finally, concrete progress, a way to limit hawkmoth, to cut him off from potential vic— wait what the hell is a megakuma? Why do this? What was the point? This is what I was talking about with Syren, Ladybug coming further into her powers, finally being able to start pushing Gabriel into a corner, and it's undone that same season. Apparently transmission is more powerful than creation, despite repeated assurances the Ladybug (and Marinette) are special.

And then there's the alliance rings. Why can Tomoe and Gabriel make these? No idea. What it means, though, is that LB and CN have no chance of reclaiming the lost miraculous, and just have to passively react to whatever the hell Monarch is up to... again.

I'm told that for the big finale, Marinette wasn't even the one to discover Gabriel's identity, Felix straight up told her, and then Gabriel won. He made his wish. The hero of the story failed to save the day, after doing practically nothing.

Whats extra annoying is that on the Villain side, Gabriel is absolutely allowed to push the status quo. First we get Scarlet Moth and mass akumatization, then the peacock comes out, then it gets fixed, and then Gabriel straight up steals all the Miraculous (save LB and CN's of course, and then they steal the rabbit back because the writers realized "time travelling villain" was a horrendous idea. And Felix is allowed to keep the Peacock, because ??? Gabriel has to my knowledge not given up any other power, before or since). And he's always held the power, he's never been at risk of losing his own miraculous because he doesn't need to go out in person, so why does he keep getting stronger and raising the stakes while the heroes can't do anything.

Sorry for being so long-winded, just... needed to get my thoughts out.

Put on your tinfoil hats, folks! We're gonna make some educated guesses as to what is going behind the scenes with Miraculous, but remember that these are, ultimately, guesses. I don't know the full story and I probably never well.

I've mentioned before that writing for TV can suck because you're not allowed pure creative freedom. There are a lot of hands in the pot limiting what you can do because TV shows cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to make. Some even cost millions. That means that final product needs to be considered commercially viable unless you're independently wealthy and have money to burn. This doesn't mean that passion projects can't be commercially viable, it just means that they're generally not approached with the idea that commercial viability is the most important thing.

Writing for children's shows can especially suck because you're heavily limited by the intended audience and by what large corporations deem acceptable for that intended audience. If you're not totally on board with keeping things Disney's version of kid-friendly, then you're not going to have a fun time.

This brings us to Miraculous.

I have often assumed that there were some wacky hi-jinks going on behind the scenes that would explain why the show is such a mess because I don't think that Miraculous is anyone's ideal version of the core concept. The wonderful @nixthelapin recently confirmed it for me by sending me a link to a translation of a lecture given by Miraculous' writing director.

In that interview, we get hard confirmation that the core members of the writing staff originally wanted to tell a darker story for adults or teens, which may explain all the random dark stuff that the show will include but totally fail to explore. We also got this:

Sebastien sold the Miraculous series to broadcasters as a formula show. A person gets angry, is akumatized, then marinette transforms into Ladybug then frees the person from the akumatization and… The End. It's also for this reason that Marinette tries to confess her love for Adrien in every episode, but is unable to do so. But he tried to go against what he had planned with TF1, by slipping little extra stories into certain episodes. Audiences were receptive to these slightly hidden stories. The TV channel even asked Sébastien if there really were hidden things in the series, but he denied everything.

So there you go. There's the hard confirmation of my theory. Miraculous was sold as a formula show so it's mostly written like a formula show, but the writers want to do more than a formula show, so they're adding in all these hints of something more, leading to massive fan frustration when those things don't lead to satisfying plots because, if they did, then it wouldn't be a formula show!

I get the temptation to do what they did, I really do, but I don't think that it was a good move. They would have been better off trying to make an awesome formula show or by being a lot more selective in what greater story elements they wanted to include. There are things that you can develop in formula shows while still keeping them formula shows. One thing that comes to mind is subtle character development. For example, they could have set up all of the temp heroes by giving them strong roles in one-off episodes. Roles that established their heroic potential. What you can't do well in formula shows is complex character development like the mess that was everything with Chloe and Lila.

This may also explain why we get baffling statements like this one from that interview that the writers gave at the end of season five:

Mélanie says that he "could become Chat Blanc" and the others add that even though he does not remember and has never lived it, Chat Blanc still has an influence on his actions.

Are they trying to let Chat Blanc effect the plot without breaking the formula element? If so, then dear gods, this is not how you add subtle continuity to your formula show!!! But that may be what they were trying to do here and in many other places. After all, we also get gems like this:

They note that Marinette's nightmare at the beginning is reminiscent of the episode Weredad from season 3. At this point, we can see that Marinette starts to understand who the villain is although she's not fully conscious of it yet. Thomas says that you can read it in two different ways: if you don't take the previous episode into account, she's starting to intuitively link things together but if you did see Representation, you know that she knows who Monarch really is.

I'm seeing a common thread. What about you?

While the writing director interview doesn't say this, I'm assuming stuff like the charms, the powerups, and the additional heroes come from a similar type of issue. My best guess is that these weren't elements that the writers wanted to add. They were things that marketing made them add to sell toys and so the writers shoehorned these items in because they couldn't find a way to organically fit these elements. I'm not blaming either side for that issue, btw. There isn't really a clear right side in the fight of creative freedom vs a show needing to make money to keep being made.

Since we're talking about that interview, I'll point out that we also got confirmation of another wacky writing rule to add to the list of poor writing choices:

The driving force behind the series is that there must always be a secret between Marinette and Adrien. The lovesquare can never be broken, otherwise there's no series.

"Our main couple can never be fully honest with each other or else there's no story" is a pretty awful rule, but it's what they're going with and that's a big part of why the love square is a mess. It's also a rule that I've often assumed was there based on the writing, but it's nice to get official confirmation of it.

None of this is to absolve the writers of blame nor is it to say that everything is their fault. The point here is that Miraculous' problems are a complex mess of everyone trying to make a good final product without being on the same page with what that final product should look like, resulting in a show that will never live up to the full potential of what anyone wanted for it.

[sabrondabrainrot]

It's tinfoil hat times I have more observations for eagle eyes listeners (yes a Nightvale ref)

This will contain spoilers for recent TSAMS and LAES!

I gotta go to bed so I won't be able to contain everything but just some stuff I noticed recently and something I've been thinking about.

I won't be as organized as usual, warning spoilers below!

Picking apart what Dark Sun said and did...he used the word expunge. I don't know if this is problem of VA's picking a word that sounds cool...or they picked it know what it means? Expunge is a word that means 'to remove', 'delete', 'strike from the record'. So...why would he collect data on Sun's choice to kill Nexus and expunge that across the multiverse? Why would deleting that make Suns turn on Moons? I'm too tired to think about it past this but...it's interesting. What if D!Sun did delete something?

The biggest thing between Sun and choosing to kill...its his love and trust...but I wonder how Sun's decision to choose the greater good and his family would delete something? That sparkle nighttime Sun was beating his Moon while crying that he hated him...but did he actually? How can we know? I can't wait to find out more about the entire Sun on Moon violence. D!Sun said it was his hate for Nexus but that's not the case...because Sun himself stated he still can't get himself to hate Nexus. We also know, the only reason Sun's magic worked was because of what Ruin did...so I think my theory about the NSP and SP interacting to possibly make Nexus into a new being still stands. D!Sun knew Ruin planted that device when he made Sun choose.

I feel like history just keeps repeating itself where Sun's choices will never be choices and his decision will always be made for him. Moving into more stuff! The recent episodes omigod!!! Moon! He finally stepped up! I still have many things to point out though. I was talking in @goodolddumbbanana dms because like...we're both still disappointed by the episodes...(I won't type the entire dms cause like I want banana to do their piece too without me speaking over them)

When Moon talked to Sun at the pier, he still managed to make it about himself. Did anyone else notice that? He turned it into his normal "I hate myself" routine. He proceeded to let Sun know he's the best brother ever...but Sun just...I don't think he believes it. Even if Lunar and Earth also both tell him that. Even Solar. He just won't believe it.

Looking at how Sun's entire...existence has gone, it's pretty understandable why he'd think and feel this way.

He hasn't been shown by his family (except Earth) he's the best so why would he believe it? Especially coming from Moon who's done nothing but lie to him and break promises. Moon stepped up but...was acting annoyed to take care of Sun. He just was acting like he was ready to get stuff over with. Then...When Sun finally asked the million dollar question. "Did you hate me? Do you hate me?" He's always been asking that and never got a straight answer. Moon has always acted like he really did hate him in the past. Worst of all? Moon told Sun he did.

He told his emotionally beaten brother who's soul is shattered, that 'Yes Sun, I did hate you'...Moon...being honest in this particular situation...I don't think it's the best idea.

Moon, to an emotionally unstable - highly fragile - Sun, basically confirmed Sun's darkest fear. The soul deep ache Sun feels. It's not...gratifying...Sun may now have closure that 'wow he treated me like that because he did hate me' but the big issues with this? Moon has not really changed how he treats Sun. He stopped physically hurting him but he still hurts him. In small ways. We saw that first hand in the last few eps. He left to avoid Sun entirely. He broke promise after promise. He'd rather throw himself a pity party then buck up and just be there for Sun.

Sun always leads with the best intentions. He tells Moon he loves him. He encourages him. He builds him up. (I think i've said this before lol)

Then we get the MVP Earth ep. That episode was honest to God beautiful. Earth is an amazing sister and Kat knocked it out of the ball park with her vocal performance today. She put in so much emotion. I like how Earth's breaking point wasn't her taking care of Dazzle or Sun. Her breaking point was how her family was treating her and Sun like shit. They both left them to their own devices. It was so sad. I was wondering when they kept showing Solar who was taking care of Sun and honestly it makes so much sense it was Earth.

Then in the same episode she said Lunar is acting strange. I'm going to be honest, I know exactly why Lunar is acting mad at Earth.

I don't get a ton of opportunity to talk about Lunar. In the recent episodes his sorest spot was prodded by Taurus. Taurus is basically telling him to get over himself.

Which...I don't agree with how Gemini and Taurus are going about it. Letting go of your hate and hurt is so important but them just telling Lunar to do it isn't going to work. He needs to be taught how to.

So why is Lunar mad at Earth? Never forget, Lunar hasn't developed much he's still a very selfish immature person. He's mad at Earth he's stagnating. He's blaming her for his stunted emotional growth. He chose to numb himself to deal with his emotions and if he admits that was wrong then it'd be a long time of wasted efforts. He would have so many regrets if he admits he's been doing everything wrong.

After all, If Lunar wasn't so apathetic about N!Moon would he have made a difference in him becoming Nexus? (No, but Lunar could be thinking about that)

Lunar, I believe, is blaming Earth for not 'fixing' him. He doesn't understand he needs to want to change himself for it to happen. (it's the same thing for Moon, he knows he's flawed but has given up on improving) I think Lunar just kind of assumed Earth was supposed to automatically make him better with him not doing any work himself.

Then the crux of why he's mad at Earth.

It's simple.

She's friends with Eclipse.

That's really what it is.

Think about it, he hates Eclipse. Eclipse is now in the front of his mind to the point he's acting odd and watching Nutella ads for hours. He's trying to mute his rage. What Taurus and Gemini said would anger anyone.

Telling a victim to not only get over their abuse but also get along with their abuser? It's plain wrong. Lunar has the right to hate Eclipse, the only problem is that it is harming him. Hatred will always be someone's undoing. It is a negative, putrid thing that only destroys.

He's been shoving his emotions down for so long they're bound to explode. I know Lunar loves Sun and wants to be there for him but he's been apathetic for so long now he can't. So he's lashing out and projecting his own self anger onto Earth. She's right there after all.

Solar is basically acting like a keeper to everyone and despite doing better for Sun, Solar is still emotionally distant. Moon physically isn't there. Lunar won't lash out at Monty. He won't take his frustration out on kids like Dazzle and Jack.

Earth is also just...too nice. So yeah, I absolutely understand why Lunar is angry at Earth. He's being totally unfair and immature about it too, because it's not like there's other problems, ie Sun is literally broken and can't leave bed.

but I digress, I like that Moon is stepping up. I just hope he doesn't keep dropping the ball. I think Sun right now truly doesn't think Moon cares...Moon is going to have to do a lot to show him otherwise. I'm glad Lunar finally checked on Sun and I hope he does it more often, because Sun loves Lunar too. He loves the entire family. Earth was right to cry about how they were failing Sun.

I'm really proud of Earth and Solar for stepping up to help Sun.

[angelthemanspanker]

my most tinfoil hat AtS opinion is that legit straight up canon spangel was like RIGHT beneath the surface of season 5, like the show was ready to pivot in the direction of them being at least friends with benefits at a moment's notice despite fate and the censors' best efforts

Season 1 had shit like Angel's first power walk shot set against a pride flag and him awkwardly telling guys he wasn't hitting on them, going for a kinda Adam West Batman kinda gay thing where people assume that about him bc it's the early 2000s and his clothes fit VS Season 5 in the premiere alone giving us Angel correcting a guy who calls him a "little fairy" with "I'm not little" and the legendary, blog-inspiring "I have no problem spanking men" (one of which he says to a guy he's about to kill and one to a guy he knocked out, almost like Angel lets gayer behaviour slip if he's around people who can't bring it up later hm) followed by the only man we KNOW Angel has fucked literally appearing from thin air in his office

then you get Life of the Party where Angel's Whacky Magic Antics are set off by Lorne telling Angel and the person he's having sexually tense arguments with to get a room, causing him to have ill-advised hate sex he ordinarily would not have with someone he is reluctantly attracted to. and I believe in my BONES that at SOME POINT in the scripting process that that person was gonna be Spike. Even setting aside my admittedly subjective opinion that Angel and Eve had even less sexual chemistry than Xander and Willow, it just... scans. Angel and Spike have their "I need to get our faces within an inch of each other or I'll die" arguments in front of EVERYBODY in literally every episode of the season, so I feel like if Lorne was gonna say it about ANYONE it'd be about them. I will never budge from my belief that Spike still being a ghost at this point and early 2000s tv politics caused them to abandon the Angel And Spike Magically Fuck At The Party plot early in the writing process for the episode and slot Eve in there instead while Spike gets the easy-to-write-into-existing-scenes positivity thing.

and THEN. AND THEN. it becomes a plot point that the show Angel's friends are suddenly really on board with him getting back out there dating-wise (the unperson-ing of Cordelia helps here. whee.), with us all suddenly being in agreement that there is little to no danger of his curse being triggered by sex (even though both times he's lost the soul since his curse, real or imagined sex played a significant role in the moment of happiness). Like, Nina is one of the more one-dimensional characters in the Buffyverse and her midness seems to be for the purpose of setting the audience at ease that Angel's soul ain't going anywhere from hooking up with her.

WESLEY is all for it! Wesley "Most Paranoid and Prepared For The Return of Angelus" Wyndam-Pryce is saying look man we're all rooting for you go have a relationship with a girl whose only flaw that I can come up with is that she's a werewolf. Like sir??? How can you be sure the Beautiful Engaging Young Woman Who Actually Wants You won't accidentally make Angel happy with her extremely inoffensive flavour of Nice?

Whereas if, say, there was a beautiful, engaging blonde who actually wants Angel and Angel wants but comes with the caveat that THIS beautiful blonde not only drives Angel up the fucking wall but recently had magical sex with Angel at the office party in front of the whole main cast, proving that as much as Angel gets off on screwing Spike that he is Not happy about it? I can see Wes giving the all clear on that one ngl

bonus points that Angel and Nina got the Official Couple upgrade in Smile Time which comes right before the Illyria tragedy forces Angel and Spike into the... maybe not friendly but LESS hostile dynamic they keep for the rest of the show, so the season structure of their relationship still follows a lot of the same beats. honestly besides getting a lot more moments of David Boreanaz and James Marsters trying to out-six-pack each other in their post-coital shirtless scenes the only thing you'd need to do is change the world-shattering "Me and Angel have never been intimate. Well except that one..." to something along the lines of "Me and Angel have never been intimate, I just shag the bastard"

[daemon-in-my-head]

Listen, today is just one of those tinfoil days, but hear me out: Durgetash is far more fucked up than I first realised. I may be late to the party, but thinking about it, Durge is far too similar to Raphael for it to be a simple coincidence.

Both of them are the biggest nepo babies, one is a cambion that has powers far above what a cambion should have, thanks to being Mephistopheles heir, and the other is potentially immortal and made from the flesh and blood of a literal god.

Both have the biggest daddy issues you can imagine. Raphael tries to usurp Mephistopheles, and Durge tries his best to be a filial child. Both also suffer from their father's neglect while at the same time being stalked by them.

Both fuck(ed) weird things (sorry Harleep).

Both are unhappy being nepo babies, Raphael despises his dad, and Durge despises the one special thing he got from his dad, the urge.

Both struggle with their persona, Raphael refers to himself as a devil despite not being one, and Durge literally got so dehumanised his name is "the dark urge."

Both are native to Toril while being outsiders. Raphael is still a cambion so he's only half devil with a mortal mother, meanwhile durge lives on Toril but his blood and flesh aka everything physical is straight from Bhaal, who uses Gehenna as his home plane.

Both had their fathers plant servants in their life, once again, sorry, Harleep, and now also sorry, Sceleritas.

The name Raphael means "god has healed". Its also one of the names present in the bible, namely as the Archangel Raphael. Durge, by definition, can be considered an Aasimar, the FR equivalent to an angel.

Suddenly a sub Gortash has an entirely different flavour. Don't wanna say foster daddy issues but -

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Eric Hananoki at MMFA:

The California Republican Party has been backing the state Assembly campaign of Denise Aguilar Mendez, a commentator who has a history of pushing far-right conspiracy theories.  Aguilar shared a bizarre and antisemitic conspiracy theory essentially claiming that the power grid was turned off in parts of California in 2019 not to prevent fires but to stop the Rothschilds, a prominent Jewish family, from trafficking children. After referencing the Rothschilds, Aguilar claimed that “there's certain families in the United States all over the world who are in charge of us. It's the central banking system. They're in charge of our money.”  “That's the reasons why we go to war and all that stuff,” she later added. Aguilar is running for California State Assembly in District 13. The California Republican Party is supporting her campaign and California Republican Assembly Leader James Gallagher has been backing her. Aguilar also wrote that she attended an event this summer for California Republican U.S. Senate nominee Steve Garvey, with whom she took a picture for social media.  

Aguilar helped found two organizations: the anti-vaccine Freedom Angels and the “Mom Militia.” She is an election conspiracy theorist: USA Today’s Will Carless reported on her activities on January 6 in a March article headlined, “Calif. statehouse candidate says she didn't join Capitol riot. Video shows otherwise.”  She is a right-wing commentator who has appeared on outlets like One America News. She also frequently posted online commentaries prior to her run for office. In a 2019 video, Aguilar shared a conspiracy theory that was apparently so odd that she herself said, “My tinfoil hat is going to show today.” 

At the time, California was facing severe wildfires, which prompted PG&E to turn off some of the power grid. Aguilar had a different theory, stating that the shut off was “not to prevent fires” but was actually because “white hats” — a term often used by conspiracy theorists to describe people working within major institutions who they believe are fighting perceived corruption — “had to turn off the power grid in California in order to find the underground tunnels” housing missing trafficked children. (“Underground tunnels” have been part of several prominent conspiracy theories over the years.)  Aguilar then expanded that the people the white hats were fighting against were “the Rothschilds,” who she claimed run PG&E. She said: “So Rothschild, there's a family, there's certain families in the United States all over the world who are in charge of us. It's the central banking system. They're in charge of our money. The Federal Reserve is not a government entity. It's actually a private company owned by these families that control our money. So that's another rabbit hole to go into. That's the reasons why we go to war and all that stuff.”

California Assembly candidate Denise Aguilar Mendez, backed by California Republicans, has a long history of pushing inane far-right conspiracies such as Pizzagate, adrenochrome, and Rothschilds.

[eugenedebs1920]

We do have an immigration crisis happening in America. When foreign agents come to our country, with the sole intention of enriching themselves through exploiting our system of capital, it is problematic.

Peter Theil. Openly anti-democracy, yet somehow pro freedom. Wants to circumvent taxation by building man made islands off the mainland. Attempted to purchase two senate seats. Succeeded in purchasing one, a senate seat from Ohio (an astronaut, fighter pilot defeated his other pick in AZ) for the now republican Vice Presidential candidate JD Vance. Theil praises Hitler and believes rape is an “inconvenience” for the victim. HE is a dangerous immigrant.

Elon Musk. The once awkward, seemingly climate friendly entrepreneur, has become a pro-fascist, free speech for him and his views only, vote buying, misinformation spreading, sycophant, cartoon villain oligarch. A vast majority of Elon’s wealth came from government subsidies regarding climate friendly proposals/grants. He later repurchases twitter under the guise of free speech, turning the platform in to an extreme far right mis ans dis information superhighway, while at the same time altering the algorithm to suppress anti Trump posts. His deep involvement in military and government activities amplifies the threat he poses. HE is a dangerous immigrant.

Rupert Murdoch. What can’t be said about the harm he, Rodger Ailes, and his army of dishonest employees around him, have inflicted on the Republican Party and American in general. He has turned the GOP from a respectable, conservative, family values, balanced budget platform into a conspiracy theory driven, fact denying, tinfoil hat wearing, group of racists. His Fox News channel is an affront on the concept of journalism. The constant spread of lies, division and fear is a major element in the potential downfall of our democracy. HE is a dangerous immigrant.

The danger doesn’t come from the willing to work and hard working Latin fellow outside the Home Depot. The threat is not from a brown skinned family, traveling thousands of miles on foot looking for a better life. No! The real danger is the foreign oligarch and their agenda of chaos and self enrichment. Jose, who’s willing to be the general labor guy on your jobsite is no threat. Maria who’s cleaning the hotel rooms one stays at is not a danger. Juan who’s tending to the produce we consume isn’t trying to undermine our institutions. It’s these white, entitled pricks (there’s others) who pose the greatest risk to Americas security.

I’m gunna sound like MAGA here but. If you come to this country with the intentions of slowly destroying it, don’t come at all.

In the immortal words of the movie Forrest Gump. Seats taken!

[mogwaei]

I love how deeply Solas cares.

Even at his worst, he still believes that people should have free will and be taken care of. He says the waking world feels like being in a sea of tranquil, but he still leaves the party to help random refugees in the hinterlands. He approves whenever you take actions that help every day people. He can’t stand it when the vulnerable are taken advantage of. He despises the qunari belief system, yet he speaks fondly the woman in the fade who took small acts of rebellion and takes steps to ensure the qunari cannot expand their control. Even if he hates you, he still saves you in trespasser because the world deserves peace regardless of his actions.

He cares so much about people that he’s willing to restructure the very fabric of the world twice to try and make things better. He could stand to untangle his own guilt from his compassion and maybe, idk, talk to some people about less world-breaking ways to go about fixing things, but man if I don’t love just how deep that desire to see people live well goes. There’s a reason Cole likes him so much.

When I think about these exact things, it really hits me like a train. Putting thoughts under the cut 'cause they got a little long lol

This is an ancient being who has seen SO MUCH and yet still finds the time to be compassionate, and after who knows how many aeons, his sense of curiosity is also alive and well. How easy it would be for him to give into his grief and anger and become something worse than Corypheus. The fact that he still learns and corrects himself when you are a friend/lover does give me hope for his story.

AND. I have a feeling (I'm sure I'm not the only one lol) that there's more to his reasons behind refusing to let anyone get involved. I bet the situation really is That Bad and he's the only one who actually understands it, BUT, also his Blackwall Complex ('I must atone') has gotten too powerful + he has an overwhelming fear of betrayal if he did let us in on the plan. I know that's leaning more toward the tinfoil side of things, but *inhales* my point is is that I love how his strengths and his big heart also doubles back and become flaws.

He's so beautiful 😭

SORRY FOR THE TANGENT - I'm not as eloquent as I wish I was, you said it all perfectly!! Thank you for spending your precious time to write out such a lovely sentiment.

[Solas loving hours in my inbox, come tell me what you adore about him]

[jackhues]

in spite of bluey - (lilah's version)

note: this takes place on DEC/17/23

delilah's world! au

matthew_tkachuk:

liked by flapanthers, ryanlomberg, taryntkachuk & others

matthew_tkachuk: happy fourth birthday to my del, my little pickle! you're the light of my life, even when you're grumpy because bobby took your favourite seat on the bus. i love you so much, even when you make me watch bluey for hours.

especially when you make me watch bluey for hours 🤍

view comments

flapanthers: happy birthday delilah!

bradytkachuk: happy birthday to my favourite niece! i love you

matthew_tkachuk: she's your only niece. and you're still not allowed to steal her

bradytkachuk: it's not stealing. it's borrowing

matthew_tkachuk: no

user: HE HAS A KID?

user: yup! he only recently began posting her tho

user: def a one night

user: okay and?? at least he's in her life. you cannot tell me this man doesn't love her more than anything

taryntkachuk: happy birthday little lilah! pick up the phone matthew i'm trying to call

matthew_tkachuk: i did!

ehtkachuk: omgg happy birthday delilah! i miss youu

matthew_tkachuk: she misses you too! she wants to have a dolly party... whatever that is

ehtkachuk: ... a what?

taryntkachuk: i think lilah's talking about that time we made the caroline dolls of ourselves

ehtkachuk: oh yeah! with tinfoil and skewers, that was fun!

bradytkachuk: so voodoo?

officialblueytv: happy birthday delilah! bluey hopes you have a great day!

matthew_tkachuk: i've never seen her this happy before

peanutsmama: peanut wishes lilah a happy birthday and wants to go on the boat with her again... in winter

matthew_tkachuk: ... yeah that sounds like her

[malarkgirlypop]

Easy Men Pranksters

How easy company men prank

Richard Winters:

I feel like he would do the most unnoticeable prank, like move an item one inch to the side. I'm sure he would think it was funny, he would've seen someone do it on facebook reels lmao. He tries it on Nix, who does not notice. But every time Nix walks into the room, Dick has a good chuckle to himself, knowing what he did.

Lewis Nixon:

He would throw a party and say he put out spiked punch. Turns out is wasn't spiked punch, just normal juice and fruit. He just wanted to weed out the fake bitches who pretend to get drunk. But that's not the true reason he did the prank. No way is he sharing his collection of alcohol, if you want to get drunk BYO.

Harry Welsh:

I think he would try to prank Lew and Dick. When they are hanging out without him, he calls the house and asks if the fridge is running. But jokes on him, he didn't turn off caller ID. "Harry, please stop calling the house. If you want to come over, just come over." Tries to pretend it wasn't him that called. He tried to convince Kitty to prank call the house so he doesn't look suspicious, but again forgot to turn off caller ID and it's his phone she has.

Ronald Speirs:

Leaves a horse head in the persons bed. Doesn't know the difference between a death threat and a prank.

"You should've seen his face."

"Speirs he had a heart attack."

"Yeah, ahaha, classic."

Please don't let this man prank.

Carwood Lipton:

The most harmless prankster. Like you don't get the prank. He has to explain it.

"Come over to the window and look at all these deer!"

"Where?"

"Got you!!"

"What?"

"You've been punked son!"

"I'm confused."

"There were never deer!!"

Oh Lip no. That's so bad. BOOOOO ahahah.

George Luz:

Loves getting pranked more than pranking. But he always is trying to get people to prank him, so he never get tricked. 100% would sneak into your house and replace all of your family photos with just pictures of himself. He has especially gone to JCpenney to get those hilarious awkward family photos, but it's all just him duplicated. It's a family of Luz's!

Joe Toye:

He's a mean prankster. One of those guys who has fake bugs and insects and tricks you into looking at what's in his hands. Also will hide around the house in the dark just to scare you. You're so used to it, that when you come home you have to scope out each room, only to find he actually went out for a drink and you're home alone. You call him and tell him what you have just done for the past hour and he thinks it's the funniest thing he has ever heard. Will definitely brag about it to the boys.

Bill Guarnere:

Classic prankster. Cling wrap on the toilet, cling wrap in the door way, putting everything in jello, wrapping the room in tinfoil. Causes the most mayhem and the biggest clean ups. He spends more time on the prank than the reaction is worth. Spent a whole night putting post it notes on your car, only to find out it was the neighbours and now they are pissed.

Joe Liebgott:

100% buy you those fake lotto tickets and let you believe it for the longest time. He would get Web countless times with it. Every time the man falls for it and Lieb just finds it so funny. He let's Web call all of his family members every time he "wins". It happens so often that the family members on the phone know it's a prank and try to explain it to him.

David Webster:

None of his pranks have ever been successful. OR when he does pull pranks he accidentally gets himself. He does the cling wrap on the toilet, forgets about it, pees all over the ground. Fills a room with water cups, forgets about it and walks into said room and tips over all of the cups. Like this man just can't win. Poor guy.

Buck Compton:

The only prank he does in the warm bucket prank. He is convinced it will work every time. It never does. He literally does tests, he's so invested on getting it to work. It's basically become an experiment for him. He tries out different water temps, different vessels he puts the water in, how deep he puts the hand in the water. He has a little notebooks of each time he has tried the prank and the method he used.

Eugene Roe:

He's a cute prankster. He opens two boxes of cereal and switches the bags. So you think you are getting lucky charms, but instead you get frosted flakes. Gene thinks it is the funniest thing seeing sleepy Babe questioning every thing in existence as frosted flakes appear out of the lucky charms box. Babe still being half asleep just shrugs and tucks into his breakfast. Gene has to explain the prank to him later.

Babe Heffron:

Does the, "oh yeah I put premium air into the tires." To Gene. Gene is losing his mind, thinking babe paid $100 for air. Also has a bunch of fake items, like vomit and dog poo that he gets Gene with all the time. "Gene the cats puked all over the lap top!!" Poor Gene is stressed to the max with Babe lmao.

Don, Skip and Penk:

The trio is trioing. If there is one group that is forever pranking, it's these lot. Whether it's each other or their friends, they are always down for a cheeky prank. Fill a room with ball pit balls, foam, balloons. Breaks into your house and turn it into a full out haunted house. These boys are hard out, it's go big or go home. Nothing is off the table, they will invest life savings into a good prank. Watch your backs they are after you, they will punk you. They seriously talk about starting and producing their own punked series. 100% has a prank youtube channel that blows up.

[atinylittlepain]

Split Seam

steve harrington x f!oc

part of the girl boy series

18+ allusions to smut, stuffy family dynamics, overall just a fun time tho

a/n | marriage done the standy way, this was fun to write :')

...........................................

It’s raining in Philadelphia and chocolate hearts are on sale at the CVS down the block from his apartment. Valentine’s cards too, pink and purple and red and everything must go. He buys a bottle of seltzer and a chocolate rose. When he gets to the station he unwraps the red tinfoil and takes a large bite out of the bloom. He’s starving, didn’t get lunch at the office today with the usual end of the week scramble of numbers and numbers and suits and numbers. But he’s only got an hour and change on the train. He can hold out, Hershey’s aside. 

He’s done this train ride sixty-two times now. This is number sixty-three, but he’s not keeping track. All he knows is that it still feels like relief when he’s seated and the train starts moving. It’s always felt like a relief to be moving in the same direction as her again.

They’ve gotten this right, he thinks. As right as they possibly could, at least. The first year of what Andy called moderate-to-long distance was hard. Awkward phone calls with long swaths of silence, calls that were missed altogether, crossed wires, cataclysmic blowouts that were and weren’t about the things they argued about. But they’ve made it this far, nearly two years of this perpetual back and forth ache that’s only soothed with train rides, with closing that gap. 

There’s been three apartments in New York, and he’s pretty sure he likes this last one that she’s in the best. Greenwich Village, old brick and pock-marked sidewalks and tall windows that wash warm over lightwood floors, and he likes being the one making this trip because he likes getting to see her in a space that feels like her. And he likes this too, the same as the first sixty-two trips, she’s waiting for him at the station, that brief moment, miracle, within which he sees her but she doesn’t see him. Checking her watch and running a hand back through her hair, in her brown leather coat, sharp and smooth and too cool for a banker from Philly, but she’s here for him, smiling big, smiling everything when her eyes finally catch his. 

This always the same too, a soft, sweet rejoining, her hand curling at the nape of his neck, other arm slung over his shoulder and here, here, she presses her lips to his cheek, her nose sliding in line with his and hi, baby, another kiss, quick, and he’s home. 

“They have you staying late again, don’t they? Or did you get all dressed up just to see me?” Little tug to his tie as they thread through throngs of people, out into the cool damp night in as close of a tangle they can be without getting heckled for it on the street. 

“Catch-up from the holidays, or at least that’s what everyone keeps saying.”

“Right, right, crunching numbers and murdering secretaries American Psycho-style?”

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Little squeeze to her hip, little mean as they continue their walk back to her place. Her grin gets lit up by the neon creeping into the oncoming night. 

“Kidding, your colleagues however, well, yeah.” Well, yeah, Andy had come into town right before Christmas to go to his company holiday party with him, and had gotten into not one, not two, but three verbal altercations with his co-workers about the invisible labor of women, as well as the recession. Not that he would admit it, but he had been impressed, and maybe a little flustered, watching her hold her own amongst the suits. They had left early on account of said flustering, as well as the little snap he had given to one of the suits who told him something about needing a muzzle for that one. The partition in the company-ordered limo was raised when they got back into it, the green velvet of her dress hiked up and up and up exposing sheer black nylon and skin, and they both had forgotten all about the suits and the snap by the time they got back to his apartment. He still gets a little hazy, sweet gauze in his mind when he thinks about it. 

“How are the feminists this week?”

“Oh you know, angry, hairy, generally awesome and oppressed. I turned in my third draft on Wednesday.”

“That’s amazing, honey. It must feel good to be almost finished.” 

“It feels good to finally get my advisor off my ass. Bigger and better things, et cetera, et cetera.” He knows not to ask after bigger and better, having made the mistake once of asking if she had heard back from any of the PhD programs yet. She had smiled a watery thing, and promptly dissolved into a pool of sound and tears, too much, don’t ask. She’ll tell him when the news comes in, he knows, though there still remains a selfish slice of him that hopes and hopes and hopes UPenn comes back with a yes, and she answers with a yes too. But for now this is enough, here, and stopping her on the stairs up to her apartment to press a curved kiss to her mouth, so proud of you, honey. She beams, scoffs, thank you, and it drips with sheepish sweetness, her eyes rolling up to hide the truth of it, but he still catches it, lets her believe he doesn’t when she tugs him into her apartment. 

It’s true what they say about absence and fondness, at least in the case of Sylvia, who lately has been greeting him with a desperate peel of cries, twining around his legs with such a fervor that he has to try hard not to trip over her. No petting though, she still likes to scratch if it isn’t on her terms. 

“Nice flowers.”

“Thank you, someone sent them on Valentine's day.” A veritable flame of roses sits preening in a vase on her kitchen counter. He had asked for the biggest, the best, no expenses spared because he’s making money now, real money, and any gifts for her have to be a sneak attack because of it. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mmhmm, you better watch out because it looks like you have some competition from another suitor.” She lays the accent on thick, her family’s accent, soo-tah, throws in a waggle of her fingers, ring glinting for good measure. The ring, and the whole ordeal of it. There had been no family heirlooms left to ask Frank and Kitty Broder permission for, just a nervous conversation the day after Thanksgiving, the one before last, sweating hard beneath his collar and hands shaking. Because while Andy is anything but traditional, Steve picked up pretty fast that this was not quite the case with her parents. A fiance of the second oldest had clued him in on as much the first time Steve was brought home to meet the family, summer break and a big reunion, plenty of hands to shake and names to forget. And the second oldest’s fiance had sidled up next to Steve with a sloshing glass of prosecco and the grin of someone who had figured this whole production out. Somewhere between the mafia and the Vatican, you do the math, man. 

Frank was unmoved, tolerant of the idea at best, considering him over the dark rims of his Buddy Holly-esque glasses, a stylish man, tall and thin man with a slick of gray hair and a thick gold ring that could blind you if it flashed the wrong way. He only had one question for Steve which, mercifully, he could answer correctly. Yes, he told Frank, raised Roman Catholic, though he left the non-practicing part out. Meanwhile, Kitty was already designing the invitations in her mind. 

And that wasn’t even the hard part. Because yes, hasty by some judgements (Eddie’s), and unlikely by other judgements, given Andy’s views (Robin). But he knew, he knew, spent a few months looking for a ring in the evenings when he’d get off work. When he did find one, he didn’t even wait a week, letting the black velvet box burn a hole in his pocket on the train ride to New York that very same weekend. And the proposal itself was simple, no fuss or fanfare, if not a little nerve-wracking. He spoke honestly, plainly. He spoke love. And he’s never known relief like he did when she smiled and told him there’s no one else I’d ever say yes to, baby. So maybe it’s hasty, and maybe it’s all skewed a little unorthodox. But it’s theirs. 

“They better act fast then, got that appointment tomorrow and all.”

“Did you bring all your documents?”

“Driver’s license, social security number. We’re set, honey.”’

“I’m still not changing my last name.”

“No, I know, I don’t care about that.”

“My mother is pissed about it, apparently so is yours.” 

“I think when all this is said and done, those two are gonna leave their husbands and move in with each other.” 

“God, that’d be good for them, or maybe terrible.” 

“Little of both, probably.”  One of the stranger outcomes of this whole wedding thing, the alliance that’s formed between Diane and Kitty. Though maybe not that strange, he thinks, certainly plenty of common in between them. At the very least, this wedding wouldn’t be happening next month without the pair of them leading the absolute battle charge of planning they’ve accomplished. Kitty’s words, knowing my Miranda, she’d be happy with a shotgun wedding in Reno, and Andy hadn’t disagreed, happy to leave all the cake and the flowers and the tulle up to their mothers. Steve was more than happy to stay out of the fray too.

“You didn’t eat lunch, did you?”

“How can you tell?”

“Steve, you never eat lunch. I ordered Thai before I left to get you,Tom Kha Gai and egg rolls, the usual. It should be here soon.” 

And the rest of the evening is very boring, very mundane, a third-floor window lit up warm, and framed inside of it, them on the couch with a smattering of takeout boxes. His tie undone and hanging loose around his neck, top three buttons of his shirt popped as well. Warmth and salt and sour sating him, he goes slack when she tries to teach him how to properly hold his chopsticks, moreso enjoying the feeling of her hands fidgeting with his fingers, her careful concentration. He goes right back to using a fork when she’s finished, grinning at the roll of her eyes. And afterwards, stomachs full and eyes heavy, worn weary from their respectively long weeks, they get into the shower, all kind touch, simple pleasure, her fingers kneading back along his scalp and his hands soaped and slipping over her skin, working into the spots that he knows ache, satisfaction in her sighs. 

Soon, he thinks, hopes, this won’t be a thing they have to ration, all this touch, all this sense, all this closeness. This will simply become the thing they do every night, getting into bed together and talking about things that don’t really matter while their bodies relearn one another. He wants these things in a near dizzying way, big, bold, brazen want that simmers and sighs in her presence, tired kisses, and it’s enough, her hand in his hair, and it’s enough. 

He wakes up the next morning bleary-eyed with want, eager for this early morning appointment at the county clerk’s office, because this is another step, big step, making it even more real step. They both seem to feel it, quiet over the rims of their coffee mugs, smiling, and what? What? What’re you smiling about? It’s a big day, isn’t it? Yeah, nervous? No, you? Not at all, no. And he means that when he says it. There are few things in his life that he has been so certain about. 

And yes, maybe they had a romantic idea of how this would go, but it really is just paperwork in a dimly lit cubicle, and signatures here and here and yes, wedding will take place within sixty days. Steve tries to make a joke about cousins, and is only met with a blank look from the clerk, and a swift side-eye from Andy. 

But when the paperwork is signed and there’s a manilla envelope with their wedding license in his hand, there is a lightness, a lift, a giddy kick, like kids getting away with something when they leave the office. Tucked in close to each other, a little oblivious, and maybe a little obnoxious, and a man walking the other way lets them know as much, bumping right into Steve’s shoulder and watch it! And without missing a beat, Andy’s head whipping around and hey, fuck you, we just got married! Which, well, technically not, but it still makes them both laugh a breathless thing, wild, wind-bitten smiles. And they’re still running on all that flare and fluster when they get back to her apartment, open-mouthed kisses and greedy hands and she has to hold him back by the lapel of his coat to grin an awful thing and you wanna see the dress? 

“You have it?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, here, right now?”

“Yes, Steve, it’s been fitted and everything. Locked and loaded and ready to blast me off into marital bliss with you, et cetera, et cetera. Now, do you, or don’t you, want to be the first, the very first, to see it on me in all its matrimonious glory?” 

“Isn’t that bad luck?”

“Baby, please.” She groans, pressing her forehead against his, and really, he’s just giving her a hard time, because he knows what this means to her, beneath all the snark. The first to see it before anyone else, before the rehearsal, and the aisle, and all the family that neither of them really care to have present. A moment for them, just for them, and no one else. 

“You really want me to see?”

“Mmhmm.” Quiet, crackling murmurs, whispered between smiles.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’d like to see.” 

“Go sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.” And so he does, a little shake in his hands, a little burst and batter of his heart against his ribs. Nervous now, and he’s not sure why, the ticking of the clock pulling taut and loose all over like melted taffy. And then, and then, the padding of bare feet, and the hard rush of blood in his ears, and the sweet exhale when he does finally see her. 

“Honey.” Bordering on pained, the word is said with a sigh, and he’s not going to, no, no, just a little flush of heat behind his eyes and in his throat and Andy’s baby, don’t cry makes him sniff hard and swallow, his hand settling on her hip when she steps closer between his legs. Smooth white silk and simple, and her hair is still gathered in the clip she tucked it up into this morning and she’s still wearing a smear of Vaseline on her lips and she’s the best thing he’s ever seen, he thinks. Tells her as much and she smiles big, chin tucked down and her thumb stroking along the column of his neck where her hand is loosely curled. 

“Well, thoughts?” 

“Wow, just wow, yeah, no other thoughts.” He knows she’s going to start wilting under any more compliments, never one for them, a warbly Steve that makes him smile, squeezing at her hip, coaxing her to c’mere, c’mere, even as she resists his pull.

“If you fuck up this dress we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Not gonna fuck it up, just come a little closer. I wanna, uh, look at the stitching.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” Even as she says it, her smile is starting to slip and spread, another shuffled step closer as his hands splay across her low back, and lower, and lower, and a squeeze that’s just a little mean, making her laugh while he starts to hike all that silk up and up into his hands. 

A few weeks later, when he’s met with the sight of her in that dress in a very, very different context, all he can think about is that afternoon. No one will ever know that he got to see her first in that dress, before anyone else. Nor will they know that they spent the rest of that afternoon splayed on her living room floor with the fabric of her dress bunched up around her hips and his hands curled into the plush of her thighs and his mouth, open and taking, watching the dip and fold of fine fabric, the arch of her back, pleasure for pleasure’s sake. No one will know that in the after, his hips stilled and flush against hers, both of them panting and preening into each other’s kisses, they found the smallest tear at her hip, and that she couldn’t be mad about it, not even a little, when he sunk back down between her legs and laid his apology at the open hinge of her hips. 

He’ll find that tear again, when the vows are said, and the family and friends are clapping, and they’re walking down the aisle together, his hand on her hip. He’ll find the tear then, the perfect secret shared between them in a quick glancing smile.