#cheap burger boxes

[gio-cosmo]

YAYYY THE NEW EDITIONS HAVE ARRIVED!! I love them dearly

[sorchathered]

Let’s do IT for our country

Pairing- President!Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader

Warnings- smut smut and more smut, breeding kink, language, mentions of pregnancy, us politics, I think that’s it?

Summary- Robert Floyd had never wanted to be the president, but here in the Oval Office on inauguration night with his First Lady? He could get used to nights like this.

A/N- It’s that time again! Another IBFFM, but this time with an older version of our sexy WSO. Mr. President is about 45 here, his First Lady is in her mid 30’s.

Also it’s @bobgasm ‘s birthday present!! Happy birthday to my precious Steph, love you so much baby!!

For as long as he could remember, Robert Floyd had been told he would be great.

His family name was synonymous with the likes of Kennedy and Roosevelt, the Floyd’s were some of the most influential in political history, and with that came high expectations. You must go to a prestigious college, you must serve your country (whether that be as a civil servant or military member), and you must marry the right kind of person. They talked about it as if they were breeding horses, and it never made any sense to him, so long as he found someone kind and supportive all of the bullshit that his family expected mattered very little to him. He would tick off whatever boxes they wanted, but it would be on his own terms.

He went to the US Naval Academy after high school, refusing to hop onto the Ivy League lifestyle his grandfather so desperately cherished. Moving on to aviation as a WSO and then becoming one of the top 1% in the country in his field. It was a distinguished career to be sure, but he’d been adamant that he had no interest in pursuing a political career, and certainly not the presidency.

He still wasn’t sure what had brought him to this point, or how he’d somehow managed to bag his dream girl in the process. A feisty junior senator from Delaware, good family, strong morals and drop dead gorgeous to boot, you’d been his match in every way. Sure you had hated his guts, he was the golden boy and you had dealt with his kind your whole life. But after a particularly long day in the senate he’d asked you to dinner, and while you’d had half a mind to tell him no the prospect of a free meal wasn’t worth passing up. So in a dingy dive bar with greasy burgers and cheap beer, you took a chance on him and fell ridiculously in love.

Four years had passed since you’d both sat in the creeky wooden booths of that shitty bar, and it felt simultaneously like yesterday and a lifetime ago. His family had pushed him into politics and while he had been adamant in the beginning that he would never pursue the presidency, the world had changed dramatically since he first refused the mantle. He may have hated the pageantry of it all, but at his core he truly did want to help people, and they certainly took notice. He’d run a clean and honest campaign with his best girl by his side, and won in a landslide. Everything moved very quickly from Election Day to Inauguration Day, it almost felt like he had blinked and he was here, wandering the halls of the west wing after skipping out on the last two of 10 gaudy inaugural balls he’d been forced to attend. He’d been going since sunrise and still couldn’t seem to get the jitters under control so he could rest; he suspected it would be quite a while before that feeling went away. Shaky hands moved to open the door to the Oval Office, completely renovated and designed by his beautiful wife to fit his style and personality, you’d made sure he would want for nothing, he’d be spending so much time in this room and it seemed only logical to make it a calm and safe space for him and his thoughts. It felt so much like his office at home, even down to the worn leather chair and the soft scent of sandalwood and tobacco from the candles you bought because it reminded you of him. You had told him you’d be heading to change and wouldn’t be gone long, he had plans to unwind with a bottle of bourbon and maybe a game or three of checkers, but as you slipped into the spacious and hallowed room belonging to the commander in chief, he nearly jolted out of his skin. There you were, his First Lady, in a skimpy little silk robe, intricate updo long gone in favor of soft curls, and the adorable little fuzzy cat slippers that he’d bought you for Christmas.

“Good evening Mr. President” you said with a smirk as you locked the door and padded over to his desk. You’d chosen well, the beautiful mahogany writing table had belonged to Theodore Roosevelt, and while it hadn’t been used in many a president’s term, you had made sure it was painstakingly restored and ready for his first day. Now that you were here, all he could seem to think of is how much fun it might be to test the sturdiness of the surface, perhaps he did need to blow off a little steam after such a stressful day…

“Sweet girl, you do realize there’s cameras everywhere right?” He said as you pushed his chair back just enough to fit between his thighs, very gently sitting on the edge of the antique escritoire. This desk had seen many a scandal, so many historical events, and you were quite sure she should handle the weight of what you had planned next.

“Already got that covered, Phoenix is on surveillance right now, you can go ahead and go dark Nat!” You said in the general direction of where they’d mentioned cameras were placed, a notification on your phone let you know she’d confirmed that the two of you had thirty minutes all to yourselves and you broke out in a blinding grin as you leaned forward to press a kiss to Bob’s jawline. The sharp intake of breath and his hands immediately going to your hips let you know he’d need this just as much as you, it had been embarrassingly long since the two of you had been together, and you filed away the notion that you would need to make sure you had the right security in play to make quickies like this a regular occurrence, policy be damned.

You’d drawn his lips to yours as you untied his tie and began unbuttoning the front of his dress shirt, his hands had drifted to palming your ass as he licked the seam of your mouth, a gasp from you was all he needed to slide his tongue against yours, squeezing you a little more roughly and all but pulling you into the plush office chair.

“Fuck I missed you,” he breathed into your mouth, you’d nearly gotten his dress shirt removed when he slotted his knee between your legs, large hands gripping the back of your thighs as he placed you back on the desk, this time swiping whatever loose papers off the top and sending them cascading across the plush carpet that held the presidential seal. You squealed and giggled, watching with rapt attention as he removed his dress shirt and exposed the defined freckled skin of his arms, pulling his undershirt off with less finesse as it joined the pile of papers on the floor. “I’ve never found a president to be sexy until just this moment, I have to admit, you look damn good in this office, sir” you said as you leaned back on your palms and ogled him, heat crept up his cheeks and chest at your praise, but his eyes had darkened at the honorific, you knew exactly what you were doing to him, and he could feel his dress slacks getting uncomfortably tight as you ran your bare feet up and down the back of his legs.

“You wanna be a good girl for me Madame First Lady? Let me lay you out and devour you where anyone could walk in?” His voice grew impossibly deeper and you let out a whimper in response, shifting to try and get some relief. You did want that, you wanted it so badly you could scream, it was the very thought of being dirty and unladylike for the man you loved that had you so hot and bothered, and he trailed one long finger down your sternum to remove your robe, fire in his eyes as he opened the sash and found you completely bare for him.

“Goddamn it, should have known you’d do this, you know exactly how to wind me up don’t ya? Whole world wants to know how to bring me to my knees and all they’d have to do is weaponize you and this perfect pussy.” He was completely fixated on your arousal glistening between your legs, and while normally you’d let him take his time, you knew it wouldn’t be long before some aid or agent came by to make sure he had everything he needed for the evening. If they only knew.

“Bobby, please? Don’t have a lot of time baby” you said as you squirmed on the polished wood and searched for some kind of relief. He seemed to snap out of his haze as lust clouded eyes fixed on yours, letting his index finger trail down your stomach and through your folds, watching your head fall back and chest heave at his teasing.

“Need to hear you say it sweet girl, you know what I want.” You blushed in earnest, he loved how dirty you could get, but that had always been behind closed doors in the comfort of your own home, you’d be mortified if anyone heard some of the things you’d said in the throes of pleasure; but it was his big day after all. If he wanted it, you’d give him the moon.

“Need your mouth on me Daddy, want you to make me cum and then fuck me with your big dick. Please? Please give it to me, ‘s been too long, fuck - I-“ you babbled at him as he continued to rub that one long finger up and down, it was maddening and had you choking on your words, thankfully he didn’t make you wait, spreading you open and pressing two fingers into you as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your clit. The relief was immediate, you moaned out into the empty room as he went to work on your aching pussy, drawing tight circles with this tongue as he scissored his fingers inside you. It had been weeks and he knew he’d need to get you ready, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was going insane over the little noises you made and the iron grip you had on his hair, tugging at his scalp as you bucked up into his pretty face to search for your release.

It was startling how fast he got you there, you were certain you were dripping down onto the desk now, wet smacks and moans coming from between your thighs as you peeked down to look at his deep cerulean eyes. He was too damn good at this and he knew it, had the audacity to wink at you as he nibbled on your clit and with a gasp you came all over his face, watching as he wiped his mouth with his arm and smirking like the cocky bastard he was. He controlled the entire free world now, but he would still consider it his greatest accomplishment that he could render his pretty wife to a babbling needy mess with his tongue. Disheveled looked good on you, blush spread across your cheeks and chest, hair a mess, and your release all over your thighs from what he intended to be one of at least three mind blowing orgasms.

You looped your heavy arms around his neck and kissed him languidly, you didn’t seem to be as worried about the time anymore and for that he was thankful. He wanted to take his time, and if somebody walked in they would find out very quickly to knock, he couldn’t give a shit about anything other than getting his cock inside you.

You knew the rule all too well; no visible marks. It had been that way from the very beginning, which was unfortunate because you wanted so badly to mark his pretty neck up and make sure everyone knew he was yours, but the compromise was that you could leave them anywhere below the collarbone, so as he fished for the condom he’d stashed in his pocket (hoping to end the night just like this), you licked down his neck and began nibbling on the flesh of his pecks, sucking a nipple into your mouth and looking up at him as his jaw went slack. “Oh Christ, you gotta stop that baby or we’ll be finished before we even get started” he panted out and tried not to buck up into you, the hand gripping your thigh was sure to leave a mark but you couldn’t give a shit, there was something so powerful in being able to bring the most powerful man on earth to his knees, and even better knowing that he was insatiable for you.

“Then fuck me Mr. President, and you don’t need that condom either. I think you should put a baby in me, fill me up so good that I’m dripping with you all day tomorrow.” You grinned at him but he looked completely debauched, he ran a hand through his graying sandy locks and blinked down at you, almost at a loss for words.

“You little minx, you’ve been just waiting all day to drop that on me haven’t you? Need me to cum in that pretty pussy and get you good and knocked up? Fuck you’d think it was my birthday or something, I don’t know how I got it so good.” He said as he spread you out and ran his hands all over you, you were whimpering and grinding into him and he was sure he’d pass out if he was any harder, slipping himself out of his briefs and sliding his length through your slick. You were trying hard to be quiet, sure it was late but there was bound to be someone on watch, Bob gripped your chin as he slid into you and kissed you sloppily, all teeth and tongue and moans, shallow thrusts to get you ready turned rough when you sucked his bottom lip and pushed your hips up to take him to the hilt. You gripped the front of the desk behind your head and let him pound you into it, the need for quiet long forgotten as you alternated between crying out and calling him daddy.

It didn’t take him long before he was close, the aftershocks of your second orgasm seemed to keep him gripped so tight that he could barely think straight, he was furiously rubbing your clit to get you there again as he watched tears drip down your flushed cheeks, he’d never forget tonight for the rest of his life. Not all the fanfare, not even the immense weight of the mantle he was about to take, but this moment right here, wrapped up in his gorgeous wife as he fucked her silly in the Oval Office. You wailed out “I’m cumming” as you gripped him tight with your pulsing heat and he tumbled over the edge right along with you, warming you from the inside out as he filled you up.

You cradled his sweaty form in your arms as you both came down from your high, giggles erupting from him as it really set in what you two had done.

“Ah shit, well everyone’s gonna know that we can’t keep our hands to ourselves after this, I imagine the press will have a field day.” He kissed your nose as you grinned at him, both of you still joined together but neither of you ready to separate.

A loud ring came from his phone and it sent a jolt through both of you, wide eyes trained on his as he leaned forward and grabbed it off the hook. His eyes were full of mirth as he nodded his head once, twice and bid them goodnight, pinching your cheek with his free hand before hanging up.

“What was that all about?” You said, trying to push him up so you could get decent and off his desk.

“That was Nat, she said we need to hurry the hell up before me going MIA causes a national emergency.” He was joking of course, but the secret service agents at the door couldn’t look either of you in the eye as you shuffled down the hallway with Bob’s hand in yours, and it was no surprise to anyone when you turned up pregnant by the state of the union.

Tagging- @bobgasm @attapullman @bobfloydsbabe @floydsglasses @sebsxphia @roosterforme @sunsetsimpsblog @seitmai @auroralightsthesky @withahappyrefrain @hangmanapologist

[kingdomoftyto]

I'm crying laughing, the DVDs are even worse than I remember... Season 1's menus are silent with a single static jpg of the same key character art they use for everything else, and the episodes on the Season 2 discs don't even match what's listed on the box! Absolutely stunning lack of shits given. Truly unparalleled. But I really shouldn't be surprised given... well... everything about how this series has been treated since the very beginning.

Time for a quick ~✨PHANDOM HISTORY LESSON✨~ to give newer/less hyperfixated folks more context for why the graphic novel being as great as it is is such a HUGE deal:

Danny Phantom was one of Nickelodeon's MAIN cartoons, in its time. It was a central pillar. One of the top three or four of their lineup, which is saying something when the competition includes the cultural juggernaut that is Spongebob.

Despite this, and despite its superhero theming making it perfectly marketable, it got basically ZERO official merch.

What little we did get was often ugly and very, very cheap. The dedication at the start of the graphic novel that jokes about collecting the Burger King toys? That's because it was some of the most notable merch the franchise EVER had. (I sadly do not have any of it. There was no BK in my hometown. Here's a pic from the internet, though, to give you an idea.)

If you think I'm exaggerating about that being the most significant physical merch to come out of the series, consider that the first video game had an entire menu option specifically for the Burger King promotional tie-in:

That video game, by the way, was one of only two ever based on the show. The first was an adaptation of "The Ultimate Enemy" in the style of a short sidescrolling beat-em-up, and the second was themed around "Urban Jungle" and (as far as I can tell--I've only played the first couple levels) was an arcade-style scrolling shooter. Both were for the Gameboy Advance, and both are...... fine, as far as cash-grabby video game tie-ins to kids' shows go. This was pretty normal for the time, so I suppose we did okay in that department, actually. They're not GOOD, but they're playable and have at least a bit of effort put into them.

But besides those two video games (plus a handful of simple, long-defunct Flash games on nick.com)? In the decade and a half since the show ended?

Nothing.

No books, no games, no comics, no web shorts--unless you count mega-crossovers with every other Nicktoon (a la Nicktoons Unite), or soulless promotional material like "Fairly Odd Phantom" (which, trust me, despite being the first new DP animation in over 10 years was not even worth the effort of watching).

...I think there was a limited edition FunkoPop once?

So yeah.

A Glitch in Time is not just the first cool, well-made thing we've seen from the franchise in a while. It's the first THING we've seen since the show. PERIOD. And arguably the first worthwhile supplementary material to EVER come out of the show, depending on how you feel about those GBA games and the Nicktoons crossovers.

This franchise is widely beloved even now, almost 20 years after it first aired, and it feels like that fact is now, finally, FINALLY getting some official recognition.

PLEASE read A Glitch in Time. Tell other people about it. The series--no, the fans--deserve this (and more of this, if the folks in charge see enough of a response and decide to grace us with any followup). It's LONG overdue, but better late than never.

[guillotine-drop]

Rating POSTAL Dudes by how good they smell:

POSTAL - 9/10: I think his habitual reclusion and distrust of the world would probably mean he’s showering constantly, moreso than any other Dude, especially if he thinks there’s a ‘Hate Plague’ going on. I think he smells basic; very simple routine, just enough to make sure he feels clean, so at most he’ll smell like some generic 3-in-1 body wash and shampoo/conditioner, maybe something slightly nicer just for himself (some decent $15 aftershave for that menthol scent and cooling relief).

POSTAL Redux - 3/10: Exact opposite of his original incarnation, this greasy son of a bitch isn’t scared of shit he just wants to throw explosives at ostriches and parades. Barely showers, constantly stinks of stale sweat, old blood, cheap leather and cheaper cologne, punctuated with the scent of burnt gunpowder. Borderline noxious.

POSTAL 2 - 4/10: Smells just as bad as Redux Dude but gets the edge here because every now and then he goes outside and uses the neighbor’s hose to blast himself. Shockingly uses deodorant, still not enough to be perpetually leather and denim clad in the great state of Arizona. Almost constantly reeks of sweat and has the recognizable yet faint scent of stale piss wafting off of him, accompanied by the scent of even staler crack and pungent fast food. Almost pungent enough to drown the rest out. Almost.

POSTAL 3 - 2/10: If you were to raid the wash cart after a double overtime football game, steal every jockstrap in the place, wring the sweat into a bucket, and then bring it all to a boil, you’d have somewhere in the realm of what a clean P3 Dude smells like. On average, however, this man has managed to combine the overwhelming sensory nightmares of cat piss and cheap spray deodorant into an almost lethal concoction, ONLY made breathable by the strange and overpowering smell of gasoline that seems to seep from his pores. Approach with caution and for the love of god: do not bring bleach or matches near this freak.

POSTAL 4: No Regerts - 5/10: Despite looking like he crawled out of a dumpster after a bad divorce or a fantastic honeymoon, P4 Dude is shockingly passable in terms of being able to stand next to him for a prolonged period without gagging or killing him. Having learned the efficacy of not being encased in leather in the desert, he’s managed to bring his pungency down several notches. Still reeks of sweat most of the time, and the smell of burger grease and pepperoni follows him like a specter of death, but the piss scent stopped clinging on as hard. He’s also upgraded from hose showers with no supplies to sink baths with tiny gas station travel soaps. It’s an improvement, trust me.

Brain Damaged - 2/10: Take a look at his living space in the title screen, then watch the game’s cutscenes. Just soak it all in. Now that you’ve done that, you can understand that his rank ass smells exactly as bad as you might think it does. If it can come out of his body, it’s probably soaking some part of him. If you think any of the clothes on him have been washed, you’re wrong. This man smells like if someone firebombed an outhouse and pissed on it to put it out. The best thing for him would be getting blasted with a firehouse and a box of laundry detergent. Please.

The Other Dude - 1-10/10: Entirely depends on how the BD Dude would imagine he smells depending on the situation.

POOSTALL Dude - 6/10: Despite the name, this one actually smells pretty decent. The clearly larger coat with the rolled sleeves implies some level of understanding about how not to smell like swamp ass and sweat soaked leather, and truthfully, he looks like he bathes semi-regularly, a rarity amongst these guys.

POSTAL Doe - 9/10: I admit fully and entirely to my lack of impartiality to this one, but I’m willing to stand by it even if I lose my Stink Judge License: first of all, sleeveless leather trench coat AND a crop top mean less overheat which means less sweat. Second of all, visually cleaner than pretty much any of the dudes which implies some kind of self care regimen. Third, and most importantly, girlstink counts positive. I will not be turning in my badge or my gun.

Movie Dude - 8/10: This may be controversial, but despite the squalor he lives in and the fact that hems a cuckold and that his life sucks and that he can’t get a job and that he’s a loser- I digress. I think Movie Dude is in the top echelons of Dude Stink solely because I think he’d have a breakdown if he smelled bad. This man uses Dr. Teals. He stinks like a mix of eucalyptus and peppermint. If ever there was a Dude who had a skin routine, he still wouldn’t, but he’d definitely think about it one day. I think by the end he gets an extra point just because he gets a little hotter the more deranged he is. Overall very pleasant but I still wouldn’t give him $4.

John Murray - 2/10: Hasselridge seems to have a very… interesting relationship with what is and isn’t normal, so unsurprisingly, Johnny Boy would probably smell pretty rough. Considering how dingy, run down and shitty everything in that town appears to be, I can’t imagine anyone else is smelling like roses either. Just avoid the entire place, not least of all because of the zombie thing.

Shtopor - 0/10: Bad.

Nottem Portant - 5/10: Despite the misanthropy, dollar store Nathan Explosion thing and the absolutely abysmal gameplay, Mr. Hatred is actually extremely middle of the road on stink. Sure, he doesn’t smell great, but shockingly he washes his ass despite the whole ‘death to humanity’ thing. He does get point deduction for not washing his hair though, grease mop motherfucker.

[rottenaero]

“If you’re going to terrorize people, can you at-least give me a heads-up? Family Video can’t run by itself.”

Eddie snorts from his side of the phone, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a three weeks notice next time someone trashes my lunch. That way you’ll have lunch ready when I call.”

He’s already got his car keys in hand by the time he finishes, mouthing sorry to his new-hire co-worker. “Jesus man, you know you’ll owe me literal money for this right? Groceries aren’t cheap.”

“Shit, right,” He sucks in a breath, “I promise I will, I’ve got stock right now that’ll sell out soon, by championship game I’ll have the big bucks.”

Steve hums, “Alright, see you.” He says, cutting off Eddie’s response by setting the phone in the holster. He leaves, not even saying goodbye to the other guy on shift.

Bag of McDonalds in hand, he strides through the cafeteria. He was lucky the school hadn’t cared about him going in, but it was also concerning. A few people from different tables sent him looks, he thinks he hears one or two whispers of ‘King Steve’ even though he graduated two years ago.

He glances around, eyes falling to the hellfire table.

Steve’s never been gladder that the lunch-line takes forever.

Eddie sees him and lights up, big grin and all. “Ste-vie!” He shouts, drawing attention from nearby tables. Steve sets himself, and the bag down on the table.

Jeff gives him a half-hearted wave from across the table and he returns it before turning back to the super-senior. “So, what’d you get me, is it chicken nuggets? A burger?” He asks, pointing a hand at Gareth who started a drum role on the table.

Steve pushes the bag towards him. “Happy Meal, they ran out of boxes though.”

Eddie gapes, “That’s like- The whole point, the smile on the box, Steve.”

“Just eat your damn cookies, man. I have to get back to work." He states, standing back up. Eddie tuts, “Why leave when you could stay? Fuck Tim-“

“Bill.” He corrects.

“Ah, so the home-wrecker has a name.”

“He complimented my shirt once- And if it was just Bill I’d stay, but I don’t want to run into-“

“Steve, hey, what are you doing here?”

[nametakensff]

I'll show you disease (B/illy, S/tranger T/hings)

Here's a 3.8k nasty fic no-one asked for of E/ddie selling B/illy weed at a house party when B/illy is sick with some evil cold or flu bug. AU of some kind in which they are both alive and nothing exceptional ever happened to them so they're just getting on with life 🤷‍♀️

~~~~~~~~

Content:

M/M but not really (they hate each other), Cold/flu sneezes, voyeurism, E/ddie has the fetish, E/ddie is germaphobic but conflicted over it, some mentions of mess, contagion, sneezing in someone's face, mentions of masturbation

CW: Non-consensual contagion, very brief mention of someone throwing up, some suppressed shame over the fetish, homophobic and ableist slurs, physical violence, young men being fucking stupid and aggressive

~~~~~~~~

I really should emphasise this is a pretty seedy fic. No nice feelings to be had, just pure nasty fetish content I had to get out of my system 😅

NSFW, minors please DNI!

Eddie leaned up against the back wall of the fancy house he was currently lurking behind, black metal lunch box in hand. He hadn’t wanted to show up to this fucking shitshow of a house party. It had quite literally been the last thing he had wanted to do. This was his third time taking calculus and he had a stack of equations to get through before the homework was due on Friday. He hated that shit, hated it with a passion, and yet – he would rather be crouched over his desk, chewing the end of his pencil to wood chips and dying of boredom, than be at this party. But his amp had finally given out on him and he’d burned through any and all drug money this month already. He knew selling weed and ket to teenagers wasn’t exactly a respectable occupation, but nobody would hire him in this fucking town, even to flip burgers, and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to bug Wayne for cash. So he was here, trying to tune out the blare of some trash Oingo Boingo song and working his way through a crumpled pack of cigarettes.

There was a sudden commotion to his left. A jock pushed his way through a gaggle of students and made it halfway down the (extensive, perfectly mown) lawn before emptying his guts noisily. Eddie wrinkled his nose at the sight before tossing his cigarette to ground and grinding it out on the (obviously pricey and incredibly tasteful) flagstones. Why him, why him.

It was nearing the end of November, and Hawkins was fucking cold. He snuggled into his leather jacket, for all the good it did him. The other partygoers didn’t seem to notice the freezing temperature at all – but then again, they had enough cheap alcohol in their system to anesthetise a family of elephants, so it made sense. He’d have to break out his trench coat soon, and after that, his woefully ratty puffer jacket. He hated that shit, a total style-cramper of a coat, but vanity be damned. It was the only thing that successfully kept out the cold.

He sniffled, nose starting to run a little. He swiped across his philtrum, grimacing at the dampness pooling there and how freezing the tip of his nose was. He really, really didn’t want to get sick, not with whatever plague was going round Hawkins High this year. He’d had a close call with Gareth last week, had disbanded Hellfire mid-session in a desperate attempt to separate himself and everyone else from what had to be the fastest and messiest progression of an upper-respiratory infection he had ever seen. It seemed like half his classes were empty, not that he particularly gave a fuck about that. He would rather the sick students actually stay at home than brave coming to school and give their germs to him.

It was strange, to be so disgusted by the thought of himself being sick but find the contagion aspect of it so incredibly erotic. The other day he’d been making his way to his locker between classes when he’d seen and heard one of the senior cheerleaders – he forgot her name – erupt into a dramatic fit of seven girly sneezes that sent her pitching forward into steepled hands, before using said germy hands to open the door of a classroom. He took a detour to the bathroom to calm himself – from both the creeping anxiety and sudden rush of blood to his groin.

The sound of something shattering inside the house followed by drunken whooping and cheering pulled him out of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes and lit his third – or was it his fourth? – cigarette of the evening. He really should lay off the things, especially if he wanted to strengthen his immune system, but right now he needed something to occupy his mind. Business was slow-going, partially due to the fact that half the student body was sick, and partially due to the fact that he was in no mood to actively socialise and be surrounded by wasted teenagers while George Michael was blaring loudly enough to give him a tension headache. Funny that Iron Maiden never did that to him, even at the maximum volume of his car speakers.

A couple more sales should get him what he wanted. He could probably make more if he put in the effort, but it was just not one of those days. The thought that he would probably make easier sales going door to door selling Robitussin this week passed through his mind, and he chuckled at the absurdity of it.

“Hh’RRrSSHhh’uhh!!”

Nearly dropping his cigarette, Eddie’s body perked up immediately at the sound of what was, at least to his ears, an incredibly sexy sneeze. Gruff, irritated and masculine, it echoed a little in the garden and at least three girls called out blessings in response. He listened for a beat as the culprit offered no thank you’s, trying not to hold his breath in anticipation for what he hoped was a second sneeze.

“Hh-!! HAHhh’TSCcchhh’uh!!”

Ooh, that sounded desperate. And so wet. He took a drag on his cigarette and let himself luxuriate on the exhale and the sound of the sneeze looping in his mind. It was a welcome respite from the boredom and shitty pop music. Eddie scanned what he could of the garden from his vantage point but couldn’t see anyone that looked like they were recovering from a fierce double of sneezes. Maybe they’d made their way outside to sneeze before heading back in? Either way, it seemed like that was it. He was a little disappointed he wouldn’t get to hear any more. Those sneezes had been hot, plain and simple, admittedly leaving his jeans a little tighter than before. He was grateful that he was partial to black jeans and had found a particularly shadowy corner to skulk in. It wasn’t as if anyone was coming over anyway.

It was as he was sighing in frustration and taking a final drag on the stump of his cig that he heard honest-to-god footsteps approaching him from the left. He straightened up, ready to turn on as much charm as he could to secure the last 20 to 30 dollars he needed.

His smile dropped the second he took in the sight of the man approaching him, and it took him almost all of his energy to stop himself from groaning out loud. He kept his cool, flicking the cigarette butt to the ground and standing up straight.

“Hargrove! Fancy meeting you here.”

As he had expected he would, Billy downright snarled at him.

“Cut the shit, Munson. I’m not here to fucking chit-chat.”

Eddie smirked.

“Oh, believe me, honey, I know. You want a half-ounce of reefer?”

Billy bristled at the pet name, also just as Eddie had expected. He loved messing with the guy, even if it earned him a couple of punches here and there. Billy would never rough him up totally – the dude was insane, most likely a certifiable sociopath, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that Eddie was both the fastest and cheapest way to get a fix, and it would do no good to brain his dealer over some light teasing.

“Yeah. Hurry up, freak.”

Eddie made a point of opening his lunch box as slowly as possible, delighting in the way the vein on Billy’s forehead was starting to bulge. He had no idea why the girls flocked to such a douchebag. Hargrove was good looking, he knew that – he had eyes. But there was this aura around the guy – something just not right about him. Girls didn’t even give him a chance, though he knew that was partially due to his own doing. Anyway. Weed. He could only joke around so much before Billy reached the end of his tether.

He held the plastic bag up to Billy, jumping back and out of reach when Billy made a grab for it.

“Munson, I swear to god –“

“Cash first, doll-face. Twenty dollars.” Eddie smirked at him.

“Fucking fag.” Billy grumbled but reached into his pocket and rummaged around anyway. He pulled out two crumpled tens and was half-started proffering them to Eddie when he suddenly froze. Eddie frowned and tilted his head, wondering what the fuck was happening until a sudden flicker of movement at the centre of Billy’s face – his nostrils giving a violent twitch – had him zoning in like a hawk.

An intense look of irritation was taking over Billy’s features in a distinctively pre-sneeze fashion. Despite himself, Eddie felt a tingle of anticipation race down his spine. Hargrove was a psycho, but he was a hot psycho, and it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t at least a little curious to hear him sneeze. The metalhead continued to feign confusion so that he could carry on watching Billy’s expression crumple, and, to his utter delight, listen as the younger man issued a couple of soft gasps, the tickle teasing him mercilessly.

Eddie licked his lips, a nervous habit and nothing more, but was nonetheless relieved that Billy was far too distracted to notice. And man, was he distracted. He didn’t mask the desperation on his face at all – if anything, he seemed to lean into it, nostrils twitching and flaring as his tongue pressed against his bottom lip. He looked ridiculous, which was to say painfully erotic, at least to Eddie. Stupid, sexy psychopath.

Finally, the tickle seemed to crest, and with a final gasp, Billy was pitching forward with a wrenching sneeze.

“HuHh’RRrrrschh!!”

Eddie jumped out of the way just in time, clumsily stepping back from the glittering cloud of spray that the younger man let out unhindered. He paused for a moment, in which Eddie watched the aerosol of the sneeze dissipate gently in the cold night air, before his head tipped forward with another harsh expulsion.

“HH’TTSCHhhGH!!”

The spray was even denser this time as Billy sneezed forcefully through clenched teeth. Eddie licked his lips again, couldn’t help himself. No question about it, Hargrove was definitely the source of those earlier, cock-throbbingly sexy sneezes, and he had a front-row seat to the absolute spectacle of it all. The lack of manners and etiquette, the way the younger man just let loose with no regard for the fact that Eddie had been standing well within the splash zone was an unfortunate and very potent turn-on. The metalhead shifted from one foot to the other, reaching a hand into his pocket and squeezing his cock through his jeans in a weak attempt to wrangle it into submission.

Billy righted himself, blinking through bleary, wet eyelashes for a moment and shaking his head, looking for all the world like the sneezes had temporarily sent him on a trip to another dimension. He snuffled and Eddie winced. That did not sound healthy. He watched as the younger man wiped his damp lips and nostrils on the back of his free hand before thrusting the bills out toward him, as if nothing at all had occurred.

“Uhh, bless you.” Eddie offered, hearing the thinly veiled disgust (and something else) in his own voice. He could have sworn he actually felt the germs being transferred from paper to skin as he slid the tainted money into his pocket, making sure not to graze his erection as he went.

Billy said nothing, didn’t even so much as grunt, just stared Eddie down with those cold blue eyes and held out his empty hand for the drugs. Eddie pressed the bag into his palm, trying not to stare but failing as Billy used the thumb and forefinger of his other hand to swipe at his nostrils – pinching them shut before pulling down towards his septum, transferring the dampness to his fingertips.

“Always a pleasure, Hargrove.” Eddie muttered under his breath, snapping his lunch box closed and turning to make his way the fuck off the property and back to the safe, germless confines of his van. He flinched at the sudden sensation of Billy gripping his shoulder tight. A confusing wave of disgust and arousal flowed through him as he realised it was the hand he had just been using to tend to his nose.

“Wait. Do you have any joints, pre-rolled?”

Eddie did, but they were his.

“I do, but they’re mine. Let go.”

He attempted to free himself from the grip, but Billy squeezed tighter. Accepting a quick defeat, he rolled his eyes and reached into the interior pocket of his jacket. With crazies like Hargrove, when they were on one like this, it was better to give them what they wanted. For a price, of course. He held it up so that Billy could see but not reach.

“I want another ten for this.”

He was absolutely pushing his luck, and he knew it. If Billy got violent, he’d cut his losses and fork it over, but he may as well try and milk the situation just a little. To his surprise, Billy just nodded, letting go of his shoulder and rooting around in his pocket for another bill. When he handed it over with no fanfare, Eddie handed him the joint and eagerly snatched at the money.

He was about to leave again when he noticed Billy, joint perched in his mouth, patting his own leather jacket up and down and cussing under his breath. He should have just turned and gone, would have under any other circumstances. If Billy the bigot couldn’t find his lighter, it was no skin off his teeth. It’s just, he had absolutely ripped the guy off, and he was clearly sick…

“Need a light?” He offered, flipping his own lighter open.

Billy regarded him for a moment before grunting, securing the joint between two fingers and allowing Eddie to lean forward and light the tip for him. He took a long drag before exhaling the smoke out of his nostrils – something Eddie had seen him do a number of times before, but never with such a miserably stuffy nose. Billy was coughing almost instantly before a shaky inhale tipped his blonde head backwards in preparation for another bout of sneezing.

His nostrils looked great when they flared like that, Eddie thought to himself, no longer giving a fuck about his lingering gaze now that it was evident Billy was entirely incapacitated by the tickle in his nose. He watched through unblinking eyes as those pinkening nostrils flared to capacity, stomach fluttering a little as Billy took in that final, heaving breath before he was pushed over the edge.

“Hh’RRISCHHhh’uh!! HaHH’TSCCHhhh!! ‘TTtSCHHhhttt!!”

A triple this time. Eddie watched as Billy sprayed the air thrice, each sneeze increasing in sloppy intensity and sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. The thought of catching those sneezes with his palm, feeling the force and drenching wetness of them first-hand sent such a sudden rush of blood to his stiffening cock that he almost swooned with it.

Billy appeared just as winded post-sneeze as Eddie felt. He hated that he felt pity for the guy, knew he didn’t deserve it, but it was there all the same, tugging at his goddamn heartstrings. He should just go. Instead, he opened his big, dumb mouth.

“You shouldn’t be smoking that shit when you’re sick, man.”

“Fuck off. I’m not sick.” Billy sniffled thickly, glaring at him as he took another drag from the joint and exhaling through his mouth this time.

“Right, sure. And I’m the pope. You clearly have the fucking disease that’s left Hawkins High on its knees this past couple of weeks.”

Billy pointedly ignored him. Eddie carried on anyway.

“You graduated, man. What the fuck are you doing at a high school party, other than swapping spit with some poor teenage girls who don’t know any better – who totally, by the way, gave you a fucking radio-active strain of influenza.”

Billy stared at him, that icy-cold gaze that normally looked so composed and lifeless seeming just a little more heated than usual.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up, freak?”

“No, not really.”

“Maybe you fucking should. Burnout retard, still in High School at twenty and selling drugs to those ‘poor teenage girls’. Nobody cares what you think.”

He heard this shit on the daily from various douchebag jocks. It was nothing new. His normal response would have been to laugh, make some kind of overly theatrical gesture and walk away. For whatever reason – the fact that he had been concerned for this scumbag, the fact that he was freezing cold, the fact that he hated this party with a passion, who knew – he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah? At least I don’t look and sound like a fucking human petri dish of disease, sniffles.”

Billy came at him so fast he didn’t even have time to blink before he was slammed up against the wall, head smacking painfully back onto the brick.

“Mother fucker!” He hissed in pain, reaching up to grab at Billy’s wrists as he gripped him by his jacket. “Get the fuck off me, psycho!”

Billy smirked at him, leaned up close enough that for one terrifying, exhilarating second, Eddie thought he was going to kiss him.

“I’ll show you disease, you piece of shit.” Billy muttered, so close Eddie could feel the warmth of his breath as his lips all but grazed his own.

“What are you…” Eddie started before realisation spread through his veins like icy water. That familiar snarl of irritation was back, Billy’s nostrils twitching wide, jaw yawning open as the tickle overpowered him again. The metalhead was entranced for a beat, felt his traitorous cock throbbing in his jeans. This was like one of the private fantasies he would stroke himself off to, as whatever flavour of the month he fixated on would sneeze for him over and over in his mind, except this was actually happening. He could actually feel the puffs of Billy’s choppy inhales and exhales, watch the stretch and flare of his pretty, round nostrils as he built-up to what was sure to be another drenching explosion.

It was as he heard Billy take in that final, cinching breath that he snapped out of his lust-filled haze and started to push the younger man backwards, his grip having been temporarily weakened by the all-encompassing hold of the culminating tickle. He wasn’t fast enough though - the first wet sneeze hit him squarely in the face, spray bursting over him and forcing his eyes to reflexively squeeze shut.

“HAAHh’TSSCHHTtt!!!”

Eddie continued to push him, utilising Billy’s total surrender to his illness to unbalance him. He opened his eyes to watch the younger man stagger backwards, a second sneeze barrelling out of him and gracing the frigid air (and Eddie’s chin and neck) with a wide arc of germ-filled spray.

“HH’RRRSSCHhh’ww!!”

He stumbled forward onto one knee, inhaling again and tipping his head back for the most violent, definitive sneeze of the fit.

“HhHH’RISSSCHHH!!! Ough…”

This last sneeze sprayed juicy droplets of mess across the grass in front of him, so powerful that a couple of drops splattered the toes of Eddie’s sneakers. Billy looked up at him with a sick look of smugness and pleasure.

Eddie stared down at him in disbelief. When Billy started to chuckle like a fucking maniac, snot dripping from his nose all while he looked up at Eddie with those empty eyes, something snapped. He kicked Billy right in the sternum, forcing a winded groan out of him and sending him sprawling backwards onto the grass. Eddie lunged at him, straddling his torso before landing a series of punches all over his pretty-boy face. He had the sense to swing with his right arm only, sparing Billy the impact of the three heavy rings on his left hand, if only to avoid damage enough that he wouldn’t be spending a regrettable night at Hawkins police station.

Five punches in, Eddie realised Billy wasn’t fighting back. His stomach dropped, and for a brief moment of panic he thought he’d knocked him out or worse, but those fears were assuaged as Billy righted himself, head lolling back to rest on the grass as he stared back up at Eddie. The grin plastered to his face was deeply unnerving. He was also boiling hot; Eddie could feel the heat emanating off the torso between his thighs even through his jeans. Feeling the anger dissipate and wanting only to be as far away from the guy as possible, he scrambled to his feet. Billy continued to smirk up at him, even as his left cheek was starting to swell.

Eddie scrubbed at his face with his sleeve, a delayed reaction that would serve very little purpose at this point but gave him something to do to break eye contact.

“I’m charging you double from now on, you dumb motherfucker.” He spat, knowing even as he said it that it was a bluff.

Billy continued to lie back on the grass and started laughing like a total fucking maniac. Eddie had had enough – he was an expert at throwing people off their game but Hargrove was on a completely different level. He was genuinely batshit insane. He snatched his lunch box off the ground and stomped his way down the expansive garden towards the street. He heard Billy’s laughter trail off, grateful for the temporary reprieve until he heard a telltale gasp.

“HuHH’TSSSCHHH’uu!! Hah-!! TSCCCHHHSsstt!!”

Even through the anger, the discomfort, the disgust, his stomach still fluttered at the sound of them. Several minutes later he was back in his van, debating whether or not to claw his own facial skin off, cursing under his breath as he fumbled to start his sputtering engine. He wasn’t escaping this fucking sickness, no way in hell. Not after Billy had…He shook his head, still in genuine shock and some degree of self-recrimination for simply not walking away the second he saw that psycho approaching him. The fever must have fried the guy’s fucking brain, because what the fuck. What the fuck.

His engine finally roared to life and he was peeling down the road far faster than was both advisable and legal. He wanted nothing more than to strip naked and scrub himself germ-free before collapsing into his bed and pretending this entire evening had never happened. Never mind that he was hard as a rock. He definitely didn’t need to address the fact that the second he was in the shower his hand would be creeping down his stomach before wrapping his erection in a firm grip. No need to dwell on how he would probably be coming against the tiled wall until his legs were shaking, conjuring both the image of Billy’s pink nostrils flared to perfect circles, and the sound of his cold-induced sneezes as they burst across his skin.

He stomped on the gas, letting the thrill of his reckless driving drown out the uncomfortable thoughts, at least until he made it back to the trailer.

[thottyimagines]

Akatsuki and their go-to fast food on the road 🍔 (is Hidan a White Castle or Taco John’s guy both are equally cursed lol)

Pein eats Subway and it's terrible. He's picky about the way his sandwich is assembled.

Konan likes In-N-Out. She likes the fries animal style.

Itachi doesn't like to introduce fast foods into his system. He eats at Panera and pretends it isn't reheated hospital food.

Kisame is a McDonald's purist. He eats, like, a nauseating amount of Big Macs.

Hidan loves to terrorize a Waffle House. He's starting fist fights up in there.

Kakuzu is enjoying the cheapest possible gas station beef jerky.

Deidara is fucking up a Taco Bell cravings box. He gets a frozen drink as well.

Sasori drinks the hot sauce packets from Taco Bell, if he must.

Tobi enjoys a good Burger King meal when it comes with a crown.

Zetsu, in a way, also enjoys the cheap eats at a good secluded gas station.

[not-alien-girl-v]

New Girl au (The 1975) Part 2

Warning: language, tw nipple?? drugs who fucking cares

Note: violet (me) stop inserting yourself as a supporting character in the fics you write challenge! filler chapter cuz i didn't wanna combine this chapter and the next chapter together to make one long ass chapter bc no one's gonna read that shit and yes matty is pining for reader but in a matty kind of way ok leave me alone

Part 1

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Exactly one month ago, Y/N shook the greasy hand of Matty (he hadn't washed his hands after he left lunch - which was at a cheap burger place), and just a few days after that, she was moving in.

She has her own room in this loft apartment, complete with a sunny window that overlooks the city of angels she resides in. The air is chilly but the bed is warm, her boxes are unpacked, everything properly hung in a closet or folded neatly into a drawer, and sleep is the best thing on her mind, she's in a stage somewhat between consciousnesses, and she would just love to stay that way, if it weren't for a girly shriek from outside.

She lives with boys now, she thinks to herself. Roommates, they're allowed to be loud, it's not that early, is it? Rolling her body to the other side, facing away from the window now, she sees that her clock reads 5:26 am, which, in her opinion, is entirely too early to be awake, let alone be social, let alone be screaming like a woman.

A door slams, three heavy knocks are lied upon it, not Y/N's door, but the entire loft shakes nonetheless. Y/N wants to sob and cry, maybe it's just because she's about to start her period. Oh god, that's a whole other thing she'll have to get through, sharing a bathroom with 3 men, she can only hope and pray it doesn't lead her to an awkward situation.

Skipping the sobbing and the crying, she peels the comfortable duvet off of herself, swinging her legs off the bed and standing up. She digs her fingers into her eyes, maybe the rougher her hands drag across her face will act like CPR to her brain, reviving her awareness for whatever shenanigans will ensue once she leaves the safety of her room.

She slips out of the room, shutting it quietly behind her, not like it matters, not like anyone else in this apartment knows how to shut a door quietly, yet she feels the need to anyway. She spots George, shirtless, in nothing but a pair of plaid underwear, and he's standing tall and menacingly, all six-foot-fifty of him, outside of Matty's door, which he bangs on once more.

"Open this fucking door, you little freak!" He bellows as if he's trying to break the sound barrier.

"George?" She speaks mumbled from behind him, feeling small.

"Oh- good morning, Y/N, did you sleep well?" His smile is kind enough she almost forgets why she was so pressed in the first place. In her sleepy haze, she inspects George closely, (not in a creepy way), and comes to realize that his tattoos stretch much further than she assumed when he had been wearing a T-shirt. She wonders where he gets the money for it, they're almost all done in color.

"I did, you?"

"I'm alright."

She nods her head and begins to make her way down the hall, but stops in her tracks, spins around, and retreats back to him.

"Mate, I'll chop your dick off!" He threatens.

"Hey George?"

"Yes, love?"

"What did he do?"

"You want to know what he did? I'll fuckin' show you, come here," he nods his head down the hall and travels to his room, picking up one of many scattered shirts on the ground, and pulling it over his body.

The issue becomes apparent the moment the shirt settles on his torso. On this shirt he wears, along with, to be assumed, every scattered shirt on the ground, there are two sloppily cut holes right where the his nipples would reside beneath the missing fabric.

"Asshole thinks he's so fuckin' funny."

"And they're all like this?" She asks and he nods in response, sighing and shaking his head, leaning against his bedroom wall. "Why?"

"What makes you think there's a reason. He's a fuckwad, he gets off on shit like this."

Her eyes narrow at him, and he sighs again, heavier this time, like it's all he knows how to do. "Ok, I maybe implied he had big ears, but I didn't call him Dumbo, that was Ross, I wouldn't call him names like that."

"But you still insulted him?"

"Well..."

She simply nods, lips pursed, and paces out of the room wordlessly. One gentle knock is all it takes on Matty's door for him to crack it open an inch. "Oh, it's just you."

"Just me. Can I come in?"

He doesn't answer, just steps back and refrains from shutting the door once more. "You should apologize."

"I didn't even start this! He's the one who said I have big ears!" He flops down dramatically onto his bed, recoiling on the springs.

"You do have big ears."

He shoots her an exasperated glare. "Thanks, means a lot."

"Ok, what I meant was you have big ears, but you still fuck. Women still like you, they still think you're an attractive man. Get over yourself."

"By women, do you mean you?" Matty's flirtiness is nothing new to Y/N. Since he got over the initial awkwardness of being strangers, he's been metaphorically all over her.

She furrows her brows, "whatever helps you sleep at night, man." With a pat on the shoulder, she leaves the room, going to the living room now.

"Good morning, Ross," she walks behind him as he sits on the couch, ruffling his hair with one hand as she passes, making her way to the kitchen.

"Morning!" He calls. She's grown closest to Ross, as he's been the most friendly in a sustainable way, not flirty like Matty or aloof like George.

She hears muffled apologies coming from George's room, perhaps the sound of tears hitting the floor, and if she didn't know any better, she'd swear there's two 15 year old girls consoling each other in there.

Cracking open the fridge, she trifles through, trying to find anything remotely edible, and ultimately failing, as the two men in the other room come in to the common space of the living room.

"You guys alright, then?" Ross asks as they sit down by him on the couch, focusing in on the soccer game playing on the TV. Football, as they'd call it. Stupid British people.

"You guys want coffee?" She calls from the kitchen.

A chorus of yes's, hell yes's and fuck yeah's are all she needs to hear to convince her to start brewing.

"It's great having you around, Y/N, seriously, our past roommates have all been creeps," Ross strains his neck to look at her with a smile as he speaks.

"Right! Remember Manuel the night screamer? Or Sam the bath salts guy?" Matty adds with a chuckle between each word.

"Or Andy the lion tamer?" George adds, causing the smiles on the other men's faces to drop, looking at him.

"We didn't have a lion tamer?" says Ross.

"Damn, I've been having some vivid dreams lately," George concludes.

"It's great to be here. It's a beautiful apartment, I've got to say. There is one thing, though, uh, it's pretty clear somebody pissed on the electrical socket in my room? Do you guys- I mean, do you know about that?" She giggles.

"I was drunk, I thought it would make lightning, if I could take it back, I would, I swear," Matty tells her.

"Good to know. Anyways, my friend is coming over tonight, she's just picking me up because we have a thing to go to tonight, but she said she wanted to stop by, see the place, and meet you all, so I need everyone on your best behavior tonight. You hear me? That means nipples need to be covered," she glances playfully at George and he feels a strong urge to choke Matty again, his anger perhaps not entirely fizzled away, but he finds the mental restraint not to.

"Of course, I'd be happy to meet her!" Ross chimes while Y/N comes and sits next to him on the couch.

"I know, it's not you I'm worried about," she worriedly gazes at Matty and George, one nearly butt-ass naked, the other looking like he hasn't even heard of a shower.

"We're fine. What's your friends name?" Asks Matty.

"Violet."

"She sounds hot. Is she hot?"

"You can't date my friend, Matt. She's off limits."

"I would never, I'm not the relationship type. You should know this by now, missy."

"Ok, you can't fuck her, either." She's up off the couch, bounding back to the kitchen after hearing the beep of the coffee machine.

"What!"

"I'm serious. Hands to yourself."

"I wasn't even gonna..." he trails off, sounding whiney like a toddler being told 'no' for the first time.

He can hear George rolling his eyes and he breaks into a little giggle.

"You're right, I totally was."

[toreodere]

Had a whole dream just now about an apparently lost Adult Swim pilot episode for a show about a disgruntled Pizza Delivery guy who's largely disappointed by his own logo.

So atarting off here the majority of the short took place within this guy's dusty apartment, the look id describe this show having was an odd combination of Bob's burgers with the atmosphere of an old Garfield short and the art sensibilites of Beavis and Butthead, with occasional moments that went into gritty psychedelia for seemingly no reason.

The Pizza Guy, through the episode every so often would deliver these bizarre, oversized pizza boxes to people, never saw a single pizza in the actual short but it was mentioned that yeah thats what he delivers, The boxes mind you, were bout the size of a giant painting for some reason, about the height of two men, I recall seeing many of them propped up against a wall of the apartment while the protagonist seemingly just paced around contemplating what to do with his situation around the mid point of the episode.

the general plot of this episode by the way, was about the various attempts made to make the company he's delivering for look better, first he lodges a complaint about the name, I cant recall what it was but I know it was something along the lines of Dude Man Pizza Pizza, which he felt was lame and bogus, only for him to get a new name that was largely vague gibberish that sounded like Italian, which only pissed him off even more, making the guy go off to an artist friend who he commissions to give him a new name and a new logo, one he soon ended up designing for himself in an overly long montage where you just kept seeing the guy putting down sketches and painting what will presumably be his new logo's mascot, all this being set to an intense oingo boingo esque orcheatral piece which played while all the different paintings the Pizza Guy drew seemingly morphed and danced in a painterly style, something that would be very difficult to animate, especially for what looked like a very cheap late 90s production.

I guess also part of the joke of the montage was that various things he painted were ludicrously offensive on accident, one painting we see his whole process for before he quickly scraps it starting off as structured doodles, then becoming a skeleton, then muscles, a "very pointy sheet ghost" before it very quickly goes up in flames.

I think I woke up just as the montage was ending so I dont know what happened next but this is apparently what id just woken up from, h hope yall enjoyed reading my bizarre dream diary. entry.

[nonegenderleftpain]

Had someone see my post about being starved as a kid and asking for tips on how to survive eating that little, and I am highly suspicious it was an ed blog looking for tips. I'm not going to give advice on how not to eat, but in case it WAS a serious ask, I'll give my advice on surviving when you're dirt poor.

You want cheap, calorie-dense foods. Your concern is not to eat healthily - healthy isn't an option when you have ten dollars a week and no means of cooking. If you're in a situation like I was - homeless with no money - dollar meals are your friend. You want to take every penny you can find, put it in a bag, and take it with you to McDonald's. Don't go buy vegetables at the store, because there are not enough calories per dollar in peppers and carrots. Take those pennies to McDonald's and get meat. The calories and protein in a burger patty will take you farther than the pure starch of fries, so you're gonna want burgers. You can get a McDonald's burger for a dollar, and that is what you're gonna want.

The most important advice I have is to make sure you eat every day, even if you're eating less than if you saved and bought a whole meal. You need the energy to get you from one day to the next, and the risk of an insulin flood knocking you on your ass isn't something you can afford if you have to keep moving. Get a burger, eat it, and hold those dollars for the next day. Keep doing this until you're able to land work that can pay you enough to feed you more, and even then, do not get a meal that is veggie based until you know where your next week of meals are coming from. Get veggies in your food if you can, but you are not going to survive homelessness on salads. If you can't get protein in a meal, you need starch, and if you can't get either, then save your money to guarantee your next meal will have both. Those sugars, fats and proteins are what your body needs to keep from completely breaking down, and eating is more important than eating healthy food.

Track down where your closest food pantry is. If you're unhoused, you're gonna move where you're sleeping closer to that pantry. If you're sheltered, you're going to figure out what the closest shelter is to that pantry and move there. Then you're going to skip a meal and spend that money on a can opener. That can opener is now your most prizes possession. Most foods that get donated to pantries are canned or boxed, and if you don't have access to a stove, those dry foods are useless to you. You're going to load up with the cans you can carry, and here is where you can get some veggies. You still need to prioritize meat, fat, and starch, but canned green beans and starchy veggies like corn are going to give you back some of your vitamins that your body is lacking. Rebuild your strength, and slowly work up to two meals a day instead of one. If you've been going without much food and you try to chow down the minute you have access to more, you're going to get sick. Prioritize small cans so you can eat everything in it at once, and carry more full meals that way.

Then, you're going to track down your closest library. When you're there, you're going to ask them to help you contact the closest social services to you. Tell them your situation - if you have a warrant out for something like petty theft, tell them that. They will help you find services that will not turn you in, and will help you start to find more permanent shelter. There are not a lot of safe places for unhoused people, but your library is. The people that work there are safe, and you can stay there as long as they're open and not have to spend a dime. I cannot stress this enough - librarians will *help* you.

This isn't infinitely sustainable. Your body cannot survive forever on this. But this is your best bet for keeping fueled while you get to a more stable situation. Take advantage of cheap calories. Stay hydrated. Focus on calorie dense foods and space out your meals. Don't wait until you're passing out to eat, because it's already too late, and you leave yourself vulnerable and unsafe. And ask for help. Libraries are a social safety net. You have computer access to make a resume, save it on Google docs. Apply to local jobs. Ask them to point you to the closest publicly available shower, like certain truck stops. Spend as much time there as possible, out of the elements, and let them know your situation. You'd be amazed the resources they have for you.

Good luck and stay safe.

[altocat]

The Firsts (and Cloud's) favorite fast food?

It's not Burger King. For any of them. Burger King is trash, don't @ me.

Zack likes Jack in the Box, mostly because he's a hyper puppy and Jack is the best place to go to when you get the munchies at 3am. Either that or Taco Bell.

Angeal likes Little Caesar's because you can get a big pizza for cheap and the man is extremely frugal.

Genesis likes Sonic because of the various frozen slushies. He might also be partial to Starbucks or Dunkin' because overpriced coffee just sounds like him.

Cloud is that one guy where, if Nibelheim had a single fast food place, it would be a super rundown Dairy Queen.

And Sephiroth is Arby's. Because meat. And also because it is the single most chaotic fast food option out there. Sephiroth will happily gorge on a Beef 'N' Cheddar while assessing the fresh pile of corpses around him.

[scriveyner]

always summer #20

always summer #20: fireworks | bungou stray dogs |👿🐯 | #kinktober 🔞| ~1100 words

Dazai was perched on the metal guardrail, watching the sea of pedestrian traffic flowing between the park attractions. It was dusk already, and this stretch of the arcade was lit by strands of bare-bulb lights strung between vendor stalls, interspersed with colorful, if faded, pennant flags. The lights on the attractions moved in patterns, under which people clustered for chances to win cheap prizes by knocking over milk cans or popping balloons with darts.

Continue on ao3 or:

Chuuya was a dark figure weaving efficiently through the ever-moving throng of people; he emerged near Dazai carting two covered boxes, a plastic garbage-bag-sized bag of popcorn under his arm, and enormous drinks in his other hand. To his credit, he was managing all of this food without the telltale red glimmer of his ability at work, and Dazai could only be a little impressed at the fact that he was holding both enormous cups in the same hand by their bottoms.

“What’s all this?” Dazai asked as he was handed a box, hot with food inside and the bottom wet with grease.

Chuuya looked around. “Huh, did we lose Atsushi and Akutagawa?”

“They’ve been gone a while now, just like you. Atsushi-kun was hungry, and Akutagawa-kun clearly loves indulging him.” Dazai plucked a perfectly deep-fried piece of food out of a sea of soggy fries. “What is this?”

“Dunno. Chicken, hopefully. They were deep-frying everything in sight, so there’s no telling.”

Dazai bit into it without further inspection and made no noise of distress, so it was at least edible. Chuuya leaned the closed plastic bag of popcorn against the rail before he opened his own box of food. “Glad I didn’t bother to haul food over for them too, then,” he said, and Dazai nodded his head, absently people-watching. “The burger prices here are obscene, they must be making money hand over fist. We oughta get in on it.”

“Opening a food truck in a heavily tourist-infested area and price-gouging?” Dazai chewed on a fry. “Retirement plans are for people who aren’t planning on killing themselves when they finally convince the love of their life to join them in the sweet abyss.”

“Remind me to take you off the liability insurance.”

Dazai smirked to himself and continued to eat fries, still watching the crowds of people and looking to pick out a familiar pair but not seeing them yet. “Hey, how many cheeseburgers do you think Atsushi can eat?”

Chuuya tilted his head back, elbows hooked over the rail. “Total, or in one sitting?”

“I don’t think there’s a number high enough to gauge the first.”

“Point. Counterpoint,” Chuuya pointed at Dazai with a fry, who then leaned over and took it from Chuuya’s fingers with his mouth. “How much money you got, because I’m pretty sure it would bankrupt the Port Mafia.”

They both laughed, the noise lost under the clamor of the amusement park.

~*~

The promenade was the place to be, filling up quickly with people all lining up for the best positions to watch the show. They were far enough away from the wide, paved paths around the lake the amusement park sat on that the risk of discovery was minimal, but all the same Atsushi kept a nervous eye out for movement. “If you were so worried about being caught,” Akutagawa said breathlessly, leg hiked over Atsushi’s hip and shoulders pressed to the bark of the large old tree, “you wouldn’t have initiated.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” Atsushi said distractedly, hands shifting back to Akutagawa’s hips, holding him tight and keeping him pressed back into the tree. “I wasn’t thinking at all, really, I just really, really wanted to kiss you.”

Akutagawa wet his lips and groaned softly; his hand curled in Atsushi’s shirt. “You’ve done more than just kiss me,” he grunted, but he wasn’t chastising, just stating a fact that he was clearly, clearly enjoying. He grunted again and let out a soft little groan as Atsushi changed his stance, which changed the way his cock was pressed into Akutagawa’s walls.

“It’s not my fault you looked so cute coming off that roller coaster,” Atsushi was panting now, bouncing Akutagawa slightly on his dick, half grinding and half thrusting. “Your hair was all silly and you were smiling, what was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to kiss me, ah,” Akutagawa’s legs tightened on his sides. “There.”

 “There?” Atsushi found the spot again and honed in on it, and they were lost in each other, shortened breaths and soft moans shared between them. Akutagawa’s mouth stayed open as he panted, hand tight on the back of Atsushi’s neck, and Atsushi’s eyes were locked on his, so close, so close—

In the distance, they both could hear the roar of the crowds and, a split second later, thunder in the night as the fireworks show began in earnest. The brilliant colors lit them up even hidden as they were in the tight cluster of trees, golds and reds and greens dappling Akutagawa’s skin; and he laughed, catching Atsushi’s shirt in both hands and pulling him into a kiss as they rocked together.

“Come on,” Akutagawa moaned against his mouth and Atsushi shifted his grip, one arm now braced against the tree, Akutagawa pressed nearly double as he slammed in again and again, until Akutagawa was sobbing his name, fingers crooked into claws and digging into Atsushi’s skin through his shirt.

Atsushi’s breath was harsh against Akutagawa’s ear, “Ryuunosuke, Ryuuno—ah, fuck…”

Akutagawa shuddered, Atsushi throbbing inside; all the tension built up and released. He could feel his heartbeat so fast, their chests nearly together; finally, Atsushi exhaled low and long.

“Sorry,” he managed, panting hoarsely into Akutagawa’s ear, the flush on his skin drowned out by the faint echoes of color bursting from the sky above. “I didn’t pull out.”

Akutagawa’s fingers tightened on the back of his skull for just a moment before releasing, his heart beating nearly as fast. “You must take responsibility for cleanup then,” he said, finally, and Atsushi laughed, nuzzling his face and kissing him again before pulling out with a wet noise.

“I can handle that,” he said, going smoothly to his knees in front of the wobbly-legged Akutagawa. He let Akutagawa support himself with a leg thrown over his shoulders, and Akutagawa twisted both his hands in Atsushi’s hair as he slid his fingers through his own mess before beginning to clean him.

Akutagawa watched the fireworks through the trees, as the show finally drew to a dramatic finale. “They’ll be looking for us,” he said idly, shuddering as Atsushi’s fingers thrust in deep, then his breath slid over Akutagawa’s sensitive dick.

“Let them look, I’m not done here.”

[gainerstories]

Lifetime Supply: Chapter 4

Written by: Gainer Stories

Lifetime Supply is a collaborative story penned by Gainer Stories and Gaining Fiction.

Ryan didn’t notice there was a hole in the crotch of his pants until he spilled Taco Bell on himself on the way home from school. There was no denying these jeans were getting snug. Hell, he could barely even button them. But for how long was he walking around with a solid three inches of thigh fat bulging out? 

In the last several weeks Ryan had undeniably gained a good deal of weight. Nothing was fitting right, everything was jiggling, and he was constantly hungry. It almost felt like that damn Adesco box was conspiring against him. No matter how many times he tried to cancel with that customer service representative, Luke, more boxes showed up with better and better treats. 

Nevertheless, Ryan knew he couldn’t blame everything on Adesco. Perhaps the snacking had kickstarted his weight gain, but it wasn’t forcing him to pig out like he had been. For some reason he was simply hungry. He wanted food all the time, the more the better. Pizza, ice cream, burgers, burritos, he couldn’t get enough and the weight was catching up fast. 

It wasn’t only his wardrobe that was pointing out how chubby he was getting. Ryan was also making a concerted effort to go on dates in an effort to get over his ex. In fact, he had just left one when he noticed the tear in his jeans. The guy was attractive and nice, but seemed uninterested and now Ryan was worried if the fact he was busting out of his jeans might have contributed to that. 

Returning to the apartment, Ryan tossed the Taco Bell wrappers into the neighbors trash so that Ahmed wouldn’t see them. He didn’t know why, but he tried to hide his piggishness from his roommate, even though Ahmed often joined in. In fact, Ahmed had put on some weight himself, but he was also gaining muscle so it was less noticeable. 

“Woah there chubs,” Ahmed greeted Ryan as soon as he walked through the door. “Was gonna see if you wanted to go in on some wings, but looks like you just ate.” 

“Why do you say that?” Ryan was incredulous. 

“Well besides the fact your pants are literally bursting at the seams, you have a sauce packet stuck to your ass.”

“Christ,” Ryan muttered and grabbed a snack from one of the many Adesco boxes littering the house. “I guess it’s that obvious. Maybe that’s why five out five dates won’t text me back. Am I really that fat?”

“You’re looking thick my man, but don’t sweat it. It suits you!” 

“I gotta get out of these pants. I’ll get in on that order, just double whatever you’re getting. We have any beer?” 

Ryan grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed to his room. He felt great relief removing his denim and tossing them in the trash. Unfortunately, even the sweatpants he put on felt a little snug. Looking in the mirror, they left little to the imagination. Ryan’s had definitely gotten cakier, and the elastic waistband sunk beneath his muffin top. Ryan resolved he’d have to purchase some new clothes once again tomorrow morning. But tonight, he and Ahmed would feast. 

Ryan wobbled through the fast fashion chain browsing the racks. He had no idea what size he was anymore. He didn’t even know what would look good on his body. After multiple humiliating experiences in the dressing room, he settled on the fact that it was best to buy a little bit larger than he needed. The extra room would conceal the weight he gained, and besides the clothes were cheap and would probably shrink in the wash anyway. 

It was the same cashier at the counter as last time, Antoine. Antoine couldn’t keep his eyes off Ryan. He glanced at the college student’s swollen midsection every few seconds, stirring insecurity in Ryan. Was he being judged? Did this guy remember him? Was it embarrassing he was buying such large sizes? By the time the transaction was over, Ryan was sweating bullets and made a beeline for the food court to quell his anxiety. After a corn dog and cinnamon roll he was headed back home. 

Unloading his purchases, Ryan began to doubt himself. Why did he buy horizontal stripes? He should have known better. And he accidentally grabbed a button up in the wrong size. He had gotten this specifically to wear to the LGBT mixer that evening with Ahmed, and although it fit Ryan was afraid it was a little too snug.

Luckily a cold breeze came in that evening and Ryan was able to cover up by throwing a zippered hoodie over the button up. Standing next to Ahmed, Ryan’s insecurity heightened. Ahmed was developing broad shoulders and baby biceps that framed the swelling at his midsection, whereas Ryan’s belly pushed outward dramatically. 

Once they got inside, Ryan felt a bit of relief. Most of the guys there were gawky and awkward. In fact, no one really caught his eye. He originally hoped he might get a date or two out of this event, but Ryan was quickly discovering the only perk was the free food. Catering was supplied by one of his favorite Mediterranean spots in town and Ryan couldn’t get enough.

He found himself piling his plate high and returning for seconds and thirds before continuing to graze for the rest of the night. Occasionally Ahmed would leave Ryan to flirt with some boys on the dance floor, and so Ryan just stationed himself at the buffet. As he was chomping down a stuffed grape leaf, Ryan spied a hot guy from across the room. 

The man was fairly fit with broad shoulders and a defined chest, floppy brown hair, and great legs. Ryan washed down his food with a drink and took a deep breath. Looking down, he became self conscious again. The buttons on his shirt were straining. He couldn’t believe it. They were fine at the beginning of the night! 

Still, Ryan had forced himself to go in for the kill. Guzzling a rum and coke he approached the sexy stranger who only became hotter up close. Just as Ryan was about to say hello the guy turned to the bathroom and waved. Ryan’s eyes followed the action, and his heart sank. The guy was waving at none other than his ex, Jason. Ryan was trapped as Jason approached and stared at him oddly. 

“Oh my god, Ryan, I didn’t recognize you at first. You’re looking… good?” 

The question mark at the end of that sentence made Ryan want to scream. 

“You look good,” Jason reiterated, unsure who he was trying to convince. “This is my boyfriend, Luke.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Luke said and shook Ryan’s hand with a twinkle in his eye. 

Ryan’s head was spinning. Was this the same guy from Adesco? It couldn’t be…

[applejee]

im sad, looks like tumblr killed my reply to your melbourne recs ask because Oh Boy I Have Opinions. anyway if you're gonna recommend Brunetti's, you've got to go to the lygon street one, the original. Right next door is the Nova Cinema, a definite must hit up imo, cozy smaller cinema that always has fun arthouse films on, and does super cheap tickets on mondays. A short walk down lygon from there is Green Man's Arms, who do the most delightful all vegetarian pub fare, and have such a chill but funky ambiance along with a locally sourced, seasonal menu. They only do lunches on weekends though, it's otherwise very much a dinner venue. Nearby you'll find Tiamo's, an excellent authentic italian restaurant and piece of melbourne history, that place has been there Forever. The OG Readings bookshop is also right there, a small independent bookstore that's grown maybe half a dozen shopfronts around the melbourne area. I'm always happy to browse through and support them. In that vein, I can't not recommend Brunswick Bound, a quirky little bookshop on sydney rd that specialises in local authors and has a wonderful, eclectic range on their shelves. Also on sydney rd, just south of Brunswick Bound, you can find my favourite cheap eats brunch place, Green Refectory. Not a single thing on the menu over like 18 dollars, and it's all really tasty! I love their chicken burger, it's only $12.50 and so, so good. They also make beautiful cakes all baked in-house, as well as some really good sandwiches, rolls, and salad boxes available to take-away. You've recommended a heap of ramen places and I wholly agree with them, but I gotta add in my favourite Izakaya bar in Chinatown, Gyoza Gyoza. They've expanded to have places in Emporium and Melbourne Central now too, but I standby their original venue, it's nicer imo. They have a great range of japanese alcohol, including umeshu (my beloved), as well as my favourite cauliflower karaage and some really good, tender yakitori.

Okay I think I'm tapped out on additional recs for now, but there is just So Much, I hope @srbxzero has a great time visiting!~

YES YES YES THANK U!!! GREAT RECS CAN AGREE

on top of this the cornish arms is a fun pub too. also has many vegan options.

unsure if tags in asks work but for reaaaal theres so many things u can do in melb pls enjoy more recs @srbxzero

[evo-is-obsessed]

What happened to diners? Open 24 hrs with cheap food for ppl who just worked a whatever hour shift with unusual hours. Open when most other places are closed.

What happened to getting off ur shift at the factory at 11pm or later and going to the diner for dinner since it's open 24hrs or till 2am at least and the food is affordable.

I just want small towns to feel like small towns again. Diners were like liminal place where time would stop for a bit. Give me the neon lights and doo-wop vibes. Checkered tile wall trims and floors. Red circle bar stools rimmed with metal and red leather booths that you must check for fallen food before sitting on.

Give me sodie and burger for cheap at unusual hours. Give me juke box in the corner. Give me bright lights inside while the dim street lamps flicker outside, failing to stave off the night.

[pinkcocoapowder]

borgir

TRUE. now I will give you a ranked list of burgers I have had. Bottom to top. Obvi not all of them are here.

Worst burger I've ever fucking had was hands down the one I haven't had. Which is shakeshack's burgers. WHY ARE THEY SO SMALL. I DONT GIVE A SHIT IF THEYRE GOOD OR NOT A SINGLE BURGER COSTS 7 DOLLARS and if you flattened the damn thing it wouldn't even be usable as a coaster. Fuck off man.

Habit burger. They're mid. None of the burgers in this list are straight up trash but this is a nothingburger. It's the most mid thing ever. They're advertized as "char"burgers in order to say ohhhhh haha our quirky burger lookie try it. I hate you 7 dollar habit burger. The pickles hard carry it.

Anything jackin the box is mid I don't like their flavors. Their chicken stuff is good. Too bad it's also expensive as fuck now.

In n out is the most mid burger but it's the perfect burger also. It's cheap yet tasty. You can ask for extra cheese and they give you one billion more slices. Downside is wait time.

Fancy gentrified burger with avocado and a fried egg I had in the whitest area ever. Held together by some skewer. It had some sweet barbecue sauce in it also so it was extra yummy.

Fuckass burger I had on a roadtrip. I didn't even finish it that shit was HUGE and the guy running the diner was cool as fuck.

Shitty used to be dollar menu McDonald's burger. This is the pinnacle of burger form. It's fucking evil and greasy and I haven't had one in a while I know when I bite into that thing it'll be just as bad as I remember. McDonald's ketchup and shitty onion in it and pickles ohhhghhhhhh fml man. I could eat 20.

Burger from a now closed down diner I had in fucking kindergarten. Core memory burger. I close my eyes and dream of it.