#filet is so annoying when you make mistakes but the results are so good

[asinglesock]

elephant time 🐘

[elizaviento]

An ask, you said? If you want to do this or not, it is fine. Do what you are inspired to do. My request is: Rick and you are out to dinner, you know, for once, and the waiter mistakes your table with another and he serves a glass of champagne with an engagement ring in it and Rick goes into full-on panic!

Oh my, this was so much fun to write!  I really hope it meets your expectations!

Surf & Turf

(Rick Sanchez x Reader)

SFW – 2100 words.  Some suggestive language.

*****

When Rick asked if I wanted to go out to dinner that evening, I groaned in protest.  It’s not that I don’t like going out to dinner.  I like to eat just as much as the next girl.  No, my objection was that Rick’s chosen venue was always the same, no exceptions.

“Rick, I really don’t want to go to Shoney’s again.  There are only so many bottomless cups of coffee I can drink and cherry tomatoes I can eat from the salad bar.”

“There you go, making assumptions.  And – and you know what the say about assumptions.  Something in – a dick up your ass or whatever.”

“That’s not the saying and you know it,” I replied, slipping my shoes on.  If he had plans for another restaurant, he didn’t mention it.  He only shuffled me into the ship and whizzed off into the night.

On the way there, I busied myself on my phone, playing mindless games.  So, I was a bit surprised when we landed in a parking lot that didn’t contain the large glowing Shoney’s sign.  In fact, this place looked fancy – much too fancy for our current attire.

“What are we doing here?” I asked as he smirked at me from the driver’s seat.

“Dinner, duh.”  He then exited the ship and began walking toward the entrance.  I sighed and did the same.  

“We aren’t dressed properly for a place like this, Rick.  I really wish you’d have told me.”

“Who – who gives a shit,” he said, pulling open the large wooden door.  He actually held it open for me instead of immediately walking in himself.  I eyed him warily and stepped inside.  

Just as I had predicted, nearly everyone in the dimly lit restaurant was in either business or formal attire.  I felt my cheeks heat up when the maître d’ fixed us with a pointed look of distaste.

“Can I help you?” he asked in the most dismissive tone he could muster.

“Yeah –” Rick replied, walking straight up to the podium and pressing his face only inches from the  maître d’s, “– reservation for Sanchez.”  He then craned his head down and jabbed his finger on the reservation book next to his name.  

He’d made a reservation?  Now I was not only utterly confused, but further annoyed that he hadn’t warned me.

“Ah, yes.  Table for two.  Right this way.”

As we followed the maître d’ through the maze of tables, I couldn’t help but notice all of the couples who appeared to be on romantic dates – many of them holding hands and looking lovingly into each other’s eyes.  I mentally scoffed at their vulgar displays, having never been the touchy-feely type, especially in public.  Again, I wondered why Rick had picked this particular restaurant, my suspicion mounting.

“Here we are.  Your waiter will be with you shortly,” the maître d’ explained with a flourish of his hands before pulling out my chair and then bowing to leave.  Rick narrowed his eyes as he walked away.

“I-I-I think that guy was checkin’ out your tits,” Rick said loudly, pulling his own chair out to plop down gracelessly.  I hid my eyes in humiliation as I slowly sat and scooted myself up to the table.    

“Get what – whatever you want, babe.  I just sold – unloaded shit ton of weapons to my arms dealer.”

Picking up the menu, my eyes bugged out of my skull when I saw the exorbitant prices.  What the hell was going on here?

“Rick, the cheapest thing on the menu is $50 and it’s an appetizer!” I whisper screamed at him from across the table.  He just smirked at me and opened his own menu to peruse the options.  Something was definitely up.  Well, then – I’d bite.  I’d bite hard.

When our waiter finally arrived, Rick unceremoniously cut him off as he began to recite the daily specials.

“Uh, none of that.  I-I-I’ll have the surf and turf.  Rare, lots – lots of butter.”

“You mean the six ounce filet mignon and the Maine lobster tail?” the waiter inquired.

“Yeah – yeah whatever,” Rick answered with a dismissive wave of his hand.

When the waiter turned to me, I said, “I’ll have the same.  Medium rare.  And, could we also get a bottle of the ‘89 Pinot Noir?”

The waiter’s eyes went as wide as saucers when he realized that this poorly dressed couple would end up being his best tip of the evening.

“Yes, yes, of course Madame!”

As the waiter left, I fixed my gaze on Rick with a self satisfied smirk.  However, to my ire, he wasn’t the least bit fazed.  I had just ordered a $250 bottle of wine and Rick was casually inspecting his fingernails.

“Are you trying to get laid or something?” I asked, crossing my arms.  

“Baby, I’m allllways tryin’ to get laid,” he said, wiggling his unibrow suggestively.  I couldn’t help but snicker.  Sometimes he was too cute for his own good.

As the evening rolled on, Rick and I stuffed ourselves silly and drank the entire bottle of wine.  I had half expected him to stop the waiter from uncorking the vintage bottle at the last second, but he only told him to fill his glass up to the rim.  And, of course, he made me order dessert – chocolate pudding for each of us.

“This was great, Rick,” I said with a giggle, the wine already going to my head.  “Thank you.”

“You know I-I-I do expect to get laid, though, right?” he asked, squeezing my knee under the table.  I jumped in my seat with a squeak, causing the other restaurant guests around us to flick their eyes in our direction.

“Hmmm,” I hummed in response, toeing one of my slip on tennis shoes off and discreetly lifting my foot up his chair to rest against his crotch.  Now it was his turn to jump, his eyes wide.  

“Fuck, you – you’re such a naughty girl.  I’m gonna eat you alive,” he growled, grinding his growing erection against my foot.  I felt a thrill shoot through my body and settle deep down in my cunt in anticipation.  “Where’s the fuckin’ check?” he all but shouted, scanning the dark room for our waiter.  

However, instead of the check, the waiter gracefully strolled up with two glasses of champagne resting on a silver platter.

“Compliments of the house,” the waiter said, smiling wide at the both of us.

“Um, okay…” I hedged, reaching for a glass.  But, before my hand could close around the one closest to me on the platter, the waiter stopped me to turn the platter around in his hands so that the other glass was within my reach.

“Excuse me, Madame,” he said with a nervous chuckle.  I furrowed my brow but took the other glass nonetheless.

“What the – hell, I – I won’t turn down free booze,” Rick said, snatching the remaining glass.  The waiter gave us both one more wide smile before bowing and leaving us be.

“What do you think that was about?” I asked, nodding my head in the direction of the waiter.

“Who cares?  I bet I can drink this faster – before you can drink yours,” Rick said, raising the glass to his lips.  

“Oh, you’re so on!” I said, doing the same.  “We go on three.  One… two…” and then I rose my glass and took an enormous gulp, downing half.

“Oh, you cheatin’ bitch!” Rick exclaimed before trying to catch up.  Of course, he still won, having years of speed drinking practice under his belt.  I closed my eyes and started to grin around the glass as I tried to finish the rest in one more gulp, feeling it dribble down the side of my mouth.  And, as soon as I felt the last bit slide down my throat, I also felt something else – something solid – slide down as well, and lodge there.

I was choking.  I couldn’t breathe and I was trying frantically to cough with no result.  Instinctively, my hands flew to my neck, my nails clawing at my throat.

“What the fuck?” I heard Rick say from what felt like far away.  

“Oh my god, she’s choking!” one of the other restaurant guests yelled, pointing at me.  I had screwed my eyes shut while attempting to draw a breath but snapped them open just as Rick jumped from his seat and ran around the table to get to me.  

Forcefully, he pulled me up and began giving me the Heimlich maneuver, grunting in my ear as he literally lifted me from the ground with each forceful press to my abdomen.  After the third press, I felt the offending object fly from my throat and out of my mouth to land with a small clink on the table.  As I sucked in a hard breath and coughed, the waiter ran up with a worried look on his face.  

“Oh my!  Oh, Madame, I am so sorry!  This is the first time I’ve delivered an engagement ring and thought the champagne would be romantic!”

“WHAT!!!” Rick screamed, nearly falling over.

I took in the exchange before me as I continued to violently cough, convinced that I hadn’t heard what I thought I’d heard.

“What the fuck?  Engagement ring?” I choked out, looking at Rick with pure horror coloring my features.  I glanced at the table and, sure enough – a diamond ring.  I started to laugh.  Hard.

“This is some kind of joke, right?”  I coughed again, shaking my head.  “You got that from a bubble gum machine, didn’t you?”

Rick’s face was frozen in terror, like he’d literally seen a ghost.  I laughed again.

“No, seriously.  Rick?  You’re fucking with me!” I said, starting to get worried.  Was this for real?

Rick held up his hands, shaking his head.  “No.  No, no, no.”

I did a double take between him and the ring before speaking again.  “Rick, um, yeah… I’m not ready for that right now.  Or, like, ever.”  

“NO!” Rick shouted.  “Neither – neither am I – fuck! – NO!  What the FUCK?!”

“Um, hi.  Excuse me.”  A young man appearing to be in his early twenties approached the table, waving meekly.  “I think that’s mine,” he clarified, pointing toward the diamond ring still resting on the table.  

“Oh my god!  Thank GOD!” I sighed with relief, sagging back into my chair. Rick still appeared horrified but stumbled back over to his chair to do the same.

The waiter continued to apologize profusely to the young man whose ring he misdelivered as his girlfriend sobbed at their table over her ruined perfect proposal.  Rick and I remained silent until our check was finally arrived.  Pulling his wallet from his lab coat, he shoved $500 in the check folder and motioned for me to get up.  

When we entered the ship, he sat there with his hands wrapped around the steering wheel but didn’t start the ignition.  

“Everything okay?” I asked, placing my hand on his knee.  He looked over at me with an expression that suggested that he’d forgotten I was even there.

“Yeah.  Uh, why did you lose it – freak out so much?” he asked.

“Are you serious?  I almost choked to death on a diamond ring!” I laughed, hoping it would lighten the mood.

“The idea – t-t-the thought is really so horrible?”  I knew what he was referring to and suddenly felt guilty.

“Rick, stop.  You and I both know we aren’t marriage material.  What we have going now is fine – it’s great!  Marriage though?  Besides, you weren’t exactly cool as a cucumber yourself,” I pointed out.

He just narrowed his eyes and finally started the ignition.  As he lifted us from the ground and steadied the junkie craft in the air, he continued –

“It’s our – our anniversary, you know.  Of when we – of the first time we fucked.”

I turned my head toward him with a look of awe.  He had actually remembered that?  I hadn’t…

“So, that’s what this dinner was about?  Your attempt at romance?”

“Shut up” he said, pulling his flask to take a swig.  “I-I-I still expect to get laid.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.”

The End.

[bdfanfic]

A Day in the Life of an Argonian Writer

(just a silly thing I wrote. All images shamelessly stolen from Kazerad except one from Furnut, credited.)

7:00am - Wake up. This is not a trivial endeavor. Depending on prior evening's alcoholic consumption, this task alone may require up to an hour to complete successfully. Yet it is a necessary and vital task, so do not skimp. Continuing on to other steps without proper completion of this will result in less-than-optimal experiences. Toothpicks on the eyelids are not a substitute.

8:00am - Get up. Note that this is a separate task than that mentioned previously. More than likely you will find yourself in an embarrassing and muscle-aching position after hours of comatose inactivity. Stretch your muscles, crack any joints that need cracking and scratch your ass. Slither your way into the bathroom. Remember, your ancestors were reptilian. There is no need to feel embarrassed. Perambulation on only two limbs is overrated. You were given four and a tail by Nature. It is no disparagement to use them all in this time of crisis. Upon arrival in your bathroom, complete all natural and necessary functions. Then get yourself into a bath at the earliest possible opportunity. You stink. Also, recall that oral hygiene is of high importance. Brush your teeth. It is also suggested to brush your tongue. Given the size of that particular body part on you, it is perfectly acceptable to use a scrub brush rather than a tooth brush.

9:00am - You are now refreshed and ready to take on the day. However, keep in mind that you are also now naked. You may have been so before, but at that time modesty was of little importance. Now would be a good time to quietly peer about your bedroom to verify it is free of other occupants. Should you encounter any unexpected sentient beings in your room, wrapping a towel around yourself is suggested. If this does prove necessary, keep in mind that your tail will prevent proper and complete coverage. Keep that tail down. Then oust the offending interloper from your room in whatever way seems fit and find clothes. Do not wear the same clothes you wore the previous day. The reasons for this rule are many and need not be discussed here. Hopefully you can find an acceptably clean outfit.

9:30am - Breakfast time! Once again, verify your solitude first. Open a window and feel the fresh breezes of Anvil. The scents from the nearby ocean should remind you of just how close you are to the sea. Now close the window and regret the inhalation of the stench of rotting fish. But do NOT succumb to your instinct and seek to break your fast with more alcoholic beverages. Remember, fruit and nuts are available and cheap. You may even find some dairy and sweet bread. Pork products are the traditional meat breakfast for the Urban Argonian. Do try not to rip and shred your breakfast with your sharp pointy teeth. Try to chew it like the cud-eating flat-toothers do. When you have sufficiently frustrated yourself, go ahead and tear in.

10:00am - Clean up the mess you made. Now it is time to get to work. For one last time, double check your solitude, ready your work space, double check the lock on your door and the shutters on your window. If privacy is assured you may now dress for work properly. It is not necessary to remove ALL clothing. Remember, your goal here is to remove all possible distractions, not to awaken new ones.  Make yourself comfortable. Now, review all notes and your previous day's work, if any.

11:00am - Continue staring at blank piece of paper.

12:00am - LUNCH TIME! Dress yourself properly again (do not forget this step) and head out to whatever comestibles establishment you desire. Do NOT go to the bar again. Save that for later. You'll need it. If you decide to eat at the establishment, try to conform as well as possible to the norms of human society as befits a well-traveled Argonian. Be courteous and polite. However, do not attempt to smile at other humans. The expression tends to frighten them as they know you are hungry at this time of day. Should you encounter any acquaintances, do not let them know you have seen them and try to escape. If not possible, go ahead and dine with them. They are your fellow citizens after all. Do NOT offer to pick up the tab, especially before food is ordered however. Experience shows that making such a heinous mistake inevitably leads to the ordering of multiple Filet Mignons. Decline the offers of another drink after the meal is done. You have work to do!

1:00pm - Return home. Re-lock the doors, recheck for stray Khajiits, and resume your standard working attire. By this time, the blank page may have become annoying. Failing renewed inspiration, try starting by writing this:

"It was a dark and stormy night."

Cliche, sure, but it's better than staring at a blank page. Search your imagination. Surely you can come up with SOMETHING to write about! If the clock continues to click and the last word you wrote continues to be "night", you can now consider removing the rest of your apparel. SOME distraction may, in fact, be necessary.

(IMAGE BY FURNUT: https://inkbunny.net/furnut5158 )

2:00pm - Stare in horror at the pornography you have just written. Scan the smut for anything even remotely imaginative, then destroy all evidence. If fire codes allow, ignite the paper in a fire-proof area and watch it burn. If not, ingestion is a viable alternative. Resume your working position and for god's sake put your clothes back on! Look at clock. It should now be at least 2:30pm and you have done absolutely nothing of worth. You need inspiration. Go find something to inspire you. Do not refer to the magazine you keep under your mattress. That is not the kind of inspiration you need now. If all else fails, go for a walk.

3:00pm - As you amble about the beautiful city of Anvil, take in the sights around you. Eavesdrop on some citizen's conversation, for inspiration OR for later blackmail fodder. All information is valuable. Stop wondering if small animals can breathe underwater. They cannot and societal norms will be transgressed if you endeavor to find out. Should you encounter a fellow Argonian in your rambling, be sure and switch to Jel before making snide and hurtful comments about the humans. Avoid any Khajiit's you may come across. One is quite enough.

4:00pm - Back to work again. Follow aforementioned procedures to secure your privacy and resume your place at your work space. If you are STILL lacking inspiration, write about what you saw in your walk. No need to be too creative here, just describe what you saw so that you are writing something. Describe the crumbling building you avoided, or perhaps the stinky Nord that you walked too close to. What was he wearing? What kind of weapon did he have? What were the stains in his beard from? Surely there's something you can write about. Keep in mind that ALL writing is helpful to your craft, even that thing you burnt in the sink earlier.

5:00pm - You made it! QUITTING TIME! You may now put away your writing materials. Spare a few minutes to celebrate (if you actually wrote anything of value) or to sulk (if not). Both can be accomplished by laying on your couch with a book covering your eyes. Make sure it's a worthy book though. Osmosis has not been conclusively proven to NOT happen this way. Banging on the book's cover to try and force some of it's author's brilliance into your head may be helpful. Remember that in nearly all medical research, some benefits are always attributable to the placebo effect.

6:00pm - Stop moping (or, on rare occasions, celebrating). Time to write to Casta. If you have followed these instructions properly, you will NOT be drunk and you will NOT write her a drunken emotional-wreck letter this time. Being both your mentor and your only significant other, it is important to maintain a loving relationship with her. It is fine to tell her how beautiful her eyes are. It is not appropriate to go into detail about other body parts, as you have been known to do when inebriated. If you have not followed these instructions, do not attempt to write to her. If you do write a letter in that state in spite of these well-intentioned instructions, be sure at least to post it via flame-and-smoke mail into the sink. Of course, the fact that it's the best writing you've done all day may be yet another reason for your 8:00pm visit to the tavern.

7:00pm - Read a book. It is important for all writers to read as well. If you feel inspired, write a critique of what you read. Try not to simply make a list of all grammatical and spelling errors, but also note both the good and bad aspects of the work you read. Find some. What did the author do that could be worth imitation or that you should be sure to steer clear of? If a work of fiction, pay attention to how he introduced new characters or situations. Did he come up with a name that fit? How did he deal with transitions and relationships? Be sure and keep tissues handy, even if it's not a tearjerker. When you realize how much better the writer is than you, you will need it.

8:00pm - Now it's officially booze-o-clock. Time to visit your second home. Try to strike up a conversation with others, if they don't know you already. For those who do, see if they might let you talk with them again anyway. Remember, it's always better to engage with absolutely anyone but the bartender. He knows you too well already. Also he has the power to cut you off. It's usually best to talk with non-attractive people too. They don't have anything better to do. Remember, you need to listen as well as talk. Yes, you'll have to listen to their sob story about some husband or daughter or son being mauled by a bear or something. But if you want them to listen to you go on at length about the woes of being a writer, you have to put up with some of their whining.

9:00pm - Probably time to switch to another target by now. Also, order some food. Once again, you are surrounded by herbivore flat-teeth types. Try and keep your awesomely sharp teeth from frightening them too much. It might be best to sit at the bar for your dining. Be careful not to use your Gaydar at the bar. The bartender knows that trick.

10:00pm - Verify that at least the most essential clothing is still attached. The bartender will likely be making noises about having had 'enough'. (As if he has a clue how much is 'enough' for an Argonian!) If circumstances allow, you may now begin to sing your favorite three-decades-old renditions of Black Marsh anthems. Ask others to join in for the chorus. Disregard any protests as clear evidence of the crowd's interest and heighten your volume.

11:00pm - Look up at the stars circling overhead and marvel at their beauty. Disregard the pain in your rump where the bartender kicked you. Life is a pain in the rump, so roll with it. But do not try to roll home. Experience shows that it just gets you dizzy and makes people laugh at you. Besides, it's difficult to tell what direction you are heading when rolling down the street singing Black Marsh anthems. Clockwise and Counter-Clockwise are not directions. If someone offers to help you home, be appreciative and try not to vomit on them.

12:00am - Verify surroundings are indeed, YOUR home. Also verify no new Khajiits have wandered in. If any Khajiit is found in your bedroom, do not inquire further. Leave the house and return in the morning, even if it means sleeping on the ground beside your house.

-UPDATE: Do NOT sleep underneath your bedroom window in these circumstances!

If house is Khajiit-free, slither up the stairs. Your creator gave you all those extra appendages for a reason. USE them. Use the bathroom before retiring to your bed also. It's there for a reason. You may now safely remove clothing for your bedtime. Do one final check that no one is in it first before getting in.

1:00am - If you are still awake, cry yourself to sleep and remember that you can do better tomorrow. You may take this time to compose pitiable laments to your lover. No matter how heartfelt and significant they may seem to you at this time, there is no harm in them, and no need to burn them either. Do not worry, they will be completely illegible in the morning and thus can be safely ignored. In the morning, if you are running low on toilet paper, these make an excellent substitute.

(Repeat as needed)