#bitches are dying of heatstroke | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rvby · 7 months ago

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at least try to go to sleep

cw: alcohol, drugs, vomit, blood, self-harm, thoughts of suicide, accidental suicide, gray fox typical masochism.

he’s always dreamt of the same thing, night after night after night. bodies lying in a pool of blood around him. when did it start.

he dreamt of the opposite, long ago. of allies smiling around him. when did that disappear from view. when did he lose all of that.

not that it matters. he’ll forget about it in (we’d give a time if he could keep track of it).

bile swells in his stomach. up his chest. up his throat. it hits his teeth on the way out. he hates the feeling. when was the last time this even happened to them. (recently, he doesn’t even remember. a little too much a little too late and fuck, why’d they have to stick to alcohol? coke and a bitch with a knife used to do the trick. splatter blood all over them ‘til they’re left screaming. how many times did he have to practice that one until it settled raw and true into his skin, into his muscles, into his bones.)

sick. you’re sick. he just wants to grin up at the sky at whatever joke of a god there is and flip them off into high heaven. *heaven*. what a load of bullshit.

he heaves again. when was the last time he ate. last time he drank. nothing but acid burning his tongue. fuck, he’d kill to take a knife to the back of his neck over this. feels like sick and dizziness and blood on the bathroom floor.

shit, blood? from inside or- (dumbass, all blood comes from inside. not exactly helpful) you know what i mean. he smashes the back of his head against the wall. shut up. shut up. it sends a shock through his system. great. because sitting in vomit and spit and blood on the *god-damned* bathroom floor without a limb to stand on is just where you want to be. how the hell are you going to get this cleaned up-- how the hell did you even *get* here anyway?

he knocks the side of his head on the wall now. looking for a lower buzz from that shock up his body. something he can use. something to make this worth it. it’s just getting worse. it’s just getting worse.

when was the last time you

when was the last time he

disappointed chiding. he can almost hear it. disappointed. worried. a memory slurred out in blurry images. let’s play guess who! don’t. x x x yeah we know. cause he saves us. he always does. keeps us from od-ing in the middle of fuck-knows-where doing god-know-what while you’re sweating like you’re dying of heatstroke. better than the cold. better than alaska.

i don’t know why you hate the hot and humid so much, snake. it’s not that bad--if you’re used to it. so thick you can drink the water off the leaves. you should come visit sometime, when we’re both retired. (like hell you’re retiring, fox. you’ll be dead before you get there. ha! maybe. bet i’ll last longer than you.)

god, get your head off the floor, you’re making a mess. come on, stay awake at least. hold it down or double it. (did we ever find out where the blood came from?) inside to out.

what was this what was this

dreams? we were dreaming? do you even remember what it was about?

come on, stay awake. stay with us. stay with us. miller’s gonna bust your ass in the morning when he finds out you missed drills. (like that old f##### could catch me. hey, you wanna bet i can steal his leg and run with it? come on fox, that’s just mean.)

eyes open eyes closed eyes open eyes closed eyes open i’d turn on a light but it’d kill you at this rate. where’s a lighter when you- he grabs at the floor, searching for something he’s sure should be there. pants and pockets and *there it is*. his lone arm left to fish out a cig and set it between his teeth and light it. the smoke tastes better than the bile at least.

he’ll have to drag himself to the tub eventually. why’d he have to go and slice himself up around the metal end of his right leg. clawing at the junction between metal and flesh as if to rip the nerve caps off and toss it. (he had enough of his mind not to, just barely. he’d have been better off dying if he did.) bandages soaked in filth--if you get an infection that’s your own fault. (you know, back in the day, the hellmaster was one hell of a- don’t bullshit me fox. oh come on, i swear this one is true!)

maybe it’d be better if it did. if he- (not like it matters, the train of thought. he’s already unwrapped it. left on the floor with the other scraps of his misery. the sound of the water is making him sick again. *unnatural*. you were better off drowning in the river, under the trees. food for the animals. returning the favor for all the disgusting meals he’s made of hunts lost in the wild. (good practice my fucking ass. you’ll eat anything, alive or dead.)

hitting his head on the side of the tub. it’s a miracle he doesn’t have a brain hemorrhage. don’t drop your toaster into the water. or was it a hairdryer. fork in the toaster? not the first time you’ve sat in the tub thinking about it. but slitting your wrists just feels too good. the water seeps into it just the way you like and you’re too alive to die today. you like the feeling of cold wet hair sticking to your sweating neck. makes up for the heat. you’re wet from the humidity anyway, just jump in. just jump in. just jump in.

one. two. three. four. he doesn’t realize he’s even banging his head on the wall. mesmerized by the pain and the feeling and the emptiness. five. six. seven. eight. (all you need is a cheerleader and a knife and some coke to keep you going don’t you. are you even american? or are we whoring ourselves out for plain cash? where the hell are you even getting a cheerleader out here. no a chick in a miniskirt doesn't count, shut up.) just don’t drop your fork in the toaster in the water unless you want to

well, at least he won’t be feeling it in the morning.

#lfg gray fox nation (no one liked this)#self #pulled from my server so hes post mgs1 and also can't actually die bc he'll just respawn #vivi writing

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karlnapity · 4 years ago

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Rejoice, Rejoice, God’s Ears are Stitches

“Drop your things in the hole,” Tommy says, and Dream feels his stomach drop. He slowly undoes the clasps on his chest plate while his eyes scour the crowd, from Punz’s fierce expression to Puffy’s tear-streaked face. Something deep and dark jolts in his chest, but he casts it aside same as his chest plate. It makes a clang! as it hits the bottom of the hole, and Tommy jumps satisfyingly.

He takes his time removing his armor, relishing in the way the crowd shuffles uncomfortably. Eventually Tommy lets out an indignant “hurry up!” and he can barely keep himself from chuckling.

Once he’s finished, they stand there in a tense silence for a few seconds before Tommy says, “All your armor, Dream.”

He tilts his head to the side. “What d’you mean?”

He has a sneaking suspicion that lets tendrils of something akin to nerves creep up his spine. They only solidify when Tommy points his sword at Dream’s face.

“Your mask. Put it in the hole.”

For a second, he considers refusing. But he imagines being held down, the mask forced off his face, and he shivers. He reaches to the clasp, hand stuttering. When was the last time he’d taken it off?

Tommy huffs. He undoes the clasp.

The mask shatters as it hits the helmet still resting on the top of the pile. He watches the shards bounce.

The audience has gone very silent. He refuses to look at them. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Tommy scrutinize his face. He does not look at him.

“You’re an ugly motherfucker, you know that?” There’s little bite in Tommy’s words. He may have the upper hand right now, but he’s still only grasping at straws against Dream. He is. Dream still sneers. Low blow, to poke at the various scars littering his face, hardly leaving an unmarred spot. He opens and closes his fist where he’d usually be grasping a weapon.

Sam and Punz step forward, each of them grabbing an arm. He’s led to the elevator as he listens to the sounds of the crowd celebrating. He does not look at them. He won’t give them the satisfaction.

As the elevator rises, Sam’s hand only tightens around his arm. He wonders why, at first, but it becomes obvious as he starts to ache.

Mining fatigue. Fuck.

He focuses his attention on simply remaining upright. The bruises and cuts and the knee Tommy had almost knocked out of its socket suddenly make themselves known, and with a vengeance. He shuffles, trying to keep his legs from giving out.

Punz coughs a laugh from beside him. Dream can’t stop his eyes from straying, but it doesn’t help. He can’t read his expression.

“It’s weird being able to see what you’re thinking,” Punz says quietly. Dream quickly schools his expression. He does not respond.

The fatigue becomes almost overwhelming as they come to a stop. The two lead him out of the elevator and through the prison. He passes by more walls, doors, than he can remember. He tries to catalog information as it comes, but his mind is just as tired as his body, and black spots dance in his vision. He will not let these people see him weak, though, so he keeps his attention on keeping his expression neutral, keep his legs moving.

He watches the lava part, and his heart stutters to a stop in his chest. This is it.

He does not look at the two as he’s left alone.

He jolts awake, his breath catching. As he gasps on the floor he notices the heavy air, the way his hair is stuck to his face. The heat is almost scalding, and as he sits up he feels woozy. He almost laughs at himself. He’s only on his first day (or is it?) of his imprisonment and he’s already falling apart. He lets out a chuckle, coughing from dehydration.

His stomach churns from a combination of the overwhelming mining fatigue and the heat from the lava. He brushes back his hair as best as he can, ties it up, suddenly glad Sam had only let him keep a t-shirt.

He examines the cell, still dizzy but acclimating as best he can. Thankfully there’s what seems to be a dispenser in a corner, leaving him with a bottle of water and a raw potato. Not the best food, and it doesn’t help replenish any health, but he takes what he can get. He stops himself from chugging the water as much as he wants to. He doesn’t know when Sam will next leave him food, and he needs to, at the very least, stay conscious. Dying from dehydration won’t do him any good.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly, and for a second he considers crushing it. He wonders, if he does, if Sam will come replace it.

He can’t risk it. The noise is loud in his ears, the only other thing in this godforsaken place aside from the sound of the lava bubbling.

He feels tears mounting in his eyes and pushes them down. No. He won’t, can’t be weak. That would mean accepting defeat, and he will leave this place. He will win.

He doesn’t feel particularly victorious with his hands over his ears, trying to block out the ticking sound of the clock.

It’s impossible to tell how long he’s been here, and he can feel it already prying at his mind. The clock tells him whether it’s day or night, but not much more than that, and it doesn’t make much difference to him when the only light he gets is from the lava.

He started trembling a few days ago, and he’s not even sure where it comes from. It makes it hard to do much of anything, and it’s not even like there’s much to do. He alternates dunking his head in the cauldron of water in a pitiful attempt to cool himself off, struggling to write in the books he’s been given, and laying on the floor and listening to the clock.

He’s too tired from the mining fatigue to be able to do much writing at all. His hands shake too much to hold the quill correctly, and his brain moves at a snail’s pace that annoys even him. So, instead, he lays on the floor, listens to the clock, and stares at the lava. His back hurts from the hard stone, and it holds the heat, but it’s not like he has much other choice.

Has it been a week? Two? He’s not sure. He hasn’t seen Sam since he was imprisoned. He hasn’t tried to escape. He hasn’t done anything but eat raw fucking potatoes and try not to get heatstroke. Sleeping is really the only agreeable possibility, and even then he wakes up choking on hot air.

His communicator buzzes, and he sits up so fast his head swims. All avenues have been cut off except Sam, so he knows it’s him immediately.

< You have a visitor today. >

He clambers to his feet. He hates the way his heart races at the thought. He shouldn’t be this excited for one of them to visit him. It was inevitable that, eventually, someone would. They wouldn’t be able to forget him. They need his help.

(It’s the only reason he’s alive.)

(He shakes that thought away.)

For the first time in over a week he tries to pull himself together. He fixes his ponytail, makes it as neat as possible, downs the rest of his water to try to garner some sort of energy. He’s already exhausted just from the excitement. Jesus Christ, what has this place done to him?

He sits on the lectern as he waits. Who will it be? One of his old friends? Punz? Tommy?

Soon enough, the lava starts to lower.

He makes direct eye contact with Tommy. The boy looks petrified. Good.

What will Tommy want? Will he want him to stay put together? Will he want him to be pitiful?

(Tommy will want a friend. Tommy will want soft.)

He’s not used to regulating his facial expressions. He’s had to time adjust to the lack of cover, the familiar feeling of it sitting on his skin lacking, but it’s new, having to looking people in the eye, having to appeal to them in this way. It frustrates him.

Soon enough, Tommy is facing him and the lava is already rising. He looks uncomfortable, pulling at his collar and shoving his hands in his pockets.

He looks better than Dream has seen him in a while. He looks happy enough, certainly healthier than he’s been. He wonders how pathetic he looks.

“Hey,” Tommy says, making the first move. Dream avoids his eyes.

“Hello.”

“What’ve you been up to?” Tommy asks, awkward as ever.

(Tommy will want a friend. Tommy will want him to be sorry.)

“I like watching the clock,” he answers, genuine. He keeps his voice quiet. “I’ve been going crazy in here.”

“Everyone hates you, you know?” Tommy says. That confuses him.

“Well, I’m in prison, now, so there’s no reason for anyone to hate me,” he refutes, frustration rising. That makes no sense. Why would they hate him now?

They beat him. Why would they hate him now?

“Hey, Dream, are you getting all sad? Watch this: I am your best friend, Dream, I am your friend, and I will come and visit you every day!” Tommy’s voice rises as he takes his clock off the wall, throws it in the water, turns back to him, angry as hell. “Does this remind you of anything?”

Dream stays quiet. What can he say to that?

“It’s just sad! You’ve been exiled, bitch! You’ve been imprisoned!” Tommy looks so satisfied, like he deserves this, like he’s proving a point.

It’s hard to take a deep breath when the air’s so heavy, but he has to. He clenches his hands in fists, turns around so Tommy can’t see his expression. Remember.

(Be Tommy’s friend. Be sorry.)

“Maybe I’ll be better, and then you’ll let me out,” he tries. Makes his voice as meek as possible. Makes himself smaller.

Tommy laughs. He tries harder.

“What if it’s a long time and I’m better?”

Tommy just looks at him. For the first time, his expression is unreadable. He looks stronger, now. He doesn’t look like a kid anymore.

“Tommy, I’m sorry.”

(It’s what he’s supposed to say.)

“Really?” Tommy looks genuinely taken aback, genuinely surprised. Something in his expression hurts, but he ignores it. “For what?”

He ransacks his brain for the right thing to say. He can’t think, he’s so tired.

(He wants Tommy to leave. He wants Tommy to stay.)

“Um. For everything I did to you.”

He says all the right things: I have no reason to lie. I’m glad you visited me. I’m sad.

Tommy gives him homework, and he complies obediently.

He lets Tommy make fun of him all he wants, lets Tommy laugh at him, and he doesn’t get angry.

Tommy promises he’ll be back. Dream can’t tell if he’s genuine.

“I lost my friends, and all my stuff, and my server. And you.”

He doesn’t mean to say it. It’s not part of the routine. But it works: Tommy seems genuinely interested, then, doesn’t seem to take it as manipulation as much as everything else. He tries to pull himself together, but he’s so tired. His act is falling apart.

“Who do you miss the most?” Tommy asks.

Anger flares.

“I think you should go, Tommy.”

Tommy asks again, and Dream can’t do anything but yell for Sam. Tommy just keeps asking, and Dream just wants him to leave. He drives his fingernails into his palm and he doesn't look at him.

The clock is especially loud, that day.

#personal #dream #dream smp #tommyinnit #awesamdude #punz #mcyt #dsmp #l'manberg #l'manburg #lmanburg #lmanberg #manburg #manberg #dreamwastaken #fanfic #fanfiction

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babymagi · 3 years ago

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I'm at Disney right now! :D Not physically in the park but we've spent the last three days there and it gave me inspiration

Magi Characters at Disney 🐭✨

Aladdin

- He's a child as it is already so he's absolutely stoked

- Dragging Morgiana and Alibaba to any and every attraction there is

- Wants to eat all of the food

- Super friendly with the cast members

Alibaba

- Give it up for the man that was able to get the group VIP access and Fast Passes to everything

- Is also super talkative with cast members

- Tower of Terror survivor times at least four or five

Morgiana

- Didn't grow up on Disney so the trio have been watching all of the most important movies (Aladdin, Hercules, Tarzan, etc) with her and she's been absolutely fascinated.

- Is carrying a whole twenty-four pack of water bottles in her backpack because she's strong enough to and wants to make sure no one gets heatstroke

- Shy at first around the cast members but eventually opens up a little bit and makes sure to compliment every single Princess on their outfits

Hakuryuu

- Had only been to Disney once when he was a child but hadn't been back in forever so he was in awe at all the new stuff

- Has gotten asked about his scar at least five times within the first hour by curious children who then got scolded by their parents

- Borrowed Hakuei's hand fan for this trip and he's so glad he did because he wasn't quite used to the heat

Judar

- Meanwhile this bitch is fucking dying in the hot weather

- "Just don't wear black clothes" "NEVER"

- Man's hair is a safety hazard he had to top knot it at least once to go on any of the rides

- (He actually had a lot of fun despite the many complaints)

Kougyoku

- Disney fangirl, as in she's wearing a pink Mulan shirt and a polka-dot Minnie skirt

- SUPER excited to meet all of the cast members but when it comes time she gets very flustered and nervous and Judar basically has to physically push her to see them

- Very loud and bubbly during any sing-along show they go to

I have been pretty tired these last few days and haven't gotten much motivation to post a lot of content (both on here and on any other platform really) but I'll try my best to keep up even if I'm gone most of the day lol.

And, yes I'm aware we're still in a pandemic right now. Everyone that's old enough to in my family is vaccinated and we're wearing masks when it's appropriate and trying to be as safe as we can. :)

#my ankles are KILLING me #;~;#magi #magi labyrinth of magic #magi kingdom of magic #aladdin jehoahaz abraham #alibaba saluja #morgiana #ren hakuryuu #ren kougyoku #judar #disney

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yakumtsaki · 4 years ago

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Due to being the most incompetent popularity sim the world has ever laid eyes on, as well as having a miserable personality, Shajar has been near aspiration failure for the entire freshman year. Now that we’re out of the dorms it seems the least I can do is fulfil her wish to throw a toga party, even though I’ve sworn off college parties since the Gunther Brittany Affair Disaster of 2017.

Most of the people we invited wisely elected not to attend, but thankfully Culturally Appropriating Drama Professor is here, with whom, you guessed it..

..Cyneswith has 3 bolts! Well we all knew that thanks to her disturbing grey hair turn on college would be the time that we would knock out at least 10 of the 20 simultaneous lovers she aspires to have.

Boy, that escalated quickly. Also that professor literally looks like a male Rachel Dolezal.

-Congratulations on falling in love with Ti-Ning right after he randomly made out with Gross Hippie Dude, Frances!

SHAJAR!!!

-What?! I’m just trying to make polite conversation, it’s called being a good host!

EW. I can’t believe we’re gonna have to fall in love with this creep. God, Cyneswith, why couldn’t you get a different hair color turn-on??

At least Cyneswith and CADP (Culturally Appropriating Drama Prof, I’m not learning his name) are singlehandedly saving this lame party’s score, because everyone else is being a giant flop:

A) Gossip about Gunther from literally 30 years ago, talk about scalding hot tea.

B) Literally asleep, which is what I would do during this party as well. Relatable king Don.

-Man, I had a terrible nightmare that Cyneswith was cheating on me with Rachel Dolezal!

What nonsense! Just keep sleeping with your back turned to that window.

🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

C) Bullying Mickey Dosser to tears for no discernible reason. Or maybe because Shajar is into him and we’re getting a little jealous

-AS IF! Jealousy is a trait of cucks and weaklings! I just enjoy the pain of others!

Yea, and my pain most of all clearly!

I had Cyneswith ask CADP out during the party so we could maximize her aspiration point earnings and the guy seriously hits us with ‘maybe we should go out again some other time’, like he has a ton of hot undergrads throwing themselves at him but he’ll see if he can make time for us. God I hate him.

We end the party while we’re ahead aka before Sophie’s bullying tanks our score, and Shajar is finally semi-content and will hopefully stfu with her whining for the time being. Good job, Cyneswith!

Right after the party a sports mania appears to have overtaken the house. First we have Frances of all people intently watching football, lmao. Secondly, wanna guess who rolled the want to get fit? Wanna guess??

Why Sophie you sly little vixen, I knew it! I knew somewhere deep down you were into Shajar!!

-For your information, BITCH, it’s because sports is my one true hobby!

LOL sure, sure.. I mean it actually is your one true hobby but I’m going to interpret it how it suits me.

Also boy are you bad at it.

-Not for long! I’ll keep going! I’m gonna be the very best, like no one ever was!

Ok well you should rest a little, you don’t need to become fit the very same night you rolled the want, who cares?

-I care! I can do it! I’m so close!

Yea I’m thinking I should have stopped you sooner and maybe working out for hours on end in the desert was not a great idea.

-Nonsense! Sophie Miguel knows no fatigue! Sophie Miguel knows no pain!! On an unrelated note, I’m just gonna lie down here real quick.

Ok so this was the closest I’ve come to a sim legit dying this run, like it’s all fun and games now but while it was happening I was freaking out. We don’t have the Reaper phone we stole from the secret society in the UUU house anymore, Jojo took it with him when he graduated, so it was seriously looking like this was it for Sophie.

The night came..

..the night went..

..the repairman came..

..Sophie’s hunger need went..

..the afternoon came and with it the idiot mascot who clearly can’t feel a room..

..the night came AGAIN and that’s when Sophie woke up, literally a full 24 hours later. WTF. I’ve never had a sim passed out this long, I was losing my shit.

-But I’m ripped now and that’s all that matters!!!

Yea you’re also about to die, your hunger need is vermillion red!!! Run to the kitchen Sophie, RUN LIKE THE WIND

WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS. WE ALSO DON’T HAVE ANY FOOD READY, FML, those savages absolutely devoured the pizza.

An instant meal is thankfully enough to stave off death for a while. I have one of the other flops order a pizza and send Sophie to take a shower to drop her temperature-

-which was a horrible call because I *assumed* that when sims are suffering from heat stroke they take cold showers, but that turns out to not be the case so I make it even worse!!! The mascot of death is looming like a vulture, waiting to cheer over Sophie’s dead body. FUCK OFF

The pizza finally arrives and Sophie takes one bite of a slice, leaves it on the counter, AND PASSES OUT AGAIN. At this point I have literally never wanted to cheat more my entire life.

-Well I say, my good woman, it looks like Sophie has fainted and is about to die!

-Oh well, more screentime for us!

Why do you two losers have heatstroke too, you haven’t done anything all day? Wtf is this, a localized heatstroke outbreak in this house only??

Finally, after what was the most this game has stressed me out in years, I get Sophie to bed, safe, sound, and mostly alive. I’m also instituting a house-wide ban on working out, it’s clearly an evil practice that causes nothing but woe.

Here, chubby heat-stroke-desert penguin agrees!

#gen 2 #ts2

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emospritelet · 3 years ago

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Heatstroke - chapter 20

Last time, Gold and Lacey danced :)

Words: 2,331

[AO3]

The music kept playing. The Nolans breezed past them, moving in step with each other as though they’d been dance partners all their lives. David Nolan winked at Gold again, and Lacey bit her lip to hide a grin at the long-suffering expression it caused. She was beginning to feel more relaxed, which considering she was pressed up against the man she had a crush on was something of an achievement in her mind. Gold’s grip was firm on her waist, his hand warm in hers.

“What made you want to be a journalist?” he asked, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Guess I’m a nosy bitch.”

Gold burst out laughing, head rolling back and she felt a lurch in her belly.

“People are interesting,” she said then. “Their lives, why they do what they do. I mean there’s unearthing scandals and exposing corrupt public figures, and that’s all good, but sometimes it’s nice to just document humans doing human stuff, you know?”

He pursed his lips, nodding slowly.

“I think I understand that,” he said. “What do you do when you’re not working?”

Lacey pulled a face.

“I probably spend way too much time drinking in bars,” she said. “But I guess you’re only young once, right?”

“I vaguely remember,” he said, in a very dry tone, and she clicked her tongue.

“Come on, you’re not old.”

“Tell that to my aching bones.”

Lacey stepped back immediately, looking him over.

“Oh, are you hurting?” she asked anxiously. “We can sit down, if you want.”

Gold shook his head, pulling her close again.

“I’m joking,” he said, turning her in a slow circle. “A little, anyway. I’m in no more pain than usual.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They fell silent for a moment, and Lacey smiled as she saw Astrid and Leroy waltz past. Leroy, it turned out, was a surprisingly good dancer.

“How did you injure your leg?” she asked, and Gold looked surprised.

“You don’t want to save that deeply personal question for Sunday?”

“Thought about it,” she confessed. “But it seemed appropriate to ask now.”

He nodded, his gaze somewhere over her shoulder, as though he was wondering whether to answer.

“I’m afraid it’s nothing remotely newsworthy,” he said. “Merely a motorcycle, an icy road, and bad luck. Or good luck, depending on your point of view. I suppose I was fortunate that a ruined ankle was the worst I had to suffer. Physically, anyway.”

That comment made her curiosity grow, but she filed it away for the moment.

“Besides,” he added. “We were talking about you. Other than drinking with Miss Lucas, what are your interests?”

“You expecting me to admit to book-binding or basket-weaving, or something?”

Gold showed his teeth.

“I find I never know what to expect with you, Miss French.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint,” she said. “I work, I drink, I eat and I read. Pretty much it.”

“I’m almost certain that’s not true.”

“How did we get fixated on me, anyway?” she demanded. “How about you answer a few questions?”

A tiny grin twisted his mouth.

“I agreed to,” he said, his eyes glinting. “On Sunday. Tonight I want to hear about you.”

Lacey let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, I run,” she said, and grinned at him. “The scenery around this town can be very interesting at times, you know?”

Gold gave her a very level look, as though unsure whether she was teasing him or not.

“I’m even worse a runner than I am a dancer,” he said, and she chuckled.

“You’re doing fine, but I take your point. I guess yoga might be more your thing. That’s another thing I like to do. Part of my morning routine.”

“Yes, I’ve seen you,” he said, and closed his eyes, looking pained. “I - I don’t mean I’ve been watching you, I’ve just - seen you in the garden, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I like it out in the open air,” she said. “I’ve even done it in the rain.”

A tiny grin appeared on his face, and his eyebrows flicked upwards.

“Sounds - invigorating,” he remarked.

“You can always come over and join in, if you like,” she suggested.

“Me?”

“Sure, why not?”

Gold looked down very pointedly before meeting her eyes again.

“Because I’m possibly the least flexible person in Storybrooke.”

“Then you’re the one that needs it the most,” she countered, and swatted his shoulder with her free hand, making him blink in surprise. “Come on! It would be good for you! The more you do it, the better it gets.”

Gold’s eyebrows twitched, and that twisted little smile appeared again.

“True of so many things in life, I find,” he murmured, and Lacey smirked.

“Practice makes perfect.”

“Indeed it does.”

His voice had gone low and throaty, his grip tightening a little, and she could feel her heart thump, her breath quickening a little. She licked her lips, her eyes on his mouth. He was almost close enough to kiss.

“Oh, Mr Gold, there you are!”

A familiar and unwelcome voice cut through the tension between them, and Gold jerked his head upwards, mouth flattening. Lacey wanted to growl as Zelena West strode up to them, in a long green strapless dress with a thigh split, white teeth bared in a grin. Gold’s face had taken on an oddly closed expression, his eyes losing their light.

“I’m so delighted you could make it!” went on Zelena. “And dancing with Miss French! I always knew you were a charitable person!”

She smirked as she said it, which made Lacey bristle, before turning her attention back to Gold.

“I certainly hope you don’t intend to make this your last dance,” she said. “The night’s young, after all. Perhaps I can tempt you later.”

“I think one dance is really my limit,” said Gold coolly. “Thank you for your effusive welcome, Miss West. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Miss French and I were having a private conversation.”

Zelena let out a tinkling little laugh that made Lacey want to throw something over her.

“Ooh, be careful!” she said, in a sing-song voice. “Miss French might seem as though she’s just making conversation, and the next thing she’ll be poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong and getting you to confess to all manner of things.”

“That would suggest she’s very good at her job,” said Gold, as Lacey opened her mouth indignantly. “However, other than attempting to school me on the merits of yoga, she’s been going easy on me. I detect no burning desire to get me to spill my darkest secrets this evening.”

“Wait for Sunday,” muttered Lacey, and his mouth twitched as though he was trying not to grin. Zelena rolled her eyes.

“Well, I insist on speaking to you later,” she said. “I doubt Miss French can hold your attention for long.”

She sauntered off, leaving Lacey staring after her in outrage.

“Miss West appears not to care for you too much,” said Gold mildly.

“Feeling’s mutual.”

Lacey was still scowling after her, but his hand was warm on her waist as he pulled her back towards him. She caught the scent of his cologne, feeling his fingers splay out across the small of her back and then slide together as he tugged her close.

“She’s a woman of poor taste,” he murmured.

His body was very warm, and Lacey was feeling a little breathless. She licked her lips.

“She seems to like you well enough,” she said, and he chuckled deeply.

“That only proves my point.”

The music slowed to a stop, and for a moment they stood there in silence before Gold smiled a little awkwardly and stepped back, releasing her.

“See?” she said. “You can dance.”

“With you to hold me up, perhaps.”

“Details, details…”

Gold grinned at that, and Lacey felt her heart clench again. The music started up, a livelier tune, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You want to go again?”

“I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead,” he said, in a dry tone. “Drink?”

“Please.” She grinned at him. “I can see David and Mary Margaret are calling it quits, too. I think I’ll go get to know them a little better.”

Gold gave her a slanted grin and bowed his head before turning on his heel and heading in the direction of one of the wait staff. Lacey watched him go, fully aware that she probably had, in Ruby’s words, ‘big pulsing cartoon hearts’ in her eyes.

The evening continued to go well. David and Mary Margaret were every bit as nice as they had seemed, and David seemed to be the only person in Storybrooke that Gold didn’t mind being teased by, however gentle the teasing might have been. Lacey was reluctant to pull herself away from Gold, but she was technically working, so she made sure to talk to plenty of other guests. She caught his eye on her a few times, and he glanced away whenever she turned to face him, causing David to nudge him with a grin and say something that made Gold close his eyes and sigh. It made Lacey bite back her own grin, and she wandered back over to watch the prize draw with Gold and the Nolans. The champagne was going to her head.

Once the prize draw was done—the top prize of a three-course dinner with champagne being won by Leroy—Zelena walked onto the stage to take the microphone as the applause was dying down. Beside her, Lacey felt Gold stiffen, as though he was apprehensive. As though he was waiting for something. She recalled Sidney saying that he thought the evening was about more than charity work, and across the room she saw him watching Zelena intently. Zelena bared her teeth in a wide smile, flicking back her reddish curls.

“Thank you all for coming and for making this event the incredible success it’s been,” she said, her voice carrying. “I think we can all agree that the food has been first class, so thanks to Granny’s Diner for providing it.”

Applause rang around the room, and Lacey joined in.

“Tonight’s event has been the work of months,” Zelena went on, “but seeing the smiles on all your faces and knowing that all the money raised tonight is going to such a good cause - well, it just fills my heart with joy!”

Mary Margaret shared a smile with David, and Lacey eyed Gold, who was staring at the stage with narrow-eyed suspicion.

“I have to confess,” said Zelena, “that I have another reason to speak to you tonight.”

Gold made a tiny noise in the back of his throat, as though he was confirming something to himself. Lacey found her curiosity growing, and edged closer to him. Zelena had begun to pace slowly back and forth across the stage.

“Storybrooke has opened its heart to me ever since I came here,” she went on. “We’re a close community. A community based on good old-fashioned values. Friendship, and family. Neighbourliness. I can’t tell you what a relief it was to move here from New York and find a town so - so steeped in wonderful local traditions. So eager to welcome a stranger who felt that she had lost her way.”

She bowed her head a little, as though overcome by emotion. Lacey snorted quietly, but flattened her mouth as Zelena looked up again.

“You see, I’ve always wanted a life of service, a life of - of giving,” she said. “It’s why I’ve done so much for charities in the past. It’s why I’ve been organising these events since I came to Storybrooke. And yet - I feel that I could give more.”

She paused, shaking back her hair as she gazed around the room.

“I like to think that in my own, small way, I’ve helped this town through difficult times,” she said, pressing a hand to her heart with a self-deprecating smile. “And that’s why, after much soul-searching, I’ve made the decision to try to serve the town I’ve come to love so dearly in the best way I can.”

Another pause. Lacey had to admit that she had a talent for holding an audience’s attention. Zelena smiled, eyes widening with a hopeful expression.

“I have decided,” she said. “To run for Mayor of Storybrooke.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the audience, and a scattering of applause that rippled around the room. Lacey glanced at Gold, whose eyes had narrowed further, his mouth set in a grim line. Her eyes flicked to Regina Mills, who was looking shocked, lips parted and eyes wide. Her wife grasped her hand, leaning to whisper something in her ear, and Regina started before nodding and whispering something in return.

“I trust that I can count on the support of the many friends I’ve made since this town opened its heart to me,” said Zelena, in honeyed tones. “I have every faith that Storybrooke will prove to me once again that wishing for something hard enough can make dreams come true.”

She seemed to glance in Regina’s direction, but then smiled broadly.

“Thank you all,” she said. “Enjoy the rest of the night!”

More applause, and Zelena sauntered off stage as the music started up again.

“Well,” said Mary Margaret. “That’s - unexpected.”

“What’s the deal with the Mayoral elections?” asked Lacey.

“Regina’s run unopposed for the past few years at least,�� said David.

“No one else wanted the job?”

“Pretty much.”

“Regina’s been Mayor as long as I can remember,” said Mary Margaret, looking puzzled. “Surely no one’s going to vote for Zelena over her?”

“Depends what she’s offering,” said Gold, in a grim tone. “Or what she can use to bring Regina down.”

He said that last in an undertone, and glanced at Lacey as he did so. She could feel curiosity surge in her. His eyes flicked away almost immediately, but she nodded to herself. He knows something. And I’m gonna find out what.

#fic: heatstroke #golden lace fic #golden lace #my fic

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wise-lizard-wizard · 10 months ago

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Im dying

I was not built for heatwaves

As someone with poor circulation, I don't know hot

I am crying

I am on the floor

(Shout out to the bad bitch who made cold floors, you a bad bitch)

I have melted and evaporated

There is nothing left of me, my particles are floating in the air

Were we put on this earth simply to suffer?

#It is once again! 38 degrees Celsius!#Death!#bitches are dying of heatstroke #For them Fahrenheit bitches it currently 100 degrees Fahrenheit

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mypunkpansexualtwin · 3 years ago

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Pegoryu week 2021 is here and I have two whole entries that are gonna be done on time! The rest will happen, I promise, they'll just be late.

Anyways! the fic is under the cut and the link is in the reblogs as per usual. Hope y'all enjoy!

“Man, y’know you don’t hafta let Ann bully you like that, right?” Ryuji whispered over to Akira and reached for the flower poking out of his hair. To his surprise, Aki actually batted his hand away with a huff and tucked the thing a little more tightly behind his ear.

“First off, I do have to let Ann bully me. And then I bully back. That’s just what our friendship is,” he explained, not bothering to lower his voice while the girls were off getting more drinks. Not that it woulda made much difference, he was a pretty quiet guy even when he was being obnoxious. Usually. Ryuji cringed as Aki noisily sipped the meltwater from the bottom of his glass and held up a second finger. “Second, I like flowers, thank you very much. And thirdly,” almost against his will, Ryuji’s eyes tracked the swipe of Akira’s tongue across his lower lip as it shifted the straw from one corner of his mouth to the other before he continued, “red’s my color.” Ryuji swallowed.

“Y-yeah. D’you gotta chew your straw like that, dude? It’s kinda... gross.” Gross. That was the word he was trying to hold onto in his brain with both damn hands. Gross. It was gross, dammit. The straw chewing and the obnoxious slurping were habits that usually grated on his brain worse than a Metaverse confusion-and-psychic-attack double whammy. Today, though? Today he barely noticed it, he was too distracted. Maybe it was the heat or the jet lag, or the fact that seeing all these American girls with bikinis and curves that made Ann look downright bland by comparison meant that his brain had glued itself into the gutter. The fact that he almost never saw Akira with his glasses off sure as hell wasn’t helping either, considering the damn things had to be for everyone else’s sake. Under the scruffy nerd look Akira Kurusu was as much of a damn pretty-boy as Yusuke Kitagawa or that asshole Akechi with those effin’ eyes. That was an objective fact that even a guy as straight as Ryuji could see. Hell, if it weren’t for the glasses he’d probably be Shujin’s favorite bad boy--regardless of which way any of the students swung--instead of Ryuji’s fellow delinquent outcast. This wasn’t news to him, but for some damn reason something was different today.

Today, some goddamn wire got crossed in Ryuji’s brain and he kinda wanted to beat its ass. Today, he’d lost track of how many times he’d caught himself staring at those stupidly long eyelashes that any of Ann’s coworkers would kill to have, and the way they cast soft shadows over those perfectly smooth cheeks. Or the way Akira’s usually dark grey eyes looked almost silver in the sunlight. Or how they’d crinkle just a little at the corners when he smiled that soft little hint of a smile that already did weird, mushy things to Ryuji’s guts on a normal day. Or the way his lips were just a little fuller than either of the girls’ were but just as soft-looking. Ryuji wondered if maybe he used some kind of lip balm or something, but one without any color. If it didn’t have any color, would it at least have a flavor--

...Anyways.

Ryuji had decided to blame it on that damn flower. Akira stared at him, a little confused, the straw still resting on his lower lip as he breathed out a quiet, “huh?” Then he glanced down at his mostly empty drink and then frowned sheepishly as the realization hit him. “Oh! Sorry, I know that drives you crazy.” Oh right, Ryuji had asked a question and had already forgotten. Akira set the glass on the table next to where Ann had given up and dropped the other hibiscus she’d been hellbent on putting in Ryuji’s hair. He had enough time to grimace at the sad, mangled end of the straw--and the thoughts his traitorous, overcooked brain conjured up about where it had just been--before Aki reached out, swiped the other flower, and tucked it next to the other behind his ear.

If Yusuke were there (because that was what Ryuji needed, more clueless pretty-boys punching holes in his sanity), he’d have his hands up in that finger-frame thing he always did when he was planning out a painting in his brain. The artist would be ready and raring to try and turn Akira into his latest masterpiece... that he’d end up bitching about not being good enough to capture right a week later. That wouldn’t be Yusuke’s fault though, Akira was just weird like that; in every picture of him he just looked like Some Dude, like a background character in his own life, Guy With Glasses #3 or something. But right now, right in front of Ryuji he looked… compelling, or some shit like that. Pretty as a damn painting that you couldn’t help but stare at for a while and contemplate your life, ‘cause that was easier than tryin’ to understand what was in front of you.

“Seriously, Aki?” Ryuji sighed at the second blossom now peeking out of Akira’s unruly frizz. He shoulda kept his damn mouth shut, let Akira keep chewing on his damn straw and drive him crazy in the annoying way and not… whatever this was. It had to be the heat. Ryuji was secretly dying of heatstroke, that had to be it.

“Red. Is. My. Color.” Akira crossed his arms and pouted, and Ryuji had to bite back a laugh at how his best friend had puffed out his cheeks while he sulked. Cute, but a safe kind of cute. Like back at the buffet, in that open kind of way that made Ryuji wonder what Akira had been like as a little kid. That looked like his opening to get things back on track, back to something resembling their usual dynamic.

Ryuji cracked a grin and flicked the bottle that everyone had passed around earlier. “Yeah? That why you didn’t put any sunscreen on, you gonna be the first guy to pull off havin’ a sunburn?” Akira deflated slightly, then snatched the bottle off the table and-- Oh goddammit.

That had backfired spectacularly. Genius move, Sakamoto. You can’t quit ogling your best friend like some kinda weirdo, why don’t you convince him to oil himself up! That’ll help! Effin’ brilliant. Ryuji hastily turned around in his chair and fixed his eyes on the shoreline. He occupied himself with trying to guess how quickly he could sprint to the ocean, and for once he hoped that the water would be cold cold. The girls walking by, all dressed in bikinis that’d look small on skinny little Futaba and were probably held onto those insane curves with more wishful thinking than fabric, might as well have been invisible to him. Since he had apparently pissed off god or something, all he could think about was Akira, very intentionally just outside the edge of his vision, slathering his chest in sunscreen. His incredibly flat chest; if he’d at least had enough bulk on him to have pecs or something, that might have taken some of the sting out of his stupid brain fixating on his leader instead of any of the women who looked like they’d walked straight out of his dreams. Ryuji was gonna set those stupid flowers on fire when he got his hands on them.

He swallowed around a mouth that had gone dry and tried to break the awkward silence that had settled over them. At least, Ryuji sure as hell felt awkward, Akira was usually fine with a little quiet and didn’t seem bothered at the moment. Still, Ryuji had to do something before he went crazy. “Man, I thought Ann was impressive, but compared to these foreign ladies… eh.” Akira snorted somewhere behind him.

“I’m sure she appreciates the break from being leered at,” he deadpanned. “Do you not have anything better to do than check people out?”

Ryuji’s stomach dropped a little as he whipped back around to shoot Akira a dirty look. Sure, he’d felt pretty obvious, but he hadn’t actually been obvious about staring-- Wait. Aki meant the girls. False alarm, no need to panic. “Man, shut up. And don’t even try to tell me you don’t agree. Like, these ladies are massive, the girls back home don’t even compare!” Ryuji snapped. Someone had to be appreciating all these beach babes, otherwise what even was the point of staying out when it was so damn hot?

Akira actually paused and glanced over at Ryuji with a weird look on his face before he sighed and shook his head. “I’m not really interested, honestly.”

“Man, I am gonna rip that tongue outta your head!” Ryuji exclaimed. Seriously, all those lovely ladies going unappreciated had to be some kind of crime. An international one. It was probably too much to hope Ann or Makoto would be taking up the slack, wherever the hell they were. It was apparently definitely too much to hope that Akira would let that comment pass; even if he was quiet, the guy almost always needed the last word.

This time, it was muttered irritably under his breath. “Yeah why don’t you come take it, then?”

...What?

“What?!” Ryuji didn’t even bother turning around, he just broke down laughing. “What the hell does that even mean, dude?”

“You heard me,” Akira sounded serious, except for where the last word turned wobbly at the end. And then he dissolved into his own fit of laughter, snorting once before he continued, “I don’t even know, man. I just kinda blurted it out.” The two of them cracked up a little longer, glad to be back to something a little closer to normal--and Ryuji didn’t think Akira’s laugh was cute, it was quiet and dorky and weird, definitely not cute--before Aki caught his breath and then stretched. And sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“You alright, man?” He may not have been able to see Akira’s face with the two of them sitting facing in opposite directions, but Ryuji still caught how his leader had winced when he tried to raise his arm over his head.

Akira nodded. “Slept weird on the plane.” He rolled his shoulder again, then tossed the sunscreen to Ryuji. “At the risk of putting you in tongue-ripping range, can I ask you to get my back?” Ryuji was already up and moving his chair behind Akira, always eager to help his best friend.

“Sure thing, dude.” He had the bottle open and hovering over his hand before his brain caught up to him. Wait. Shit. Bad idea, bad bad idea! If he’d gotten all weird about Akira doing this for himself, how was Ryuji gonna survive getting his own hands involved, especially now that he was thinking about it? But he’d already agreed and if he backed out now, Akira would ask why. He sure as shit wasn’t gonna explain that.

“Earth to Ryuji?” Akira turned his head to peek back at him and… Welp. Apparently this was just Ryuji’s life now. The image of Akira looking over one bare shoulder with those damn eyes just barely visible past the flower petals, his face a little bit pink from the sun overhead, and his lips all flushed and swollen--because, oh right, when Akira didn’t have something to chew on, he’d worry at his lips instead--was seared into Ryuji’s brain. Straight or not, that picture just lived in his head now. And apparently so did about half of his blood, mostly in his face. And the other half… Again, he wondered again how cold the water was. Act natural, Sakamoto.

“Uh, sorry dude. Bottle was stopped up, I got it now!” He laughed nervously as the bottle squirted into his palm with a loud ‘pbblblblt’. Definitely no awkwardness here, no sir. Just a totally normal assist with sunscreen between bros. He was fine. He definitely wasn’t red enough in the face to look sunburnt. Deep breath. He was cool.

...God, he was gonna throw those stupid hibiscuses into the ocean. Hell, from this angle, he could probably grab them and slam them into one of the mostly-empty drinks before Akira could stop him. And Aki wouldn’t want to put them back in his hair after they were all covered in sugar water, right? It was a flawless plan. Ryuji was a damn genius.

He was just gonna finish putting on the sunscreen first, ‘cause he was courteous like that. No sense in letting Akira get a weirdly shaped sunburn because he chased Ryuji down for a couple of damn flowers. That was definitely the only reason he was still rubbing his hands down (and down and down) Akira’s back. Smooth and pale and soft, but surprisingly well muscled underneath, Akira’d been holding out on him while they were training. And those damn dimples on his lower back. Had he been wearing his trunks that low a minute ago? Ugh. Ryuji would definitely be going for a swim after this. He winced as he ran his hands back up over Akira’s shoulders.

“Shit, Aki, I think I found that knot in your neck. No wonder you couldn’t do this yourself,” he muttered and dug his thumb gently into the muscle. Akira sucked in another breath through his teeth, but tipped his head forward and let Ryuji work. The damn thing was probably about the size of a ping pong ball, and Ryuji couldn’t help but feel a little guilty every time Akira tensed up or hissed under his breath when Ryuji dug in a little too hard. And a lot guilty at the temptation to just bury his hands in his bro’s hair. But finally, after the longest two minutes of his life, the knot released and Akira…

Akira fucking groaned.

Ryuji was done. He reached out, snagged both of those stupid red flowers--and a little bit of Akira’s apparently insanely soft hair, oops--and stood up to walk away, ignoring his friend’s protests. The ocean could have both of the damn things, and Ryuji right along with them. He was done. Unfortunately Ann and Makoto had chosen that exact moment to return with fresh drinks, cutting off his escape route. Effin’ great.

“Aaannnnnn, Makotoooooo,” Akira whined as he draped himself dramatically over Ryuji’s shoulders, halfheartedly reaching out to try and reclaim the hibiscuses. “Ryuji deflowered meeee--” Makoto’s face fell into the most unimpressed look any of them had ever seen from her, Ann snorted loud enough that it sounded painful, Ryuji about jumped out of his skin with an indignant yelp that probably could have been heard back in Tokyo, and Akira continued whining undeterred, “--make him give it baaaack.”

Ann had doubled over cackling, and didn’t seem to care that she’d just sloshed about a quarter of one of their drinks onto the sand when she did. “I- I don’t- *snrk* I don’t think it w-works like tha-ha-ha-ha-at!” She managed despite howling with laughter so strong that it looked like she was gonna fall over. Makoto had set her two drinks down long enough to drop into one of the empty chairs and bury her face in her hands with a long, drawn out sigh.

“Why are you two like this?” She glanced up long enough to shoot that tired, unimpressed look up at Akira and Ryuji.

“Hey, don’t look at me!” Ryuji all but shouted as he shrugged Akira off of him and started stomping down towards the water, flowers still crushed in one fist. “This is all on him this time!”

God, Hawaii was off to one hell of a start.

#my writing #pegoryu #persona 5 #fun fact this is kind of a deleted scene from wingman #because apparently that's just 90% of what I write these days is wingman stuff #have I mentioned wingman y'all should read wingman

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Green Eggs and Ham Reviews: Car (Patreon Review for Emma Fici) “The Green Eggs and Ham Circle of Hell”

Hello all you happy people! And welcome back to my monthly reviews of green eggs and ham for my patron Emma Fici. If you too want a review a month simply join the 5 dollar tier on my patreon, link is HERE. Join soon won’t you, new month starts saturday and if you join by then i’ll add your review to the schedule and the 5 dollars helps reach my next set of stretch goals. So join me won’t you?

Plugging aside we’re back as Sam and Guy finally properly hit the road, we find out just waht the chickaraffe is like, and find out from Michelle that you can somehow make a second impression even worse than an already odiious first impression. So with no real background to cover join me under the cut on the road to meepville, come on inside.

Previously on Green Eggs and Ham: Guy Am I, a failed inventor failed once again in front of a large audience, leaving his dreams broken and himself planning to head to Meepville to take a job watching paint dry. He met Sam I Am, an enegetic animal thief whose desperate for friends, and accidentally swapped suitcases with him, leading to Sam ending up with the Chickaraffe, a rare animal Sam swiped from the zoo. We also let Michelle a smothering mother who treats her child EB terribly by overprotecting her and is in general a smug consdesencing bitch, our main villian Snerz who has someone bringing him the meep and the BAD GUYS, a mysterious mismatched duo after the chickaraffe.

We pick up where we left off: Guy is being stalked by a mysterious shadow. of the chickaraffe.. only for it to turn out to be a friendly, cuddly creature as you’d expect, if a bit destructive as it destroys all the vases in the room, which comically are expensive and in general casuses chaos. it’s a fun scene. Guy gets it to sleep BREIFLY when his complimentary lullabye shows up, but it wakes right after due to the door slamming.

Meanwhile Sam discovers the Chickaraffe, which he plans to take to Meepville, is gone, and we get a cut to Smerz who is not pleased his chickaraffe is delayed by someone and threatnes to put them in his wall if they don’t bring the chickaraffe on time because he’s the kind of sadistic dick who already puts a bunch of animals in a wall for his own viewing pleasure, why wouldn’t he threaten murder or imprinsment for slight inconvenience. We catch up with said BAD GUYZ with Mcwinkle sugarcoating the fact the boss is not happy, and Gluntz not only catching onto that.. but also having alreayd found their perp as Sam bought his kite polevault and snorkel from Lem’s Kite Polevault and Snorkel (”Plummeting out of business”). While they do that Guy gets Sam’s adress from Donna. So it turns out sometimes giving your adress out to random strangers CAN pan out. The last time I did that I got shived by a guy dressed like soundwave on my front lawn.

Naturally given Guy’s luck he winds up running into the bad guys who mistake him for the thief given he has the chickaraffe, and back him into a cliff with a net gun because that’s what BAD GUYS do.. or rather people with that acronym who don’t get how due process or a misunderstanding works. Thankfully Sam swipes their car and rescues guy .. it also has a bunch of hats trailing for some reaosn I don’t know what that’s all about.

So with our heroes to the road, they swap plans... well more like Sam tells his of taking the chikaraffe to meepville and Guy sorta grunts out that he’s going to watch paint dry, with Sam.. not impressed at all and clearly feeling like he’s giving up on his dreams.. Which he is, and to Sam’s credit he’s TRYING to be tactful. Trying is the key word but given the man has no real filter tha’ts understandable. Guy not wanting ot be an accesory to crime gets out and decides to hitchike. Same TRIES to get him to stay because he’s clingy like that, but eventually leaves and Guy is left to wander the desert.

And it’s here... my patience for Michelle runs out. Guy is trying thitchike she passes by, SLOWLY, as in the same speed as walking.. and not only puts up a bunch of security btu calls him a weirdo, without actually ASKING why he’s in the desert asking fo ra drive, assumes he’s going to hurt her and her daughter and says all this within earshot, something he calls her out on. I already had little patience for the character but I assumed you know sh’ed get better, maybe have some depths or something that explained why she’ such a bitch. But no amount of depth can really.. excuse the way she acts. I GET wnating to help keep her daughter safe, I do , I get not wanting to pick up randos on the side of the road. Both things are necessary. But Guy... is clearly not dangerous, clearly not doing anything, and clearly about to pass out from heat stroke.. and you just ignore him and assume i’ts his fault because your a self righteous, smug, selfish sampler platter of bitch. I get she’s supposed to have an arc, so are Guy and Sam.. but Guy and Sam are LIKEABLE. Guy is a bit grumpy but beaten down by life and the world and Sam’s a bit in your face, but is clearly deeply lonely. BOth have things that justify it. Michelle is later revealed to have lost her husband apparently, so I know she has some depth and some reason for how she acts with ehr daguther.. but how she treats guy in both episodes so far just makes her so unlikeable and there’s NTOHING to explain it. She just makes assumptions about him for stupid reasons and treats him like garbage and it’s nto nearly as funny as the series thinks. I do not look forward to 11 more episodes with this character and feel any time she’s on screen she drains the energy out of a show tha’ts bursting with it.

Thankfully she’s gone for the rest of the episode, so Guy is free to have a horrifying heat induced nightmare about green eggs and ham.

Yup. in the best part of the episode, Guy has a small breakdown and we get a horrifying and wonderful acid sequence wher ethe road melts, he’s stalked by green eggs, and ham, which is everywhere, and when he thinks he’s getting some rain it’s in fact green egg drippings. It’s just so delightfully batshit and unexpected. I love EVERYTHING about this. I admit when I woke up today and turned htis on I wasn’t expecting Guy to end up in a heastroke induced nightmarish hellscape with living green eggs and ham, nor did I ever expect htat but I can’t say i’m dispaointed.

He snaps out of it when Sam shows up. Unsuprisingly Sam didn’t want to leave without him, and simply looped around having picke dup some green eggs and ham and some hot and cold choclate.. naturally he accidnetly gives guy the hot choclate first. Still it shows that beneath is all too pushy and needy demeanour.. Sam’s a good guy and genuinely WANTS to help well.. Guy. He looped around entirely aware Guy wouldn’t find a ride probably but would be too stubborn to accept it if he kept pushing so he simply went to get him some help.

Even Guy’s stubborn Grumpusness can’t fight dying of heatstroke so he relucntantly agrees to be travel buddies and Sam nicely agrees to drive while the poor guy get somre rest, especially since the whole escapade with the chikarafffe liekly means he’s gotten no sleep whatsoever.

And so as the episode ends this naturally goes pear shaped as Guy wakes up to find the car about to tumble over a cliff into a lake. TO BE CONTINUED. Next month

FInal THoughts: This episode was okay. I didn’t like it as much as the premire nor really have as much to say about it, as it just wans’t as deep... it was still VERY funny, with tons of great gags i glossed over, like Gluntz having the party she set up for her partner, he intends for this to be his last job, slowly back away as the job’s now longer thanks to Sam and Guy getting away. But while the first half is fine with plenty of energy, jokes and plto progression the second half just stalls: outside of the green eggs and ham circle of hell, there’s really just not a lot that’s funny, with Michelle being ungodly obnoxious and sam being a bit obnoxious, coming on a bit strong with Guy and never once apoologizing to him for getting him nearly captured and arrested. It just drags on and on a bit, and it just isn’t funny to see poor guy tourture dfor rightfully not wanting ot travel with someone who nearly got him captured by shady goons, or get rejected a ride by a self righteous harpy. It’s not TERRIBLE, I still can’t wait to see what happens next, but it’s a marked step down after last episode.

And i’ll see you next month for next episode, here tommorow for the next chapter of life and times and if you fancy joining my patreon, I inend to have an exclusive review of Thunder Force up sometime this week. Until the next rainbow it’s been a pleasure.

#green eggs and ham #netflix #sam I am #guy am I #michelle #eb #gluntz #mcwinkle #snerz #dr seuss

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mashirao-ojiro-rp-blog · 4 years ago

Text

i would love go on a date with you :)

what if we held hands 👉👈

haha jk 😳

unless...? 😏

#((mod was hiking and dying of heatstroke #a bitch is HOT))

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fever-dreamer97 · 4 years ago

Text

Let’s Try This Again

Chapter 2: Memory Lane Can Burn

———————————————————

Damn, how is it already getting so fucking hot? Katsuki tugged at his collar as he continues his walk towards the meeting point with his gang of idiots. Even with his first button undone like it always is, there is no escaping this annoying-ass heatwave.

Hopefully, it will die down soon. Katsuki just started his second year at UA a few weeks ago, and he doesn't want his first few months dying of fucking heatstroke. He also hates the feeling of sweating all over his body.

With workouts and any other physical activities, he didn't mind because it cooled down his body. But he found the feeling just disgusting and suffering when it was just walking to school.

He keeps his leisurely pace to the coffee shop as he hears the loud honking of traffic and random useless chatter from extras he passes by on his way. Damnit, he should have grabbed his headphones before he left his house; he hated endless noise. Of course, he hated any noise.

"WHOA! LOOK HOW COOL ALL MIGHT LOOKS! ISN'T HE THE COOLEST, HIEKO-CHAN?!" A small, high-pitched voice rings out.

At the mention of the familiar name, Katsuki stops and snaps his head over to two little small kids gushing over a movie poster of the upcoming new All Might movie. One kid is a girl with wild cardinal hair, cerulean eyes, and pale skin, while the other kid is a boy with cropped white hair, blood-red eyes, and dark skin. Both looked to be in kindergarten and wore their respective school uniforms.

"LOOK AT HIM PUNCH THAT BAD GUY! HE CAN DROP ANY VILLIAN IN A MINUTE!" The boy shouted as he threw some air punches and air kicks. 'Hieko-chan' giggled and cheered at the boy's antics.

"YEAH! ALL MIGHT IS THE BEST! I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE MOVIE TO COME OUT! I WANT TO SEE IT WITH KAZU-CHAN!"

Katsuki guessed that was the boy's name because the boy's face suddenly bursts into a bright shade of red.

"O-Of course! I'm your best friend, baka! W-Why wouldn't I see it with you?!" He grinned with pride. The girl wasn't fazed by the slight insult but instead giggled some more at his comment. The two then went into a more raucous conversation about 'how cool and super powerful All Might is' and 'why he is the best superhero in the world.'

Katsuki stares at the two and was hit by the nostalgia of the scene. Slowly, everyone and every sound around him fade as he keeps his gaze on the two young children.

He's super cool, neh? A feather-like voice giggled in his mind and a hazy image of a radiant, wide smile and glowing, speckled cheeks filled his head.

Immediately, Katsuki chokes at the memory and snaps out of his daydream, his heartbeat filling his ears. He cursed under his breath, snapped his head away from the two brats, and stomped his way back onto his path.

Katsuki decides to deny how much hotter his face suddenly feels and just blames this stupid-ass heatwave.

But then before he gets the chance to cool down, he hears a recognizable yelp of "BAKUBRO!" and gets jumped on from behind.

"Oi, Shitty Hair! Get off! I'm burning up enough as it is!" He yelled at his idiot best friend as he elbows him in the face. Katsuki hopes to God that his best friend's observation skills are below par as usual, and he won't notice the change of color in Katsuki's face.

"OW! Damn, dude! You got my nose!" Eijirou says as he rubs at the sore spot. Katsuki lets out a 'tch' before he looks to his best friend.

"Shut up! You've fucking dealt with worse from me, so stop whining like some wimpy-ass bitch!"

"What's wrong, man? Didn't get your eight hours of sleep? I guess geezers like you can get pretty cranky when you don't go to bed before nine." A laughing Eijirou teased at his blonde firecracker of a best friend.

Katsuki quickly flipped him off before the two kept on their walk to the coffee shop. Secretly, Katsuki was glad that Kirishima managed to come at the right time, so he doesn't drift off into any more pointless daydreams and stupid memories.

"Seriously, though, what's up?" Spoke too soon.

"None of your fucking business, Shitty Hair."

"Eh? Come on, man. You seem a bit hotter under the collar than usual."

"I'm hotter under the collar because of this damn, fucking heatwave! Damn idiot."

Eijirou lets a sigh, deciding not to poke the bear further. "Alright, man. If you say so."

After this little back-and-forth, the two second-year boys get into a discussion about the mixed-martial-arts match the both of them watched last night and boasted how cool and fluid the moves were before they find themselves in front of the 'Kamui Woods' Coffee Shop'.

Both walked into the place and were hit by the overpowering scents of fresh coffee and pastries. Katsuki gagged a bit at the overly sweet pastry scent but is willing to ignore it if it means that he can get his usual Spicy Woodlands coffee drink.

"YO, GUYS, OVER HERE!" A boisterous female voice screams.

Situated over at a giant table in the corner of the shop, there was the rest of Katsuki's idiot gang: Mina Ashido, Denki Kaminari, and Hanta Sero.

Mina waved with no shame at how loud she was being as Denki and Sero hovered over some textbooks and notebooks scattered across the table. Denki looked to be in massive pain as he stared over his textbook, his hand buried in his electric blond hair as he rubbed his head in frustration. Meanwhile, Hanta giggled and snickered at the blonde's situation.

"Dude, I told you not to procrastinate last night with the English homework. It's harder this time." Hanta snickered.

"Bro, I was not gonna waste an opportunity to see Kyouka at that soccer match last night. She looked so damn hot." Denki said with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, but considering English is 1st period, you just screwed yourself."

Denki groans before he slams his forehead into the textbook.

"What up guys!" Kirishima yells back before rushing over to the table. Katsuki takes the opposite approach as he lazily scrolls behind.

As Eijirou reaches the table, he fist-bumps Hanta and drops his backpack beside the table before looking over at Denki.

"...Jirou had a soccer match?"

"Yep and this guy decided he would go and drool over his mad crush and take an L on today's English assignment." Mina giggled mischievously.

"Come on guys, give me a break! You would have done the same thing if you had the chance to watch your girl go kick some ass."

"Would make better sense if she WAS your girlfriend, you fucking idiot." Katsuki snapped as he hovered next to the table.

"So mean! I'm working on it!"

"And that tally is at Month 17 and counting!" Eijirou laughed.

Denki mumbles out a 'fucking traitors' and goes back to trying to figure out Yamada-sensei's boring English work. Mina, Hanta, and Eijirou laugh some more while Katsuki scoffs at the blonde's hole he dug himself into.

"Don't know why you would waste time with something so pointless as romance." He spats out.

Mina and Denki quickly snap their heads up to address their Satan friend.

"ROMANCE ISN'T POINTLESS!" They both cried.

"Guys, remember how you're talking to. This is the same guy who never hesitates to take his lighter out and burn any confession letter he is given." Eijirou explains.

"And most of the time, he does it in front of the person who's confessing." Hanta puts his hand over his chest as a sympathy grab.

"Shut up! I don't have any fucking interest in that type of shit!" He said. Denki just sighs before propping his hand upon his cheek.

"Come on, man. I don't think even you can go through life without some sort of partner. If you do, that's one sad path to go down on."

"I kinda agree, Bakugo, it seems a bit lonely." Hanta chimes in.

"Of course it's sad! How can anyone scoff and give up the opportunity to be with their one-and-only soulmate?!" Mina faked cried with slight tears and hands clenched together.

Eijirou laughed uneasily. "Soulmate is a bit much..."

He then turns to Katsuki and reaches up to clap a hand on his shoulder. "I think you just haven't met the right girl yet, bro! She's out there somewhere!" He encourages with a bright smile.

Katsuki clicked his tongue and smacks off his hand. "Whatever. I'm getting my damn coffee." He spats.

He spins around before stomping over to the front counter, ignoring the gang's continuing conversation about relationships and new hookups this year.

What do love and romance have to do with anything remotely important? Katsuki doesn't need some damn bitch dragging him down with meaningless dates, pointless anniversaries, and overbearing 'pay attention to me!' conversations. All he needs to do is focus on his studies, train, graduate, and climb his way to the top of becoming the youngest MMA fighter to reach number one in the ranks.

You're so brave and cool, Kacchan!

Katsuki freezes and grits his teeth.

Damn it, get out of my fucking head!

"Um...sir? A-Are you okay?" A mousy, fearful voice squeaked out. Katsuki's fog gets clear once again as he looks to see the fidgeting cashier waiting for him to put in his order.

"Spicy Woodlands, medium. Extra hot and extra spicy." He demanded before slapping the money down on the table.

"Y-Yes, sir!" The poor cashier squeaks out before ringing him up and rushing away to get the order done.

Katsuki scoffs before stepping from the counter and gets out his phone to waste time before his drink is ready.

"Oh, ho? Is that you, Bakugo?" A nasal voice drags out.

Katsuki looks up annoyed at the voice and finds some random extras in third-rate school uniforms. The one who spoke out was lanky, pasty-skinned, and oily-looking while the other was short, heavy, and had horrible acne.

"Who the fuck are you, idiots?" He snaps.

The lanky one just lets out an annoying nasal laugh. "Of course, you don't remember me. You are always so self-centered even back in middle school."

At the mention of middle school, Katsuki freezes before anger starts to bubble. "Listen, fuckfaces, I don't know who the hell you are, and I couldn't care less about what you want, so get out of my face before I destroy you." The heavier set friend was a little fearful at the threat and put his hands up in surrender. "Y-Yeah, of course, dud-de! N-no problem!" He said before he tugged on his friend's arm. "Tadami, stop it..." He whispers.

"Oh, but Daichi, you have to hear about the great Bakugo Katsuki! He was pretty famous back in the days, you know?" Katsuki's stomach dropped at the tone in his voice. "He was famous since back in grade school in fact!" Oh, this shit-stain wasn't going there, was he? Katsuki started to see flashes of red as the brave soul kept talking.

"Back when we were nine, he told some girl to go off herself and you know what? She disappeared the very next day! Weird, right?" he explained. Katsuki tightened the grip on his phone. "Maybe she actually went and did what he said? It wouldn't surprise me, I mean he did bully and beat her up every single day..." He smirked.

Katsuki's insides started to melt and burn as memories started to flood him full-force. Memories of a small crying girl covered with scrapes and cuts while a boy laughed cruelly with pride at the pain in her big, doe eyes.

Daichi froze at the story and looked between his friend and Katsuki before he swallowed. "Ta-Tadami, let's just go, dude..." He offered meekly.

Tadami just shrugs with another smirk and walks pass Katsuki with a bump to the shoulder before he and his friend left the shop.

Katsuki stood there unmoving only breaking out of it when the cashier brought him his coffee in a wood textured mug. He grabs it from them with a slight, soft 'thanks' before just continuing to stand there and stare into the brown, scorching liquid.

A hand clapped upon his back for the third time that day by Eijirou.

"Hey, dude, what's takin-" He stopped when he sees the brooding look on Katsuki's face. "Bakugo? Are you alright?" He says with genuine worry.

Katsuki just offers a twitch of a nod.

"I'm fine."

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