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glitchydyke · 2 years

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HIIII MJ USE THIS ASK TO TALK ABT SAW IF YOU WANT🎤🎤🎤 !!!!!!!!!!!!!

HI JINX HI JINX whoa that’s like the word hijinks. crazy

okay so i know ur not like. gonna watch saw but. heads up for super heavy spoilers for the first movie ofc

OKAY SO. saw is abt gore and torture yes yes whatever but oh my god it’s also abt life and death and the fragile mortality of humans and the fact you should appreciate your life while you still have it because there is so much beauty in the world that you deserve to see and the fact that nobody is ever too broken to be fixed and you are always worthy of redemption and. christ

i’ve watched the first 3 movies so far and my favourite is the first one bc. ADAM. GRIPS YOU. FUCKING ADAM. he’s this scrawny photographer who doesn’t really appreciate his life and makes a living being hired to stalk ppl and take photos of them <33 hes suchhh a weirdgirl like that

so he wakes up chained to the pipe in a shitty derelict bathroom. also sopping wet. like hes literally a wet cat i cannot stress this enough. soggy man. and on the other side of the room, another man is chained to a pipe in the same way he is, and in the middle of the room is a dead body just chillin <3 the other guy introduces himself as dr lawrence gordon and also hes gay but we’ll get to that later

SO they both understandably panic (lawrence less so bc hes been awake for longer and has already done the screaming for help thing) until they eventually begin actually talking to each other and trying to figure things out. they find a tape in each of their pockets and manage to reach a tape player from the dead guy in the middle of the room. they play the tapes and are both introduced to their game: lawrence has to kill adam by 6, and adam has to escape without um. dying

lawrence’s tape also said follow your heart in a whisper after the main message, and they follow this clue to a toilet with a heart drawn on it and find two hacksaws in the toilet lid. for a while they try to cut through their chains, but it doesn’t work and adam ends up breaking his saw :( lawrence then realises the saws are meant to be used to cut off their feet, not cut through their chains

they uh. do not want to do this ofc so they start talking to each other, and across the movies they find out a few things about each other. lawrence’s wife and daughter are being held hostage as motivation for him to kill, lawrence was accused of being the jigsaw killer a few months ago, and adam was hired by a former detective to follow adam and take pictures of him. adam also reveals he found some of his pictures along w the hacksaws, and recognises one of them as one he didn’t take - a photo of a man standing by the window in lawrence’s house.

they start to figure out who’s put them there and what’s happened, and eventually there’s call from the man holding lawrence’s family hostage that ends in gunshots. lawrence uh. freaks out and upon hearing his family in genuine danger he takes his saw and. gets rid of his foot <3 he then crawls over to the dead body, takes a gun from it, and shoots adam. the man holding lawrence’s family hostage (zep) then walks in and prepares to kill him since he didn’t technically win the game since it was after 6 by the time he killed adam. shit gets real fucked and THEN adam turns out to not b dead bc hes a real one like that and he beats zep to death w a toilet lid until lawrence crawls over to him and stops him

and they then have. the gayest fucking scene. they’re lying on the bathroom floor, scared and cold and covered in blood, and they fucking grip each other like they’re each other’s lifelines. lawrence holds adam’s face, adam grasps lawrence’s shirt, their faces are pressed against each other, and they’re so fucking close and desperate and they’re the only thing in the world to each other at that moment and it drives me INSANE. i can’t even describe it enough it’s genuinely cinematic history i promise you. i need you to look at this oh my god

lawrence then says he has to go get help or else he’s gonna bleed out, and crawls away while adam reaches for him, tells him to stay, begging for him not to leave him. lawrence promises to bring someone back, and leaves the room. adam tries to find a key to his chain on zep’s body, but only finds a tape player - and when he plays it, he finds that zep was also only a part of this game, not the mastermind of it. and then the body in the middle of the room moves. the jigsaw killer, the man who kidnapped them and tortured them was with them all along.

he tells adam the key to the chain was in the bathtub he woke up in, and it went down the drain when adam accidentally pulled the plug when he woke up - meaning adam was always given a way out, but lost it before he even knew he has it. adam tries to shoot him, but he’s electrocuted and the man heads towards the door. the lights turn out, adam reaches out desperately, screaming and terrified and frantic, so close to escape. the man looks at him. says game over. the door closes. adam is left to die, and the credits roll as his screaming fades away.

AND IT DRIVES ME FUCKING INSANE. adam won his game. do you fucking understand. he won. he was meant to stay alive until six, and he did. he was left to die because of a single mistake, because he lost a key he didn’t even know he had. he watches as the person he’s been closest to and furthest away from maims himself in a desperate act of survival. he clings to lawrence as their blood mixes between them. he screams and cries and begs to not be left alone. he learns the person who orchestrated everything was right beside him the whole time. he spends days in that bathroom, chained and cold and alone and in the dark, waiting desperately for lawrence to come back. waiting to be saved. just fucking waiting. do you think he had hope? even when hours passed? when a day passed? as he squinted through the darkness at the clock on the wall and realised hes lost count of the hours? knowing lawrence went out in a labyrinth of walls and pipes, bleeding and missing a limb, not knowing where to go? knowing that his only chance of survival could be dead on the floor right down the hallway? hoping desperately that the man he’s come to love so much managed to get out. hoping someone, anyone, will please fucking come back for him?

and then days later, someone does. an apprentice, a follower of jigsaw, feeling bad for him and wanting to help. and her help comes in the form of a plastic bag over his head, blood in his mouth, and all oxygen leaving him. she says she’s freeing him. he’s never felt more trapped.

lawrence’s task was to kill adam. adam’s task was to live.

and somewhere, lawrence survives.

and in the bathroom, adam dies.

#asks #marcy 💗#THIS GOT SO LONG I’M SORRY. ADAM AND LAWRENCE MAKE ME WANT TO DIE AND LIVE AND EXPLODE #AND THIS IS ONLY THE FIRST MOVIE BTW.#BUT THE FIRST MOVIE IS MY FAVE SO FAR #mj.thoughts

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lifewithdavefarts · 3 years

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DaveFarts - Episode 8 “Lather, Rinse, Inhale” [Episode List] Lazy Tim is finally giving the gym a try. It all goes quite well, until it’s time to share the shower with the (really) gassy-as-usual Dave…

Lather, Rinse, Inhale!

Good lord this was exhausting! No idea how Dave manages to survive to stuff like this. My first day at the gym was debilitating, but I had to to join Dave eventually. He was getting a bit… persistent lately, and I myself told him that I was thinking of getting fitter, so yeah, this wasn’t a really bad idea after all.

I was covered in sweat, my naked body hidden under a big, white towel, like all the other guys in the locker room. Some of them were around my age (like my best friend), some other a bit older, late 30s probably. They were the so-called “gym clique”, as Dave usually addressed them; not really “friends”, but they were fine I guess.

“Hey Rob, smell my finger!” said one of the older guys, Todd, brushing his index finger under the nose of this Rob-guy, after having theatrically scratched his own hairy crotch with it.

Rob stepped back, disgusted, his towel almost falling off. “Fuck you man! Smells like cock!”

“That’s what your wife said last night!” Todd then said, bursting into laughter with his (I assume) closer friends, high-fiving each other.

They had this… peculiar sense of humor, which Dave creatively nicknamed “Gym humor”. It wasn’t bad, I myself made jokes like this sometimes. But who am I to judge…? Dave didn’t seem into that too much to be honest, unless he was literally challenged to do something. We were generally ignoring them, just casually laughing at some of their more “normal” jokes.

“Hey blondie!” Todd said, referring to Dave. Just one of those silly “locker room” nicknames, as my friend was not actually blonde. “Try beat this!”

His towel fell off and cocked up his leg, pointing his hairy butt in our direction. A rumbly fart echoed the room, causing the other men to laugh hysterically. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t have any… effect on me, but the fart was admittedly quite huge, slightly wet-sounding, as the farter (and the other guys) just got out from the shower.

Apparently, the gym clique was more than aware of Dave’s powerful flatulences and would often challenge him into a fart-duel, which honestly worked great with the whole “gym humor” thing.

The 5-seconds blast loudly faded out through Todd’s tired butt-cheeks, but he seemed quite proud and pleased by its display of gas. Dave shook his head and chuckled a bit in response, as he gently elbowed me with a smirk and got up, lowering his towel just a bit to expose his naked ass (which I dared to look at for a moment -luckily, my own towel hidden eventual… side-effects).

Dave kept his serious stance, with a silly smile drawn on his face. “Aw, Todd. Looks like you’ve finally beat me.”

No one could grasp a word of what he said next, even though he kept talking normally. His voice was completely silenced by the huge, loud blast that my friend casually ripped while sarcastically declaring his own defeat. The fart was powerful, wet-ish, and I think I saw his butt-cheeks shaking a bit due to the sheer force of the gas gushing out from his anus.

The humiliation lasted around 15 seconds, because there was no other way to call it. Todd was blown away (almost literally) by my best friend’s amazing fart. The clique laughed and friendly taunted the “loser” by pushing him around, while Dave earned some “brodude” pats on his shoulder as his manly scent hit all of us.

I know I’m gay, so I’m quite biased. But this truly was one of the gayest things I’ve ever seen doing by a bunch of straight guys. I mean, it’s in the Top 10 probably. But as I said, I’m biased.

Dave probably noticed my silent opinion so he just laughed with me, realizing that a bunch of naked men patting each other was indeed a bit gay; then again, human is a social animal, so who cares about society’s terrible habit at putting labels on stuff like this. But I digressed.

“It’s not over, blondie! Take this!”

Todd again cocked his leg up and visibly forced some toots out, but the resulting sound was very alarming and too disgusting even for my tastes.

A choir of nauseated (but also amused) moans echoed in the whole place as the clique pushed Todd out of the room, as they all went into another dressing room to make fun of him far from the winner’s eyes. That’s what they usually do anyway, as Dave explained. My best friend was somehow more mature than them, not there was something wrong with acting like that. He just wanted to have fun in a different way sometimes.

Dave and I were now alone. Only in that moment I realized that we were pretty much going to have a shower, together, naked. My heart fluttered at the sole thought of having to spend time with my best gassy friend in a context like that. It’s not like I wanted to fuck him or whatever: the problem is that I didn’t want to, as usual, make him uncomfortable. There are things that I can’t control… down there, especially when he starts ripping good ones (which is always), something that happens quite a lot at the gym, given his fiber-bars diet.

“You should go first. I’ll wait for my turn.” I simply stated, trying to dodge this embarrassing bullet.

Dave scolded me with an unusually serious look in response. “Don’t make me punch you. Come on, get inside.” he said, pulling me in the gym showers room. Apparently, he was done with pandering to my awkwardness.

The showers room was surprisingly huge. Our steps on the wet floor easily echoed in that big, white, empty place. It was like one big shower but with a dozen of faucets.

If I didn’t know Dave, I would’ve thought that I was on the set of one of those Scream-like horror flicks, where all that whiteness around me was only waiting to turn red.

This is the kind of weird stuff I think about under the shower. I feel the warm water rolling down my body, a constant reminder of how relaxing taking a shower can be. I almost forget what I was “scared” of, all that awkwardness was gone, as me and Dave chatted about the plans for the night, whether we’re going to this party or just settle for a random game-night, whatever.

As usual, he had to ruin everything.

“Hey Tim. Check this out…” he said, with his well-known smirk.

He brushed a bit of bubblebath off his chest and put it on his ass. Like, directly on his ass. “Wait for it…” he said, pointing at his lather-filled butt.

The sound of the water flowing from the showers was easily surpassed by Dave’s potent rip. It was loud, like a sudden thunder, the echo in the huge empty room increasing the vibrations. As the fart kept being pushed out (around 7 seconds passed), my gassy friend cocked his leg up a bit, as if he was trying to align the lather on his butt-cheeks with his powerful anus. And… yeah, that was exactly what he was trying to do, as the white lather was finally blown away and turned into a series of tiny bubbles. Disgustingly fun.

Dave turned to me sporting a cheesy grin and laughed like an immature jerk. But I couldn’t help but to laugh as well. That was an incredible display of flatulence, hot and hilarious at the same time. I quickly hid my penis under a lite layer of foam, in the hopes that its own “appreciation” would remain far from my friend’s nosy eyes.

“Well, Dave. Thank you for expressing the struggle of our generation…” I joked.

“Please, Tim! Thank you for enjoying the show!” he replied, with a smirk, pouring shampoo on his head, noticing what I tried to hide…

The lather didn’t work as a cover up for my obvious erection. It’s funny because I’m not into bare-ass farting that much, yet with Dave it’s different. I awkwardly turn around, letting the warm water shower my back, trying to hide my embarrassment -unsuccessfully. My friend chuckled a bit: he knew what my reaction was going to be, that sly bastard. It’s like a big prank for him, a prank he constantly does to make me feel accepted -while being constantly amused as well. I was both annoyed and pleased by Dave’s willing of farting around me, doesn’t matter my sexuality. Sometimes I still think I should thank him more often, even though he’s himself annoyed whether I act all grateful.

I heard Dave comically sing a pop song while theatrically lathering himself, as an attempt to both make me laugh and… him just being Dave I guess. He would rip loud toots every couple of words of said song, as if he was trying to make his ass sing with him, as silly as that sounds.

It worked, since I chuckled like an idiot myself, both aroused and amused. Both in our 20s and we both still laugh like hopeless jerks whenever we hear a good fart: we’re complete trash.

“Bro… you dropped your soap!” Dave then said.

Now that was surprisingly offensive, considering what “dropping your soap” means for guys like me in those contexts. Since my best friend said it, I didn’t find it that rude.

“Dude, that’s not funny…” I simply replied.

Dave stared at me for a moment, puzzled by my reaction. “No bro, you actually dropped your soap.” he insisted, pointing at the floor by my feet. “See?”

“Oh…” I chuckled a bit, awkwardly as usual. “Thanks!”

As I crouched to get that slimy white brick, I heard Dave snicker like an idiot who just pulled off his greatest prank. He stepped towards me and I didn’t have time to think or anything: I found my face dangerously close to his wet, hairy crotch. Curse you, straight bro-humor! I wonder whether Dave is aware of how gay this moment looked. But then again, he’s perfectly comfortable with his own sexuality to even notice this stuff… maybe a bit too much (but I can’t complain!).

My friend then (gently) wrestled me down, easily making me slip on the wet floor, as the faucets still ran, flooding the spot where we were with their hot water. It was like wrestling in a big, warm puddle.

“Dave! Come on!” I said, slightly annoyed, but also aroused of course.

I didn’t feel threatened or anything: it was just my friend acting silly, something he always did with me and the other pals. I’m glad he still had this stupid humor around me, but come on. This was a bit too gay even for me! And of course, I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to care, like at all.

As he kept pushing me down, he turned around. Of course he did. He gently laid me on the floor, making sure I didn’t hit it too hard with my head. Dave chuckled a bit more as he now towered over me like a giant, his legs on either side of my face. I could see his ass eclipsing the white, bright ceiling of the room as he slowly lowered his body towards my defenseless head. The puddle around us was probably full of sweat, my sweat, now.

As he crouched, perhaps accidentally, he fully exposed his ballsack, coming out from his hairy crotch. It probably didn’t even cross his mind, but it was like he was going to teabag me. Rather humiliating but… I’d let him do it, just because I trust him. Whether the case, I saw his hand reaching for his precious jewels, making sure they didn’t get in the way of the true “main character” of this wonderful prank: his naked ass. As usual, this was all about unleashing his gassy beasts…

I could barely think or talk. I remember stuttering something like “Don’t do it!”, but that only made him laugh more. But, despite all the nervousness, I felt somehow privileged: my eyes were only inches away from Dave’s naked butt, hovering dangerously close to my face. I could feel its hairy cheeks tickling the tip of my nose, that defenseless nose that could easily dip down into the depths of Dave’s ass crack. I was petrified.

“Check this out.” he said, whispering, trying not to laugh, putting one hand on his right buttcheek, exposing the source of its deadly, loud gas.

Once again, the sound of the water flowing through the faucets was nothing compared to what my entire face was blasted with. For the first time, I could see Dave’s completely bare-ass really close to my face, with his anus literally pulsating, violently stressed by the sheer force of my friend’s gas being fiercely discharged. The noise produced was a classic trumpet sound, loud and powerful, like a dormant volcano suddenly exploding due to the overwhelming pressure of the force coming from beneath. Or, in my case, from above.

I tried to keep my eyes open as the gas made my nose burn. The stench was a mixture of soap, sweat and… rotten pizza? Tiny drops of water rolled down my friend’s buttcheeks and fell on my forehead, as I was still receiving this stinky “kiss of death” from his anus. I could literally taste the fart, as the polluted water ended up on my lips. In a twisted way, I could see how manly Dave truly was. I mean, “being a man” a complex concept that evolved a lot lately, as it should’ve been. But let’s just say that I was witnessing an “old-chool” manliness, you know, rude and hairy. Whatever…

Lying on my back, my face obscured by my friend’s naked ass, I could feel my dick literally standing up and fast, all while the wet-ish fart kept going, the gas violently gushing out from Dave’s ass crack and forcefully spurting tiny drops of water all over my face.

After 18 long, but amazing seconds, the blast started to lose power, becoming more high-pitched as it came close to its inevitable end.

“Good thing you’re already here, because you probably need a shower now!” Dave chuckled, in his usual fun behavior.

My nostrils were burning. I was going to say something, maybe even going to ask for an explanation, but we both popped right up when he heard somebody walking in. I managed to deviate all the blood that my horny dick claimed to my legs; Dave quickly helped me to get up and we both resumed showering as if nothing happened. I made sure to face the wall, hiding my arousal. That only made my friend laugh like an idiot even more.

I turned my head to see our “guest”: it was one of the guys from before, clapping his hands sarcastically.

“Look, this is a public shower! If you want to have a fart contest… get a room already!” he warned us and then left, unimpressed.

He didn’t seem that amused now: I guess everyone’s has a “fart horizon”, that imaginary line that us fart fetishists generally greatly ignore, whereas the “normal” dudes would get too nauseated. To be honest, Dave also seemed to play the jump rope with said line. How lucky I was.

My friend laughed hysterically, patting on my shoulders, as if we accomplished some kind of stealth mission.

“Dude! That would have been awkward!” he chuckled.

That was an euphemism, clearly. But… I laughed a bit as well. That was hilarious.

“Your loud farts almost got us caught!” I joked, lathering my hair, impregnated with Dave’s ass-gas, desperately trying not to have a heart-attack because of my wild horniness.

I kept washing myself, my heart still racing fast, but I managed to finally ignore the enormous arousal (which my friend obviously noticed but didn’t care about). We didn’t talk for, like, an entire minute, until I finally heard Dave’s snicker again.

“Now that’s a challenge!” he said, assuming a proud stance.

A rapid fire of “No” came out from my mouth. As the gay friend with a fart fetish, I was super aroused. But as the voice of the reason, that was a terrible idea, no matter what.

“Wanna bet that I can rip another long one in your face without anyone noticing?” Dave asked, with the cruelest smirk, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. But that was a rhetorical question anyway.

I just stood there, as red as a tomato. With his cruelest smirk, I saw Dave turn off our two showers, so it all went silent, excluding the muffled noises coming from the rest of the gym, which was almost empty in any case, given how late it was. He wanted to make sure that his loud farts were the only sound anyone could hear. I wanted to question what the heck we were doing, or our sanity, but he simply tripped me down before I could say anything; he then got me before I could hit the floor and gently laid me down one more time. It’s like I wasn’t aware of how reality worked anymore: it was all so surreal.

“No way I’m doing this!” I protested… but I didn’t move. Clearly, both my dick and brain decided to work together against me.

“Well, Tim, you told me to treat you like any other friend of mine, remember?“ Dave claimed, snickering a bit.

“And I thought I was the gay one!” I replied, sarcastically, hoping he understood how gay all of this was. How uncomfortable I could make him.

But once again, he didn’t care. It was both a challenge and a prank for him. No one could possibly stop him now.

He once again lowered his naked ass over my face, new drops of water-sweat falling all over my face. That was disgusting. I loved it.

I just didn’t know what to say or think anymore. It was both an incredible display of friendship and stupidity. Mostly stupidity. What if somebody walked in? But I didn’t had the time to question what was going to happen that I once again heard the soothing sound of Dave’s anus erupting gas all over my face. I swear my friend had an infinite supply of natural gas, not counting that he could even fart on command, if he needed to (why would somebody need to fart on command remains a mystery though).

This second manly blast was more episodic, as it was like a loud series of butt-breaths, spaced out by Dave’s immature laughter or cheesy remarks. “Lather, rinse…” [loud fart] “Inhale!”. I obeyed of course, not that I needed an order for that: my nose was by far spoiled by my pal’s flatulences. More drops of water gushed from his ass crack, as if he was literally spitting on me. Luckily, it was only water, but it didn’t change the fact that those were like tiny stink bombs exploding all over my head, doubling the already unbearable stench.

Now that his farts were the only audible sound, they felt even more gigantic; every gas-thunder echoed in the empty, otherwise silent showers room, underlying the manly sound produced by Dave’s ass, that ass whose butt cheeks almost “hugged” my entire face for a few moments, moments I’ll never forget.

As I was taking my fart-shower, we once again heard someone’s footsteps from the locker room. I tried to get up, but Dave quickly squatted me down with his ass (he almost bursted into laughter when he did that, instinctively). He shushed me as I protested, just like he shushed his ass, which stopped ripping that loud series of farts.

Everything went silent. All we could hear were those unsettling footsteps, this guy walking around in the locker room, only a wall hiding our fart challenge from his eyes. Had he shown up in the showers room… I just didn’t want to think about the awkwardness (once again, an euphemism). I was just lying down there, on the warm wet floor, on my back, my face staring into that abyss known as Dave’s ass crack, as his hairy anus visibly struggled to keep the rest of the gas in. Or so I thought.

A faint, high-pitched sound started to come out form his butt. I could even see his butthole moving a bit, as if it was whistling (I seriously need some help). That weird sound was probably going to get us caught. I tried to warn Dave but he shushed me again. I could hear him desperately trying not to laugh, as he resisted the urge to fully deadweight all over my face with his ass. He was crouching over my head after all and that was a really tiring position.

The sound kept going, as we heard the guy opening and closing a locker, I’m assuming his own. More footsteps followed in what were the longest seconds of my life. It’s like we were taken hostage but this guy we couldn’t see and so we just had to remain silent to not get caught.

Dave’s anus continued emitting that weird, high-pitched sound. It didn’t even sound like a proper fart. This guy kept walking around in the locker room, his footsteps getting louder for a moment.

And then we heard the locker room door open, the faint sounds of the gym getting louder for a quick moment. Then nothing. He was gone. And, excluding my friend’s anus whistling, all went silent again.

We both let out a liberating cackle, though mine was more nervous than relieved.

“Thank goodness!” Dave chuckled.

And then, as that weird sound stopped, I realized what it was as the results of that noise started to to engulf my defenseless face. That wasn’t a fart: Dave was sucking air in his ass. He took advantage of the silence to brew a bigger, powerful fart to blast my face with, and thus winning the challenge. A fart that was so big, that Dave lost his balance.

My nose and face ended up fully embraced between his wet, sweaty buttcheeks, as it all went pitch black. The farts vibrated fiercely all over my head. I almost went deaf for how dangerously close the source of that blast of gas was. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths, fully tasting that mixture of sweat, lather and rotten ass.

That madness lasted around 15 seconds, the closest encounter I had with Dave’s powerful anus, which almost swallowed me. His ass bounced a bit over my face as he laughed playfully; he then slowly got up and helped me do the same, firmly taking my hand as if we just won the most important match of the season against our rivals.

I was dazed for a moment, trying to make sure to not accidentally touch Dave’s body with my horny dick, which we both didn’t care about.

“Here’s your soap…” he joked, patting my shoulder, handing the soap to me, that soap that tricked me into that farting hell. “Told ya I could do it!”

I just remained silent, fighting the urge to erupt the white substance from my penis in front of my friend, in that public shower. A shower that witnessed my friend’s two unbeatable talents: being a fart master and being a great friend.

As we left the gym, we headed towards our respective houses by walking, carrying our gym bags around. We walked side by side, chatting once again about the party we were supposed to attend to later that evening. We eventually stopped in front of Dave’s house, so our paths pretty much had to diverge. He once again patted on my shoulder and viceversa…

It was like nothing happened back at the gym.

“Oh… about what happened earlier, at the gym…” he said, looking unnaturally serious this time.

I cried victory too soon. Of course he got uncomfortable, given my fetish, my sexuality and-

“I’m sorry about that…”

What…? I just didn’t know what to say.

“You know I kinda lose my mind whenever someone challenges me to do something weird. But I forgot to consider what you wanted…” I couldn’t believe that he was actually apologizing. “I almost got you exposed because of my ego. Sorry about that.”

So, my best bro, who’s aware of my fart fetish, was asking me to forgive him because he blasted my face with his farts in a public place. What a weird evening I was having. But my hear did melt a bit, to be honest, as reminder how Dave, doesn’t matter how far he goes with his… “pranks”, still puts our friendship first.

“It’s fine.” I simply said, not really knowing how to respond. “I know you had everything under control. You’re the fart master after all!” I joked. Dave chuckled a bit as well. “And my best friend.” I then said. “So yeah, that was crazy! But fun! Like one of our old pranks… just a bit weirder than usual…”

Dave shook his head and smiled at me. “That was really touching Tim, I’m gonna cry!” he replied, theatrically faking some weeps and sniffling. “Come here, hug me!”

But he did hug me, patting my back. Maybe deep down he truly felt sor- and here comes another loud fart of course, just as Dave trapped me into the firm grip of his strong arms. The black fabric of his sweatpants surprisingly didn’t shred under the pressure of that loud blast of flatulence, which echoed all around Dave’s front-yard, lasting around 6 seconds.

He let me go after a couple of more seconds, probably after he made sure that the invisible cloud of gas he produced reached my nose (what a caring friend!).

“Gym humor, bro!” he laughed. “See you later!”

I stared at him as he walked through his front-yard and eventually got into his house, probably leaving a beautiful trail of gas behind him.

So, well, I started going to the gym. And I’m off to a good start.

End of Episode 8

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts

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moistpolenta · 3 years

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sketch page i did today just putting anything i wanted on while on a call and streaming to friends. this is possibly the gayest thing i’ve done after being gay. (i haven’t drawn fnaf in so long and it was a lot of fun to see how my art/style now compares to 6 years ago when i first started fanart with fnaf)

#sonic adventure 2 fandub #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #the walten files #bbc ghosts #twf #sonic fandub #MoistPolenta art

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the-bee-graveyard · 3 years

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The Fine Line: Chapter Four

Other Chapters

Summary: The glader’s trauma is finally discussed (I’ve been meaning to put it in here but this is the first chapter I could make it work) Minho goes rogue and takes matters into his own hands. We finally get somewhere with Newtmas? Sort of? (Not a lot of Brendresa this chapter I’m afraid)

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added/deleted): @izzymultifan @madmathis18

TW: MENTIONS OF DEATH, VIOLENCE, BLOOD MENTION

Chapter Four: Lines Are Erasable If They’re Drawn In Pencil

Part One: Thomas’s POV

The Last City burned in slow motion.

That’s what it felt like to the people who were there. It was a beautiful thing, watching that city burn, it felt like the final destruction of evil. Thomas didn’t have time to take in his victory, not as he dragged Newt through the ruins.

His friends shallow breathing made Thomas’s heart stop every time he heard it pause, even just for a second. He could collapse himself from exhaustion, but if he collapsed they both lied and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Newt die. He couldn’t let Newt die.

Then Newt woke up, and Thomas wished he’d stayed unconscious for just a few minutes more.

“Tommy, kill me,” Newt whispered at Thomas wrestled the knife from his hands. “Make amends. Do one right thing.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and Thomas could physically feel his heart breaking. “Please, Tommy, Please.” Newt relaxed a bit, giving Thomas just enough time to knock the knife out of his hands and send it flying, hitting the pavement again a few yards away.

Newt lunged for the knife, but Thomas pulled him into a tight embrace. Newt squirmed and punched at Thomas’s back, but Thomas kept a firm grip. He could feel his grip slipping though, and as Newt tried to pry him off again Thomas grabbed a large chuck of rock.

“I’m so sorry Newt,” Thomas said, tears flowing down his face like two rivers running beside each other. “I’m don’t want to do this. I don’t want to hurt you.” He hit the rock up against Newt’s head, hard enough to knock him out and he prayed light enough to do nothing else.

Newt sunk to the ground and Thomas sunk down next to him, shaking violently.

“Thomas! Thomas!” A voice called. Thomas spun around to see Brenda running towards him, the serum in her hands. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Newt. “He’s not-?”

“He’s not dead,” Thomas assured her. “But give me the serum, he’s damn close.” Brenda stuck the needle into Newt’s arm. It was supposed to do something. But it didn’t.

“Newt,” Thomas whispered. “Newt please, please come back to me.” But nothing happened. Thomas pressed his hands to his friends chest, but there was no heartbeat. “I love you Newt, please.”

Thomas’s eyes shot open. He almost fell out of his hammock as he climbed up and went over to the sleeping blonde next to him, pressing his hand to Newt’s chest making sure not to wake him. After watching Newt’s chest move up and down with breathing and feeling his heartbeat he went back to his own hammock and pulled something out of his pocket.

A necklace. The necklace.

The necklace Newt gave him back in the last city. Thomas blinked and the image of Newt begging him to take the necklace from him, Newt dying. Thomas quickly opened the necklace in hopes to get rid of the image, pulling out a piece of paper, a letter.

For a moment Thomas thought he shouldn’t read it. Newt wrote it when he was dying, maybe he only intended for Thomas to read it after he was gone. Thomas began to read the letter anyways, he was never known to say no to an impulse.

Part Two: Minho

So, none of their plans had worked so far. Minho really thought he had it with truth or dare, but of course Newt had to go and shut it down. Minho did see the look of disappointment on Thomas’s face had inspired him to continue on, and to go rogue.

Sonya was going to kill him for this. Thomas was going to kill him for this, if this didn’t work out. Maybe even if it did. Hopefully he’ll be too busy kissing his new boyfriend to assist Sonya in murder. Sonya didn’t need the help.

Minho skipped breakfast to break into the tech tent (where they kept all the technology). He could get something from Frypan later, he could not get what he needed later. It had to be now, while the tent was empty.

Minho dug through two crates before he found what he was looking for: a small handheld voice recorder. He stuffed it in his pocket quickly and begun heading for the exit when a raven haired blue eyed girl appeared in his way.

“Minho? What are you doing in here?” Teresa asked.

“Better question is what you’re doing in here,” Minho replied quickly, trying to look for places he could run or find excuses he could use.

“Vince sent me to work in here, do inventory and stuff like that,” Teresa said.

“I won’t tell if you don’t tell,” Minho said quickly.

“Minho, I’m the one who’s supposed to be in here,” Teresa replied calmly. Minho gave her a charming smile which usually got him out of situations. Teresa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine, go. But we’re not done with this conversation.” Minho thanked her and dashed off to find his favorite clueless idiots.

Thomas found him first, almost ran into him really. “Minho,” Thomas gasped. “I’ve been looking all over the place for you.”

“That’s perfect, I’ve been looking for you too,” Minho said. “Now what's this about Tommy boy?” Minho expected to get the usual ‘only Newt can call me Tommy’ speech. Instead he got two pieces of paper shoved in his face.

“Read this,” Thomas said. “Would you consider this a love letter?” Minho took the pages from Thomas and began to read as quickly as he could.

He finished, and the fact that Thomas had to question whether that was a love letter or not was concerning. ‘From the moment you ran into the maze I knew I’d follow you anywhere’ was the gayest shit Minho had ever and would ever read.

Minho had to try his hardest to restrain himself from squealing. Another idea came to him (the creativity was really flowing for him today).

“Dude, that’s totally a love letter,” Minho said. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Thomas said, looking slightly confused.

“If you could respond to this letter, how would you?” Minho pressed the record button on the recorder in his pocket.

“I’d tell him since the minute I came up in that box, since he first looked down at me and I looked up at him there was never anyone else for me. That I realized that I was in love with him when he looked at me after he made me a runner, knowing he put all his trust in me and I couldn’t fail him. And that night in the scorch, I believed what he said to me, and I kept going because of him. And how I would have caught the flare a hundred times instead of him. That I have and always will love him.”

Minho would’ve teared up if he wasn’t so giddy with excitement. There’s no way that could be seen as platonic bro stuff, right? (knock on wood).

“Great thanks Tom, love you my dude,”Minho said before running off to seek on the other half of the boyfriends-who-weren’t-aware-they’re-boyfriends.

Part Three: Newt

Newt was immediately suspicious when he saw Minho running towards him with a stupid grin plastered on his face. Newt had been working in the gardens with Sonya and Harriet (they usually hunted but they were all stocked up on meat so there was no need today) when he saw his friend coming towards them.

Newt had been talking to Sonya about different types of plants. She’d ask a question about what type of plant it was or something like that and he’d tell her. He found he liked having someone to teach quite a lot, he liked having a sister.

“What the fuck is this about?” Newt sighed as Minho arrived at his side.

“Yeah, what the,” Sonya paused mid-sentence.

“Fuck,” Harriet inserted.

“Is this about?” Sonya finished, glaring at Minho suspiciously.

“I just need to talk to Newt in private about super secret bro stuff,” Minho said. The siblings and Harriet all glared at Minho was disbelief. “I want to talk to him about Brenda and Teresa’s undeniable chemistry.” Sonya and Harriet shrugged and went back to work. Minho grabbed Newt’s arm and began to drag him towards the beach, Newt trying to twist out of Minho’s grip. Newt was strong, but Minho was stronger.

“What’s this really about,” Newt said as his shoes hit the sand. He really hated being on the beach with his shoes on.

“Don’t talk, just listen, kay?” Minho said, pulling a voice recorder and hitting play before Newt could protest.

He recognized Thomas’s voice immediately. He quickly thought of Thomas pressing his hand to Newt’s chest this morning, Newt pretending to be asleep as his heart sped up.

Newt couldn’t stop the tears from spilling out of his eyes. Minho clearly didn’t expect this reaction, he quickly pulled his friend into a hug though.

“Is something wrong? I thought you’d be happy to hear that?” Minho said.

Newt was happy, he really was. He’d spent the past months pining hopelessly, praying Thomas would love him back even just a little bit. He remembered all the nights he’d woke up looking for Alby or Minho and Thomas was always there to hold him until he fell back to sleep, or if he didn’t think he could go back to sleep to stay up and talk with him. How one time on the move looking for Minho they almost kissed but Vince called them over before they could, how Newt had stayed up for days thinking about what could have happened that moment.

And now he was getting that opportunity again.

“Happy, so happy Min, just overwhelmed,” Newt said, wiping the tears on his sleeve. Minho grinned and hit him on the back lightly.

“Go get your lover boy then.”

#newtmas #newt tmr #Thomas tmr #Minho tmr #the maze runner #Teresa Agnes #Brendresa #Sonya tmr #Harriet tmr #soniet #tw death mention #tw violence #tw blood mention #damnit I've got nothing witty to add in the tags #the fine line

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atreefullofmonkiesonnitrous · 5 years

Text

Double Blind

Day 10 - Silver and Gold Newt was clattering away in the kitchen, getting Christmas dinner ready for a party of 13. They were eating rather later than normal with all the teenage guests, and one preteen, showing up for their second Christmas dinner in one day. Truthfully he was glad of the extra time to cook, as this was a far cry from his usual cooking for two. He could hear his wife on the phone in the next room as she was finishing up the decorations.

"Yes, I'm sure. It will be fine."

"He is going to love it."A longer pause.

"No, we've been over this. It's perfect. I don't care if gold is more traditional, he always wears silver, and when has he given a toss about tradition?"

"Now you are just being ridiculous."

"The book stopped at Armageddon, you are on your own, but don't worry."

"If he's stuck around for 6,000 years already I am fairly sure you are stuck with him."

"Yes."

"I won't."

"I will."

"Look I have another call, it will be FINE."

Newt was at least 75% sure he knew who the new call would be. It stood to reason really, which was about the only thing about this that did.

"Yeah?"

"I was just talking to him."

"I'm absolutely sure he has no idea."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I am NOT saying he won't be interested."

"I can not over state how sure I am that it will go well."

"No."

"Drama Queen."

"Shut up, you love me."

"Unhun, fires of eternity, got it. So you don't want my help anymore?"

"That's what I thought."

"Okay, that is definitely not going to be the problem."

"First of all, can you really imagine him being that materialistic? Secondly, gold is not boring, it's traditional. He adores traditions."

"I know the plan."

"Yes."

"It's already in place."

"Just get yourselves here in one piece."

"Okay, bye."

Newt came out of the kitchen and handed Anathema a glass of sherry that she tossed back in one go. "Were those two conversations what I think they were?" He asked.

"Most likely, you're a clever fellow." She smiled at him.

"I can't figure out if knowing Heaven and Hell are real, and full of such absolute idiots is comforting or terrifying," he said.

"Let me know when you figure it out." Anathema laughed. "I can't tell either, especially since, from what I've heard they are pretty competent, comparatively."

"Terrifying. Definitely terrifying."

Christmas dinner was a genial and raucous affair. The Them had not settled at all despite having attained the lofty status of teenagers. Pepper's seven year old sister tended to be an instigator of mischief, mostly to keep from being ignored. Adam and Warlock were whispering in a corner, which never boded well for anything. The former Mrs. Dowling, now Ms. Carpenter, was keeping an eye on them, in the vain hope of getting in the way of anything too disastrous. Marjorie was telling a heavily edited story from her days as Madame Tracy, while Shadwell was snoring in his chair having eaten nearly his weight in dinner.

Crowley and Aziraphale were both distracted and fidgety, and were the only ones in the room not to notice how nervous the other was. Anathema was also fidgety, and they were both shooting her warning glares by turn. It was nearly killing her to not start giggling like mad. Eventually, the last of the mince pie was eaten and the brewing disaster in the corner was headed off by poppers and promises of presents. Crowley was even prevailed upon, by virtue of Aziraphale's pouty face, to wear his paper crown, but only after the bright blue had been traded for red.

Anathema declared herself "Father Christmas" and passed the gifts out to their intended recipients. The children got theirs first and were thus distracted with new electronics while the adults did their exchange. Warlock stayed while Crowley and Aziraphale opened a hand drawn book about a snake and a rabbit that raised a baby crow, that brought tears to both their eyes. When there were only a few gifts left Newt dragged out a large box in front of Aziraphale and Anathema brought a large flat box to Crowley.

"Crowley, you go first," she said.

Crowley tore the brightly colored paper and gaped. All anyone else could see was the wooden outline of a frame.

"How on earth did you find this? I thought it had been lost!" His voice was almost a whisper."

A cousin of mine is an art historian. He mentioned it to me. Apparently it's a highly debated piece, because it looks like a Da Vinci, but there is no signature, so no one can be sure if it's his or a student's."

At Da Vinci's name Aziraphale's head snapped up. He looked over at Crowley. "Is that…?"

Crowley nodded. "It's a real Da Vinci, I remember sitting for it." He turned the painting around. It was two smaller paintings framed together, though it was clear they were meant to be seen as a pair. Anyone who knew them would recognize Crowley and Azirapahle, Crowley holding an apple and Aziraphale holding a scroll. Each of them had their hand on half of a book that transitioned between the two paintings. Aziraphale's eyes were misty again.

"I remember as well. It is truly remarkable that you found it." Before they could start tripping over themselves with thanks Anathema chivied Aziraphale to his own present. Inside that paper was a box holding ten identical books. Aziraphale lifted one out. "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch - 2nd Edition - Annotated." He looked in astonishment at Anathema.

"We reconstituted it from the family collections of index cards. It's all there along with family guesses about various prophecies and notations when they happened. These ten, plus one for the family, are all that we printed." She grinned. "You now own the rarest books of completely useless prophecy in the world."

"My dear, this is a priceless gift! It's far too generous both of these! Now for your gift! Come here and give me your hands." She did, looking confused. Crowley got up and came over laying his hands on Aziraphle's shoulders. "My gift to you, Anathema, and Newt will benefit by it too, is my blessing, for the very best of health for these next eight months. Nothing will harm you and everything will be as easy as possible. Though I do advise leaving the sherry go for a bit, even so." She stood looking at him confused for a minute until the implications of his words sunk in, then she pulled her hands to her mouth to cover her happy shriek and turned to Newt who had also just caught on and swept her up and spun her around. When they calmed down a bit Crowley spoke up.

"And I promise that you will have without a doubt the most experienced midwife on the planet. Always felt guilty about the whole business, so I've gotten very good at it." He came over and gave her a hug before going back to his seat. Everyone else had to give their hugs and congratulations to both the parents to be as well.

"Oh! There are still two gifts left!" Anathema went and took two small boxes from under the tree, and handed one to Aziraphale and the other to Crowley. They each gave her a LOOK but she just smiled at each of them. They each unwrapped the small box.

"Anathema, I think you got them backwards."

"Oh dear, this one isn't for me."

Aziraphale and Crowley look at each other, both hesitating, but Crowley moves first, crossing the room and holding out the box. "Aziraphale, this is for you," as soon as he gets close he drops to one knee.

"You are the light of my world, my angel. We have been through everything together, and together is the way I want to continue. The worst thing that ever happened to me, is the thing that led me to you, and I would Fall again, to be able to be with you. I know it's a human thing, but we've decided that humanity is our side, so Aziraphale, will you marry me?"

Aziraphale looked down at Crowley, the box in his hand held a golden ring shaped like a snake swallowing its own tail. Its eyes were sapphires and tiny chips of clear stones studded its length. He shot a glance at Anathema, then he also knelt down, even with Crowley and rather than taking the box, held out his own.

"Crowley, beloved, you have been my guide and guard for longer than I ever realized. You have shown me what it truly means to love unconditionally, for you have always been to me, patient, kind, generous, humble, selfless, forgiving, and possessing a faith in me that I can only hope to be worthy of. There is nothing I want more in this world than to have the singular honor of calling you my husband."

He took from his box a ring of moonlit silver etched in the shape of a feather. The tip was curled around a deep red ruby and the shaft was inlaid with onyx. They each slid their rings on to the other's finger, then leaned in for as deep a kiss as the present company would allow. Everyone was laughing and clapping.

"That was the gayest thing I have ever seen," Adam said. Pepper shot him a horrified glare. "What? Double proposals are peak queer culture!" That sparked another round of general laughter.

Crowley stood and helped Aziraphale up as well. He kept his arm around his fiance(!) as he looked at Anathema."You knew, this entire time, didn't you!"

"It was so hard not to say anything," she wailed. "You each had almost the exact same plan! And you were both such nervous wrecks over it. The wedding really is going to just be a formality, you two are already the most married beings I have ever met!"

They couldn't even deny it.

For @drawlight‘s 31 days of Ineffables Day 10, Silver and Gold

Thanks to @waywren for the ideas for Warlocks gift to them and Anathema’s gift to Crowley. For those who don’t recognize it, it’s the painting from the Ineffable edition a description of which can be found here

#@drawlight #31 days of ineffables #silver and gold #Good Omens #good omens fic #my fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #crowley (good omens)#aziraphale #proposal #double proposal #ineffable idiots #good omens fluff #tooth rotting fluff #gifts #anathema device #newt pulsifer #warlock dowling

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simonxriley · 4 years

Text

Deputy Maci Dalton x Sharky Boshaw

A fan whirred in the corner of a small room with a plain bed; a bed which contained two figures under the sheets. Deputy Maci Dalton and her lover Sharky Boshaw were in haphazard positions, a leg flung out in the open here and an arm tossed over the edge of the bed there. Maci’s eyes fluttered open, bleary from sleep as she brushed chestnut hair from her face and glanced at her companion who was still soundly asleep. His strong features so lax in his slumber, the deputy couldn’t help but smile while tracing a finger down his jawline. His nose scrunched up and he shook his head lightly. “That tickles…” He murmured, eyes staying shut. “Sorry, you’re too handsome to resist.” She replied and her finger trailed lower to his collarbone, tracing the raised sections with a feather touch. A deep chuckle rose from him and his eyes opened slowly, “Right back at you… minus the handsome part.”

The deputy swiftly climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. “What if I wanna be handsome too?” She asked and leaned over him, her hair creating a curtain on either side of them. “Then you can be handsome.” Sharky rose up to meet her lips unexpectedly, his hands tangling easily in her hair as they share a soft embrace. When they parted, their features were both spread wide in sleepy grins.

Soon, the pair were both standing and throwing on something to wear to prepare for another day in Hope County. “So, what’s the agenda today?” Sharky asked while tugging a pair of blue jeans over his cartoon print boxers.

“I’m gonna ask Mary May if she’s heard anything on her end, but other than that I don’t have anything I have to do.”

“Well, maybe you could come with me today to throw back a few beers and catch some rainbow trout? I found a great spot just south of the Rye’s.” The man was calling out from the en suite, where he was trying desperately to smooth his hair down before putting on his signature ball cap. Deputy Dalton considered this a moment, “If Mary May doesn’t have anything for me, I’m down!” She decided. The Resistance had been working her quite hard lately, so what was the shame in taking a vacation day with her boyfriend? After grabbing a dark green flannel to go with her jeans and white tee, she decided that would do and opened the creaky door to the upstairs hallway. Her hiking boots took each step carefully, as she knew Mary May was a little behind on repairs with the whole cult business.

“Morning barkeep!” Maci called and stepped into the quiet din of the bar, which already had patrons at 10am. Sharky made significantly more noise as he followed her path down the stairs, and headed straight for the bar. Mary May stood there with a washcloth in one hand and a beer in the other, looking the part. “Morning sleeping beauty, I thought deputies would wake up earlier.” She chided while setting the cloth down in favour of another cold beer, which she promptly handed to them as they both took a stool. “Yuck it up, a girl needs her rest after spending all her days kicking peggie ass,” Maci took the beverage happily- nursing it as she got to her point “So, you keep your ear to the ground, heard anything new lately? Or do I officially have a free day?”

“No news here, looks like it’s all you!” She confirmed, holding up a finger to them as she moved to the other side of the bar to help some other patrons. Maci turned to Sharky with a satisfied look as she took another swig from the bottle. “Looks like I’m all yours today!” She winked playfully. “Lucky me, you’re awful hard to book nowadays.” He replied and downed the rest of his drink before standing abruptly, and taking her hand “You ready to go? I’ve already got some rods in my truck.” The brunette nodded, tipping her bottle up more to finish off the bitter alcohol. “Let’s hit the road Jack!” She hopped off the stool, following him out the door to his Jeep.

The Jeep peeled out of Fall’s End and proceeded to barrell down the uneven dirt road, Maci held onto the ‘oh shit’ handle, saying “Jesus, Sharky! Do you always have to drive like a maniac?” He looked over to her, taking his eyes completely off the road, “Yes I do, caution when driving is not a necessity, like my grandma used to say!”

“The same grandma who said ‘suns out, guns out’?”

“The one and only. R.I.P. Nana Boshaw!” He called out, taking a hand off the wheel to gesture to the sky and causing the car to swerve violently. The deputy grabbed hold of the wheel, which allowed Sharky to do the whole Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. “You’re crazy..” She gave him a playful glare until he grabbed the wheel once more. “Okay, okay I’ll try to slow it down.” She shook her head, a smile on her features nonetheless as they careened towards the fishing hole.

When they finally arrived, the smell of grass and water permeated the air, it was sweet and outdoorsy. They parked at the trailhead that led down to the lake, stepping out of the vehicle as dust clouds settled from Sharky’s abrupt stop. “So, what’re we fishing?” Maci asked, slipping her hand into his. “Rainbow trout, the gayest kind.” He responded in a serious tone, causing her to giggle. The two of them grabbed all of their supplies, a backpack and two woven lawn chairs.

Stepping out into the open- they saw the wide Henbane river stretching on in a blue line for miles in either direction. “I’ve always loved this river. Fishin’ here with my ma, hunting the deer that drink at the shore with my dad.” Sharky reminisced while handing Maci her pole, and setting down the green backpack. “It is beautiful, it’s one of the first things that drew me in when I came here.” Maci responded thoughtfully and watched him unzip the backpack and pull out a round white container. “Got worms?” Sharky asked and held the container next to his face like an advertisement. The couple shared a laugh and Sharky pulled out a worm for each hook.

They dipped their lines in the water, watching the white twine disappear in the murky depths held afloat only by a bobber. “Now we wait.” Maci said, pulling up one of the chairs they’d brought as Sharky mirrored her. The clouds floated slowly through the bright blue sky, and the sun shined down on them with just enough heat. It was an idyllic afternoon. Maci’s bobber ducked under water for a moment, only to rise again. She grabbed the tiny handle on her rod and reeled in slowly, enticing the trout to try for her bait again, the effort was shown to be successful as the bobber disappeared once more, and she yanked the rob upwards to hook the fish, exclaiming “I got one!”

“Oh shit, way to go baby!” Sharky cheered her on while she spun the handle, pulling the fish closer and closer to the shore. They could see it thrashing in the water- making frothy waves. Seconds later, it’s gleaming pink and green scales shone in the bright sunlight as it flopped around in the air. Maci grabbed the line, pulling the fish over to grab it by the gill and fiddle with the hook, “Good thing this guy isn’t a messy eater, I wasn’t wanting to pull the hook from his mouth.” She commented and pulled the hook from it’s lip. “Good thing you’re such a fishing pro, look at this guy!” Sharky mused and gave her a proud smile. The trout was about 12 inches in length, and thick. “Yeah what can I say, I’m just that good.” Maci boasted jokingly, “What do you say we cook this bad boy up?” She asked him. The man nodded, saying “I’ll get the fire going!” and set his rod down to go to the treeline for tinder. She took the fish over to a beached log nearby, setting the now unmoving body down and pulling out her pocket knife to descale and clean it.

Once the fish’s skin was fully exposed and the fillets were visible, she drew her knife right against the spine and cut off sections handing them to Sharky. “Man, why is fish so good but so gross?” He pondered and pierced the sections on a stick, roasting them over the fire he’d produced rather quickly. “Looks like you don’t even need a flamethrower.” She said, tossing the skeleton and scraps into the reeds. “They don’t call me a pyromaniac for nothing!” He joked and set one of the now crispy fillets on a plate he’d drawn from the backpack. “This smells so good, I can’t wait to dig in!” She said and took a seat adjacent to him, and he handed her a beer to match his own that he’d produced from a cooler in the back of the Jeep.

As soon as the fillets were done- they both grabbed their share and snarfed it down. “A beer does not a breakfast make.” Maci said and popped the last savory piece of meat into her mouth. “I personally think I could live off of beer.” He replied with a shrug. “That’s because you have a problem, man o’ mine.” She said and gently punched his arm.

“You may think I got a drinking problem, but I’ve got no problem drinking at all.” He said, his voice a little muffled from the meat in his mouth. He washed it down with some beer and leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. “I’m positively stuffed!” Maci nodded, taking a drink from her own bottle and looking into the dwindling fire. “Too bad you didn’t catch anything.” She said, glancing at him. “Why would I need to catch anything when I’ve already got you?” He asked with a goofy grin, and held out his hand. She took it with a smile of her own, the heat from the fire not the only thing that warmed them.

-------------------------------------------------------

I absolutely LOVED it, thank you! 💜 You got Maci’s personality down to the T along with her relationship with Skarky!! I don’t think I laughed so much while reading something in a long time!

#chazz-anova #submission #maci x sharky #deputy maci dalton #sharky boshaw #far cry 5 #far cry

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team-free-will-oneshots · 5 years

Text

Better Than Love

Title: Better Than Love Request: Yo could you write a reader x Charlie at pride pretty please with a cherry on top? - anon Pairing: Charlie x Reader Warnings: just fluff my dudes !! Word Count: 1,346

note; i sure as heck can !! this might just be the gayest thing i’ve ever written, ur welcome. also i was listening to better than love by lesbian jesus (hayley kiyoko) on repeat while i was writing this so some of that might bleed thru but who knows. anyways enjoy!!

“Here, these too!” Charlie declared, tossing a rainbow set of suspenders into the shopping cart, which was already piled high with a multitude of multi-coloured apparel. You picked them up, turning them over in your hand once and smiling idly.

“We already have a set - the pink and orange ones for the lesbian flag, remember?” you reminded her, and she swore quietly before shrugging.

“That’s okay - I’ll wear those, you wear the rainbow ones,” she said firmly, and a laugh bubbled from your lips.

“Okay - do you think we have enough?” you asked as she tossed another packet of glitter into the cart. She frowned, staring at your haul critically before nodding.

“It’ll do,” she said eventually. “I ordered a bunch of stuff on etsy as well - I think we’ll just scrape by.” She shot you an exhilarated grin that you excitedly returned.

Both of you checked out, ignoring the cashier’s wide, overwhelmed eyes as the two of you split the pricey total of the miscellaneous rainbow items. It seemed like you’d found every single rainbow item in the entire store, from buttons to clothing, and had loaded at least two of each into your cart. With your wallets considerably lighter, the two of you left the store and found Dean waiting by the Impala.

“Took you both long enough,” he muttered, though he couldn’t stop the small smile that crept over his face as he saw how happy the two of you looked, fingers intertwined as you both hauled heavy bags.

“Can’t rush the gay agenda, Dean,” Charlie teased as he helped you both load the bags into the trunk. He chuckled.

“Right.”

“Thanks for being our chauffeur, by the way,” you said, shooting him a wink. He rolled his eyes fondly.

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, though you could see smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. You and Charlie slipped into the backseat together, and you pulled out your phone as you connected to the Impala’s bluetooth that you had forced Dean to install. Hayley Kiyoko started blasting, and Dean spared an irritated glance over his shoulder.

“Hey, driver picks the music!” he scolded, and you shrugged as you grinned.

“Sorry, Dean. Pride means we’re legally obligated to only listen to lgbtq+ artists, I don’t make the rules. If it’s really bothering you we can throw on some Queen instead,” you suggested, and he shook his head, scoffing playfully as a smug smile crossed your face and you leaned back into Charlie’s side. Her lips found your temple as her hands slunk around your waist, and you closed your eyes contentedly. The ride passed quickly, and when the two of you jumped from the car you were quick to run inside.

The two of you quickly changed until you both resembled a mismatched patchwork of rainbows, draped in your respective flags. You couldn’t help but beam as your girlfriend caught your eye and struck a dramatic pose.

“Amazing. Beautiful. A gay icon,” you applauded, and she laughed, taking a bow and pausing as you stepped closer, reaching out to adjust the rainbow bow she’d placed in her hair. You frowned, lips puckering in concentration as you tried to straighten it, only for it to fall crooked again.

“It won’t stay straight,” you muttered, and Charlie’s face split into a shit-eating grin.

“We have something in common, then,” she teased, and you rolled your eyes, unable to keep the amusement off your face.

“Good one,” you said sarcastically, and she giggled, cutting off your half-hearted complaints at her bad puns by sealing her lips to yours. The sweet taste of her mouth on your own and the feeling of her hands sneaking around your waist to pull you closer quickly sucked any thoughts from your mind that didn’t revolve around her. In those few seconds, Charlie Bradbury became your whole world. The softness of her skin beneath your fingertips, the silky tresses of her hair that your hands moved to tangle in, the fresh, floral scent of her perfume…

You found yourself dazed when you pulled away, blinking and swallowing a few times as Charlie beamed at your flushed cheeks, placing a chaste kiss to one.

“Come on, let’s break out the glitter!” she said enthusiastically, and you let her hand find yours as she dragged you to the bunker’s library, where the rest of your bags awaited. Sam sat nearby at a desk, laptop in front of him as he scanned news articles for potential cases. When the two of you came out (pun intended), he raised a surprised eyebrow.

“You two look great. And… bright,” he remarked, and Charlie shrugged, sharing a smile with you before walking to plop herself in the seat across from the tall Winchester. You fell into the seat next to her.

“We’re about to be even brighter,” you told him. The plastic bag rustled as you pulled out a packet of glitter and shot him a wink. Light scattered off the tiny, shining specks, and Sam couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Glitter in the bunker? You realise Dean is gonna kill you, right?”

You shrugged, tearing open the packet with your teeth but jerking back in surprise as glitter exploded from the tiny plastic sachet, cascading over the present company and covering the three of you in flecks of rainbow glitter. You blinked in shock as Charlie’s laughter drew you back to reality.

“Good work, Y/N,” she teased, planting a kiss on your cheek and stealing the packet from you. “Maybe I’ll do the glitter stuff, yeah?”

Smiling sheepishly, you nodded. “Okay, yeah. Maybe that’s for the best.”

A mere half an hour later, not only were you and Charlie adorned with glitter on your faces and in your hair, but the bunker was certainly a lot more… rainbow and sparkly than when you’d found it. Sam snickered as he shook glitter from his hair.

“Dean is so gonna kill you,” he informed you, and you poked your tongue out at him.

“He’ll live.” You glanced at the clock, turning back to Charlie with an eager expression. “Come on, let’s get going!”

---

By the time you arrived, the pride parade was in full swing. People were marching, shouting gleefully and kissing, and the street was lined with vendors selling flags and other rainbow bits and bobs. You felt excitement knotting in your stomach at the sense of belonging and acceptance that buzzed through the air. The sun shone a little brighter, the sky seemed a little bluer, and you felt Charlie’s hand slide into yours.

“How cool is this?” she breathed, and you could hear the awe and anticipation in her tone as her wide eyes drank in every sight surrounding you. No matter how many years you’d come here, you could never get used to it - there was nowhere else you felt so celebrated, so… accepted, and that feeling could never grow old.

You squeezed Charlie’s hand as you turned to look at her, heart stammering with pure elation. As beautiful as the parade was, in your eyes, she outshone any other person there, gleamed brighter than any shimmering decoration. The glitter twinkling high on her cheekbones reflected the glaring sunlight, almost as bright as the sparkle in her eyes - the glowing joy and cheekiness that had first drawn you to her.

Your hands sought her waist, and she smirked as you pulled her close, brushing her hair back from her face as you leaned in to kiss her. The world seemed to fall away, the cheers and clapping and music fading into nothing as her lips moved against yours, soft and sure, familiar and warm. She hummed into the kiss, smiling as her arms wound around your neck and threaded through your hair.

She pulled back just enough to rest her forehead on yours, cheeks flushed. Her lips, slightly swollen from your act, curved into a radiant smile that made butterflies turn in your stomach. As the music and festivities swam into focus, you could say one thing for certain;

Nothing was better than love.

__________

Forever tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme @spnlovr73 @kina666 @liviaolivia @simplyxparker @helpmeluci @demonsofhunting

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #charlie bradbury x reader #charlie bradbury #pride #charlie bradbury imagine #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #lgbtpride #spn imagine #spn #spn fanfiction #spn reader insert #charlie bradbury fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester

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softgrungeprophet · 5 years

Text

someone go through agent venom and every time flash is wearing a boring plain t-shirt edit it into a crop top or paste a vintage cartoon character onto it and also tuck it into his pants. also give him high waisted pants.

flash thompson

fashion icon

i have no idea what comics any of these pics are from so don’t ask, i’m pretty sure i saved half of them off of twitter

i think everyone’s seen this pic by now but it really is a classic. nothing like chugging orange juice in tight pink shorts and a tight.... white/blue/gray crop top while you tell your hot friend that he kinda sucks

also remember when peter used to wear sweaters constantly and push his hair back? i miss that. bring back sexy grandpa peter.

gumby t-shirt tucked into his mom jeans, extremely iconic, i love it

also i’m laughing at the punk dude.... his hair is nuts... i fucking love the way artists in the like, 80s and 90s drew punk and goth background characters cause they always look ridiculous. this guy looks like he stuck an ostrich’s wing on his head.

hideous. iconic. i can’t help but wonder if the original colors were maybe a little better coordinated... are his sweatpants tucked into his socks or is the white part just the top of his boots? what???? the colorist (recolor presumably) made peter’s hair the wrong color in the first panel? but also look at his fucking popped collar and baby mullet with the skinny jeans. what a bad boy. peter’s massive eyebrows almost make up for how much i don’t like this artist

oldschool flash. this is a sixteen or seventeen year old boy wearing a bright yellow sweater with his last initial emblazoned HUGE across his chest, over a black button-down... is this like the precursor of his letter jacket? and this is supposed to be the Cool Jock Kid and not a nerd. wow. i think i saw a version of this on google where the sweater was red? comics colors from before the late 90s are a nightmare because unless you can see the fucking ink from the scans it’s almost impossible to tell if this was the original color or not, cause sometimes the recolors are accurate, and sometimes they are completely different from the original. always down for redheaded flash though.

i’m choosing to ignore peter (no, he’s adorable)

if you haven’t seen this picture i don’t think you’ve ever been on the spider-man adjacent internet.

need i say anything?

i love every outfit on this page.

3 out of 4 of these characters are one mishap away from a nip slip and flash is gonna be the first

christ

i think this is from the 90s or something....? i really love it, i think it’s super cute. cartoon character: check. t-shirt tucked into mom jeans: check. rolled up sleeves??? check. i assume he’s wearing either converse or combat boots with this getup and i wouldn’t have it any other way tbh. well maybe nikes. the only thing that’s wrong with this is that flash’s flat ass was drawn by a coward.

but also this makes at least two examples of flash wearing high waisted jeans with a graphic t-shirt tucked into the waistband and honestly.... i love that... i’m gonna start only drawing flash in outfits like that....

WAIT I HAVE ONE MORE I ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT

look at this fucking shirt. this is a fucking hoodie i guarantee it. flash took a sweatshirt and a pair of scissors and cut off the entire hood and the sleeves himself and paired it with a necklace and that hair. i think he’s wearing it with black sweatpants but it’s not worth showing cause it’s like a tiny picture in the background.

this is the gayest outfit i’ve ever seen (okay it’s not even the gayest outfit in this post but it’s still pretty gay) this is like one of those outfits you see in those gay mags about different gay street fashions and this is what you get on the spread about jocks. the only thing that would make this gayer would be if that necklace had a cock ring on it but flash, as we know, is buried three closets deep reading homoerotic poetry about greek statuary and meticulously styling his hair and eyebrows in the mirror while he listens to lionel ritchie.

this ended up longer than i intended but man i love all these outfits

i will say there are a FEW outfits in newer comics that are okay, mostly off the top of my head i think of the teal button-down and green slacks he wore to work in bunn’s run with the art by shalvey, and then.... a few issues later pepe larraz i think gave him that orange popped-collar like.... north face jacket.... that was alright... more interesting than cargo shorts or army t-shirts..... nothing lives up to tiny spider-man nip slip tank top though.....

#nadia reads comics #bring back flash's fashion sense--oh wait he's dead #at least let peter dress like a grandpa again

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knaveofmogadore · 6 years

Text

Ella consults Nine on her gay panic, aka Holy Shit, I can write something that doesn’t have Adam in It

“Hey, Nine?”

Nine looks up from the book’s worth of papers Malcolm had given him to read. Ella had materialized in front of him out of thin air. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and paint and chalk streaked through it. Her oversized jeans were rolled up into cuffs and splattered with paint, and her worn out green shirt wasn’t in much better shape. Paint meant that, somehow, she had been with Marina not too long ago, probably taking her frustrations out on a throwaway canvas. Nine drops the papers into a messy stack on his coffee table and stands up.

“Hey squirt, I don’t remember giving you a key to the place.”

Ella looked away for a moment, but while she was good at lying, she was never very good at looking guilty.

“Sorry,” she lied, “I needed to talk to you.”

Nine waved at her to talk while he shuffled the papers into a better stack and cleared out the trash from the living room. His TV and entertainment system were covered in a fine layer of dust, and the knick knacks and pictures on his shelves weren’t really in any good order, but Ella was sixteen, and teenagers don’t give a crap about dirty rooms. Through all of his speedrun cleaning job she remained quiet. He looked around for the easiest seat to clear, settled for pushing unfolded laundry off of the couch, and gestured for her to sit. Nine sat across from Ella with his arms folded over his knees, waiting.

Ella rolled her shoulders, rubbed her arm, coughed, and made a big deal about dragging out the silence. Nine still waited. Finally she sighed, looked at the ceiling, sighed again in the way teenagers do when something is especially time consuming, and spoke in a rush.

“How did you know you were gay?”

Nine blinks, stunned to silence. He opens his mouth but all that comes out is a cracked and drawn out ‘uum.’ He coughed too now, hoping that by settling his lungs he could settle back into his own head.

“Did you try talking to Marina about this?”

“Yeah, she told me to ask you,” Ella says, deadpan.

In spite of the situation, or maybe because the air in the room was getting too tense for his liking, Nine grinned.

“You’ve been spending time with Adam too, huh?”

Ella jokingly swipes at him and Nine easily dodges. When she laughs he knows he did right.

“So, did you ask him the same thing,” he asked.

She grew quiet and shook her head. When Nine tried to press she waved him off.

“I wanted to ask you. Marina told me how she doesn’t feel...stuff, but I don’t feel things the way she does. I feel things, I get crushes and I think people are cute in more than an aesthetic way and I can kind of see myself getting married in maybe, thirty years?”

Nine laughs and she swats at him again.

“Be serious! I like people in that way but I’ve never wanted to date anyone before,” Ella trails off and ends her sentence with a vague and frustrated hand gesture.

“Before,” Nine says slowly.

Ella hides her darkening face in her hands before the red spreads from her cheeks to her ears. She groans, a sound that is full of pure teenage frustration and self loathing. She put it off in waves, the special kind of self pity that comes from being that age where everything has happened and not enough has happened at once. There is the perspective of loss, but also none of the experience to tell her that this is not the worst thing to ever happen to her. Nine moves to the other couch and wraps his arm around her shoulders.

“Come on,” he shakes her a little, “it can’t be that bad.”

Her voice came through muffled, “I met the prettiest girl I had ever seen this morning and I blew it by talking about krawls.”

Nine’s face twists as he swallows his laughter. He pats her shoulder and makes sympathetic noises.

“And you thought you didn’t like girls! This,” she tries to shove him away and he holds her in the brotherly bear hug of her life, “is the gayest thing I’ve heard since breakfast.”

Ella finally manages to squirm free by pinching his arm and sliding to the floor. Nine left her there for a moment to go to the kitchen. Cups rattled and cabinet doors slammed and soon, the microwave started running.

“What if it’s not! What if I just wanted to be friends! What if it is, what then?”

“Then you get yourself a girlfriend!”

Nine comes back with two mugs and kneels down to hold one out to her. She stares at it for a moment as her brain catches up, then takes it. He sits down beside her on the floor as she takes her first sips of hot chocolate. Nine rests his cup holding arm on his knee as he begins to talk.

“When I first figured it out,” Ella looks up from pondering the mysteries of the universe when he starts, “I was driving down the road with a beautiful boy in my passenger seat. I had already had too long by myself to think, and the road was quiet, and he was asleep. I had thought about it a lot, you know, kissing boys and how they looked and probably felt and,” Nine waves his free hand, “/stuff/. This boy, when I first met him, I thought he was one of the stupidest, strongest people in the whole world.”

Nine obnoxiously slurps his hot chocolate, “I still do, and I love him with all my heart.”

Ella smiles, “That’s pretty gay.”

He snorts into his cup and has to take a moment to cough all of the chocolate out of his nose. She uselessly pats his arm while he chokes on hot chocolate milk and coughs for his life. When he clears his throat. he points at her threateningly, like he didn’t just almost get taken out by milk and chocolate powder, which only makes her laugh harder.

“You shut your sassy ass mouth, I’m not finished. So I’m looking at this boy, and the sun is shining on his face like poetry or some shit,” Ella snorts, “shut up, and it hits me that maybe other boys don’t look at other boys like this.”

Ella leans forward like the story was on the end of a line NIne was pulling in, “And then?”

Another obnoxious slurp, “And then I didn’t figure it out for another four months, and now we’re dating. The End.”

She blinks, “That’s it? That’s your big advice? Wait and maybe I’ll figure it out,” she asks, dumbfounded.”

“Yup,” he said, popping the P.

“That’s bullshit!”

“Sure is! Also watch your language, Marina would beat my ass if she found out I let you swear.”

Ella leans back and groans at her lap. Maybe she was actually groaning at the ground, the very earth, like the Entity would come back into her mind full force to help her through her sexuality crisis. Nine sarcastically clinks his mug against hers, drawing her out of her self pity.

“To gay panic?”

Ella raised her mug and half heartedly cheered.

#knave writes #fanfic #lorien legacies #legacies reborn #number nine #ella #number ten #loric #garde #stanley worthington #Stohn

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kujo1597 · 6 years

Text

Fall @amedotweek Day 1: Halloween

(This is my tattoo artist and florist AU)

This is kinda long compared to my usual submissions so under a Read More it goes!

Or you can read it on AO3.

Peridot knocked on the door to the beach house. This was her first Halloween with Amethyst and they were going to take Steven out trick-or-treating. Pearl opened the door and gave Peridot a quick once-over with a raised eyebrow.

“Good evening Peridot,” Pearl greeted her.

“Hey Pearl,” Peridot returned the greeting.

“Amethyst and Steven will be ready soon. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

“I think I’ll stand, I’ve never worn a tail before.”

For Halloween Peridot had decided to dress up as a werewolf. She had her mohawk styled somewhat similarly to a pompadour and even allowed the sides to grow out a bit in their natural light brown. She wore an open flannel shirt, the only thing keeping her from exposing a bunch of kids to sideboob was the faux fur she wore on her chest which matched several other patches on her body to help sell the look including some fearsome looking gloves. Thanks to diligent research Peridot had learned how to make covers for her ears to make them look pointed and furry, and to top it all off she wore a fake wolf’s nose and put some fake fur in patches around her face.

Pearl looked at Peridot again. “Do you realize that your shirt’s not buttoned?”

“Yes Pearl, I do realize that,” Peridot replied with a roll of her eyes. “All of this is intentional.”

She didn’t get much a response just a “hm.”

Amethyst stepped out of Steven’s room wearing her own werewolf costume. Hers was a hoodie over a t-shirt that said “bite me” and old torn blue jeans. Amethyst also wore gloves but they lacked the sharp looking claws that Peridot’s had, which would come in hand if Steven needed any help. As for her face, Amethyst was also wearing a fake nose with whiskers painted onto her cheeks along with some dark brown drawn to look fur-like.

When she saw Peridot Amethyst cracked a smile. “You look like the gayest werewolf to ever live.”

“Thank you, I’m glad somebody understood my vision,” Peridot said and gestured at Pearl.

“I’m just not sure how appropriate you look for taking a five-year-old our for Halloween,” Pearl said with crossed arms.

Amethyst made a dismissive noise. “C’mon P, not like you can see anything. Besides, Peri’s costume’s way tamer than most stuff in the adult’s section.”

“Fine,” Pearl gave in, she didn’t feel like arguing, especially since she was missing such a special night. Barb roped her into coming to a Halloween party, nobody can decline Barb.

“So where’s Steven?” Peridot asked.

“Little guy’s just about done,” Amethyst replied.

Sure enough, Steven stepped out of his room.

Peridot clasped her hand to her mouth and did a poor job of hiding her gasp. “Steven! You’re adorable!”

Steven for his costume decided to dress up as a werecat, he wore slightly torn clothes with fake fur poking through all the holes, the fur was pale blonde, like Lion the stray maine-coon. Steven’s curly and poofy black hair was unstyled and nestled in it was cat ears. Amethyst had painted Steven’s face in a similiar way to her own but didn’t draw as course of fur. And the cutest little fake cat nose and partial muzzle sat on Steven’s nose.

Pearl made an extremely maternal noise as she took pictures of her son. “You look so wonderful Steven!”

Then she got a bit teary-eyed, Rose would have loved to see his costume.

Amethyst fondly patted Steven on the head. “Little guy wanted to be a werecat because he likes cats more.”

Steven ran up and gave Peridot a hug as he made a cat noise. “I’m so excited to go out with you!” He bounced up and down. “First Halloween with Peri!”

This brought a huge grin to her face. “Yep, our first Halloween!”

“We should get going soon,” Amethyst said after she checked the clock. “We can’t be out too late.”

“But first, I need to take a photo of you three together,” Pearl said, she coached them until they were in-frame then she took what felt like a couple dozen pictures.

“Kay, now that we’re all blind, let’s get going,” Amethyst led the group out the door ignoring Pearl who was on the verge of becoming a pile of blubbering mom-mess.

“Trick or treat!” Steven loudly recited at the door as he held out his candy bucket.

Despite it being their fifth house, Peridot was still feeling antsy.

“Dude, calm down, Steven’s practically a pro,” Amethyst whispered as she held Peridot’s hand.

The door opened revealing an elderly woman. “Oh well aren’t you cute?” She said with a warm chuckle. “Are you a werewolf like your mom and dad?”

Peridot’s face clearly showed her confusion and Amethyst tried her best to not burst out laughing.

“I’m a werecat,” Steven cheerfully corrected the woman then did a “fearsome” meow, he was too wrapped up in the excitement of the holiday to notice the other mistake she made.

“We love our werecat son, don’t we wifey,” Amethyst nudged Peridot with her elbow.

Which somehow got her even more confused. “Yeah, we love him.”

The woman gave Steven a few candies and he waved at her. “Happy Halloween!”

“Happy Halloween dear,” she waved back.

The trio started moving on to the next house, Steven walked ahead of Amethyst and Peridot.

“I get that I look masculine, but I thought in a butch way,” Peridot quietly ranted to Amethyst.

“Ah, she’s old, probly doesn’t know lesbian fashion,” Amethyst also quietly spoke. “It was pretty hilarious if you ask me.”

“It is funny looking back on it, but with a town as queer as Beach City you’d think she’d have figured it out by now.”

Amethyst chuckled. “Truth.”

Steven rang the doorbell and did his usual excited bouncing as he held his bucket out in anticipation.

While watching him Amethyst and Peridot would always huddle together with smiles on their faces.

It was a wonderful evening, even when Amethyst and Peridot took turns carrying Steven home after his feet got too cold and sore to continue.

#amedotweek #SU Fanfic #Amedot #SU Amethyst #SU Peridot #Steven Quartz Universe #Human AU #Tattoo Artist and Florist AU #They aren't actually married... yet #Kujo Writes #I'm going to have to draw their costumes at some point

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elizabethrobertajones · 7 years

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You know, I desperately want Destiel to be end game as much as anybody, but somedays I think I would just be content if the show just textually acknowledged that Dean's bi. Something as simple as a dude at a bar asking Dean to come home w/ him while they're on a case and Dean saying something like "any other day I'd take you up on that but I can't tonight." IDK the subtext that Dean is bi is strong enough that I can't say the GA would be shocked by it and it would just be a nice textual nugget.

Hey, sorry it took so long to answer this, I’ve not been at my best for ages… Been thinking about this all week though :P

I think it feels to me like the general audience can discard or mentally discredit an AWFUL lot of implication and direct hints - there have been comments and moments in many bits of media which imply directly or with heavy innuendo that a character may be interested in a non-hetero way to someone - especially things like teasy moments…

Thinking of things like in HIMYM there’s an ongoing joke about Lily having a crush on Robin, but since she’s with Marshall the entire show, it doesn’t really go anywhere, and when they do kiss the dynamic swaps and Robin is left with kind of a crush on her and Lily’s over it and it’s all a joke, and even though they kissed it was a lol girls kissing is hot joke for the whole show, and it never turned into a discussion of sexuality, even if they would both happily stay married in their heterosexual marriages. (And… Uh. Robin stays married okay, I’m pretty sure that was the alternate ending in the DVD unless I hallucinated it out of sheer frustration >.>) Anyway to me it seems pretty natural to read both of them a little queer to full on bi, and if it had gone even a little bit differently Lily especially could be good representation for a bi woman in a relationship with a man who just happens to have ended up falling in love with him and that’s normal and doesn’t invalidate her sexuality? But yeah. No such nuance, so this whole thing barely registers for people and in general people would think it’s all a joke.

I mean, even Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, which is where that Getting Bi song comes from, has an episode where the main character has a huge rival-crush on the girlfriend of the guy she’s into, and gets so into her she even kisses her, but there’s no exploration of what that means to her and when her boss comes out as bi with that number, no exploration of if she might be as well, even if all these characters eventually might feel more comfortable defining themselves as straight it’s just weird to me there’s all these jokes about it which can go as far as kisses, use overly romantic language or a long-running joke of Lily heavily coming onto Robin or something, and yet unless you’re like a magpie collecting all this stuff it’s all still just noise.

I bet a ton of people would not even have considered the characters were not-straight, even when directly pointing their eyes at this moment, consider it all as a joke or that it’s just something straight people do sometimes because of the cultural massive repression of bisexuality and the indications in more liberal times and places that when polled people will be majority queer to straight with at least some bi leanings… There’s all these headlines about gen Z being the gayest generation yet, but it’s not something in the water, it’s that previous generations have never dared be as open or consider that they’re non-straight, especially if they are easily attracted to people heterosexually…

I think the Aaron scene was 90% of the way to what you are describing, minus Dean giving him a raincheck overtly, and Aaron admits it was a ruse before any further tension can follow. I think, having snooped a lot of blog archives in my time, that really was a turning point that got a lot of people convinced of the textual possibilities, especially with the director/writer commentary basically confirming it. And obviously it didn’t work to make EVERYONE see it, although fandom swelled that season and it was a very dramatic moment in the history of bi!Dean and Destiel within fandom.

To give another example from outside the show, I’ve been watching Black Sails with my friend, who is very straight in mindset, and - major spoilers for that show ahead - the main character is confirmed to be overtly queer in the middle of the second season. I think I know exactly the point I would have picked up this was a queer narrative in the first season, and what would have made me suspicious about the mysteriously un-revealed backstory. The build up to the reveal was amazing in the second season and I think if you didn’t get it you really need to do a rewatch, because my friend was utterly blindsided by the revelation, only catching on a scene before it happened (she does like guessing and is smart at TV if she knows all the cues to start with). But she’s - sorry - at sea with the character’s motivations and reasons, and understands his earlier actions almost completely backwards to me as she took him on face value for far too long without suspecting there was more than treasure and restoring his name on order, and not understanding his motives to be so political or to want to burn the entire system down or his utter alienation from the system; even after the reveal she didn’t understand the degree to which things were on the line or the forces pressuring him one way or the other.

(I find it really interesting and I’m not really disagreeing with her, I’m curious how the surface layer all reads tbh :P)

In any case, I don’t really have much confidence in a wider general audience taking throwaway moments to be full canon, and generally would need declarations and inescapable discussion or plot arcs for it. I think in some ways the trail is being blazed now - when Rosa came out as bi in b99 it had a sort of special episode educating you on it as much as being very sympathetic for bi people to watch and see literally a bulletpoint list of their issues and weird things people say about it acted out on screen. The subplot is basically the masterclass in addressing it.

(So is the Getting Bi song :P although it covers less of the issues overall, it does make it fun and normalises the idea into a dance routine and deals with someone discovering the label for themselves and being thrilled it makes their life make sense.)

I don’t think spn should do anything quite so specific or hilarious, but I love @bluestar86‘s concept of an episode which uses flashbacks to reveal Dean’s bisexuality - basically like with Robin in 9x07, but I think even just showing it was a childhood crush and he never figured it all out at the time but meeting the guy later in life makes things make a lot of sense or something… And we already have a template for that without going all the way into it with his reaction to meeting Gunnar Lawless, a childhood celebrity crush. So there’s paths to take which could do it.

But ultimately I think the issue is so messed up and tangled into the main arc that it would be next to impossible to confirm Dean is bi without having an utter drama about why not Destiel, as the two concepts are not, at this point, really separate or that you could have one without the other, though it would be easier to not address Dean’s sexuality in any way of assigning labels or having more than the immediately necessary self-reflection to deal with feelings for Cas without exploring deeper… (Not that I like that idea, it’s just, they could, you know? Not even in a “i don’t like labels” way but just something like Dean going “huh” and then getting together with Cas and literally no one ever makes a fuss or starts up a dialogue about why they’re now holding hands :P)

But it’s been such a ridiculous, epic, drawn out relationship on screen that making Dean bi independent of Cas would seem bizarre and off-balance without addressing his relationship to Cas. Just because they have such an intense relationship, and within the text of the show are many many references to their relationship on many different levels, from snide comments to enormous declarations. None of this happens in isolation to other storylines or character depth. With the momentum and depth it has in the story, making Dean bi would be seen as a precursor to Destiel, and at this point cruel and strange not to address it and would beg the question of why they ever confirmed him bi in the first place, if not to leave the ship unresolved to the end but to be open for us to imagine it might happen one day when the story is over - or not, if we don’t ship it, and it’s the way to thread a needle to try and keep everyone happy. Which I’m not sure would work except for the people who very specifically would advocate for bi Dean but don’t think a ship is necessary. I mean, I know that’s a chunk of the Dean fandom, and it’s a valid way to read the text, and of course a lot of Destiel shippers are fully aware Dean is bi without any special interference from Cas about that :P

And, I mean, in the same way, Cas’s story isn’t ALL about Dean and he has a lot of personal growth that doesn’t have to do with him or happens in spite of him in some cases. But it’s still inextricable from Cas’s character how much he loves Dean and how much Dean has meant to him, and they crossed the line of Cas loving Dean, unrequited or not, a long time ago, and Cas has been existing in a subtextual agony of being in love with Dean but seemingly unrequited for a very long time now, as that line was crossed before several season renewals made it a painful wait for him. This doesn’t exist in a void to Dean’s sexuality either.

So, I mean, I don’t know. I disagree with you about the general audience thing entirely, and I think this exchange you imagine could easily be absorbed by the GA to not really credit it as a full part of Dean’s character, laugh it off as a joke from him no matter how seriously he delivers it, and generally not remember him as a bisexual character. Because to straight viewers, they aren’t seeking out sexuality hints and confirmations, and such things don’t really affect their view of a character unless it becomes a textual romance. It has all the meaning sucked from it by their lack of interest and inability to sympathetically mould the character’s inner life based on their own experiences that match. If they’re not making a study of the character, these things can be dismissed as white noise, and in a few years time, a Buzzfeed article of “10 Pop Culture Characters You Never Knew Were Gay!” or something.

And it’s like, yes. We knew. We knew all along. We knew before it happened. But that doesn’t affect how people think of it.

So it feels to me like the only way if they wanted to make a real point of Dean being bi is to have the frank discussion, and devote a proper subplot amount of time to Dean’s sexuality, enough that it is clear and inescapably affecting him, or to confirm it via a relationship which would in this case conveniently by answered by the angel he’s been subtextually pining for for years, and who has his own arc of being pretty overtly in love with Dean to answer… should the show decide to go with addressing Dean’s sexuality, they have put a LOT of work into having this relationship ready and waiting, I’m just saying :P And if they only had an Aaron but x10 scene, it would STILL not really affect anything except layers below GA - there’ll be more queer viewers who see it for the first time, and within these four walls it will obviously never be forgotten and will be a huge part of how Dean is celebrated by fandom, but I just can’t see it making an impact unless it’s more than a passing moment, because those get swallowed by a heteronormative void…

#Asks #riverboat gambling #dean is bi #destiel

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illuminating-dragons · 7 years

Text

Draco Malfoy Is A Good Future Father-In-Law 2020

Summary: Scorpius is afraid to tell his grandfather something. Draco, finally, is no longer scared to talk to his father

Word Count: 2,064

Notes: Cheers to @willow0angel for inspiring the title :) Sorry it wasn't 2017, dear, but they're only eleven then! They need more time. Another note: Draco has never been abusive to Scorpius. Lucius was physically (briefly) and emotionally abusive to Draco. This is discussed in non-graphic terms, but I figured that was important up front.

Draco sank wearily into his chair. He’d been busy all day helping Tori move her mother into the old folk’s home, and he’d had quite enough of his in-laws. Tori had gone with her sister to get supper, but Draco wanted to spend some time with his son, who’d spent the day with his grandparents.

He gave himself five minutes to sit down, then dragged himself up. He knew Scorpius wanted to try out some new Quidditch maneuvers, but perhaps he could persuade his son to do something else. Something that didn’t involve quite so much exercise.

He knocked on Scorpius’ door. “Scorpius? I’m home.”

There was no answer.

Confused, Draco opened the door. His son was curled in the corner, a blanket wound around himself and tears streaming down his face.

“Scorpius!” Draco dashed to his side. “Son, are you hurt? What happened?”

Scorpius just shook his head.

“Scorp?” Draco tried to pull the boy into his arms, but his son resisted. “What happened?” Then he was struck by a terrible fear, one he’d been trying to put out of his mind since the day his son was born. “Did something happen with your grandfather?”

To his horror, Scorpius nodded.

Draco reached out tentatively, put his hands on his son’s face. “Scorp, lad, please tell me what happened.”

“You’ll hate me too.”

“Hate you? I could never hate you, son. Never.” Draco tried to wipe some of the tears from Scorpius’ face, but more came. “Please tell me what happened.”

Scorpius took a deep breath. “I told Grandfather…” a sob cut him off, and he took a deep breath. “I told him something, and he didn’t like it.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Scorpius shook his head so violently Draco lost his grip. “Not…he didn’t use his wand or—or anything. But it…it hurt, Da.”

Draco pulled him into his arms then, ignoring the weak resistance. “I’m so sorry, love,” he whispered. “Whatever it was, I promise you can tell me and I won’t be cross. Just—please.”

Scorpius held himself stiffly in Draco’s arms. “I told him that I went on a date.”

“You did?” Scorpius hadn’t said a word to him or Tori about liking someone. “That’s nice. I suppose you might be a bit young, but that’s alright.”

Instead of making Scorpius feel better, the reassurance seemed to make him worse, and he trembled and curled into himself. Draco stroked his hair, trying to think of why his father would be so angry?

“Scorpius, is it because your date…” he hated what he was about to say, but he had a feeling he was on the right track. “She’s not pureblood, is she?”

Scorpius bowed his head.

“You know I don’t think that matters anymore, right?” Draco said desperately. He could still hear himself saying Mudblood when he was younger than Scorpius, secure in his superiority even though Granger was better than him at everything that counted. “I don’t care, and neither does your mum. Your grandfather won’t change his mind, but that doesn’t matter—”

“He’s pureblood, Da,” Scorpius interrupted.

Draco stared at him.

“Well, I suppose he is. Harry’s halfblood, but they’re both magic, so I suppose he is.”

Draco drew in a deep breath. “You went on a date with Albus Potter?”

Scorpius nodded. “Last week during a Hogsmeade trip.”

Draco nodded. It did make sense. They’d always been close. “I didn’t know you were interested in boys, Scorpius.”

“I didn’t really know either,” Scorpius confessed. “And I don’t know that I am. I mean, I’m not interested in girls, but I’ve only ever really noticed him.”

“Well, we’ll have to have a chat with him, me and Mum. We want to make sure that he knows to treat you properly, but I’m sure he already does.”

“What?” Scorpius stared at him, and the shock in his eyes broke Draco’s heart. “You don’t—you don’t care?”

“Of course I care! I’m happy for you, son. Keep it slow, though. You two are young, and—”

“But you don’t care that he’s—well, he’s a boy?”

“Not at all.” Draco froze. “Hold on, is that what your grandfather was angry about?”

Scorpius nodded. “I only said his name, and Grandfather said that it was—it was the worst thing I could do, dating him.”

“Right.” Draco pulled Scorpius close for a long moment, then kissed the top of his head. “Come with me, son.” He helped Scorpius out of his blanket cocoon.

“Da?”

“We’re going to have a word with your grandfather.”

Scorpius was trembling, and Draco forced him to ask again. “Scorpius, tell me the truth. Did your grandfather harm you physically? Has he ever done that?”

“No. But he’s threatened, once or twice. And I know…I know he hurt you.”

Draco winced. “That was a long time ago.”

Lucius Malfoy had been the rare abuser who restrained his physical violence after a confrontation from his wife. He’d thought what he was doing to his five year old son was normal, and was horrified when Narcissa set him straight, promising never to lay hand or wand on Draco again. But it took years, Azkaban and Scorpius’ birth for Lucius to realize that he’d done just as much damage with his tongue. Draco knew his father loved him as well as he could, but he’d always wished that he’d learned how to show that as easily as his anger and disappointment.

He was damned if that would continue with Scorpius.

“Scorp, look at me. I’m not going to let your grandfather hurt you. But this needs to be addressed now. Mum and I are fine with this, and if your grandfather isn’t, then he needs to know the consequences as soon as possible. You don’t have to say a word, okay?”

Scorpius nodded, then reached out and took his father’s hand. He hadn’t done that since he was ten.

Draco walked with his son, matching his pace with his boy. Lucius was still in the drawing room, which seemed to be his favourite room in Draco and Tori’s house. His face was drawn, and he stood when he saw Scorpius. He opened his mouth to speak, but Draco beat him to it.

“Let me make this perfectly clear, Father: you have no right to tell my child who he can and cannot date. I suppose I should be grateful that you didn’t say anything about his blood status, the way you are. And so what if he’s a boy? As far as I’m concerned that’s the best way it could be, because this way the Malfoy line can end. Unless you want to father a child, Scorp, that’s fine—”

“Draco,” his father cut him off. “I don’t care that Scorpius is gay.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not! I had male lovers before your mother, including Yaxley, who was the gayest Death Eater, and that’s saying something. Why would that matter?”

Scorpius was staring open mouthed at his grandfather. Draco controlled his own shock with difficulty. “So then…what’s the problem? You said it was terrible.”

“Of course it is! He’s dating a child from a Potter-Weasley union!”

“Alright, Father, enough. Those people are my friends now through some mercy of time and forgiveness, and they’re good and worthy. More than I ever could be. Blood purity is a ridiculous notion, and even if you won’t give it up Scorpius doesn’t have to support it!”

“I understand that.”

“Then what on earth is the problem?” Draco snapped.

“He will never be their family!” Lucius whirled, his back to them. “The new regime has no room for the Malfoys, and you know this! Scorpius will learn soon enough. Perhaps it’s convenient and easy for him to be friends with Albus right now, but he will always be your son! Do you want that life for him?! Because I never wanted it for you!”

“You’re scared he won’t fit in. You’re scared that they can’t love him.” Draco took a deep breath. “Father, they already do.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do. And they care about me, which is a much bigger surprise. I don’t talk about the Weasley family to you, Father, because I know it upsets you, but they’ve included Tori and Scorpius and I in a lot of family events. I’ve even got one of Molly Weasley’s jumpers.” He’d cried opening that package, cried and begged the kind old woman’s forgiveness for ever thinking of her as lesser, for bearing the Mark of the same people who’d killed her brothers and her son. She’d given him a handkerchief to wipe his face and a quick hug.

“It wasn’t easy, it took time, and there were times I almost gave up for the same reasons that you’re worried about now. But they’re better than I am at seeing good in people, and they saw good in me I never noticed. Hermione Granger and I talk about politics together. Hermione Granger. Ron Weasley and I played on the same Quidditch team at the Easter holidays, and Harry…remember when he got injured in the fall? Ginny Flooed me right after Ron and Hermione, and said she did it because Harry would want me to know. And as for Scorpius…he’s one of their own, Father. They’ve never treated him differently. Even Neville Longbottom doesn’t, and he and I aren’t friends. We never will be, because I don’t particularly like him. But I admire and respect him, and mostly because he’s buried the hatchet. He didn’t have to do that. None of them did. But they’ve accepted me, and they’ve accepted my son.”

Lucius looked towards the fire. “And now that they’re dating?”

Draco looked at Scorpius. “Do Al’s parents know yet?”

Scorpius nodded. “He told them in a letter; they already knew he was gay. Ginny wants me to come to tea tomorrow, and Harry said he was happy. Hermione couldn’t stop laughing.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course she couldn’t.” He had a sneaking suspicion Hermione had guessed about Al and Scorp a while ago, and was rather grateful the woman hadn’t interfered.

Or if she had, she’d been subtle enough that her nephew and Scorpius didn’t know. There was a trace of Slytherin in Hermione Granger.

Lucius put his hands together. “In that case…I’m sorry, Scorpius. I was worried about you, and I was very unclear about why. It appears that they were foundless worries as well. Will you forgive me?”

“Will you come to my wedding?”

“Scorpius, you’re thirteen,” Draco scolded.

“I know,” Scorpius said, and the strength in his son’s eyes startled him. “But I might marry Albus Potter someday, and I want to know that you will come even though you don’t like his family. I know you don’t want to change, Grandfather, and I love you even though I think you’re wrong. I want to know that you’ll do me the same courtesy.”

Lucius’ lips trembled, and he approached Scorpius with his hand held out. “I will, Scorpius,” he promised. “And perhaps it’s time for an old man to start reconsidering his ideas.”

Draco couldn’t believe it.

Scorpius shook Lucius’ hand, then fell against him. “I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you,” Lucius promised, giving him an awkward hug. “I don’t understand this new world, and I fear the legacy you bring into it, but my prejudice should not disrespect your courage. We are family.” He met Draco’s eyes. “I need some practice at making that perfectly clear.”

Draco nodded, his throat tight. “How about we all go for a walk in Scamander’s Hollow?” he asked. “Apparently there’s some migrations happening soon.”

Scorpius’ eyes lit up. “Yeah! I’ll get my bag, Da!”

“You’re not bringing home anything alive,” Draco called. “Your mother will have a fit!”

He was left alone with his father, something he used to dread. Now he felt sorry for the old man, trapped in a mind that wouldn’t accept the new ways because he would have to face his own guilt, have to face his lack of superiority.

“I wasn’t a good father,” Lucius said abruptly.

Once Draco would have corrected him, tried to soften the criticism, but Lucius held up a hand. “But I somehow managed to produce one. I’m proud of you, son, even though I don’t always understand you.”

“Thank you, Father.”

#harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #scorpius malfoy #albus severus x scorpius #lucius malfoy #fading scars universe #harry potter AU #draco malfoy and scorpius malfoy #tw child abuse #acme146 fanfiction #crosspost from AO3

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thecupcakeconsumer · 7 years

Text

Sparks Fly

“Shelton? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, obviously. Of course I am. What makes you ask?”

Hi peered down at his friend, unbelieving. “The twenty one texts you sent me last night? Your Spotify says you listened to Fireproof on repeat last night. That’s your comfort song.”

“I-” Shelton made to reply, but was cut off by the violent crack of a firework outside the bunker.

Try as he might to hide it, Shelton’s flinch was more obvious than a pit stain on a plain white tee.

Hi narrowed his eyes at Shelton, and as if finding the answer he had been searching out, almost immediately softened “You don’t like fireworks. I almost forgot. I’m sorry, Shelly. It’s only the third and people have already started going crazy.“

Wordlessly, Hi sat on the floor behind the other boy, wrapping his arms around Shelton and resting his chin on his shoulder. “So I was listening to What Makes You Beautiful yesterday and thinking of you.”

Shelton let out a laugh, almost barking in nature. “You’re the cheesiest-”

“Just because almost half of my diet is cheese doesn’t make me cheesy, Shelby, we established this,” teased Hi with a laugh. “Else you’d be Zayn Malik.”

“I do not-!” Elbowing the boy behind him in the gut, Shelton tried to rein in the smile that threatened to betray and overwhelm his face.

“I’m wounded! I’ve been wounded!” cried Hi dramatically, clutching his gut. “I stand by what I said, though. Who couldn’t be drawn in by those delicious blue eyes-”

“They’re brown, you dolt,” interrupted Shelton.

“See? You’ve clearly been gazing into them.”

“Nah, there’s only one set of brown eyes I’m interested in.”

Gobsmacked, Hi pressed his palms to his cheeks, the epitome of shocked pride. “Was that cheesy? From you? I don’t know whether to be proud or avoid your house forever because I won’t be able to look your mother in the eye again, having changed her son as I have.”

“I think she’ll live.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hi, I’m pretty sure I can read. I’ve triple checked them all.”

“Ah, Tory, my dear, I could kiss you!” She laughed, holding the phone away from her ear as Hi made obscenely wet noises with his lips.

Kit walked through the living room at that moment and, upon hearing the imitation, mouthed, ‘Ben?’

It has yet to be said that there was ever a more laughable image than Tory’s red flush to match her hair, as she laughed in her discomfort, putting the phone back to her ear.

“Shut up, Hi.”

“You’re no fun. Been hanging with that Ben Blue too long. Don’t listen to him. He’ll never love you like I do.”

Tory rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you in ten, Hi.”

“It’s simply incredible! Mad props.” Hi aimed finger guns in the direction of Kit and Whitney. “You’ve outdone yourself, Hiram Stolowitski, you truly could not have found better people to plan this on such short notice.”

“Of course you’re congratulating yourself, Stolowitski.”

Hi responded to Ben with a light shove. “My idea. My credit. I even made a playlist. Do you even know how long it took? Almost as long as it does to perfect this hella sexy bod.”

“Shut up, Hi.”

“I’ll go grab the guest of honor!”

Kit was barbecuing while speaking with Linus Devers, Tory and Ben talking with Tom Blue (with Tory looking like she would, quite frankly, rather be somewhere else), Ruth Stolowitski and Whitney gossiping… meanwhile, Shelton and Hi were just walking onto the scene.

“What is this?”

Hi fought back the grin struggling to tug at the corners of his lips. “What do you mean, what is this? It’s a Morris Island personal barbeque.”

“How did I not hear about this?”

Practically dancing, and with it obvious in his voice, Hi singsonged, “It was only planned yesterday. We wanted to have something… independent from everyone else’s parties.”

“You’ve been holding that in since yesterday.”

“Wasn’t it good?” Hi grinned, holding up a peace sign. “I’m something’s Founding Father.”

Shelton shook his head. “You’re acting… odd. And knowing you, that’s incredibly frightening.”

Shrugging it off, the other boy only responded with a cryptic, “You’ll see.”

“Fireworks!” called out Tom Blue, uncharacteristically enthusiastic with the pyrotechnics in spite of his love of the sea. “Stand back.”

As Kit and Tom worked to set up the entertainment, Shelton instinctively reached for the nearest thing - which just happened to be Ben Blue’s hand.

Wordlessly, the older teen squeezed reassuringly as Hi returned from inside the house, holding a handful of cucumber slices from one of Whitney’s vegetable trays. “Oh boy, they’re starting. Cucumber?”

Shelton frowned at the way Hi seemingly cast aside the entire focus of their afternoon just the previous day, but accepted a slice, wincing as the firework was lit.

The world seemed to slow, Shelton’s hands seizing up, as the flare lit up the night sky - he waited, for the gun-like crack to pierce through the comforting tones of the music from the speakers - and his eyes squeezed shut in anticipation, waiting.

And waiting…

Frowning, Shelton excruciatingly popped open an eye, scanning the sky for the explosion that he hadn’t yet heard, and only catching a glimpse of falling sparks.

“What the-?”

Another firework went up as he tentatively opened the other eye, and watched as it exploded, with hardly a sound.

Risking a glance to his left, he saw Hi grin up at the colors flooding his vision.

Another two flares went up, red and green and blue stretching the stars almost silently, not even audible over the music.

Shelton took his hand from Ben’s and brought both up to cup Hi’s cheeks, pressing his lips insistently against cool.

“Come on, wrong type of fireworks,” murmured Ben, rolling his eyes at the two despite a broad smile lightening his dark features.

Hi was the one to break away, stupidly smiling as he kept his forehead pressed to Shelton’s.

“Thank you,” said Shelton.

“Do I taste like cucumber?”

“Why? Do I?”

“No. You taste like heaven, Shelton.”

As Tory and Ben simultaneously cringed, the two claimed each other again, entirely missing a full minute of the soundless sparks Hi had so carefully planned.

“Jesus Christ,” mumbled Hi as the two broke apart.

“Hi. You’re Jewish,” reminded Tory, her words falling on deaf ears.

And as her words could never stop Hiram’s antics, nothing in the world would keep Shelton’s head off of Hi’s shoulder, watching the light part the darkness in the sky.

“Happy Fourth of July,” whispered Hi. “They say it’s the gayest day of the year.”

“No shit,” murmured Shelton, rolling his eyes as he sighed, kissing Hi’s cheek and smirking at how it stretched when he smiled.

“Is that really how bad we are?” asked Ben, shaking his head.

“No, Benny. You’re worse.“

“Can it, Thickburger.”

Even so, there was little better than the way the two’s eyes were lit, and not just by the colors igniting the sky.

I’m gonna tag some people here that I think might enjoy this little ficlet - @themorrisislandpack, @shelton-devers, @viralgonepsych-o, @a-nimestuck, @quaintnessandqueerness, @parvovirusxpb-19, @eatsleepcringerepeat.

Thanks for reading!

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