#even if he puked the whole floor joe will let him sleep on the bed

[1serotonindeficientgirl]

Don't let him sleep on the sofa

Remember Joe.

[pagingevilspawn]

Loving You Is A Losing Game - chapter nine

heyyy! it’s been a little while, but i did warn that updates on this book a going to get slower. lots of stuffs been going on with my family lately, so its been really hard to find time to sit down and write... but nevertheless, i hope you enjoy this chapter that i only like the second half of...

~*~

"how many pennies in the slot"

~*~

"when can i see you again?"

____

they had set a date. that night outside of joe's bar, they agreed that in just less than two weeks they would see each other again. paul would be out of town on a golfing trip like he did every last friday of the month, and alex would say that he had a family emergency. it wouldn't be hard to get a day off, just the words 'schizophrenic mother' would be enough to let him have a little while off.

so, on that early friday morning, alex stood in the trailer, packing up his suitcase with clothes while izzie continued to sleep peacefully, not needing to wake up for another twenty minutes or so. she had started back at work two days ago and he could tell it was taking a toll on her. she was more irritable and had been sleeping more, exhausted from being on her feet all day, a large comparison to being practically tied to a bed for twenty four hours straight.

he left a note, izzie knew that he was most likely going to be gone before she woke up that morning, but he wrote one anyway. 'gone to the airport. take your pills. love you'. it was short and sweet. he zipped up his suitcase slowly and quietly, careful not to wake his sleeping wife. before he heads out the door he takes one more glance at her and the guilt settles in deeper. he wasn't going to iowa, no, he was going to boston, to see another woman. a woman who wasn't his wife.

he considers not going for a second, calling off the whole trip and staying loyal to izzie, his wife. that's what he should do. the right thing.

but he has this desire in him, this burn. he needs this release, a sense of normalcy, and jo's the only one who can give it to him.

life was really screwed up sometimes.

he knew that someday, somehow, this would come back and blow up in his face, that was a given. but right now... right now he needs this. he needs to ramble on about stupid crap to jo while she does the same, stuff that he wouldn't talk about with izzie because he knew she wouldn't really care. stuff he wouldn't talk about with meredith or cristina because they would somehow circle the problem right back to them. 

he needed this, and he could tell that she did too.

so with that he exits the trailer and slings his small suitcase into the back seat of the cab he ordered, watching as the tin can he called home slowly grew smaller and smaller as he got further away from it. he pulls out his wallet when he reaches the ferry boat not long later, giving the driver a generous tip before stepping onto the dock, the early morning sun just barely peeking above the horizon, setting an orange and yellow tint to the blue water of the sound. it was calming, settling. for the first time he could see why shepherd loved them so much.

when he arrives on the mainland he takes another taxi to the airport, going through security and baggage check quickly, grabbing a straight black coffee from the starbucks by one of the many gift shops, settling himself into an uncomfortable black chair next to an old lady knitting some kind of scarf. it was an ugly thing, green and a weird puke yellow, but the woman seems to like it, so he doesn't judge. he pulls his phone out from his pocket and looks through it, checking to see if he had any notifications or texts. he responds to a few work emails, which was mainly lexie asking for some details on patients since she was covering his service for the next three days.

he doesn't need to wait long before he hears a woman's voice come over the intercom. "flight 270 to boston, group two now boarding." he picks up his suitcase and shows the attendant his ticket before making his way to his seat, which was thankfully an aisle. he places his suitcase in the overheard compartment, letting in his seat mates before him.

he pops a piece of spearmint gum into his mouth so his ears wouldn't get clogged on the way up, leaning back in his seat and drifting off to a much needed sleep. maybe sleep would help to settle his nerves. maybe sleep would bring him some peace.

____

to say jo was nervous was an understatement, she was terrified. for what, she wasn't quite sure. maybe she was worried paul would come home early and see that she wasn't there. maybe she was worried that her and alex wouldn't connect, like last time.

she really hoped that wouldn't be the case though. she needed this, she craved it. she needed the release, she needed the conversations over beer, she needed the ease of being together, even though what they were doing was far from it. easy, that is.

alex would be meeting her at the hotel not too far from her house, a ten minute drive or so. she had a small duffle bag filled with clothes, school textbooks (she still had to study, she was a med-student above anything else after all) and necessities like her toothbrush and comb. she checks the time on the clock on the wall. it was now 2:32. alex's flight landed at around two, and he was going to text her when he arrived at his hotel.

she lets out a long breath, biting her lower lip as she flops back onto her bed, turning on her phone for the hundredth time in the last five minutes, seeing if alex had texted her yet. her feelings were a combination of nerves and impatience. she needed him, right there, right now. she needed to feel something real.

ever since paul hit her two weeks ago she seemed like she was living in a dream world. her thoughts were more hazy and the life she was living just didn't seem all that real. (she didn't have brain damage, but she chalked it up to a sign of shock).

everything had shifted in those two weeks. paul was worse —angry all the time. instead of being greeted by the door with a kiss, it was now an order, either to make him coffee, snack, or some other kind of demand. she didn't know this paul. but, he would get better. she knew he would. people always say that after the honeymoon stage of marriage ends it gets harder. so she thought that that's where they were right now. the harder part.

luckily the bruise on her eye had faded, nearly completely gone by now. a little bit of concealer on the corner of her lid was just enough to cover the yellow spot so it was unrecognizable. she was thankful for that. she didn't want to have to explain why her eye was bruised to alex.

she closes her eyes and places a hand on her forehead, not needing to wait long before her phone buzzes in her hand.

alexandra: just got in a taxi. the driver says i'll be at the hotel in twenty.

joseph: okay, room 363 right?

alexandra: yep ;)

jo chuckles at his response (leave it up to alex to flirt through every text), zipping her duffle bag closed, and walking over to the mirror hanging above her dresser. she ruffles her hair before picking up a spare comb and brushing through it once more. she hated her hair sometimes. it didn't matter how many times she combed through it, it was tangled and knotted as hell five minutes later. she sets the brush down, exhaling a long sigh as she looks into her reflection, her seas of hazel staring right back at her.

she wanted to say that she regretted those three nights. she wanted to say she was going to regret the next three. but honestly? she couldn't. she knew the shame would be flowing through her body once they left the room. she knew that she would not be able to look at herself for a few days in the mirror, only being able to see a woman who cheats on her husband. she knew. but for some reason it didn't matter. she wanted to meet alex in that room for three days straight and let them confine in one another.

she wanted it. she needed it.

so with that thought, she slings the bag over her shoulder and exits the bedroom, closing the door behind her. she gets into a taxi she ordered and drives to the hyatt where alex was staying, nervously tapping her fingers on her knees the whole way, grateful that she had ordered a taxi and not chosen to drive her own car. (no way in hell was she going to pay for hotel parking.) besides, it's not like her and alex were going to be leaving the room much.

she grabs her phone out of her pocket and pulls up alex's contact. she couldn't check in, since the room was in alex's name.

joseph: you here yet?

alexandra: yeah, just set my stuff down.

joseph: okay, i'll be up in a few

jo flashes the woman at the receptionist's desk a polite smile before she can talk, entering the elevators and pressing the third floor button. when the doors close, soft tunes begin to play through the small space, a long groan escaping jo's lips. she hated elevator music. she hated it's stupid rhythm and the way it made you want to claw your eyes out. abso-freaking-lutely nothing was enjoyable about elevator music. when the steel doors open she couldn't get out of them fast enough, cursing under her breath about their 'stupid freaking songs'.

she finds the room quickly, taking in a deep breath before she raises her hand to knock. if she wanted to leave, now was the time. she could make a run for it, text him that she couldn't do it and ghost him after. but the truth is, she didn't want to. she wanted to knock on the damn door, open it and see alex once again. in person this time, not just over her phone. 

three knocks. an "it's open," is all it takes for her to swing the wooden door wide and be met with the face of alex karev, who had a small smirk on his features, looking her up and down, drinking in the sight of what's been on his mind non stop for the past month.

jo stands nervously in the doorway, leaning against the frame. she somewhat expected him not to show up. her whole life she'd been abandoned. who was she to expect a guy would fly across the country and cheat on his wife with her? and to show up would be a whole new thing.

but he did. it wasn't something to be proud of, but she didn't think he'd ever know how much it meant to her that he was there.

alex's smirk quirks up higher at one end, "personally... i think you're wearing too much clothes," he teases. that's all it takes for jo to drop her bag on the floor without a thought and jog over to him, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

the kiss was needy, frustrated. weeks of pent up emotions poured into it, burning their mouths with their desire for one another. her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, bodies pressed so tightly together there was no room in between them.

nothing mattered in that moment. it was just them, nobody else, nothing else. all they were was two bodies longing for the touch of one another, to caress their skin, to realize that everything was going to be just fine if they could kiss each other like that for just a little while.

it was just them.

____

jo and alex laid in the afterglow, the sun peeking through the curtains and setting a warm hue on their entangled bodies, limbs seeming to no longer belong to just one person. a calm silence surrounded them, a silence they desperately craved. it brought peace and promise, something they could both agree was a necessity right now in the chaotic mess that they had gotten themselves into.

she traces circles on his chest, eyes closed as he runs his fingers through her hair. her foot moved up and down his calf, nearly in sync with the way his hand twirled her brown locks. they were tired, exhausted after what they had just finished with each other, but they didn't want to fall asleep. the way their skin felt on each other, the fireworks going off in them was just too much to allow them to drift off. just being near each other seemed to heighten their adrenaline.

while she was focused on his chest and (now) making stars with her finger, he was staring at her lips. it was odd, how hers seemed to mold so perfectly into his. at the moment, her lips were swollen, a bright red tint glossing over them from their previous activities. a sight he enjoyed much more than he would ever admit.

they lay like that for a while, until jo shifts a bit, beginning to place tiny kisses on the side of his chest. "how's work been?" she asks, momentarily stopping the movement of her lips on his skin to look up at him, her eyes shining with genuine questioning.

alex moves his hand from her hair to her side, rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin that she possessed there. he pulls her closer to him, stifling his groan in her hair, making her let out a laugh —a sound he had grown more than fond of. "we’ve merged with one of the lower ranking hospitals, mercy west. which sucks."

he can feel jo pout against him. "i'm sorry." she says sincerely. 

he blows out a breath, "yeah. i can't stand any of these new people —none of us can, actually."

jo sits up, eyes locking with his, a teasing undertone shining through her words. "oh c'mon, how bad can they really be?"

alex smirks, taking her mock as a challenge. "well for starters, they're all a bunch of total kiss asses." he grins, making her chuckle against his palm. "i'm serious," he laughs, adjusting his position so he could now sit fully upright. "kepner has this little book, where she writes everything down in, and i mean everything," jo leans against the headboards, taking her hand in his larger one and begins to trace his fingers. 

"she never stops talking. she's like a freaking chihuahua. and she also got this huge thing for shepherd," he chuckles, thinking about how the girl practically melted every time the neurosurgeon entered the room. "she has her lips permanently superglued to his ass." 

jo hits his chest, trying to keep her laughs to a minimum. "i'm sure she's not that bad," she reasons. his curt glare is the only thing that told her that this kepner was in fact 'that bad'.  

“she’s terrible. never shuts up about jesus either. jesus wouldn’t approve of all the images she’d probably conjuring in her mind about shepherd though.” he snorts, amused at his own joke. jo rolls her eyes, biting back a smirk. 

“oh doctor shepherd, i’ve picked up your lab results. oh doctor shepherd, i’ll assist you on a surgery nobody else wants to even observe. oh doctor shepherd, i’ll do anything you want me to if that means i get to stare at you a little bit longer.” 

“please tell me you’re exaggerating.” 

alex scoffs, “i wish. worst part is, she does it while mer is in the room. i’m not sure if she doesn’t know he’s married or has just never had the hots for someone before. Because if she hasn’t, she’s making it painfully obvious.”

jo gives up on holding back her laughter, letting a little giggle escape her throat. “that’s… something,” she settles on. over the past few weeks she’d begun to learn nearly everything about alex and all of his friends’ crazy, soap-opera lives inside the walls of the hospital. what she retained is one; that they were all somehow related, either biologically or through sex, and two; people who worked at seattle grace were incredibly horny, to put it lightly. but that was a discussion for another time. 

“mhm, then adamson is just a-a bitch. yeah, she’s a huge bitch. don’t know how else to describe her other than that.” he leans over the side of the bed and ruffles through his carry-on bag, emerging with a bag of gummy bears. ripping the bag open he offers the candy to jo, who eagerly accepts and shoves at least four of the bears into her mouth at once. 

“percy’s just this… absolute giant. guy’s like, seventy feet tall. he’s also got this thing for adamson, who only sees him as her brother. it’s sad really, she calls him charlie and everything.” he fakes a pout, posing mock sympathy for the man he honestly wouldn’t even give the time of day to if he wasn’t currently invading his work place.

jo clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “that’s a tough one.”

“yep.” he pops a few more gummy bears into his mouth, waiting until he finished them before talking again. (he one time tried to complete his story with food still in his mouth and jo had physically shut his jaw and forced him to chew until all of the pizza was gone. no way he was making that mistake again —jo was strong.) 

“don’t even get me started on avery. god, every time i see him i just wanna punch him.” that piqued jo’s interest, a teasing grin split across her lips. 

“are you jealous?”

alex scoffs, “god no. definitely not. i just can’t stand the guy. the dude looks like he should be on the cover of a fashion magazine, not inside of an OR. and, he gets standing ovations in the middle of the emergency room. oh yeah, plus he’s loaded, being harper avery’s grandson and all. i thought we were past the age of nepotism” 

jo’s eyes widen comically, snatching the bag of gummies out of his hand and tossing it across the room, cutting off alex’s loud display of protests at the fact that the candy was now scattered carelessly across the carpet. “harper avery’s grandson?!” she all but screeches. 

 alex visibly winces, “yes jo.” he replied, nodding his head and trying to figure out how the woman he thought he had gotten to know so well could emit that kind of sound. like one of those teenage girls who were obsessed with those movies about vampires and werewolves.  

“as in the harper avery award harper avery?”

“no jo,” alex deadpans, dramatically rolling his eyes. “the harper avery who owns the car dealership down the street —yes the harper avery award harper avery. who else would it be?” he gets up from the bed and starts collecting the gummy bears, dumping all the dirty ones into the trash while silently cheering when a good amount of them were still left in the bag. 

when he returns to his spot, jo slaps him across the chest. “asshole. there may be a lot of people out there who are named harper avery.” in her defense, there were seven point six billion people on the earth. it was highly likely a few people shared the same name as the former doctor. (at least one.)

“mhm. yeah, well, the guy’s an ass.” he argues, giving her the bag of candy in hopes that she won’t throw it across the room again.

jo’s eyebrows scrunch up as she tilts her head to the side, seemingly deep in thought. “you know you gotta become friends with him right?”

he lets out a bemused laugh, “tell me you’re joking.” he says.

she shakes her head, jutting out her bottom lip. “nope. i mean...there’s gotta be some benefits to befriending an avery, right?” surely, there would be some kind of advantage. extra… good points with the foundation? mentions about oneself to the famous catherine avery? (the more she ran it over in her head the worse it sounded, but there was no way she was gonna give up, because there had to be at least one advantage to being best bros with an avery.)

“sure,  i’ll keep that in mind.” he smirks, seeing how the wheels had stopped turning in that mind of her’s and were put to a rest once she realized the lack of good things that could come from being nice to mr. green eyes. 

“whatever jerk. help me with some of my homework, i don’t wanna do it and you’re the hotshot surgeon who already finished med-school and works at a big, fancy hospital. sound good doctor karev?” she teases, grabbing her books from her bag and dropping them down onto the bed, the heavy pages creating a loud thump that immediately sends alex back to his days in college. books scattered on his bedspread, day-old mcdonald’s cups on his side table, and packets of unhealthy snack foods thrown across the floor. he lets out a dramatic sigh, pretending to think it over before pulling a book and jo towards him. 

“so, biochemistry…”

[sweet-curried-powder]

so a couple days ago i was doing a writing warmup thing that i ended up writing into a full-blown fic because i have 0 self control. it's been up on ao3 for like 2 days now but i completely neglected to post this on tumblr until now.

warnings: eating disorderlike behaviors, mentions of death and vomiting, sk8 the infinity spoilers

here's the ao3 link if any of you guys are interested in that!

~~~~

It started when Langa’s dad passed away.

He fell into a spiral, nothing was right anymore, nothing would be the same ever again, his normal was gone, his normal was shattered, his world was over. Nothing he did brought him joy, not even snowboarding, which had been his favorite thing to do ever since he was a toddler. He’d shoved his snowboard to the very back of his closet, covering it up with old winter coats and jackets that he’d long grown out of.

Langa didn’t want to look at it anymore. It reminded him too much of his dad.

He began to eat away the pain, anything he could get his hands on. Leftovers in the fridge packed in plastic containers or wrapped in plastic wrap. Packages of chips and nuts and tiny bite-sized cookies from the vending machines at his school. Random items from the value/dollar menus at local fast-food joints. If he was desperate enough when his mom asked him to clear the table after dinner he’d wait until she was gone and then shovel the leftovers into his mouth with his bare hands, crying silent tears.

This went on for months. He’d eat, and eat, and eat. Sometimes curled up on the cold kitchen floor in the middle of the night, sometimes while hiding in his room or the bathroom, sometimes while sitting at a table in the corner. He wouldn’t stop until he felt sick, or he actually was sick. But in the end, he always threw up, whether he forced himself to or not. There was a small scar on his left hand from purging so much, but it wasn’t all that noticeable unless you looked really, really hard.

Then they moved to Okinawa. Where his mother had grown up, apparently. Langa vaguely remembered that his mom said something about her work and transferring and storage facilities, but he was only really half listening. He’d puked up a large order of poutine not too long before and the burning feeling in his throat and the sharp pangs in his stomach were distracting.

He met Reki. Reki was his first real friend. He didn’t befriend him out of pity, or out of different circumstances. He’d rambled on and on about skateboarding for weeks, and introduced him to S. He taught Langa how to skate, and made him his own board, which had a yeti on it. Reki taught Langa how to read and write Japanese (with some help from Cherry, who blew a fuse when he realized Langa couldn’t read or write Japanese—Joe said he had never seen Cherry that pissed in his whole life), and in exchange Langa helped Reki with his English homework. They did everything together, like two peas in a pod. And along the way, Langa fell head over heels in love.

But then they fought.

The words still echoed loudly and clear as day in Langa’s head. “We aren’t a good match anymore.” His heart was shattered, broken into a million pieces. He had opened his mouth, to say something, anything, to beg or plead his crush, his best friend, to please come back, to not leave him behind, but Reki was already gone. Langa had no other choice but to turn on his heels and run home, his throat tight, his eyes wet.

The feeling in his chest felt like the feeling he had felt when his dad died, but a hundred million times worse. He cried that night. He cried hard, so hard he felt as if he was going to choke. The day after the fight, after school, he went to some sort of buffet-style restaurant and stayed there for hours. He got countless helpings. Tempura, yakitori, onigiris, udon. He left after he had finished what was probably his sixth plateful of tempura fried shrimp, where he ran home to his bathroom and threw up, threw up so much he nearly passed out in front of the toilet bowl.

It hurt so much.

Everything hurt.

He cried again. He cried so hard his throat went hoarse. He missed Reki. He missed skating with him, sharing bento boxes at lunch on the roof, the way he smiled, laughed, and joked around, everything about the red-haired boy. In a way Reki filled the empty, gaping hole inside of him that had opened up when his dad died. Langa still missed his father, of course he did, nobody could replace him, but… Reki completed him. He wanted to be with Reki forever and ever.

Langa stood up, legs trembling slightly as he shuffled to bed and faceplanted onto it, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Luckily, things worked out. They made up, and they confessed their feelings. They began dating. Langa beat the crap out of Adam at the tournament. Things were good, for the most part.

Well, usually.

Of course, there were still times where he delved back into old habits. Times where’d he’d have to go to extreme lengths to hide it from Reki and the others. It never usually lasted for long, only a week or two, the urges to eat and throw up having disappeared as sudden as it had come.

But not this time.

Langa had met Mr. Kyan for the first time, about three weeks ago, and the memory of that day still felt sharp and clear in his mind, as if he were experiencing it again, and again, and again. It wasn’t because Mr. Kyan was a bad or mean person, no, quite the opposite. He was a wonderful husband, an amazing father, and while he didn’t know anything at all about skateboarding or any of Reki’s hobbies, he let his son talk about it as much as he wanted, and for the most part, he’d stay quiet and listen; maybe ask a question now and again, but that was it.

And oh god, how it hurt for Langa to watch.

He wasn’t jealous, necessarily, but seeing Reki interact with his father made him long for his own. And the feelings were rushing back, almost out of control, like a raging waterfall, and the urges were coming along for the ride.

And he was still at it, still continuing the miserable cycle of eating too much, then throwing up, eating too much and throwing up, eating and puking, eating and puking. Langa was losing weight; this was a normal occurrence during the cycle, but he was dropping them rapidly. He began wearing the hoodies he stole from Reki everywhere now, lying and saying that he was wearing them because he was cold, or that wearing them felt like Reki was hugging him all the time (the latter made Reki turn bright red almost instantly, so that was a win-win, in a way). He was at 48 kilos, and the numbers were only dropping faster.

Langa wasn’t trying to lose weight on purpose, but at the same time he couldn’t be bothered to do anything about his weight loss, really. So he kept going, and nobody suspected anything.

At least, not for a while.

[obliteratethefrog]

Pregnant Headcanon

-getting pregnant and your ex bf leaving you, so you have the boys(+lucy, bri, and rog) help you through your pregnancy.

A/N: I’ve seen so many people do “getting pregnant by this cast member and that) but like...what if they didn’t impregnate you and you were just their friend you were helping through a pregnancy? So here it is, enjoy!

 TAGS: @darlingyourebeingabore @vuhlereea @wearethechampionsblog

@ursoself-satisfying

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-Positive.

-That’s what the little stick read, right in front of your own eyes. Positive!

-You were ecstatic! You’ve always wanted to be a mom, and now’s your chance.

-When your BF got home that night, you told him over dinner. His whole demeanor dropped right then and there.

-He broke up with you not even a minute later, saying, “I’m not ready to be a dad! I knew I should’ve used a condom the last time we had sex.”

-He packed up his bags and left right then and there.

-You were an emotional wreck after that, calling Rami to tell him the news while sobbing hysterically, asking if he could come to your house.

-Rami was out with the guys(Joe, Gwil, and Ben), but he told them the situation, and all of them decided that they were going to go and comfort you.

-When they arrived, each one of them brought you into a hug.

-Rami held you tight, Joe rubbed your shoulders as he hugged you, Gwil ran his hand through your hair while whispering sweet words, and Ben let you sit in his lap as you all sat in your living room of your apartment.

-You told them that they didn’t have to come, and that you were sorry for disturbing their night before filming, but Rami shushed you and said you were more important at the moment.

-They let you come to the filming set with them throughout your pregnancy.

-The first month was hell.

-Your breasts were super tender, you couldn’t leave the bathroom floor if you tried, you were always tired, your moods were off the wall, and so were your cravings. The boys brought you whatever you wanted when they had a chance to get away from set, but usually it was their assistant that was helping the most.

-You mostly camped out in Rami’s trailer while they were filming, and even Lucy was helping you through the more extreme portions (aka helping you take off your bra when your tits felt like they were being rubbed raw, holding your hair back as your puked, or even bringing a hot water bottle for when you got cramps.)

-5 months into production and also into your pregnancy, and the boys couldn’t help but be excited for the due date that was slowly, but surely approach.

-Even Brian and Roger were excited. Roger would always sit beside you when the boys were filming, as well as Brian. (hell they even gave you your own chair with your damn name on it!)

-Uncle Bri would bring a ukulele and play soft tunes close to your belly while humming lyrics to Queen songs (usually ‘39, Under Pressure, and Radio GaGa).

-Uncle Rog would always ask if he could warm his chilled hands on your belly, and when he did, he would feel your baby start to kick around at the familiar hands. He would smile like a kid in a candy store, reminiscing over each one of his children and how he felt when he did this in his youth.

-Rami would come over in full costume, hair, and makeup just to make sure you were comfortable. When the director would give them a 5 minute break, he’d come over and rub circles along your stomach, reassuring you of any insecurities you had throughout your pregnancy.

“Rami, I’m about the size of a whale, I can’t even see my feet!” “Don’t say that, (Y/N). You still look beautiful. Now c’mon, show me that smile.”

-Usually when he’d say this he’d start to tickle you furiously, but today he just rubbed circles along your bloated belly, causing a giant grin to span over your face.

-Joe would let you mess around with each one of the multiple hair styles he had throughout the movies, whether it be the long ass wig he had to wear or the curly perm he “hated”.

“I think you should keep your hair like this, it looks great!” “You’re just saying that because you like messing with the curls.” “You’re not wrong..”

-Gwilym would always come over to lay his head on your stomach, with you permission of course! He loved feeling your baby move around and kick at his cheek. It somehow always made him relax enough to get back into the mood to finish filming.

“(Y/N)! I felt the baby kick my cheek again! It was a good kick at that, do you think the baby would be a football(soccer) player?” “Maybe Gwil, maybe.”

-Ben wouldn’t really want to interact with the baby at the beginning, but about halfway through filming, he wouldn’t leave your side, making sure you weren’t in any pain or anything.

“Ben. BEN! I’m fine, really I am.” “I know you are, (Y/N), but I just wanna make sure. Do you want a shoulder massage?” “Actually...yes, I’d love one.”

-Being treated like a porcelain doll by the entire cast of BoRhap. Allen would always bring you a big bottle of water from the nearest convenience store or gas station he could find.

“Here you are, (Y/N), dear. Oh, and I brought you a snack” he would say, holding out your favorite bag of chips. He had noticed that usually right whenever you got to set that you would be craving these chips. “Thanks, Allen. That’s really sweet of you!”

-Aaron would always let you cuddle up to him when it was cold during the later shoots. His plush body always made your baby calm down.

“Ah, I felt the little bugger kick my stomach a bit, (Y/N).” “You’ve gotten the baby excited then. They love having you close, you’re warm and familiar.”

-9 months later and here you were, sitting in the hospital. Earlier that day, on set, you thought you were just having excruciating cramps, but oh nnnoononon, this baby was coming, and I mean NOW.

-You waddled your way over to Lucy, who immediately notices the pool of liquid that trailed behind you. She raced away to get the others, who rushed out of the makeup trailer, still in costume, before ushering you into Joe’s car.

-Thank God Joe’s from New York, and he knew his way around traffic.

-You were rushed in a wheelchair by a group of nurses, who immediately took you into a room that you had reserved earlier that month.(upon Rami’s request of course. He knew you wouldn’t want to be rushed off to the hospital with no room to stay in)

-Labor was a bitch. The nurse gave you your epidural shot about 3 hours before you were meant to begin pushing, but this baby was being really stubborn.

-Joe was kind enough to bring you a cup of water when you had just finished a really bad contraction.

-When the actually pushing came, they only allowed one person in the room, which obviously was Rami.

-He didn’t even complain when you gripped his hand with as much strength as an anaconda (me:*plays the nicki minaj song* lol sorry)

-30 minutes into pushing and you were greeted by the cries of your baby.

-IT’S A BOY!!

-Rami stared at the newborn that was resting on your chest after he was cleaned and taken care of.

“So, what’re you gonna name him?” “I think I’m gonna name him...Micah Fletcher (L/N).”

-Uncle Gwil, Joe, and Ben couldn’t keep their greedy little hands off of baby Micah.

-Uncle Bri and Uncle Roger swung by later, and they already had little toys and clothes for when you could take him home.

-You remember posting a video of all the boys holding Micah.

-Gwil was sitting at the edge of the bed, letting the baby boy grip onto his finger.

“He’s got such a strong grip, (Y/N). That’s good.”

-Joe couldn’t help but copy Micah’s actions. If he yawned with his tongue sticking out then joe would follow, smiling wide when Micah smiled back at him.

“Ah, he’s about to do it again...ahhhhhhhh hahah hey there..oh (Y/N) he’s got your nose and eyes!”

-Ben would let the sleepy Micah cuddled up to his buff chest(me:dem titties...oops sorry tumblr). Micah would rest his head on the middle of his chest while looking around the room with curious (e/c) eyes.

“You better try not to feed off me, I’m not your mum..” “BEN! HAHA”

-Rami was obviously given the honor of being his godfather, and he couldn’t have been happier. He already loved Micah like he was his own son.

“I’m fine, (Y/N). No, I am not crying..okay I am a little bit..but I mean you just made me his godfather and that makes me so happy..” “C’mere Rami, give me a hug.”

-Brian sits in the rocking chair in the room to get Micah to sleep when you were recovering. He could let Micah play with a few strands of his gray curls.

“No, No Micah, that doesn’t go in your mouth...awe now don’t give me that look. I said no; I don’t want (Y/N) griping about how you’re obsessed with putting hair in your mouth when you’re older.”

-Roger would fall asleep with Micah in his secure grip. He would be snoring away until Micah wakes up and takes a whole handful of his beard and tugs.

“Oi, squirt! Don’t tug on that, I’m already losing hair on me head!”

-THE CAST CAN’T STOP SPOILING YOU AND MICAH. Whether it be a pair of house slippers you’ve been eyeing or some new blanket for Micah.

-We all know Brian’s gonna be the one to decorate his nursery like a damn planetarium and you love it.

[brightly-painted-canvas]

Can you write something where Joe and Rami celebrate their tenth anniversary?

YES I CAN MY SWEET, PATIENT ANON. YES I CAN!Sorry it took me so long to write this, but stuff happened (and it’s still happening) irl that’s taking me away from writing and drawing. The hiatus is over, tho! No need for that anymore, I’ll just be slower to update than before (haha like I’ve ever been fast!).Here’s a fic for you, hope you like it!

(also on AO3!)

Ten years of special - mazlek

The first time ever Joe completely realises his and Rami’s 10th anniversary is approaching happens six month before the actual date, while he’s having a Facetime call with Martin.

Martin’s face is tired and badly illuminated in the dim light of his Dublin apartment, as is fully nighttime in Ireland while still midday in New York. Joe’s been back home from London for about a week and is getting ready for the whole BoRhap promotion tour ordeal, starting in about two weeks. He’s pretty excited about it, of course.

He has just asked when Martin is planning his next trip to the other side of the Pond when Martin replies: “Dunno? Maybe if you’re doing something to celebrate in March and plan for friends and families to be involved I can come around.” with a casual wave of his hand.

“About what?” Joe asks dumbly, confused.

Martin blinks twice before stating: “Your anniversary?”

“Of what?” asks again Joe, completely out of the loop. Something to do with ‘The Pacific’ maybe?

“You and Rami? Being together?” tries Martin, almost exasperated.

Joe gasps and covers his mouth, looking shocked: “Fuck!” he exclaims.

“It’s been ten years Joe, I thought you knew by now you two have been dating.” says Martin, amused by the reaction.

“That’s not it! Fuck, I haven’t got anything planned!” cries out Joe, frantically looking for his phone to check the anniversary date.

“There’s still time,” says Martin, trying to calm him down: “I’m sure Rami doesn’t even care for big celebrations anyway, he likes quiet things. Which is why it’s a wonder how you’re still together after this long…” he comments, but the joke is lost to Joe’s panicking mind.

“I mean, ten years, Martin!” he’s whining: “It’s big! It’s a whole decade!”“Yeah, Joe. That’s what ‘decade’ means.” says Martin, tone flat and completely unimpressed.

“What should I do?” Joe asks, looking desperate.

Martin shrugs, shaking his head: “You’ve got six months to figure it out? Just let me know in time if you need me there as a moral support, okay? There are plane tickets to be bought.” he warned.

After that the conversation just move toward something else.

Time flies by and Joe’s (and of course Rami’s) life gets extremely busy with the BoRhap promotion tour and award season that he starts postponing their anniversary celebration plans until he all but forgets about it.

Suddenly is March and both him and Rami are back in NYC.

Rami is an Academy Award Winner with a schedule so full it would be stressful even if it was split between two people. Joe is been spending his days and nights sick in bed for an obstinate flu he’s caught right at the end of award season which is taking too long to cure.

On the very day of their 10th anniversary, Rami has to leave home before dawn for Mr. Robot shootings and doesn’t come back until after the sun has set.

Meanwhile, Joe has been trying to sleep his sickness off for the whole day, though to no avail.

He has been waking up periodically to get his medicines and try to eat something that he then promptly vomits shortly after. He’s feeling miserable, too hot and too cold at the same time, feverish, tired and weak.

When Rami finally steps back into their house, he finds Joe knelt down over the toilet bowl, shaking like a leaf, looking greyish and completely fed up of being sick.

“Let me ask Yasy if she can suggest something stronger to get you.” says Rami, flushing the toilet before kneeling down beside him on the bathroom floor to gently rub his back: “Maybe you’ve been taking the wrong medicine.”

Joe sigh loudly and shrugs, his body suddenly tense and resting heavily on Rami’s support.

“I’m dying, Rami.” he declares, shaking his head.

“Haha, nice quote.” says the other, tone flat and humorless: “But no, you ain’t dying.” he clarifies: “I won’t allow that. Ever.”

“Thank you, baby.” Joe whisper again, weakly: “‘s nice to know I can count on you to keep me alive.”

“Well, it’s been true for ten years. I have no problems keeping it like that.” smiles Rami, more like a passing thought.

There’s a pause after that, one Rami thinks is due to the fact that Joe needs to puke again, but then he’s quietly asking: “What day is today?” and Rami has to reply: “The 6th.”

“Fuck.” is Joe’s hissed comment: “Fuck, Rams. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s really not your fault that you got sick.” reasons Rami.

“It’s not that, it’s…” whines Joe, suddenly turning around to look Rami in the eyes and taking his hand in his sweaty one. He feels extra disgusting and miserable. “I wanted to do something special. For you and for us. I really wanted this to be… special.” he sighs, defeated.

“Joe, I really don’t care about special, at the moment.” says calmly Rami, tugging Joe close to have him rest against his chest, chin on his partner’s messy-haired head. They are hugging on the tiled bathroom floor and the moment feel somehow cathartic, relevant: “We just had a shitload of special happening to us, it think it’s enough for now.” he almost laughs: “And anyway, you’ve been the one special thing in my life since I’ve met you, so… really, no need for anything else.” he says, starting to softly cradle Joe, rocking back and forth.

“God, that’s very romantic.” commented Joe, voice muffled by the fabric of Rami’s sweater against his mouth: “I’d kiss you if I hadn’t been puking all day.”

“Ew.” says Rami, laughing softly and shifting so he can place a kiss on Joe’s forehead.

“But you’re the special one for me too, Rams. That’s why I wanted to celebrate.” sigh Joe, straightening his back to look into Rami’s eyes, suddenly very serious: “Ten years. It’s a lot.”

“Yeah, but I thought the plan was to stick around each other for a little longer than that? So the ten years milestone really doesn’t bother me. It’s just there to tell us we’re doing it well, somehow.” explains Rami, smiling with easiness as he caresses Joe’s face: “Are you getting tired of me?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

Joe’s panicked expression says everything: “No, of course not. Never. You’re doomed with the responsibility of taking care of me for the rest of your life. Or mine, which isn’t gonna be long if things get worse than this.” he states and coughs for good measure.

Rami laughs again and kisses him on the cheek: “I guess it’s a deal.”

They look at each other again and then look around the bathroom, as they are suddenly figuring out where they are having such conversations.

“Do you think you’re good for now?” asks Rami eyeing the toilet and Joe grimaces, considering it for a moment, then nods.

“Then how about this for a plan: if you feel like it you can take a shower while I aerate the bedroom and call my sister.” proposes Rami, getting up from the floor and then helping Joe stand up: “After that, once you’re clean and properly treated, we can have celebratory cuddles in bed.”

“If I get you sick, Sam’s gonna kill me. I mean, probably a lot of other people would be mad at me and want me dead, but he won’t hesitate to kill me for real.” says Joe, standing there in the middle of the bathroom looking concerned.

Rami shakes his head and pushes him a little to guide him toward the shower: “I won’t get sick. And I’d deal with Sam anyway. I’d probably just need to bargain your life with a contract for a new tv show…” he comments.

“That’s how much my life is worth right now.” whines Joe as Rami forces him out of his sweated t-shirt.

Rami huffs and leaves him to deal with the shower, moving to the bedroom to open the windows and changing the sheets before heading to the kitchen to call Yasmine.

When he gets his phone out of his pocket he finds a lot of unread texts from friends and family, all congratulating him and Joe. The one which catches his eyes the most is from Martin, who wrote: “Miss you boys. Hope Joe found something special for you to do today.” to which Rami just smiles and sends back a “Special is the right word. Miss you too.”

[pinkletterday]

The Way We Were

Pairing: Barry Allen/ Iris West

Rating: All Audiences

Summary:

Memories may be beautiful and yet

What's too painful to remember 

We simply choose to forget

So it's the laughter we will remember

Whenever we remember

the way we were

Read on AO3

The box of mementos had sat stored away on high closet shelf until Iris had been seized with the need to find some obscure sweater of Barry's. Her frenzied search accidentally knocked it to the floor, the contents scattering every which way, joining the mess she had made of the rest of the room.

She picked up the tiny velociraptor fallen near her foot.

***

They had both loved Jurassic Park. Barry because he was a nerd and Iris because she had seen that T-Rex eat a guy on the toilet and screamed at the time but also thought it was awesome. They would sneak into the kitchen at night to get Jell-o, pretending they were trying to evade raptors. Sometimes Iris was the velicoraptor and Barry had to hide from her.

Her Dad had the living daylights scared out of him once when he came down for a glass of milk at 1am without switching on the light and they had both screamed in his face.

***

The memory rose so vividly that she took a step back and nearly tripped over Barry's old sneakers. They were covered in sharpied scribbles, laces still tied together.

***

Iris had never been able to monitor her own sugar consumption. She used to eat so much candy at fairs that it made Joe and Barry sick just to watch her. She'd puked on Barry's shoes TWICE after eating funnel cake on top of cotton candy and candy corn. Barry told her later, the morning after they had first made love, that this was probably when he figured out he's in love with her for real, because he was too worried and exasperated to be grossed out as much as he should have been.

It hadn't stopped him from jokingly gifting her the sneakers once they'd been cleaned. Iris had retaliated by refusing to give them back.

***

The keychain from her first car gleamed dully from under the side table.

***

Joe still thought it was Iris that crashed his car. It had actually been Barry at the wheel. Iris knew her Dad loved Barry but there was always a shadow of a fear in her heart when he annoyed her Dad a little too much. She had insisted they swap seats and change their story before the cops came and never told him why. She could take her Dad's anger. She's his little girl. But she's never trusted anyone to love Barry as much as she does.

Dad had given them a beat up Ford Escort for them to share when they were seventeen, but Barry had refused to get behind the wheel again till he left for college.

***

The Titanic poster that had half-unrolled across the floor had been a gag gift from him the Christmas he had come home his freshman year.

***

They had been too young for the Titanic fever when it had first come out (except for everyone getting sick of that Celine Dion song) but when they had been about ten, Iris had taken it firmly into her head that she needed to see what the fuss was about. Dad hadn't let them because he thought they were still babies who didn't know about sex, which made Iris all the more determined.

She had gotten Barry to steal his parents' DVD copy and bring it with him one day he was sleeping over at the Wests' house. They watched it together in their basement, giggling and blushing at the sexy parts. Barry yelped and covered his face with his hands, ears burning, when Kate Winslet disrobed, and Iris covered up her own embarrassment by laughing and throwing popcorn at him.

At the end of the movie, Barry had been crying into his own popcorn but Iris was incensed.

"Well that's....just stupid!" She steamed at the tv. "Are you CRYING?"

"NO," Barry sniffled. "But it's not stupid. Why is it stupid?"

"She let him DIE, Barry!" Iris fumed. "They could have shared that door! Taken turns! Or made HIM get on it!"

"It's a minus freezing sea, Iris, not a swimming pool. You can't jump in an out of it like that. Besides, then she would have died," said Barry, looking at her in incomprehension.

"Well duh!" Iris huffed and threw her hands up in indignation. "You dont let the boy you love DIE for you. How is that romantic?"

"It's romantic cause he sacrificed himself so she could live," insisted Barry. "That's what you do when you love someone!"

"Oh yeah, I love you so much Im just gonna up and LEAVE you, have a nice life!"

"That's not fair!" said Barry, seeming irrationally hurt. "It's not like he had a choice! You just dont get romance, Iris. You don't even like musicals," he concluded in a superior tone.

Iris gaped at him, then closed her mouth and returned to the point at issue. "Anyway. It's stupid. She doesnt deserve him. I'd a died with my man if it was me."

"Well then you're stupid," said Barry with uncharacteristic vehemence. "You're worth way more than some guy!"

"I happen to love that guy!" Iris yelled back.

"What guy?"

"Whatever guy!"

"Fine! Go die for Whatever Guy!"

"You too! Go drown yourself for little Miss Cant-Share-A-Frggin-Door Priss!"

They glared at each other before the absurdity of the argument dawned on them and they started to laugh.

"Is everything okay down there?" Joe's voice called down to the basement.

They looked at each other wide-eyed and at the TV before Iris scrambled to eject the DVD.

That night, after her Dad had turned off the light with a firm admonishment to go to sleep, Iris snuck into Barry's camp bed and under his covers where he was reading with a flashlight.

"Hey," she poked him. "Just to be clear, I know you're a sappy nerd -"

"YOU'RE a sappy -"

"But," she continued determined, "no sacrificing yourself for any girls, okay? I need my best friend around."

Barry had a weird expression on his face.

"What?"

"You're a girl," he observed rather too casually. "Im not allowed to give you the door either?"

Iris swatted him, appalled. "Especially not me! We're partners Barry! The whole point is that we go down together!"

"You jump, I jump, Jack," grinned Barry at her over the beam of the flashlight.

Iris poked his pointy nose. "Except we mean it, Rose."

***

The loft had grown dark during her reminiscing. The floor was chilly beneath her but her limbs were too heavy to move.

She simply sat, Barry's sweater forgotten on her lap, spinning the tiny lone raptor in her hand. Lost among the debris of their life together that he had left behind when he walked into the Speed Force, the ghost of his last kiss still tingling on her lips.

You lied to me again, Barry. You lied.

[junker-town]

We asked for your wildest World’s Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party stories. Here are your, uh, best

Florida vs. Georgia (or Georgia vs. Florida) has a case to be considered the trashiest rivalry in all of college football, and it’s pretty clear a whole lot of fans like it that way. (Some of these are obviously NSFW.)

Anyone who’s familiar with the rivalry between Florida and Georgia can agree that it’s one of the wildest rivalries in college football, and not just because it’s so hard to predict on the field. It can get a little rowdy, given the copious amount of alcohol that’s consumed all weekend. You could even make the argument that Jacksonville becomes the silliest fan scene in college football every year.

After all, for years, this game was called the World’s Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party, even though CBS isn’t allowed to call it that anymore. One of the rivalry’s most famous moments, Georgia’s 1980 game-winner, even ended with UGA announcer Larry Munson predicting an especially eventful late night:

Do you know what is gonna happen here tonight? And up at St. Simons and Jekyll Island and all those places, where all those Dawg people have got those condominiums for four days? Man, is there gonna be some property destroyed tonight! 26 to 21, Dawgs on top!

Naturally, we decided to ask some fans of games past to submit their messiest WLOCP stories and memories.

You folks did not disappoint!

These aren’t all the submissions, but I tried to pick the best ones.

Nick, a Georgia fan who attended in 2012:

I was in college. My best friend and I traveled form Birmingham last minute to go to the game. Needless to say, we got to Jacksonville late (5 a.m.). We sleep under a bridge in the car and we woke up around 8 a.m., surrounded by UF fans who at this point have made fun of us for two hours by now for being sleep. We party like every other kid that day. We go into the stadium an hour early so my friend could sleep before the game, and he lays down in the aisle.

Game kicks off, he is still sleep. The people next to us didn’t mind and kinda laughed — a guy mentioned that he hasn’t seen his granddad and he was supposed to be here by now.

Granddad shows up with hand cuff on his hand screaming ‘I ESCAPED!’ I couldn’t believe it. I asked ‘from what?!’ He apparently got arrested or detained before the game and as they were putting cuffs on him, a fight broke out, and he slipped into the stadium.

My friend meanwhile wakes up at the end of the first quarter and looks at me and says ‘Have I missed anything?’

Photo by Sam Greenwood/Getty Images

Tripp, a Florida fan who’s attended every year but one since 1993:

The year was 2008. Tensions were high, and beverages were flowing. My girlfriend, who is now my wife, and I were really getting after it. Bloody Marys at 9 a.m. Beer all morning. Bourbon in the afternoon. Typical day at the World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party. We let the day get away from us.

Before we knew it, it was about 20 minutes to kickoff and we had forgotten to go get our tickets from my parents' tailgate. We had no way of getting in touch with them at that point, because phones don't work down there, but fortunately we were able to find their spot. They'd been parking there for years. Unfortunately, they were long gone. Our only hope was that they had left our tickets in the car, which I was able to unlock via numerical keyless entry. Meanwhile my girlfriend, who "wasn't feeling great," took a load off in the front seat, I ransacked the car from bow to stern. No tickets.

Then the barfing started. My girlfriend tried her best to point it out the door, but she yakked all over the floorboard of the driver's seat of my mom's Mercury Mountaineer. I removed the floor mat from under her feet to shake off as much puke as I could, uncovering TWO TICKETS to the 2008 Florida-Georgia Game. I found some paper towels and wiped things down as best as I could, started the car (my dad always leaves the keys inside), cranked the air, got some water for my future bride who was now sleeping peacefully in the front passenger seat, put her ticket in her jacket pocket, locked the door, and sprinted for the stadium.

I didn't get to see Brandon Spikes ruin Knowshon Moreno, but it was the only play I missed. My girlfriend, on the other hand, missed most of the game. She joined us, feeling refreshed, just in time to sing "We Are The Boys of Old Florida."

Tripp, do you have a brother? Chivalry is not dead!

Jack, a Georgia fan who attended from 2008-11, and 2013 and 2015:

Friday of the WLOCP Weekend is known as Frat Beach Day to the Georgia students who make the trip down to St. Simons Island. It’s day drinking on a strip of beach with 5,000 of your classmates. By the end of the day the beach is a battlefield of blackout 20-somethings staggering through sand, publicly urinating, and, in the case of 2013, engaging in the timeless art of public sex.

Those of us still on the beach in the late afternoon that day were treated to a, uh, “public display of affection” when a couple of coeds confused the Atlantic Ocean for their hotel bed.

Jack submitted a photo of the act (which we’ve edited to obscure identities by putting old Georgia logos on the faces of the people who are making love in the ocean in October), and it’s well, something!

Josh, a Florida fan who’s attended most of the 1990s, as well as 2004, 2004, 2007, and 2011:

I am reliably informed that I was found halfway under a truck, singing the chorus of “I’m Alright” by Kenny Loggins (2007). My female friend was pushed into a bush by a Georgia frat bro. She responded with the hardest nut kick I’ve ever seen (earlier in the week, 2007).

Someone at our tailgate got into the vodka-soaked pineapple and ended up grabbing a hot grill with his bare hands. He finished the day in an induced coma. He went off to medical school the next year.

Photo by Sam Greenwood/Getty Images

Joe, a Florida fan who’s attended from 1979-this year: Stealin’ golf carts!

1986 we were staying in the motor home, under the bridge, and had walked to the other end of the stadium. This was the Friday night before the game, to check out everything. A lot of cocktails were being consumed, and we were heading back to the motor home, which was a long walk ,and all of a sudden we saw a golf cart sitting empty. We looked at each other, and both at the same time jumped in and took off.

As soon as we pulled up to the motor homes and got out ,everyone was like ‘what the hell did you guys do, steal a golf cart?’ And we were like ‘well kind of, it was just sitting on the side of the walk.’

We rode it all over that evening; finally the batteries died. The next morning, we wake up, and come to find out ,the golf cart was owned by the city of Jacksonville, and they were letting their police officers drive them around for security purposes. We left it where it died, and it was still there when we left on Sunday. Never heard a word about it, and still park in same lot to this day.

Raul, Florida fan: Years attended: 2000-06, 2008-12, 2014 and 2016:

2002 (year we played at night) game Nov 2. Halloween was Thursday night. We decided it would be a good idea to drive to Jacksonville on no sleep at 7am. On the way to Jax, we decided it would be a good idea to kidnap this random freshman we were sort of aquatinted with name “Miami Mike”. We drove to keys complex and knocked on his door. He opened the door. We told him to get his stuff because we’re taking him to Jax to make a man out of him. There were two girls sleeping in his bed at the time. He looked back at them sleeping and said that he was in. He just left the girls in his room, didn’t pack clothes or toiletries and got in the car.

A big part of our crew played on the UF hockey team and they had played UGA in hockey that afternoon. A fight broke out, so they were fired up. We got drunk and belligerent in the hotel that evening . At 9 p.m., Gator City Taxi took us to the landing. UGA fans were extra chippy that year because they were undefeated in Richt’s 2nd year and UF had three losses (sound familiar?) in Zook’s first year. Several fights broke out at the landing including a 25 minute tug of war over a UGA flag, that was hanging on the stairwell next to Hooters, with a group of croakie wearing UGA fratties in long sleeve button downs and khakis. The UF crew eventually won the tug of war and burned the UGA flag around us chanted ‘it’s great to be a Florida Gator.’

The next night we beat UGA in the only night game in the series and dashed their hopes of a national title.

Photo by Sam Greenwood/Getty Images

Will, a Georgia fan who attended from 1999-06:

I am pretty sure it was in 2000. Our group was walking to the game from our tailgate, we had a few road beers in hand and it was a pretty typical walk to the stadium, cheering as we walk etc. About 500 yards from the stadium, a Gator fan with orange and blue paint on his face and chest runs up to our group. He is yelling ‘Go Gators’ and doing the Gator Chomp. Innocent enough to start, we laugh and keep moving, but he follows us and gets louder and more demonstrative in his chomping. We get to the queue to enter the stadium and he is still yelling now louder and more in our face. We ask him to stop, he gets louder.

After a good five minutes, I take my half full beer and do the only thing I know to get him to leave. I throw it in his face. A dick move for sure, but we were out of options at this point. A cop witnesses the whole incident, the painted Florida fan is aghast and points to me and yells at the cop and says that guy threw his beer on me.

The cop just laughs, and says I saw it all go down and you deserved it; now leave them alone and get in the stadium.

Tyler, A Georgia fan who attended from 2014-17:

I’m a member of the Redcoat band, and it never fails that there is some crazy fans that love to taunt us when we go on to the field for halftime. Last year (2016) we had just gotten out on to the field when some Florida fans started waving Milkbones in our direction.

A friend of mine decided to show off a little so he asked for them to throw a bone down to him. The fans obliged and my friend decided to take a HUGE bite out of the dog treat. The Florida fans went wild and so did everyone in the band.

After our performance my friend said that he didn’t regret doing it, but that the treat didn’t taste great.

Photo by Sam Greenwood/Getty Images

Anonymous Florida fan who’s attended “Since dad could carry me into Alltel Stadium (still will only call it this):”

I want to say 2010 or 2011, when the city wanted to really crack down on the partying outside of the stadium. All the UF fraternities had their tailgates at the usual spots in Lot J, right up against the pond. About an hour or two into our tailgate we get raided by ATF agents. Not normal cops doing security, but guys in bulletproof vests and machine guns. Tables covered in liquor and mixers start being flipped — ‘we know you're underage!’ being yelled.

The next day, a friend of mine appears on the front of the newspaper holding his head in his hands with some ‘has the partying gotten out of control-esque’ headline. Good times.

In 2010, EDSBS asked fans to submit stories, and there were some great ones in this batch as well.

bba:

We go over near van buren just north of the stadium each year. old houses that let you have bathroom access. plus there is this shady guy across the street that cooks a mean batch of ribs. there is also a house that was/is full of animals. this dude has all sorts of birds and such. one year we lost a friend and looked up to see her standing in the window w/ a macaw on her shoulder w/ the animal dude holding a raccoon beside her. i don't even have time to get into the lizards or pelicans. i really am not making any of this up.

Hogtown beatdown:

Back when they would sell the 32 oz beers at the Landing, we would go up to the food court where they were only $4 apiece. This was also where most of the Greek system partied when at the landings. I’ll never forget this as long as I live. Upon buying 2 of the big ass beers, a Tri-Delt girl I had hooked up with from BALLS bar at UF saw me and asked if I wanted a "gameday line", as she pointed to their table. That’s when I saw the 6 Orange Adderall lines alternated with 6 Blue Xanax lines.

Photo by Sam Greenwood/Getty Images

hailtogeorgia:

After a long night drinking on St. Simons, everyone awoke early in time to board the charter buses leaving the island at nine to head down to Jax. My fraternity had purchased kegs and cases of beer for the bus rides, but since the buses are loaded more or less first come first serve, I was stuck on a different bus without beer. Thus, I was forced to crack open my handle of Jack for the ride down. Needless to say, a few short hours later, I was quite possibly the drunkest I've ever been without blacking out. I had a girl taking care of me who thought I was going to be sick, so she asked if I needed to go to the bathroom. Naturally, I took this as her implying she wanted to go to the bathroom with me to hook up, so I answered affirmatively...off to the row of porta-potties we go. We get inside, I make my move, and somehow, she's semi-OK with this. One thing led to another and finally was ended with her realization that she was, indeed, about to have sex with a drunk guy in a porta-potty at the World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party. We decide that she should go out of the john first, so out she goes. Unfortunately for me, she couldn't inform the 60-year old woman waiting in line next that I was still inside, and I promptly had the door opened up to me zipping my pants with an obvious erection. She screamed, I screamed, pulled the door back shut, and waited it out for the next 10 minutes peeking out of the top of the door until she walked off.

Shawn:

A fist fight started between a Georgia fan and a Gator fan amid a large crowd. There was cheering for both sides and occasionally it looked as though it might pull in a few participants. This isn't rare. This happens all the time. What was odd was how the fight stopped. A giant Miller High Life truck was rolling down the street toward us with many people with cameras following in tow. We're all still watching the fight - what do we care about some photogenic beer truck? Turns out that Windell Middlebrooks, who I'm sure everyone knows better as The High Life Guy was sitting in the passenger seat, hanging out the window talking with people and getting pictures and such. As soon as this was discovered, the residents of greater Duval county and beyond immediately dropped any interest in the fight and became starstruck. Maybe 30 seconds later, the fighters themselves finally heard that the huge celebrity, High Life Guy, was here! They could not disengage from their fracas quickly enough to go and meet this guy. Florida fan had a ripped shirt, Georgia guy had a bleeding cut on his face, neither of them cared. They had to meet him.

Photo by Sam Greenwood/Getty Images

Silver britches:

My best friend is a train fanatic. It's disturbing. The man had a Microsoft Train Simulator. This was not an exciting game.

In 2001, while walking to a liquor store in a questionable part of Jax, we came across some tracks about 1/4 mile from our hotel. The wheels start turning. We get back to Athens and he locks himself in his room. He comes out with satellite images of railyards, schedule tables, and pictures of engines and various cars. He's hopping a freight train to Jacksonville in 2002. He wants me to come with him. He was no stranger to this - he constantly hopped from Athens to Abbeville, SC and back. But. . . this. This was going to be his Mona Lisa. My rail experience consisted of taking MARTA to Hartsfield on occasion.

A year later we give our bags to a friend that's driving down and we're dropped off outside a railyard in Athens around midnight. We hop a fence and start looking around. He knows what train to hop because he has the engine number of the one we're looking for. This guy couldn't figure out the UGA bus system, but could find out which freight train to illegally hop to go to the Cocktail Party. After hiding in some scrub, we hop on once it starts moving. He says for the most part we'll be doing between 5 and 65 mph, but once we get south of I-20, we'll spend some time in excess of 80. After an interminable (yet scheduled) layover in Waycross and a train transfer, the last leg seems to take forever. He starts checking landmarks and rail switches, blah, blah, blah until he tells me it's time to get off. The only problem is that the train is going much, much faster than it was when we got on. He informs me it's not slowing down again until roughly Tampa. The trick is to kind of roll into the landing. At 1:45 a.m. Friday morning, our friend answers the door at the hotel to find the two of us, completely black from grime. It only took us about 23 hours what a Ford Explorer accomplished in 6.

Then we fucking lose.

My personal highlight from the 2014 game was seeing this dude passed out in the press box.

Morgan Moriarty, attended in 2013 and 2014:

Someone spent too much time at The Landing before coming to the press box. #UFvsUGA http://pic.twitter.com/IZIiv1htIL

— Morgan Moriarty (@Morgan_Moriarty) November 1, 2014

My colleague, Richard Johnson, who’s been to the game from 2010-15, also weighed in:

My fraternity in college used to get two parking spots right next to each other in the stadium parking lot donated by alums. For the visual, head to the 31-second mark in this video. Those are my fraternity brothers standing on pickups:

The year was 2012, and that day, everyone jumped on the trucks so often during pregame that the shocks on one of the trucks got ruined, and it had to be towed out of EverBank Field's parking lot.

We salute you, Florida and Georgia fans, for admitting your debauchery!