#it happens man. it’s a cup game. wild shit happens.

[whitehartlane]

sometimes i think people just throw words around and don’t truly understand the meaning of the word ‘rebuild’

[icewindandboringhorror]

[gingernut1314]

Songbird Pt. 9

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Buggy pulls you from your girl's night only for you to find your captain's emotions running wild.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut (drunk sex, misuse of Devil Fruit powers, oral f.receiving, slight restriction, p in v, biting), use of Y/N

Word Count: 6.0K

A/N: Heyyyyy guys!! Back with some of the main story!! Sorry it took....a while 😬. I hope you all enjoy!!! 🩷🩷🩷

Requested by: @srgtjamesbarnes

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Girls night.��

You hadn’t had a proper girl’s night since you were very little with your mom. Those nights where it was just the two of you played a card game together whenever she had a day off from work, which had been far and few in between. 

You had no siblings to account for and, though Nami had been a good friend, she had been too worried about Arlong and her family to truly be able to relax and have fun. Understandably so. 

So when Esmeralda and the other girls aboard the Big Top told you of their tradition, which took place whenever they made dock and the boys went to some crummy bar to drink, you were ecstatic. 

You helped them gather supplies of cheeses, meats, grapes, and copious amounts of alcohol and you all huddled together in your shared quarters, gramophone playing the latest songs Esmeralda had collected that day. 

So far, Emi had shown off her sword-swallowing skills, Seqii and her Aerial Ensemble had done shots standing upside down in a pyramid, you had sung three silly drinking shanties, and Esmeralda had cried about her horse-turned-cat food. 

You now sat in a circle on the ground, shoving the remaining meats and cheeses into your faces, talking about anything and everything that happened within the varying relationships amongst the crew. 

“Cabaji made me scrub the deck two times. Two!” Seqii complained, her drink sloshing around dangerously in her cup as she turned towards Emi, who was equally as off-balanced as her friend. “Can’t you swallow his sword, Emi? Make him loosen up a bit.” 

“I swallow his sword every godsdamn night and --hic-- he still makes me re-tie lines even though they were perfect--hic--before.” Emi hiccupped, downing the rest of her drink. “Just how the guy is. Commanding. Just how --hic-- I like ‘em.” Seqii gave a dramatic roll of her eyes, loudly disagreeing with that statement. 

“What about nice? Gentle?” Esmeralda slurred horrendously from where she sat next to you, one arm looped through yours while her other hugged the skittish contortionist, whose head lay in her lap. Emi and Seqii both booed her, making the ex-equestrian huff. 

“The difference between you and --hic-- the rest of us is you like like Mohji.” Emi hiccuped, spurring Esmeralda to pull from your hold, flabbergasted. 

“He’s nice to me and he loves me. Sorrrryyyy.” She all but shouted, making Emi and Seqii laugh like a pack of hyenas. Esmeralda snatched the bottle of wine Seqii had just picked up in something like payment and the aerial performer let her with a wide grin. “I’m not the only one who like likes who we are with. Y/N like, likes the Captain.” 

Your own laughter was cut short as your heart nearly stopped in your chest. All eyes around the room snapped to you to see if what Esmeralda said was true. 

That warm, fluttery feeling rushed around in your chest at the mention of your captain. A feeling you had been struggling to get back under wraps, but nothing you did ever could lessen the happy feeling. 

The thought of his smile had that feeling soaring. The thought of his sea-glass eyes and his bad jokes and the gifts he would shower upon you--

You gave an elongated, scoffing pfftt with a dismissive arching motion of your hand…and then another and another. 

“Shit. She more than like likes him.” Seqii said, her grin turning shit-eating. 

“I like no man. Men are gross. Ew.” You hissed, wobbling a bit as Esmeralda all but crashed into you on her way to flop on her back. 

“Ughhhh--you’re in denial.” Seqii continued, grabbing the wine bottle back from Esmeralda before she could spill it all over the floor. 

“It’s no --hic--fun.” Emi popcorned in, snagging the bottle from her friend and taking a long swing. 

“You know what is fun?” Seqii asked, fixing you with a mischievous smirk. “Telling us about how good in bed he is.” You felt your face flush at the statement, a few girls giggling and gasping around the room. Others egged you on, all but begging you to tell them. 

“That’s priv--” You started, only to be cut off by Esmeralda popping back up with a near-matching mischievous grin. 

“How big is he?” Your mouth fell open at her bluntness, but the woman only laughed away like it was no big deal. “Tell me when to stop, okay!” She said excitedly, placing her hands together before gradually pulling them apart. “Tell me when to stop--tell--there's no way--Y/N! Tell me when to stop!”

“I’m not--” Again, you were cut off by a loud burp from Seqii who had regained the wine bottle back from Emi. 

“Who cares --hic-- how big he is. I need to know if his dick can --hic-- chop off like the rest of his body.” Emi hiccuped, her question earning a collective eagerness to know from the gathered group. 

“Pleaseeee!” Esmeralda begged, latching onto your arm and shaking you. “I’ve told everyone about me and Mohji--”

“You and Mohji’s sex life is vanilla.” Emi started, making Esmeralda gasp.

“It is not vanil--” 

“I want the juicy --hic-- details. Tell us, come on!” Emi finished, everyone quieting down again to watch you, waiting for any snippet you might give up. 

You thought about it for a second. Thoughts that were fogged and blurred from all the drinks you’d had. Loose thoughts that had you thinking of all the dirty things Buggy did to you and you did to him. 

Had his dick ever detached during your escapades?

“I don’t know.” You slurred on a shrug, earning a collective groan from the group. “I’ll ask geezzzz. But Buggy does this thing where he detaches his--” A loud thump sounded at the door, cutting off your story and earning yet another groan from a few of the girls. 

Another thump sounded and you thought it reminded you of a body getting slammed into a wall. A body that kept fumbling back a bit before attempting to knock once more. 

“Shit--the fucking boys are back,” Seqii grumbled as another thump sounded through the room. She grumbled some more as she stood, wobbly navigating her way through the collection of bodies sprawled over the floor. The door was flung open, letting in a chilled breeze that rose goosebumps to your skin.

Standing there, looking just as drunk and disheveled as the rest of the group, was Buggy in all his Buggy glory. His make-up smeared over his skin, his smile wide and bright, and his hat sitting a-skewed on his head, hanging on by some miracle. 

“Captian Buggy!” The girls all cheered at his appearance. Buggy grinned widely as he dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Girls! My loyal crew!” He cheered right back, pulling his hands from his pockets and into the air, wiggling his fingers in his excitement as confetti in a rainbow of color rained down onto the floor. You giggled with Esmeralda as more cheering filled the room.

“How’s your night going? Hope I’m not interpreting.” He said, a few of his words coming out elongated and awkward, but no one truly seemed to notice or care because you were all giggling, wobbling, drunk messes. 

“You could never --hic-- interpret captain! Come in!” Emi said, her tone shifting the slightest bit to be more kind towards her captain. “Y/N was just telling us--” You shot her a warning glare that only seemed to amuse her. “How much she likes it here!” 

“Oh was she? Heh. Good.” He said, stumbling into the room, Seqii shutting the door behind him. Those green-blue eyes found you and filled with that softness you had spotted here and there in them. A look that spoke to the same feeling thrashing about in your chest, wishing to meet it. 

“Baby--ugh I mean Songbird--Y/N,” He finally got out. You’re name felt strange spilling from his lips, but you loved it just as you did hearing the nicknames he conquered up for you. 

A few girls around the room gave giddy little laughs at the nicknames, which you shot them their own warning glares for. 

“I always love to hear feedback from the crew. ‘Specially from you newbies. Helps me know what’s workin’ and what’s-” he gave a little burp in the back of his throat as he came to a wobbly stop next to you. “-what’s not.” He stammered on, waving his hands around as if to emphasize what he was saying, confetti that had stuck to his gloved hands falling into your crossed lap.

You huffed with a roll of your eyes as you pulled yourself up, bumping into his leg as your wonky vision threw you off balance. Strong, gloved hands grabbed you under your arms and helped hoist you up, making your face burn. 

“Are the others back?” Esmeralda asked hopefully, sitting herself right-side up. 

“Only lil ol’ me. Sorry, Es.” Buggy said, a hand falling away from your body only for the last to stay glued to your back. You leaned into his touch, loving the feel of his warmth, a warmth strong enough to seep through the white fabric of his glove and your shirt.

“Captian, before you drag our glorious singing songbird off, could we hear one more song?” Emi asked, raising the last wine bottle. “We still have this whole bottle left,” 

“Sure. No skin off my nose.” Buggy said, turning to look your way with a shrug. 

The room went deadly quiet at his words. 

Breaths were held and prayers were muttered. 

They were words that, under any circumstance would have gotten someone mamined--killed. 

But as he looked at you, all that flashed in his eyes was that softness which had never once left them since his arrival. He looked--at ease, almost. 

It was probably just all the alcohol he had drank that night. 

Probably all the alcohol you had been drinking, making you see things.

“Heh. Nose.” He said, bopping your nose. You watched his grin grow wider--a grin that sparked your own to cross your lips. “Sing the one ‘bout that bottle of rum that’s hard to open.” 

“Aye, aye Captain.” You said, giving him a little salute, which he wobbly gave back. 

You instructed everyone who wished to participate to form a circle, snatching the bottle of wine from Seqii before you hopped into the middle, starting the fun and upbeat shanty about a crew of pirates who find a mysterious bottle of rum floating in the sea. A bottle whose cork was too tough for the captain to open, so it was passed around and around the crew, trying desperately to find someone who could open it. 

Once the first verse was sung, setting the disastrous scene for your own crew, you passed the wine bottle to Buggy as you began singing the chorus. A chorus that spurred your captain to pass it to Emi who passed it to Esmeralda and around and around the circle of the bottle went. You followed it, skipping and hopping and dancing away as your crew joined you in singing the chorus. 

You froze as the chorus ended, the bottle landing in Buggy’s hands on a last pass from Seqii. He winked your way, making your mouth run dry as he raised the bottle to his painted lips. 

You almost forgot all about the silly little song you were singing as you watched him, but found the will in your foggy brain to sing the second verse. Buggy chugged and chugged, his throat working with each swallow of the liquid. It had your alcohol-flushed body burning up that much more. 

The girls gave another round of cheers as Buggy detached his head and hands so that the rest of his body could do a twirling dance to the music you provided. 

When the verse came to an end, his head and hands popped back into place and he quickly passed it to Emi who passed it to Esmeralda and so on and so on as you sang the chorus once more. 

Several verses later, the bottle ran dry with a hiccupping hoot of triumph from Emi, who held the bottle high as you finished the song. 

You gave a flashy bow as the girls and your captain cheered for you, blowing kisses here and there around the circle. Buggy detached a hand to pretend to catch one high up, holding it carefully in his palm as he put it in his coat pocket. 

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll see you all bright and early tomorrow morning!” A groan spilled from a few of the girl's lips at the thought of what tomorrow held in store for them. Mainly; all the chores to be done that Cabaji, no matter how hungover, was sure to have to get done.

You looped your arm through Buggy’s and let him lead you out of the room, which you took one more look over your shoulder to look at your friends in their varying states of drunkenness.

“Ask him!” Emi mouthed your way as Seqii did the simple magic trick where one pretended like they were pulling their thumb from its joint…but she had positioned her hands at her crotch with a grin so wide it almost spilled off her cheeks. 

You shook your head at their silliness and persistence to know of your private endeavors…but it had piqued your interest if not in the slightest.

The hall was chilled compared to the body-filled room you had both just been in, which erupted in more laughter as you shut the door behind you. A chill that Buggy’s body, instantly wrapped around yours, shielded you from. 

He placed a big old, smacking, wet kiss on your cheek, making your heart flutter like some caged butterfly. 

“That was so fucking sexy, songbird.” He said, words still coming out warped from all the alcohol he had drank against your temple. 

“Oh yeah? You liked my little jig?” You murmured back, turning your face to steal a glance at those eyes you couldn’t look in long enough.

“Hell yeah. Got me all hot and bothered.” His lips kissed your temple, then your cheek, before latching them onto your neck. You hooked your fingers over the back of his neck and pulled him in closer, savoring the tingling sensations that shot over your skin at his sloppy affections

“Should I do another one?” In hardly the blink of an eye, Buggy grabbed hold of your hand and in a quick, sharp movement that had you wobbly all over again, spun you around and away from him. 

“Please do another one.” He begged, eyes eating up your body as you fought to regain your steady footing. 

“Aye, aye captain.” You laughed before starting to sing an upbeat shanty as you spun and moved your body to the phantom beat down the hall and around the corner towards the stairs. Buggy followed after you, joining you in song and grabbing hold of your hands here and there to give you a little spin. 

When the song came to a close, Buggy gave a loud hoot that echoed back at him and mixed with your laughter. He was quick to scoop you up into his arms, lips finding yours in a sloppy kiss that had your alcohol-fuzzed brain going near blank. 

“Sing again for me, songbird.” He asked against your lips. You kissed him again before pulling away, Buggy giving a little whine to let you know you had pulled away all too quickly. “Did you eat dinner?” Buggy rolled his eyes, his arms snaking around your waist once more.

“Baby--”

“Baby.” You insisted, wrapping an arm around his neck. “I’ll sing for you while you eat? How does that sound?” Light lit up Buggy’s eyes as he nodded several times at this, making his face, in your drunken state, go all fuzzy. 

“I should really promote you to be my negotiator. You’re--” He gave another burp in the back of his throat that you crinkled your nose at in disgust. “Soooo good at it.” 

“Only for you, Captain.” Buggy’s grin widened and he leaned down to claim your lips in another sloppy kiss, but you were quick to place a finger over his puckered lips. “Food first.” Buggy groaned dramatically, grabbing hold of your wrist to pull your finger from his lips.

“Fine.” He gruffed, all but dragging you to the kitchen so that he could eat and get on with kissing you. 

The kitchen had been left in a state of disarray thanks to you and the girls ransacking its stores as soon as the kitchen staff left for the night. Kitchen staff you knew would set Cabaji on you all to clean it all up in the morning.

Buggy gave a groaning oof as he flopped himself onto one of the stools sitting before the island, plunking his forehead against the wood. You chuckled at him and opened the fridge.

“Why’d you come back so early, baby?” You asked, rummaging around for the leftovers you had saved from the diner you and the girls had gone to dinner at.

“I’m too old to keep up with the others anymore. Got tired.” He grumbled making you roll your eyes.

“Oh is that right? Then we should head to bed after this? Get my old man his full eight hours of beauty sleep?” You teased, grabbing your leftovers up. 

Even in your alcohol-fuzzed state, Buggy having yet to snap something back at you was strange.

Turning around, fridge door shutting softly behind you, you found Buggy’s face buried in his hands, shoulders quivering. 

Crying. 

Buggy was crying. 

It had panic and concern shoot through your chest rapidly, your leftovers abandoned as you rushed to his side. 

“Buggy? What’s wrong, baby?” You asked, smoothing your hands over his back and arm to try and get him to look at you. To comfort and console him. “D-did I say something to upset you? I’m sorry, baby, you know I don’t think you’re old--”

“I missed you.” He moaned out. His words--they more than shocked you. 

He had missed you. He had missed you so much he had left the bar early and was now crying about it. 

It was…sweet. And doing nothing for that warm, fluttering feeling invading your every sense. 

“You--you missed me?” You asked, gently grabbing hold of his hands to pull them away from his face. His make-up was done for, smudged so bad it had all but blended into his skin. His watery blue-green eyes looked up at you, only overflowing with more tears as he nodded.

“Baby I missed so much.” He whined, grabbing for your shirt weakly as if it was his anchor in the raging storm that was his emotions. “They can’t sing like you--they don’t know half the lyrics.” Tears continued to spill down his cheeks as he pulled you closer. “And--and I just--missed you.” 

You smiled kindly at him, cupping his face with your hands and wiping away each tear that escaped his eyes. 

“I’m here now. And I still owe you a song.” More tears fell from his eyes despite your attempt at comfort, his face falling against your chest as a sob shook his shoulders. 

You were trying not to laugh--not to let that giddy feeling escape your chest through a silly giggle at your captain's confession. At the discovery that Buggy was a drunk crier. 

You pulled his hat off his head, placing it on the island counter before going about taking his bandana off so that you could brush your fingers over his blue hair, which he had put in a singular braid. 

“Fucking gods I missed you.” He sobbed again, burying his face deeper. “You’re--you’re just so beautiful and too kind to me.” 

Beautiful. He was calling you beautiful.

Your heart was beginning to race with that feeling. With that overwhelming swell of that naggingly warm emotion. 

A swell that the alcohol in your system was threatening to spill. 

To spill the three words you had been struggling to hold at bay. Words that were just on the tip of your tongue--words that began to form and fal--

“And--And your tits are so soft and round and I missed them so much.” And that feeling was swapped with utter annoyance. 

“Really?” You asked, placing your hands on his shoulders to try and shove him away, but his grip on you was iron-like. 

“What? It’s true!” He moaned out mournfully as he nuzzled his face between them. You huffed, feeling just the tiniest bit hurt in that moment when you had thought you were getting a sweet, tender confession from your captain. 

“You just missed my tits? Is that all you missed?” You snapped, Buggy’s face pulled from your breast so he could show you all that sadness welling in his soul. 

“No.” He whined, resting his cheek again on your breasts. “I missed your ass too.” 

“Jackass.” You grumped, yanking yourself away from the clown who gave another pitiful moan. 

“Baby--” Buggy started, grabbing at your arms and hips to try and keep you close. You fought not to give in and fall back into his arms, especially when a wave of fresh tears were rolling down his red and blue smudged cheeks.

“I don’t think you deserve a song now, since you only missed my body” You huffed, crossing your arms and turning your head away from him. 

Buggy moaned yet again, his head flopping onto the kitchen island once more and falling off. His shoulder drooped and his arms fell off, chop-chopped into pieces on the floor. It was a pile of chop-chopped limbs that continued to grow the longer you stayed away. 

“Noooooo. I missed your voice.” He cried, his gloved hands inching their way up onto the island surface. “I missed you being mean to me and I mi-missed you takin’ care of me even when I don’t deserve it.” Those chopped hands continued to cross the wooden surface towards you like some strange spider. Fingers that brushed against your arm in a weak attempt to pull you back.

“I don’t deserve you--you’re too good for me. I’m a shitty shitty fool and you’re a perfect dove who's too bright for me.” 

And now you felt like the asshole. Because none of that was true. Because Buggy was perfect for you in every way. He was more than you deserved. He was better to you than any person you had had a semblance of a relationship with had ever been before. 

You didn’t deserve him. 

“Buggy. No. That’s not true.” You started, going right back over to the chopped-up pile he had become. Buggy was quick to pull himself back together and was pulling you eagerly into his orbit once more. 

“It is.” He cried, knuckles no doubt going white under his gloves at the tight he was holding onto your shirt. “I’m the East Blue’s biggest loser. The biggest in all the Blue Seas. You deserve someone who is better. Someone like that fucking shit-for-brains swordsman or shitty blond pretty boy.” You shook your head, gently pulling his fingers from your shirt to hold his hands tight. 

“I don’t want them. I’ve never wanted them. I’ve only ever wanted you.” Buggy shook his head and you took his chin in a gentle scoop, keeping those sad eyes on you. “And I don’t think you're a fool. Not one bit.” Doubt and self-hatred continued to bubble in Buggy's watery eyes. Emotions you never ever wanted to see shining in them. Emotions you had put there. 

It had your heart beating painfully in your chest. Had your hands sweating and blood running cold. 

You were making him cry. You are a burden to him. 

“I--I don’t deserve you.” Buggy scoffed at this, disbelief thankfully lessening those hurting feelings in his eyes. “I don’t. Before I met you--I was nothing. No one. Just an empty vessel floating around on some godsforsaken ship. A husk trapped in a cave. And now--now you make me feel--full. Like a real person. You make me feel so--so happy.”

“But you would be happier with--” 

“I wouldn’t. I know I wouldn’t because I wasn’t.” Buggy’s bottom lip quivered in warning of another body-shaking sob. You couldn’t--wouldn’t see him upset. Upset over something you had foolishly started. 

“I lo--” Your words lodged themselves in your throat. Words that had been threatening to spill from your mouth from the moment you had caught him singing your song to the night air all those weeks ago. Words your heart and soul begged to speak but your mind caged--bulling them away in fear. Fear of him rejecting such words. Words that were more than just words. 

Words that sobered you right up, letting every last bit of panic flood your chest now that the dulling fog had vanished.

Buggy’s own breath hitched in his throat. That warm look you had spied in his eyes more and more often flashing through their watery depths. A warm look that was overpowered by those hurting feelings you had been trying to save him from. 

“You are special to me.” You managed to croak out. Your heart was beating faster. So fast you were sure it was bruising itself against your ribs, making it hard to breathe. “And--and I want to be here. With you. And I don’t want you to feel that way. Not with me. Because--because you’re too special to me.” More tears fell from Buggy’s eyes and your panic gripped at your heart tighter. 

Had you only made it worse? Had you said too--

A hand grabbed hold of your jaw, pulling you against Buggy’s smudged lips. Lips that kissed you soft and sweet. 

He kissed you slowly. A slowness that spoke louder than any words he could have possibly said in that moment. A kiss that had your eyes sparking with tears right alongside his own.

You grabbed him closer, pressing your body against his as much as the stool would allow. But it was nowhere near close enough. It would never be close enough. 

Your hands moved over his braided hair, down his stubble-lined jaw, and neck. Hands you moved under his coat to try and shrug it off his shoulder so you could feel his warm skin against yours. He chop-chopped his arms from his shoulders to let the coat slip off more easily. Arms that were instantly around you once reattached, hands finding their way under your shirt.

The kiss grew more hungry--needy, but that passion never once fled. A passion that burned through your heart, which struggled to keep the balance between your fluttering feelings towards this clown, and your darkened ones. 

You felt the muscles in his arms work against your hands as he grabbed you up in them, laying you out on top of the kitchen island. 

Random bottles and bits of trash you and the girls had littered it with clattered to the ground, but it hardly mattered. Not when Buggy was trailing a wet line of kisses over your jaw and neck and the swell of your breasts. Not when he pulled your shirt up to continue to leave opened-mouthed kisses along your stomach. 

You breathed his name as he began to tug your brightly patterned pajama pants over and off your legs. 

Those sloppy kisses attacked your calves and thighs--lips that turned biting every so often and had your body sparking, mind fogging in utter lustful need. 

“F-fuck, Songbird,” Buggy spoke around a mouthful of flesh. “Always so ready for me.” You gave a shuddery gasp as a detached hand came to rest over your pelvic bone, thumb running over the thin fabric that still covered your dripping core. 

“Always, captain.” You moaned out, reaching to feel over his cheek and jaw. Those damned fingers passing over your clit, sending a jolting shock through your near-burning body. “P-please--baby, I need you, please.” You begged.

“Let me taste first, baby. Please let me taste you.” He begged right back, his kisses growing ever closer to your weeping pussy. You whimpered but nodded at his request. A whimper that turned sharp and whiny when those wet kisses were placed over your covered core. Buggy moaned against you, tongue creating a dampened patch on your underwear right above your entrance. 

“B-Buggy--please.” You moaned out, hips starting to ground against his mouth, fingers, and nose to create more and more beautiful mind-numbing frustration. Buggy cursed, that detached hand pulling away from your covered clit to start pulling your underwear down. 

They didn’t get very far over your thighs when Buggy’s tongue ran through your folds. You cried out his name, underwear restricting your legs from opening further for him and all but clamping down around his head. 

You couldn’t find the strength within yourself to stop rotating your hips against his mouth--to try to stop chasing your high long enough to loosen your grip on his head or make sure your underwear wasn’t choking him out. 

But those chop-chop abilities handled all your worries.

His head detached from his neck, freeing your legs from their awkwardly folded position and allowing his hand to finally yank your underwear from your legs, giving you the freedom to hook them over his shoulders, granting him full access to your needy pussy. 

His head popped back into place just as his tongue dipped into your fluttering core, lapping up every last bit of your ever-growing arousal in sinful slurps. 

Your fingers wove their way into his hair, messing up that braid, as your hips ground against his mouth near frantically as that build deep within you began to wind. That detached hand crawled over your stomach and found home once more over your pelvic bone so that it could rub circle after circle into your clit, winding that coil ever tighter. 

You moaned Buggy’s name like a prayer as he continued to fuck you on his tongue. As his own moans vibrated through you and set into motion that snapping release within you. 

A release that tingled through your arching spine and sent that white buzz flooding through your thighs and core, which constricted around Buggy’s tongue. 

You fell back against the counter, sweat making your skin stick to it and chest heaving up in down to catch your breath. Your fingers mused through Buggy’s hair, your thighs twitching and whimpering gasps falling from your mouth as Buggy’s tongue remained buried deep within you, licking up every last bit of your finish. 

“B-Buggy,” You moaned, yanking weakly at his hair. “Ne-need you in me. Please.” Buggy mummed in acknowledgment, sending pleasure-filled vibrations through your sensitive core. You bit your lip as he continued to eat you out--as his fingers continued to rub mind-numbing circles into your clit that had your hips and legs twitching as if to try and get away from the persistent assault of your sensitive body.

“Buggy.” You whimpered, yanking at his hair just the sharpest bit tighter. He pulled from your core then, but not without trailing his drooling tongue back through your folds one last time. You wiggled your hips against the burning feeling that shot through you. 

“M’kay, baby.” He murmured, kissing back up your exposed stomach to find your lips once more. The feel and taste of spit and your release had your mind spinning all over again. Had you hooking your legs together around his waist, pressing his hardened cock against your reignited arousal. 

You moved to fidget with his belt buckle, spurring that detached hand to help you loosen it as well as yank his pants and stripped boxers down far enough to let his cock spring free, it tapping against your sensitive clit. Buggy hissed at the feel of your slick against the reddened tip of him. 

You scooted closer, your ass all but hanging off the edge of the kitchen island so that Buggy’s cock lay flush against your throbbing folds. His lips left yours, resting his forehead on your collarbone so that he could watch as he split you open on his cock, that little whimper of his you loved spilling from his lips with every inch inwards.

You cradled the back of his neck as your walls flexed and adjusted for him, that shimmering pleasure starting that coil deep within yourself up once more. 

“Fuck, songbird.” He groaned lowly as he bottomed out, his lips kissing the valley between your breasts. “So good--always feel so good.” Your lips kissed the bit of his forehead you could reach with a stratified hum. “A-always so good for me. A-always take care of me.” He mumbled, pulling himself out to his red-flushed tip before quickly thrusting back into you, pulling a gasp from your lips.

That shimmer turned into a pleasant buzz with each snap of his hips against your own. A buzz that built with each pass of sticky, warm skin, burning lips, and biting teeth. 

Buggy’s sea-glass eyes found your own once more and you’re breath hitched at the warm emotions swirling within them. Emotions that stayed, not chased away by doubt or fear. 

“I-I--you’re special to me, songbird. You--you make me happy. Happier than I’ve been in years.” Tears pricked at your eyes. Tears you fought against but ultimately lost to. Buggy kissed them away, his thrusts slow and circling to keep you closer. 

“I--I think--” He hesitated, his breath huffing against your cheeks as he continued those shallow thrusts. Thrusts that allowed his cock to hit every last nerve ending within you, starting that white buzz you knew meant the coming of your second release of the night. “I--I missed bein’ ‘round you and it had only been a couple of hours. Fuck--you’re so godsdamn special to me it hurts, songbird.” 

You huffed against the rise of emotions flashing through you. Emotions that only swelled that much more when he nuzzled his nose against yours. When he purposely brought attention yet again to his nose. His nose he protected against insult with rage and violence--but he was letting you near it--feel it. 

He pulled away to look into your eyes again and you found tears were pricking at his own eyes once more. 

Slowly, as to give him more than enough time to pull away, you leaned in to place a small kiss to that nose of his--a nose that complemented him and one you loved. Buggy blinked, those tears rolling down his cheeks. You smiled at him through your pants, wiping his tears away. 

Your lips found his once more in a slow, open-mouthed kiss that brought you two that much closer.

That white buzz zapped through your thighs and spine and toes as it shot through down your core once more, Buggy’s name moaned into his mouth. 

He moaned your own name into your mouth, cock twitching and balls pulling tight before spilling ribbons of hot come deep within you. 

You both fell slumped against each other, taking in each other's air as heavy panting filled the air. 

“I’m…I’m sorry for cryin’,” Buggy mumbled as he pet over the bits of your exposed skin he could get at. You placed a kiss to his neck, fingers messing with his braid. 

“It’s okay, baby. Crying just means you had a good night.” Buggy gave that funky laugh of his, kissing your cheek as he made to look into your eyes once more. His smile, so bright and wide, nearly took your breath away. 

“You’re right. I did.” His lips claimed yours in a kiss just as sweet as the words he had uttered to you moments ago. 

“Hey…Buggy?” You asked once you had fully caught your breath. 

“Yeah, songbird?”

“I was just wondering…what all can you chop off?” Buggy blinked at you in thought, not truly understanding your motives. 

“Well--everything, I guess. Why--” Buggy cut himself off when he spied the mischievous smirk pulling at your lips. You clenched your tired walls around his softened cock in way of question. “Fuck, songbird.” He cursed, his pupils slowly growing larger in lust.

“Can it?” Buggy leaned so close that the tip of your nose touched his. It had your heart fluttering all over again.

“Want to find out?” He asked with a smirk to match your own. 

“Yes, Captain."

Tag List: @lostfirefly , @fanaticsnail , @empressofmankind , @fanshavegottensotoxic , @wasabiprophet , @ane5e , @synoname-wordsmith , @cefni , @solarrexplosion , @luvrsbian , @misadventures0fdes , @friedtacokitty

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Imagine if Listener just drops the most ridiculous lore about their lives like

Boo: I was a gang leader once.

Alphonse snapping his eyes open: what?

Boo: I've killed 4 dudes. Shit was wild in highschool let me tell you that.

Alphonse: WHAT?

Or

Casper: you wanna know how I got my knife?

Charlie nodding: yeah sure Cas

Casper looking out the window: got it during a bar fight when this punk bitch tried me.

Charlie: huh?

Casper: he tried to shank me but I got the knife and sliced his eye.

Charlie holding his head bamboozled: wha....CAS?

Or

Rook drinking wine: I fucked a prince.

Auron: Excuse me?

Rook: this prince fell for me and I took his money when we slept together one day.

Auron placing his cup down: I would like the name of this man please.

Or

Star: I got my gallbladder removed after my 18 birthday.

Faust passing his game: wtf

Star: felt like I was dying bc there was a stone in it.

Faust: did it go well? The surgery?

Star: pft yeah I was passed tf out.

(Projecting for star bc this happened during my summer break, I'm a July baby)

[thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos]

Bayverse Tipsy HCs

I went to a fun lil bar with some friends tonight and as I was looking around, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of drinkers the guys would be...so here we are. Everyone is 25+ (drink responsibly)

mentions alcohol, obviously

-Raph is a lightweight. Like a few drinks, and he's laughing and goofing around with Mikey like he's 16 again, messing with his brothers and telling stories; like a weight comes off his shoulders and he can relax, a lopsided smile plastered on his face.

-Leo only drinks sake (for the aesthetic). Mikey makes fun if him relentlessly (he calls Leo a weeb, in sibling name-calling fun). Leo claims he likes the taste, but Mike has compared the spirit to sweaty socks on multiple occasions. Leo will roll his eyes as he sips from his cup, Mikey and Raph giving him endless shit- but no one misses the wince as he swallows.

-Mike is the party dude- always has been, always will be. When he's feelin' it, he's all smiles and laughter until everyone else goes to bed for the night; sometimes staying up even later to play videogames by himself, or to text a friend, so the fun doesn't end too soon. He's the party instigator, turning movie nights into drinking games, or card games into waterfall. The guy loves to have a good time- and to turn his brain off so he doesn't have to think for a while.

-Don is a wild card. He likes whiskey, scotch, or bourbon- but doesn't drink to get drunk, he just genuinely enjoys the taste (Mikey and Raph know better than to make fun of Donnie, cause of threats that will be followed through on). When he wants to party, though, he rolls a joint in the back of his lab and lights up a fat one; and the man is alllll giggles when he's stoned- just a happy high going on while he watches his brothers with amusement on his face, and a bag of pork rinds in his hand.

-Mikey knows that Donnie smokes, and the brothers occasionally sneak off together to a tunnel far away enough from the lair that mother hen (Leo) won't smell anything (Leo knows, he's not an idiot). Leo doesn't really care, he's mostly just annoyed that they feel like they need to hide it from him. Raph smoked with them a few times, but it just made him paranoid- so he just sticks to what works.

-Raph gets goofy when he's tipsy; sometimes singing along to the music Mikey puts on the stereo, sometimes dancing to it in the middle on the living room- but always having a good time. He would 100% put the lampshade on his head and dance around to Elvis if he felt like it (90s movies). Loveable drunk guy energy.

-Leo is the sad girl drunk- getting emotional for seemingly no reason, abruptly leaving the room, then coming back an hour later and demanding an apology when every one else has forgotten what in the hell he's talking about. He feels things so much deeper when his guards are down; much quicker to anger, quicker to cry. He also wants to talk about deep things when he's tipsy, much to Mikey's irritation.

-Mikey has jackass energy when he's trashed. Like, let's ride this shopping cart off this ramp and see how far it goes into the street. Or what will happen if we shoot fireworks off in the tunnels? Or let's go down to the Hudson and see if we can spar underwater. Raph is his ride or die when it comes to his drunken schemes, but Leo always manages to shut down their plans somehow (he's not afraid to tattletale).

-Mikey can drink all of them under the table though, even Splinter.

-The guys' favorite game to play is beer pong- Raph is the undisputed champion of singles, but Mikey and Leo have won doubles every tournament for two years in a row. Donnie and Raph together can't focus long enough for the competition; Raph getting distracted by the music, and Donnie laughing too hard at him to aim the ball.

-Once Donnie set a glass of six raw eggs in front of a hungover Mikey, sliding it to him and mumbling about a hangover cure as Raph recorded them on his phone from the hallway to the kitchen. Splinter walked in as Mikey spit the mixture everywhere, and they were cleaning up egg yolk from the walls for a week.

-When Leo does let go of the control and anxiety, he has so much fun goofing around with his brothers like they used to as kids. It warms his heart to see them all gathered around a table, playing games and spending time together, as adults. He loves them so much. No Mike, I'm just a little tired, that's why- yeah, don't worry about it.

tags : @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @zombiesnips-blog @4evrdreamin5 @gornackeaterofworlds @the-cauldron-witch @pheradream-15 @iridescentflamingo @scholastic-dragon

this was so fun lol :) as always, hit me up if you wanna join the tag train 18+

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 14

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

New book new book! Can you believe I am on book three already? Holy heck, time has flown by.

I thought I would switch up my tea process today with a new cup but also I wanted to show off my collection XD We bought some new and some refill teas from the ren faire yesterday (one of our favourite localish tea blenders) and what a collection my partner and I have amassed. I didn't realize how huge it was until I snapped the pic- it feels very at home apothecary LOL

I went with a lady grey latte and instead of my heart mug I was feeling the spooky vibes and and using my mug by Jaxx b. I have a few other handmade mugs I might start featuring because they are fun as heck!

I've rambled enough about my tea and mug let's get into this chapter!

okay right away bless MXTX for doing such a good job immediately place setting. We are in the demon realms! p9

oof. the energy between Luo BInghe and Shen Qingqiu is so uncomfortable right now. Neither of them saying anything. I am intrigued to see how they sort through this. I know they are end game but like- this is so awkward. p9

oh gosh. Luo Binghe 10000% modeled the room he is basically locking SQQ in after the Bamboo House. Yes SQQ, there most definitely is meaning in it being familiar. p10

So. LOL SQQ's rationale. Instead of "looking too much like a respectable woman kidnapped by a ruffian" p. 10 is to essentially play gay chicken?

RIP well, luo binghe did find out about the blood. so sexually charged though in the way he decided to find out. p11

How is Luo Binghe even surprised that after SQQ being treated this way that he requests that Luo Binghe never see him/see him as little as possible? What did he even expect would happen here?? p12 There is a lot of trust broken between these two.

oh? System feature upgrade? p13

LOL "luxury edition" p14 There must be fanfics about SQQ kept trophy husband

omg what kind of novels was SQQ's sister reading XD those are some wild fantasies. pp14-15

SQQ: "I will not have stockholm syndrome" okay buddy, we will see what happens with your 'luxury edition' p15

oh luo binghe, that sweet baby boy is having them plant bamboo and is cooking SQQ's meals.p16 this would be even cuter if they talked about things instead of having such a weird dynamic.

Jesus Christ. Shang Qinghua enters again. How does this man stealth so well when he is kind of an idiot? I feel like terrible decisions and bad luck follow him everywhere- but he is just slippery enough to get away. p17

LOL SQQ: Your protagonist turned gay. Shang Qinghua: eh, it's fine as long as I'm not the love interest. sucks to be you. p18

okay but I want to know how deep the info of this world goes. Where does it pool the information to generate everything- just published content OR is it everything and anything Airplane thought about or created (ie the lost computer files about Luo Binghe's dad) p19

uuuugh not another interruption- I feel for you SQQ, I too want to know what he was going to say about your tragic backstory in the original edit. p22

Airplane really said 'no homo' "That man of yours is here. Let's do it later- wait, I mean let's chat later" p22

okay okay okay! The boys are talking for real about their mutual deception of one another. Is this the path to them figuring their shit out?? Maybe they will talk about their trust issues. p23

Okay I am with Luo Binghe on this- it did feel as though SQQ completely did a 180 on fundamental life beliefs RE: no one is inherently evil because of their race. p23. So I understand Luo Binghe here- I am glad they are talking.

OMG pp24-25

well. that escalated quickly LOL pp24-25

Luo Binghe probably "hit me harder daddy shizun" p26 +500 satisfaction points.

is Luo binghe going to assault him 😭😭😭😭 this is not it. that was not cool that entire part was so gross "If shizun see's me as no better than a beast either way, I might as well live up to expectations" p27

thank fuck all of that was interrupted, but also now i'm deeply concerned for SQQ!!!! is it the other demon blood? Is it past (young SQQ) trauma?? What's happening?? (no one actually answer this I 1000% know it will be resolved in due time, but I am having a panic about the guy).

Well that's not good at all

this was one rollercoaster of an opening act omg. Not a good time for everyone involved at the end there. I am VERY glad SQQ was not assaulted but I am SRESSED now for other reasons.

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked In Heaven

Part VIII

Heavy Soul

Azriel Night felt like shit.

Not emotionally, or anything lofty like that, but physically. He was ill. Felt like he was running a fever, and his limbs felt laden.

His brow was hot, his neck was hot, but chills ran down his body. He rubbed his hands together and shivered. Fuck. Fuck. What a day to catch something! This monster of a game was looming in front of him, and truthfully, all he wanted, all he needed was a cup of strong tea with plenty of sugar and lemon, and a handful of those delicious biscuits that Elain baked. Come to think of it, all he actually wanted right now, was Elain. He wanted to be in her house, curled up like a toddler on a sofa and preferably with her in his arms. That was a tall order, he knew it, but a man could dream. There was no possibility that Elain would end up laying in his arms, but did he love imagining it!

Yeah, two days ago, he realised that he had a problem.

He was shaving in the morning and it dawned on him that the first thing he thought of every morning was Elain. And then he thought of the dog. And then, he inevitably fell into the sea of wild daydreams, where he and she were together. In his dreams she loved him, and they lived together and they shared a home. Everything Elain had told him that one night–about her ‘perfect day’--turned out to be his perfect day as well. He yearned to do everything that she dreamt of, every single outing, the excessive number of meals, the walks, the exploration that she craved. He wanted to be there, by her side. He wanted to have the dog with them, and the children…he wanted to have the children. 

He didn’t lie to Elain when they spoke of Nuala. Nuala was a sweet, wonderful, exciting personality. Truly brilliant. So smart, she intimidated him a bit. But while only six months ago he would’ve found her to be perfect for him–sexy, vivacious, independent, clearly not someone who would use him for money or fame, witty–now, he couldn’t think of anyone other than Elain. It had to be Elain. All his thoughts of the future revolved around her–how they’d live, how they’d have children together, how they’d raise them. He was feeling broodier than any woman during ovulation lately. Apparently, his hormones were raging and not in any normal manner. He was plagued by visions of Elain’s sweet soft body rounding and thickening with his baby. Son or daughter, it didn’t matter to him. As long as it was Elain who carried his seed in her body, as long as it was Elain who nurtured and loved their child, as long as it was his and Elain’s. And how the fuck was he going to make any of that happen? She was staunchly professional, unlike him, and she might have been in a relationship with the ginger horse-face. She was uppity and well-born, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a title somewhere that she wasn’t using. Lady Elain, Lady Nesta, Lady Feyre…yeah, he could see it. And who the fuck was he? A gutter rat, who fell arse first into money and fame.

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t figure out a way to make Elain his. At least there was one bit of good news–he was quite sure that she liked him and his company. But whether it was romantic interest or simply friendship, or even a business arrangement, he couldn’t quite tell. Though he wasn’t a novice with the ladies, someone like Elain was completely foreign territory for him and usually, she left him…vexed, to put it mildly.

Anyway, all of it was mostly wishful thinking. The dreams that he had remained just that, dreams. Making those dreams a reality remained elusive.

He looked out the window on their team bus. He was wearing a suit, though he was shivering within it. Rain drops were pelting the window. Fucking bollocks. He’d hoped for a game where he wouldn’t be running wet and freezing, but no. Frankly, it should be against the law to have roofless stadiums in Britain considering that most of the games took place under pouring rain.  

Many of the blokes on the team had their own pre-game rituals–some played with amulets, keychains, bracelets, wedding rings...Others mindlessly scrolled through their phones, trying not to think about the game. Some did the opposite, and watched replays, trying to devise their strategy despite it having been discussed and practised a million times before. Some heads bobbed to the beat. Many were texting.

Azriel didn’t have many rituals. He relied on himself and his team, and that’s about it. He didn’t believe in red horns, or crossing himself, or wistfully glancing at some photo. He didn’t have any photos to glance at anyway. Who was he gonna look at? Cassian? 

But that kind of jolted him and spurned him into action. Maybe, for once, he did have a photo or two to glance at.

He pulled out his phone and tapped on IG, quickly finding the page that he loved The Adventures of Piglet the Pug.

The latest post made his heart skip, and despite how fucking awful he was feeling, he couldn’t help but grin like a maniac.

#GettingReadyFortheGame

#SupportingHisTeam

#PigletIsaGooner!

#GunnersForTheWin!

Those were the hashtags which accompanied a photo of Piglet outfitted in his brand new kit. He even posed next to a football and to a Gunnersaurus Rex toy. Where Elain got that, Azriel had no idea, but he loved it. 

Azriel was smiling like a crazy person. He tapped on stories and sure enough, there was Piglet in his puffer, and then in his new t-shirt, and even in a bright red bow. Azriel sent a heart emoji. A heart-eyes emoji. A thumbs up emoji. Yep, he was officially thirteen.

Suddenly, his phone dinged with an incoming message. He opened it and grinned even wider. And then he was getting emotional like a thirteen year old girl. Because his girl was also dressed for the game. In his jersey. His name plastered across her back. 

And he couldn't help the impulse. Biting his lip, he went into his Contacts and changed Elain’s contact name once again.

It used to be 'Cute Matchmaker’, and then, it was ‘Pretty Elain’ for about a week or so.

But now…

Now he typed it in and smiled to himself.

‘Mrs. Night’.

Fuck. Yes.

His Mrs. Night. 

That girl knew how to take a killer photo. 

She sent a few in a row, but one was truly a stunner. She was positioned with her back to the mirror, holding Piglet. Azriel’s name was clearly visible on the back of the jersey in the reflection. She thrust her hip out coquettishly with a football balanced on it, her hand draped over it leisurely. Her long, thick braid was flipped over her shoulder–just waiting for him to tug on it–and she was also smiling, her lips a delicious bright red colour, to match the red kit.

This girl could heal the sick and raise the dead, she was so gorge.

Without hesitation, he made the photo his screensaver, and then selected another for the wallpaper.

It was literally perfect and encompassed the three things he loved–Elain, Piglet and football.

Yeah, it was going to be a shitty, dreary, cold and wet 100 minutes, but somehow, Azriel didn’t feel as miserable as he felt 15 minutes ago.

Go, Captain, go! 

Elain typed.

I’ll win for you, beautiful.

He promised.

We’ll be cheering for you. Feyre too, though I don’t know if she knows the rules. 

That made him chuckle.

Tell her that the ball has to end up in the net. Otherwise, it’s just blokes running around for 90 minutes.

Oh, and by the way, I think she is going to overdose on soup! She’s been asking me for recipes daily and apparently, she’s been ‘practising’ cooking them. 

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh.

I guess that one is my fault?

Most certainly. Now, you are obligated to introduce her to your cousin.

I can arrange that. He’s been told about her and wants to be matched!

I am the matchmaker! 

She reminded him sternly.

Sorry, beautiful. Of course you are.

…Pause…

Have a nice game!

Thanks, baby. Will do.

-

Elain was not crazy about this weather outside. 

The players on the field were soaking wet, running around in nothing but t-shirts and shorts, while the fans were bundled in puffer coats and thick scarves. It was almost the middle of November. She certainly didn't like Azriel running up and down the field, with his hair and his shirt sticking to him because of the relentless rain.

The commentators were discussing the performance of the players, and Elain’s attention piqued when she heard them mention that ‘Azriel Night is not in top form tonight, though you wouldn’t tell that by looking at him…

…Yes, word is that he is suffering from a bad cold, but look at his body language. He is confident, he is powerful on the field, his sheer physicality is so impressive…

Hell yeah, it is! Elain thought to herself. But the news of him being ill didn’t sit well with her at all.

The game was brutal. There was no other word for it.

Liverpool were aggressive and dominated for the first 20-25 minutes, netting a goal in the 7th minute. At least it was a home game, and the Arsenal crowd was raucous and loud, energised and supportive of the team. Truthfully, Arsenal were pretty dreadful in the first half, running aimlessly, and barely preventing Liverpool from scoring another two goals. In addition, they had an injury, a substitution and three yellow cards. Liverpool were playing better, and cleaner, though they weren’t above diving and tackling harshly. 

Elain was pacing and jumping for 45 minutes, praying for a short stoppage time, which of course wasn’t short at all, but an additional 6 minutes. 51 minutes of playing, in awful conditions, without scoring. She wrung her hands and yelled at the screen, and Piglet kept pace with her, watching everything with great intensity, as if he understood what was happening. He hopped and barked, and every time Azriel came on the screen, he went absolutely wild, dancing and gyrating and barking a happy bark.

But Elain could see that Azriel was indeed ill. His demeanour wasn’t his usual confident, quick, robust self, and yet, the man, the captain, still managed to create opportunities for his teammates. In the 49th minute, Arsenal scored an equaliser, made possible by Azriel’s assist. 

“Incredible play by Night!” the commentators lauded. 

“Stunning. A brilliant pass. At almost thirty years old, Night is playing at the top of his game–despite the young talent of the team, he manages to maintain morale and cohesion. Everyone wants to be a superstar,”

“But he is the one who leads this team, and he is the captain for a reason,” agreed another broadcaster.

And Elain? Elain was smiling and feeling proud. Because he was…amazing. Tired and weakened, he still managed to avoid unnecessary dramatics, and simply played well, with his usual determination. 

“This is what a captain should be–he is the strength of the team.”

“Night will never be flashy. He is not Ronaldo,”

“More of a Messi–solid, reputable, experienced.”

“He inspires confidence, in an uninspiring lineup. Arsenal has too many injuries and yet, he manages to play with all of these young, and somewhat inexperienced players without hesitation.”

Elain’s phone rang and she picked up, seeing it was Feyre.

“Eeelllaiiiinn! Oh my god, I am sweating like a hooker on Quid Night!”

“Feyre!!” Elain cried out.

“What? What?! This is so stressful! How do people do this every week? I am a wreck of nerves and screaming. Listen, listen to my voice. I am hoarse! Can you hear it?”

“Yes,” Elain agreed peaceably, though Feyre’s voice was sounding normal.

“Azriel is amazing!” Feyre continued ranting loudly. “He is…I don’t know. He is brilliant. And his body! Do you see this,”

“I see, I see,”

“I mean, he is my brother-in-law, so I am not looking at his body, but still,”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, if I am gonna marry his cousin and you are gonna marry Azriel, we are going to be sisters and sisters-in-law. Hahahaha. Can you imagine. What about this other brother? Can we set him up with Nesta? Three brothers and three sisters?!”

“You seriously need to calm down,” Elain ordered. “What are you on? Are you on drugs?”

“Nooo!”

“No more football for you,”

“Yes! I love it! Sorry if I love watching my brother-in-law play!”

“Stop calling him that!” Elain snapped at her sister. 

“Why? He will be! You already cling to him for some peace and quiet. So we know what will happen…You’ll look so handsome together,” she added dreamily.

“You are insane,”

“Whatever. He is incredible and I am rooting for him. Is Piggy watching? Is he loving it?”

“Yeah he is watching. He barks every time Azriel is on,”

“Awww, I love it. They are such good mates.”

“Okay, the game is starting,” Elain told Feyre, “we need to get back.”

“Next time, we are gonna go to a pub and watch there, like normal people,” Feyre decided.

Piglet was racing back and forth, jumping every time there was a replay of anything that involved Azriel, making sure that he alerted Elain and that she was watching.

At the start of the second half, Arsenal looked better. They walked on the field looking determined, serious, regrouped. 

And then the goal arrived almost immediately and that sustained them through an opening half that Arsenal went on to dominate. 

And then...

Team Captain Azriel Night scored a STUNNING overhead goal in the 58th minute.

The long diagonal pass came from the left. The ball missed everybody, though, which left only Azriel at the far post and he seemed to have moved a yard or so too close to goal.

But a big stride backwards away from goal improved his position and with quite astonishing timing he managed to leap and hook the ball back over his head, across goal and in to Alisson Becker’s top left hand corner. It was a goal that only looked better with each passing TV replay. The cross was struck too firmly for that kind of finish, surely. It just wasn’t set up for a bicycle kick. But Azriel’s confidence solved the first half of that equation and his outstanding technique solved the second.

The stadium gasped. Then erupted in deafening cheers and celebrations.

It was a shockingly complex play, which resulted in an unexpected goal, performed with incredible precision and athleticism. The man literally did a backflip and landed on his feet while slamming the ball into the net and bypassing one of the best goalies in the world. 

Elain froze, hardly believing her eyes. Then, replay after replay.

Shouting victoriously, she grabbed Piglet and squeezed him in her arms, circling the room and yelling ‘look what daddy did! Isn’t he absolutely amazing?!’

Piglet was barking happily, excited by all the commotion. 

Arsenal were now leading 2-1. And Azriel scored. A gorgeous goal. 

“See, we are cheering for daddy, and he scored!” Elain sang to Piglet. “Maybe you are his lucky charm?”

Then, she paused and stood still in shocked silence.

Because she didn’t notice it initially, swept up in the celebrations, but now that she glanced at the replay yet again, she watched Azriel trace what definitely, definitely looked like an E with his index finger and then point at the camera.

A glorious goal. For Elain. The only ‘E’ in his life.

And at that, Elain burst into tears. Pathetic. Perhaps. But she didn’t even care. She rocked Piglet against her chest and cried, because no one’s ever done anything like this for her before. It was an intangible thing, just a gesture, but Elain knew that Azriel thought of her in the moment of his triumph and that was something that words couldn’t describe. It was a gesture of utter devotion, and Nesta’s words sprung fresh in her mind again. 

That man is in love with you.

No. It couldn’t be. Azriel held affection for her, she knew that. And she held affection for him. They were surely very companionable, but love? Love… Love was a big thing. The biggest thing that there was. 

Piglet whimpered in her arms, licking her cheek, confused about her tears. She squeezed him tighter and murmured, “No, daddy is good to us’.

The hoopla over the goal had subsided a bit and the game resumed, Arsenal coming into the second half pumped and energetic. Everything that they lacked 40 minutes ago was now old news–it was a team reborn.

They were light on their feet, sure and thoughtful.

It was Liverpool that switched it up and went on the attack. 

Elain set Piglet down on the floor and he dropped on his butt, watching the screen, mesmerised. 

When the tackle came, it was completely unexpected, as most things are in football.

One moment Azriel had possession, running with the ball, and the next moment, he was caught in a veritable hurricane. A player, whose name Elain didn’t even know, dove and tripped him, the man’s shoe slamming full force into Azriel’s shin. The collision had Azriel flipping and sprawling onto the wet grass, the impact so strong, he actually rolled over a couple of times, as he clutched his leg in agony.

She cried out alongside him, watching his handsome face grimace from pain. 

Everything halted, the game stopped, Arsenal players started throwing it down with the Liverpool players, and the referee got involved, tossing out yellow cards like candy. Meanwhile, Azriel was wincing and he held his knee to his chest, unable to stand. The medics rushed the field to inspect him, and boos came from the stands.

The commentators were saying something, throwing words like ‘penalties’ and ‘ unprofessional conduct’ and ‘frustration’ and ‘team dynamics’, but Elain couldn’t understand anything that was being said. 

Piglet was back up on his three feet, pacing back and forth, sobbing sadly, yipping and looking at Elain, demanding an explanation. Azriel’s tortured expression was plastered all over the screen, as the medical staff fussed with his leg. Piglet ran to Elain, rubbing against her legs, seeking comfort and barking. She just stood in one place, immobilised by indecision and horror. Azriel’s words about ‘career-ending injuries’ sprung in her mind. What if this was it? What if he couldn’t play anymore? 

‘Sprain’

‘Achilles tendon’

‘Catastrophic injury’

The commentators’ words weren’t helping at all. 

She held her hand to her mouth, staring at the screen. 

The Liverpool player received a Red card for the tackle. Like that was enough of a punishment when Azriel was being carried off the field in a stretcher.

Elain’s hand curled into a fist, and she wished she could smash the guy’s face in. She didn’t really know how to fight, but she figured that she could beat him to death just through sheer rage alone. She was shaking with anger, disbelieving the cowardly tackle and the resulting disaster.

Her phone chimed, and she knew it was Feyre. And then it rang again, and she figured that it might have been Nesta. But she didn’t pick up. She was angry. And her heart hurt. It’s as if she couldn’t get enough oxygen into her lungs, as she hyperventilated, even ignoring her crying dog. She felt…like she was in pain. Azriel’s pain was her pain.

…

”Yes? Who is this?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Cassian?”

“Well, hello sweetheart, who are you and how can I be of service?” Cassian slumped in an armchair and stretched his legs.

“Well, um…this is Elain.”

“Elain who?”

“Elain Archeron,”

He thought long and hard: the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place her.

“The matchmaker for your brother,” she finally clarified.

“Oh yeah! Of course. Elain Archeron with the pug…You both wear bows,”

“Ummm. Okay?”

“How can I help you, petal? What’s he done? I thought that things were going well? Az’s been unusually verbose lately, mostly about you.”

“Oh,” she seemed surprised. “He has?”

“Oh he has. Not one to talk about the ladies, he isn’t, but he’s been talking about you. Elain this and Elain that. You’d think he was dating you, not your matches.”

All Cassian heard was ‘hmmm’ in response.

At last, he prodded her, “So, what can I do for you? He been handsy or what?”

“Well….” she said softly, “I…have you seen the game?”

“I have! That goal–my brother is an artist!” Cassian marvelled. “It was a damn stunner. I represent him as his agent, and whenever he pulls this beautiful shit, I remind everyone that he is as good as any other top tier player. So you been watching him?”

“Uh…yes,” she confirmed shyly. “Yes. The goal was unbelievable. But then the injury,”

“Oh yeah, that tosser got him good,” before he could say anything else and go on a rant, she interrupted.

“I’ve been trying to reach him,” she continued, her voice urgent, almost hysterical. “Is he okay? How bad is the injury? He is also ill. I could see it, you know. I could see that he was ill, but…I’ve been trying him for the past two hours, and he hasn’t picked up. Cassian, is he okay? I rang him six times, no, seven, and he hasn’t responded. I mean, is he in the hospital? Will he recover? My dog is in distress, he’s been crying since he saw Azriel fall,”

“Wait, what? Your pug’s been crying?”

“Yes, yes,” she sounded like she was sobbing herself, “they are great mates, you know. Piglet loves him so much. He loves Piglet too…he calls him Pinky, which is silly, but I am used to it now, and Piglet is in distress, and I need to know,”

“Wait, Elain, it’s okay,” Cassian urged her gently. “Breathe, sweetheart. He will be okay…So you’ve rang him seven times?”

“Yes!”

“Alright then. He is probably getting his leg X-Rayed and I am sure they are running tests to see what the damage is…”

“But what if…oh Cassian, what if he can’t play anymore?” she cried. Honest to god wept on the phone. “It would devastate him. What can I do? I want him to be well, oh god, I am,” she was sobbing loudly, and Cassian was taken aback by the genuine level of her grief.

“No, Elain, darlin’, that’s what happens to footballers. They get injured. It’s not his first one, and won’t be the last,”

“But…but…how do you know?” she sniffled loudly.

“I mean, the tackle was bad, wasn’t it,”

“It was!”

“But Az knows how to fall so he minimises the impact. Don’t be upset, he’ll manage his way out of this,”

“But…I want to see him,” she insisted, “I want to make sure he is going to recover. What should I do? I will bake…yes, yes…I will bake his favourite biscuits! And if he plays with Piglet, that would make him feel better too…Yes, that’s what I will do,”

Cassian sensed that he was forgotten. 

Elain was completely freaked out and it was clear as day that she harboured some very strong feelings for his brother. She was absolutely out of her mind with worry for Azriel, and Cassian wasn’t expecting this at all. The intensity of Elain’s sadness and concern was both surprising and…endearing? Cassian was almost envious. No one’s been that anxious or apprehensive about him and his well-being ever in his life. 

What was happening between these two? And that dog?

“Elain, I will keep you posted about his condition. When I hear, you will hear as well. I promise.”

“Oh thank you, Cassian. You are so kind. Thank you,” she breathed happily. 

“No problem at all. Of course. It’s my pleasure.” 

This wasn’t how Cassian normally spoke, but Elain’s old-fashioned mannerisms, her cultured ways, and her hysterical worry made him want to comfort her and assure her that she was being taken seriously.

What Cassian was sure of now, was that Elain was just odd enough and authentic enough for his brother to in fact…fall in love? 

-

Elain had spent the rest of the evening worrying and pacing, but Azriel did not respond to her calls and texts. She just had to believe that he was occupied and was hopefully getting good medical care and his leg wasn’t seriously hurt, and that nothing that was detrimental to his overall well-being happened. 

Piglet was in a bad mood, didn’t even ask for a second dinner, which typically would be unfathomable. Elain wanted him to give a bath, but he refused, growling and screaming loudly, until she gave up. 

She received 5 messages from Feyre, asking about Azriel, and even two messages from Nesta, asking the same. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Instead, she dragged herself to bed and Piglet went and buried himself in his own bed, disinterested in socialising.

And that was the end of Saturday.

-

Annoying phone dinging woke Elain up. It was still so dark outside, she thought it was still nighttime, but when she grabbed the phone, she saw that it was 6:48am.

Feyre: Did you see today’s DM?

Elain: What’s DM? Direct message?

Feyre: NO!! Daily Mail!

Elain: What now? Why? Why would I look at Daily Mail first thing in the morning?

Feyre: I always do. Open it now! You made the front page, hon

Elain: WHAT are you on about?

Feyre: OPEN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Elain: STOP SCREAMING!!!!!

Feyre: YOU ARE THE ONE SCREAMING

Elain pulled up the Daily Mail on her phone and read the headline.

A New Romance for Football's Bad Boy?

Is Azriel Night, footie’s perennial bad boy, the man who’s never been seen with a steady girlfriend, and who’s been unapologetically playing the field for the past decade, finally found his match?

Less than two weeks ago, he was snapped by curious onlookers and tourists near London’s famed The Shard, where he apparently pursued a mugger, whom he managed to catch in the end and retrieve the loot. Furthermore, following the incident, he was seen carrying a woman in his arms whose purse the mugger stole.

The Rescue

The mystery woman is yet to be identified, but it seems that Mr. Night is fully enamoured with the beautiful stranger.

(Below, there was a grainy photo of Azriel carrying Elain, and Piglet at their side. Dialogue bubbles were drawn above their heads)

“Are you hurt?” said Azriel’s bubble.

“You came for me.” That was Elain’s bubble.

While no romance has been confirmed by Mr. Night or his publicist, this would be the first official relationship for the notoriously private, but scandalous Arsenal superstar. Mr. Night’s reputation for debauched behaviour has been well documented, though in the past few years he seemed to have modified his ways and is no longer involved in scandals and is not the subject of sexual gossip. At 29 years old, Arsenal’s captain seemed to have found some inner peace and has been shining on the field, while keeping a lower profile off the field.

Is his new friend the cause for this change? Is she the mysterious ‘E’ whose initial Mr. Night traced after his phenomenal goal against Liverpool on Saturday? And did he dedicate the historic goal to her? While this has not been confirmed, speculations have been running rampant about the unusual gesture. Since he’s been playing professionally, Mr. Night has never dedicated any of his plays to anyone. 

Is this the beginning of a beautiful friendship? Time will tell.

If you have more information about the identity of the woman in the photos, contact Nelly Suriel at n.suriel@dailymail.uk

Oh god. Oh god.

Her phone dinged again. Jesus Christ, she was not in the mood to listen to Feyre’s taunts. She didn’t even look at the message. 

The next moment, it rang. The tone of the phone’s ring seemed impatient.

“WHAT?” Elain snapped, her eyes skimming the article again. The photograph. The speculations.

“Hey beautiful,” Azriel’s deep, gravelly voice came on the line. “Who is annoying you?”

Elain was speechless.

He chuckled.

“Not often I leave you without words.”

“You…”

“Me. Why are you always so surprised? Who else would I be ringing?

Before she could descend on him with a million questions, he said firmly,

“I need you, Elain. I am coming over.”

[savachpencil]

Call Of Duty - Black Ops 6

Alejo "Toro" Carasco 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

Headcanons-

This actually works more as a personal take on the character? I'm projecting My culture on him. (From one Argentine to another)

______________________________________________________________________________________________

+ SFW. Crimson One Operator.

Related to his background:

• Born around 1966, in the game events he surely is 25/27 years old as he's described as young.

• Place of birth, Salta, Córdoba, or Mendoza cause i cannot conceive that he might be from Buenos Aires. Country side.

• He was born and lived through two military dictatorships; Carlos Ongania (1966-1973) / Junta Militar (1976-1983).

• Lower class citizen.

• Children of divorced parents. Father left at early age so his older brother took care of being the man the house who went to Malvinas War at 19 years old dying there. I imagine Alejo might have been 15-17 when that happened. Then he decided to travel from the interior of the country to the capital to be able to enter in the Argentinian Navy.

• I theorize that he could have been part of an amphibious command, naval prefecture, or a marine command before the Argentine army was dismantled. The yellow handkerchief on his arm is related to a Argentinian Task Force deployed in the Malvinas even thought he was not there.

• He decided to become a mercenary by fleeing the country when the national government took actions against the army after the last coup (1976). He is probably a fugitive, a deserter, or a persona non grata in the country.

• For canonical cultural reasons, he fervently hates the British and Chileans.

• His last name is actually "Carrasco", but it was misspelled in his file.

Related to his person:

• It is impossible for him to not speak without saying a curse in almost each sentence.

• Loves fucking around but despises finding out. He mockes people but can't take back mockery.

• Heavy joker, he bothers his companions out of boredom and because he feels comfortable among them.

• Doesn't likes being alone; wich makes him a loud talkative creature cause he likes the attention. He needs to attract attention to himself. I see him able to follow You around just to keep a conversation while You try to scape from him.

• Behind that ego there is a great insecurity perhaps???? That need of approval the description mentions is for a reason.

• Short temperament, street smart but easy to provoke. He is very confident of himself, which brings him problems since he can underestimate things.

• Competitive af. Likes to have the last word at discussions; and oh shit, don't touch the topic of politics because that is closing the coffin for You.

• He seems like a guy with ADHD with a very extroverted character.

• His loyalty is absolute to the people who earn it.

Other stuff i headcanon about him:

• He's 175cm / 5'8" like the average male Argentinian.

• Good card player.

• Will throw a random fact about himself or his country, doing that often. Misses his homeland.

• He likes to pretend he doesn't understand English when teammates speak to him in English to annoy them.

• He has a nickname for every one of them.

• Jackson Caine by now is the only person that knows how to handle his behavior keeping him on line outside tasks.

• He's pissed that he can't find Yerba Mate anywhere. Avid drinker of mate and almost any kind of alcohol You can give him.

• National Rock enjoyer. (Charli García, Sumo, Los Abuelos de la Nada, Los prisioneros, Virus, Soda Estereo, Fito Páez, Serú Giran, etc.) And a good party dancer.

• He surerly prefers to be addressed by his last name or nickname rather than his first name by strangers; That's something really common here.

• He knows a thing or two about mechanics and economy. Great crafter, and knows how to make good ribs.

• Wild football fan, he went rabid and feral once the Argentine national team won the World Cup in 1974 and 1986. So yeah, he a Maradona and Kempes lover.

• Excellent hand-eye coordination, a football player in his neighborhood as a child. Give him a ball and he will be entertained for a couple of hours.

• His body paint stains everything.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

- A song that could be his Main Theme.

HE HAS SELF STEEM ISSUES AND DADDY ISSUES.

I did common sense common sense of why he might not have a dad.

Reasons ☝🏼🤓 -

- Attached to his older brother

- He sought a replacement with Caine.

- It's really a normal thing here dad leaving and more at that time where people were disappearing in the midst of an economic crisis.

- His temperament and need of approval of making someone proud. And i quote:

"Because of his need to prove his worth, Toro often angers his peers."

"Did everybody see that?! Please tell me You saw that!"

"See??? I told You that You need me."

- He needs an older brother figure to look at.

That just screams he doesn't has a dad.

There's more I could add but I can't think of much more right now, maybe I'll make a second part!

Man, voice acting made him have dialogues with mexican terms...

[theconfusedartist]

anyways this is tumblr and I actually do live in the wild west of America. I WILL talk about my protocreed au

So, to start off, Alex sees Desmond and Elijah while he's grabbing something at the university of New York in Manhattan, and actually catches a glimpse of Desmond eating a glass plate and a metal cup. He's so fucking confused and fascinated that he starts stalking him out of a scientific desire to study him.

Why is Desmond eating glass and metal you may ask? He is a piece of eden and his body needs nutrients in order to sustain itself. More specifically, he's three apples. Altaïr's apple was his 'body' which is why he looks so much like him, Ezio's apple was the 'voice' that allows him to properly speak to people through time, Connor and Aveline had the 'brain' apple which allows them to directly configure and control his abilities and memory.

Yes, Aveline and Connor get married in this AU. It should've happened in canon, and just bc ubi decided to drop their storyline, it doesn't mean I have to.

So, back on track, Elijah and Desmond are traveling together bc Desmond was absolutely ecstatic to learn he was having a child, and they decided to go to Manhattan after the 'Daniel incident' in Vermont. Alex manages to track Desmond down after two months working at Bad Weather and decides to just. Watch him.

And also get into a shit ton of bar fights, bc you can't tell me that Alex wasn't using his fighting moves in game before everything happened, you can't.

Most of the other employees that work at Bad Weather don't want to deal with Alex because, as previously stated he gets into a lot a bar fights and actually manages to win them, and Desmond is a good enough fighter that he can handle him. The interesting part is that Alex never tries to involve Desmond in his fights but he does let him pull him off people without attacking, like he would attack other bartenders, so they just let Desmond handle him.

Desmond is...conflicted on Alex bc on one hand, the man is stalking him and is persistent about it too, but also doesn't run away screaming when he realizes that Alex has seen him eating food that shouldn't be consumable by humans and will break a bunch of shit so people don't realize why so many dishes go missing in a week. But on the other hand, Alex is quite open about wanting to pin him to a lab table and seeing what makes him tick, which is fucking creepy. But he also??? Fights off any Abstergo agents when they're watching him in the bar (and later on he discreetly kills them) so its a really fucking mixed bag for Desmond.

This is kinda long. I'll stop here, but like I wanted there to be a reason Alex is so interested in Desmond before and after his death and rebirth, and I kinda wanted to lean into the fact that Dr. Mercer was absolutely a freak.

[makesometime]

ohhhh I'm gonna be a real knob and request a 96 for rqg for that prompt game (make it a carcar if possible nudge nudge wink wink no worries if not tho)

#96 - “What made you think I cared for you?”

(RQG season 4 spoilers)

The sound of the hatch opening would normally drag him out of his malaise, if he knew James or Zolf would be walking down the steps to check him for the blasted veins. 

But James and Zolf are off on a mission, which leaves…

“Mornin’ Wilde.”

The man doesn’t say anything, not even when he pushes the metal tray through the little gap in the bars. Howard takes it with a weary glance over the offering - with Zolf away, it’s little more than basic rations. It’s food, at least, which is more than he reckons Wilde’s been feeding himself in the absence of their comrades.

He leaves space for conversation, like an idiot. Waits for Wilde to say something, rather than stand there and fold his arms and wait, impassive.

Howard remembers when they used to make the best of all of this shit. Before Bosie came along and fucked everything up so nicely, causing far more damage than just the scar that Wilde can’t stop touching.

He’s not an idiot. He sees the way looks are exchanged between people that aren’t him and Wilde. But gods, he’d thought, once upon a time, that there might at least be a little fun to be had…

“Straight to business then?” He asks, snatching up the cup of weak tea and sipping at it, enjoying the burn against his tongue.

Wilde nods, but that’s the only movement Howard gets out of the man. “As you say.” 

Howard sets his drink down and pulls off the robe with a sigh, wishing he’d been able to wear his usual shirt and trousers and that they hadn’t been ruined by the rain before Wilde all but chased him into the cell on pain of death. 

He stands, naked and frustrated, watching Wilde’s eyes scour him with the sort of interest he—.

“Turn.”

He does so, not flipping Wilde off as he moves, no matter how much he might want to. When he glances back, the man is frowning, but not in the sort of way that would suggest anything entirely untoward is happening.

“Who pissed in your tea today?”

Wilde rolls his eyes, then fixes Howard with a look that he’s entirely unable to decipher. He does his best not to wilt under it, sensing somehow that that’s what the man is looking for.

“I simply have to know, Howard.” Wilde says, taking a single step closer. “What made you think I cared for you?” 

Howard thinks it's some sort of miracle that he doesn’t stumble. He stands there, watching the way Wilde’s lips curl up into a cold little smile. 

But only on one side.

“You can be a cruel bastard, you know that?”

The unpleasant smile fades in an instant. Wilde nods to himself and looks down at the floor, all of the emotion - real or not - fading immediately from his face to leave him staid and detached once more.

“I’m aware.” He says. “You’re clear, Howard. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wilde has disppeared and the door has shut before Howard thinks to pull on his robe once more, the chill of the cellar chasing further discomfort all over his skin. After, he picks up the knife from the tray, tracing his fingers into the gaps in the mortar where he’s hidden away his stash and levering out the loose brick.

Gods know, If ever there was a time to get drunk.

Fuck.

Fuck.

(I did my best for you <3<3 it's not a ship I'm into but I hope I helped with a bit of pain?)

[nightmaremp]

Weremayhem: Song of Beasts. Ch 29: Play as a Sly Fox

 Zakai huffs a bit as Lewis had beaten him the fifth time at goldfish. “You're really good at this game” said the mystic with a smile. 

“Thank you! I learned it from Floyd” replied the ginger haired boy with a smile on his face. His alligator tail wagged like a happy puppy. Mr. Waxman chuckles. 

Annie was biting a bit of his light blonde hair when she spotted the mystic’s long ear. She bites his ear which causes him to let out a squeak. He removed her off his ear. 

“Hey! No biting” said Zakai before letting out a soft chuckle. The little baby giggled as she touched his snout. Lewis smiles as he watches his little sister having fun. 

Back down in the basement, Lips was near the stairs that lead up from the basement. He was on his phone. Nora walks up to the trumpet player with a smile. “Hey, Lips! My man” she said. 

“Hey, Nobu,” he replied while still looking at his phone. 

“Listen, I could really use your help taking this documentary to the next level.” replied Label Lady. 

“You know, maybe with some star power,” she added. The blonde male nods his head. 

“Yeah, I figured that’s coming up,” replied Lips. 

“It seems like you know everyone,” replied Nora. 

“Any chance you have one of the Beatles on speed dial?” she asked. 

“Oh! Yeah, we go way back with the B… Let’s see, I gotta..” the trumpet started to say before the rest of his words were just mumbles as he started to walk up the stairs. 

“Okay, all right. Hey, really hope that was a yes” replied Label Lady. 

“Love, love me do” said Lips before leaving the basement. The blonde male shut the door to the basement. He placed his phone in his pocket. 

The blonde male felt his stomach growling hungry. Lips head to the kitchen and look in the fridge. There was some plant based food or just no meat. Except for some left over of some fish that Teeth had earlier. The trumpet player picked up the fish. It was tuna and there was some blood on it which is common for the doc’s meals. 

His mouth waters at the sight of the meat. Normally, he would cook any meat but his stomach wanted something…fresh and bloody. Lips slowly lift the bloody meat of the fish to his mouth and take a bite. It tastes…amazing. He wanted more. After the tasty tuna was eaten, Lips got back on his phone to look through his contacts to help Nora out. 

Back downstairs, Animal was holding his pet bunny with a huge smile on his face. JJ walks over to the chuckling wild man. “Bunny man?” asked the drummer as he looked up at the other male. 

“Yeah, I’m the bunny man” replied JJ with a shit eating grin on his face. 

“And I figured your little cottontail pal could use some company” he added as he pulled out a bunny from his suit. He gives Animal the bunny. 

“One bunny, two bunny” replied the drummer with joy in his voice. He laughs before walking away with his two bunnies. “Two bunny” said the wild man. 

JJ turns and runs into Moog. It caused the cups of tea that the black haired male was carrying to spill on his shoes. “Whoa! No! My kicks!” yelled the male. 

“Oh, man! I am so sorry. Please, let me repay you” replied Moog in a worried tone. 

“Alright, fine, they’re 800 bucks” replied JJ with a huff. 

“What? No! Uh-uh. Not with money” replied the black haired male. 

“I can help with more of my Mayhead knowledge,” he added. 

“There is no need. Animal is my homie now” replied JJ. 

“No, help with Nora. Right? She wants this movie to be a huge lovefest, right?” replied Moog with wide eyes. 

“Right” the other male replied. 

“I know exactly how you can make that happen” replied the mayhem fan. JJ was silent a bit before answering. 

“Right, if it helps Nora” he replied. 

“So, just ask Dr. Teeth and The Electric Mayhem how they got the name.” replied Moog. 

“Okay. All right, cool.” replied JJ with a soft smirk. 

“All right?” asked the black haired male with a sly smile. 

“Thank you. Dude, we gotta hang” replied the male with a fist pump. 

“Of course,” replied Moog. JJ walks away from the mayhem face with a smile on his face. Hannah walks up behind Moog. 

“So, now you’re just helping the competition to impress my sister?” she asked in a confused tone. 

“That’s how you play the game?” Hannah added. 

“Oh, no, no, no, no” replied the black haired male. “That’s how I win it” he added with wide eyes. 

Suddenly, Zoot interrupts the two. “I know who should play me,” he said. 

“Frank Sinatra?” added the dark blue haired male. 

“Also dead” replied Hannah with a dead tone to her voice. 

“What? When?” asked the shock saxophonist. 

Meanwhile with JJ, he was about to ask the mayhem the question about the band name. His phone suddenly starts to ring. He answers the phone. 

“Hello?” asked the male. 

“Hello, remember me?” asked the guy on the other end of the phone. 

“Oh! Yes! It’s good to talk to you” replied JJ with a smile on his face. 

“Yes, yes. I’m calling you to inform you that I will be coming to town later this month or week.” replied the male on the other end. 

“Ah! Good, you get to meet the band that a pal of mine has been working with.” replied JJ. 

“Alright. I got to go. See you then” replied the guy before hanging up. Nora’s ex put his phone back in his pocket and walked back to the band with a smile on his face. 

[callsignspark]

Trick or treat! 👻

👻 happy halloween 🎃

this is a picture from February and it’s actually the entirety of my upcoming Jake fic, Xs and Os, and it was the first fic in the Dagger, Sword & Shield universe that I planned!! some things have changed since then, but for the most part it’s going to be written as I laid it out on these pages!! it’s wild to think about how long these stories have been in my head! (and because I love them so much a little peek of Jake and Flora below the cut)

wip trick-or-treat game

“Shit! Jake! They’re coming this way! They’re going to see us!”

“C’mon sit on my lap and wrap your arms around my neck.”

“What?”

Before she can even process his instruction, he's got her perched on his leg and has wrapped his arm around her waist, a big hand cupping her neck. From an outsider's perspective, they look like a couple in love, her hand involuntarily pulling him in by the collar of his shirt when their noses brush.

Flora knows her pink cheeks - the wine she had with dinner is to blame for that - are turning red. It should be embarrassing that the blonde man looking up at her is the cause of the darkening hue but she can't bring herself to care. Not when he's so close his long lashes are brushing against the chicken pox scar on her nose.

“They’re past us.” Her brain returns from daydreaming about how his five o'clock shadow would feel like against her neck. "They didn't see us."

"I can't believe that worked. We're in the middle of the freaking mall."

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable.”

“Did you just quote Marvel at me?”

“Did you just know I was quoting Marvel?”

She snorts at his defensive response, the simmering heat cooling down. “Oh my god. You’re a nerd.”

“Takes one to know one, darlin’.”

“You make fun of Bob all the time for his dorky glasses, but you’re actually a dork!”

“Bob is a dork! It’s not the glasses’ fault – take them away and he’s still a dork.”

“Well, he’s a good-looking dork. I think I’m going to try to set him up with Calliope. What do you think?”

His eyebrows shoot up, surprised by her question. “I think she’d eat him alive.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“How could there possibly be a good way?”

“Like do you think he’d enjoy it, or would it just make him uncomfortable?”

“I’m actually not sure. Bob is quiet and a little shy but he’s a pretty confident guy once he’s comfortable." Jake thinks out loud, brows furrowing as he contemplates the potential match. "I think you should just introduce them and if something happens, it happens and no harm no foul if nothing comes of it.”

[jacegem]

1. I tend to go with Callibri. It's just... the easiest on my eyes for some reason.

2. I could, but man would I not wanna. I used to write by hand in high school but uh, wrist pain nowadays says absolutely not. It'd be slow going but I could make myself do it.

4. It isn't English but the word for Dragon in Finnish drives me up the goddamn wall. Lohikäärme is LITERALLY just 'Salmon' and 'Snake' shoved together, makes me crazy. Every other Nordic language's word for dragon looks relatively normal, Finnish just has to be a little weirdo about it. And that shit just keeps going for the whole language.

9. Kinda, yeah. I don't really think there's one clear and straightforward answer to what happens when a person dies, though certain religions would have you believe otherwise. A soul sticking around after they pass? Yeah, could be plausible.

13. Imagery isn't the easiest thing for me but I am getting better at it all the time. Emotion and dialogue are very easy though, once I get in a character's head.

19. I started way back in 2012-ish, maybe super early 2013, when I was around 16. I started with fanfiction for the Invader Zim fandom, eventually moved to Homestuck, Hetalia and Undertale (yes I was extremely cringe, I freely admit this, and often say that I would like to go back and hit my teenaged self with a fish) and then... kinda took a few years hiatus. Didn't really write anything until 2021 when I was making things for my long running D&D game. As I kept getting further into the game I just... kept writing. Eventually got introduced to a TTRPG server that has since become my home, and I RP with my characters there a lot. It's really helped me nail down both characterization and imagery. Now, I'm still writing fan fiction (for different fandoms) but I've also got this whole world I made myself and I'm adding to it all the time, and I have characters I've thrown years of work into and I couldn't be happier to have made something that is wholly mine.

21. No, I don't think so. Not forever anyway. I take breaks, I walk away from the desk for awhile, but I can't leave it forever. It brings me joy to build and create, and to lay that down would worsen my quality of life. I write for the sheer joy of it, and for sharing my work with others, why would I deprive myself of that?

24. Depends on what I'm writing. If I'm writing something relating to my setting's cosmology then I dive into my astrophysics notes which I love doing because, shocking nobody, I'm a big space dweeb. Same can be said if I'm writing for my setting's fae wild, that's where all my radiation notes get used. But if I'm just writing a comfy slice-of-life piece or something similar? Chill music, a cup of tea, and I go where the vibes take me.

29. Music, video games, and my friends' work are the biggest inspirations I have. I've got entire playlists for specific characters that I put on when I need to get in their heads, and watching my friends write things gives me ideas because they have some incredible (horrifying at times) ideas. When the well runs dry, I stop. I take a break and consume more writing and media to recharge the inspiration batteries.

32. Oh yeah big time. That one Terry Pratchet quote never leaves my head and it actively influences how I write certain characters.

"All witches are selfish, the Queen had said. But Tiffany’s Third Thoughts said: Then turn selfishness into a weapon! Make all things yours! Make other lives and dreams and hopes yours! Protect them! Save them! Bring them into the sheepfold! Walk the gale for them! Keep away the wolf! My dreams! My brother! My family! My land! My world! How dare you try to take these things, because they are mine!

I have a duty!"

33. I draw too! I've drawn some of my characters before, but I haven't gotten to the point where I draw specific scenes from my stories yet. Maybe someday.

36. I know... a lot. Astrophysics and astronomy, Kirby lore (though I only pull inspiration from it since... it'd be silly and also illegal to straight rip Kirby lore into my stuff), radiation and nuclear technology to a certain degree, to name a few things.... my knowledge is quite niche and I accept this.

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

[zermizomilk]

Harper: Another story I heard about myself, this one happened in the Circus. We had the Ringleader of the circus whose friend went to the circus. His name was Alakazam and his friend Axle Kazam went to our circus. He was a robot, when Al was a person. And Alakazam... Was an asshole, and one weekend he and his wife decided to leave town, which you should never do, if you're an asshole. And Axle decided to throw a party at the ringleader's house. "Hooray!" And everyone around town heard about it and we all got up individually and thought, "Okay, let's go over there and destroy the place." I walked into this party. Everyone I had ever met was there and everyone was drinking like it was the end of the world. People were drinking like it was the Civil War and a doctor was coming to saw our legs off.  It was totally unsupervised.  We were running wild.

I walked down- I walked down to the basement. They had a pool table in the basement. One dude took a running start and threw his body onto the pool table and broke it in half. Another guy found out which room was the ringleader's and went upstairs and took a shit on his desk....

So the party was going great!

I'm standing in the basement, and I'm holding a red cup (you've seen movies), and I'm standing there and I'm holding a red cup and I'm starting to black out... And I guess someone said like "Something, something police"

An a brilliant moment of word association... I yelled: "Fuck da police! Fuck da police!"

And everyone else joined in.

A hundred drunken people all yelling “Fuck da police”.

With the confidence of guys who have already been to jail and aren't afraid of it anymore, you know that like, "I'll serve my nickel, you come and take me!" confidence.

The reason someone had said "something, something police" was because the police were there.

So a local police officer walked down the stairs and got to the bottom in the basement and looked out over a sea of drunk idiots all yelling "Fuck the police!"

In his face!

And he was almost impressed.

He was like "Wow." And then he leaned into his walkie-talkie and went "Get the paddy-wagon."

And my friend Juno, who is now a father, this man now has a baby, he grabbed a 40, smashed it on the ground, and yelled "Scatter!"

And everyone ran into different directions! We all ran in different directions! It was like that scene in Ratatouille when the humans come in the kitchen and all the rats go in different ways! We all ran in different directions.

I ran into the laundry room and I jumped up on the washing machine and I crawled out through a window into the backyard and now I'm running through the backyard and there was this big chain link fence and I thought "I've never climbed a fence that high before!" And then I woke up at home.

On Monday... I went to work because that's what I did back then. And I'm walking into the Circus and who do I see but Axle. And he says to me, "Hey, were you at my party on Saturday?" And I said "No."

You know, like a liar.

And he said "Things got really outta hand. Someone broke the pool table..... Someone took a shit on my Al's desk. But the worst thing," he says; "the worst thing is that someone stole these old antique photos of his grandmother and my he's freaking out about it."

And I had that thought.... That only blackout drunks can have... "Did I do that?"  I figured no. I wouldn't have done that.  But I was never sure...

Until two years later...

(Crowd ohhh) Relax.  I'm playing games with this guy named Z that I also went to the circus with. We're playing games for a couple hours, and then Z says to me, "Hey, come here I want to show you something."

And he takes me into his bedroom. And then he takes me into a side room off of his bedroom. Never a good thing to have. He shows me a tiny room that is covered wall to wall in stolen antique photos from different people's parties over the years. 

And I say... "Why? Why do you do this?" And Z goes: "Because it's the one thing you can't replace."

That's the end of that story, but how fucked up is that, right? That's crazy. So I don't drink anymore.

Story stolen from John Mulaney (and also heavily edited lol)

lmao

[teemingwindow]

I Made a introduction chapter on my two ocs, Charlie and zeph on how they meet and how their story together starts

Anyways the story is below if you want to read it

Chapter introduction:

March 11. 12:32 pm Charlie’s pov

the start of spring break, It’s starting to get warmer and it’s time for me to take a well deserved break.

I wonder if there’s going to be a party today? naw there will be one, Cody will come in last minute to tell me there’s one to celebrate the start of spring but in the meantime I’m going to take a nap to wait for Cody to get back from work.

5:53 pm. Cody finally gets back form work.

“So how was work?”

“Ugh it sucked, there was so many complaints about how ‘the food didn’t match the ad’. I swear people get dumber everyday.”

I snickered “yeah I guess people do, anyways is there anything going on tonight? Any party’s?”

“Party’s? Oh yeah um you know wendyl right?”

“Kinda not really”

“Well they are going to throw one at like 7:30 at their apartment, do you want to go with me?”

“Yeah why not, I need to leave this crumby room anyways”

With a big smile Cody says “yes finally dude, you haven’t gone with me to a party since the start of college. Also You should take a shower before we leave because…jeez…”

I roll my eyes “with you being in that hot kitchen all day, you really shouldn’t be talking.” I laugh

7:23 pm. While driving to wendyl’s place I look around at the lively city, the streets are full of party goers, the allays are real dark like it’s the next murder location on the news, but somehow it was all peaceful. I really don’t know this wendyl guy so I ask Cody where exactly they live

“So Cody what floor does wendyl live on?”

“Ooh umm their room number is 308 so I assume it’s a the tired floor”

“Alright thanks just wanted to know”

we finally arrive to wendyl’s building, we start to head up stairs to room 308. We knock on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The door swings open and a steps out black and brown tasmanian daredevil wearing a iris purple cloak.

“Ayyy Cody, how’s it going! Have you been living good?” With excitement in their voice

“Yeah it’s been fine just you know, work”

“Yeah Work, it’s a real bitch. Anyways whos this with you?”

“Oh this is Charlie, he’s my collage room mate”

“Well hello Charlie” wendyl says with a friendly smile and puts their hand out for a hand shake, i accept “it’s good to meet you to wendyl” I smile back.

“If you guys wanna come in we got beer and games” wendyl says seemingly trying to go back to partying.

“Charlie’s not really a drinker but I’ll have some”

“Alright we’ll come in!” Wendyl wave us in and it’s packed full of people, there’s some white tables with beer and snacks with a game of beer pong going on near by. I grab a red cup full of water and go try to talk to people.

“Dude did you that game?! It was wild man so much crazy shit happened!” A deer wearing a flannel t-shirt said to a panda wearing a black and blue hoodie

“I know man! I can’t believe the ref allowed that to fly!” The panda said

Curiously I tried to bud in to see what they were talking about “what game was this and what happened?”

They both kinda just stared at me and went back to talking

‘Well that didn’t go anywhere’ I thought. I try to talk to a couple of more people but they all ignore me so I go to the back of the room and stand there wondering when I should leave, but then I see someone next to me. A purple cat wearing a black hoodie with a cartoon bear face on it, they have a puzzled look on their kinda like their people watching. Not seeing them talking to anyone I try and start a conversation.

“So are you having a good time?” I ask

The cat turns to me, looks at me for a second and smiles “yes I am, thanks for asking”

Weirdly I don’t really believe them but I don’t want seem rude and I don’t want to lose the conversation so I ask them something else

“Cool, do you know wendyl from anywhere?”

“Oh umm…..yeah I met them in high school. How do you know wendyl?”

“My roommate introduced me to them just today actually” I chuckle kinda sounding stupid

“My name is Charlie what’s yours?” I hand out my hand for a handshake.

“It’s zeph”

during this whole conversation he never stoped smiling at me kinda like he can’t.

We keep talking for what feels like 10 minutes but I realize it’s been 2 hours of nonstop bonding and now I feel I’ve know him since forever. I’m actually starting to like him even with his goofy smile, it’s kinda cute.

“Ah shit it’s already 9:30!? Ugh, well It’s time me to go home i guess” I say In disappointment.

“Why do you gotta leave?”

“I promised some of my buddies I would join them in game night”

“Well can you call in and cancel?”

“No no I really can’t, ugh and I was just having fun here”

“We’ll do you want me to drive you?”

“No it’s alright, I can get my roommate to drive me back”

“I don’t hes here anymore, there’s only like 5 people left.” I look around and see that he’s right, I don’t see Cody anywhere and there’s really no one around.

“I guess your right but I’ll still call an Uber, it’s fine dude you don’t have to” I smile at him in good faith.

“You sure? I was planing to go to the gas station and getting some snacks, I’m buying”

I don’t think he’s going to take no for an answer so I take his offer.

“Alright fine, you can drive me home.” Somehow in someway his smile gets bigger, it’s kinda freaky.

“Alright then let’s go, my car is in the alley.”

We leave the room and start to head down the stairs and go into the alley. thinking this is the only time I have, I try and get his number.

“So zeph could I get your number? So we can continue this conversation?”

“Oh I’m sure it’s (777) •••-•••-••••” I put his number in my phone.

“Thank you” I say with glee. ‘Sweet! i got a guys number, mabye this wasn’t a waste of time after all’

We get to his car and it’s snug between the two buildings with a dumpster with some trash bags next to it on the left building and a pile of bricks next to the right building.

“I’m impressed how you even got this thing in here”

“Oh thanks” his smile gets bigger in response. “You can take the front if you want”

“Alright”

When I go and try to open the door I hear something clink on the floor.

“Ah shit!” I look up at him in confusion.

“What happened?”

“I dropped my keys next to the trash bags and I can’t see them, could you give me a hand please?”

“Umm sure” I walk around the car and I see him bent over looking at the trash bags.

“I think they landed somewhere over here” he points, i go down on both of my knees and start to dig where he pointed but he gets up and walks somewhere. Weird.

“I can’t find them dude “ I continue to dig in the gross mess of trash bags full or garbage.

“Well they gotta be there” he sounds as if he’s getting something.

I continue to feel around and I feel something jab my hand.

“Oh hey I found your keys” I grab them and turn around and I see zeph standing overtop of me with a brick in right hand and this sadistic smile on him with his eyes peering into me, I feel if I can’t move, my mind racing with so many thoughts and I-I-I don’t know what to do. is this some kind of joke…? or is it nothing at all and I’m over thinking..?

“Zeph? why do you have a bri-“

End of chapter introduction

[feathery-dreamer]

Weather or Not

Chapter 2: Sports Man Ship

"Chelsea here, your new news anchor as Jeremy becomes old news! Eheheh *ahem* ...Anyway, the weather. Hi, Daniel!" "Hello Chels! Yesterday's match was between Manchester United and Paris Saint-Germain. PSG had the home advantage as they faced off in Parc des Princes, but Manchester still-" "Uhm... excuse me, but... What's that got to do with the weather?" "Well, if it'd rained, they couldn't have played soccer, could they?" "Ugh. Get your head in the game, Daniel." "I did! I spent hours rehearsing my script - in sports, as usual. Then you appointed me at the last minute to talk about a couple dumbass clouds!" "Pffft, please. You were just paraphrasing the live commentary, anyway. Beejay can fill in for you just fine." "Buh- Beejay? Are you shitting me? He's literally a sheep!" "Wow Daniel, never knew you to be a racist. Hope you fix that next time, and leave your attitude at the door too. Sorry everyone, we'll have to skip the weather this once." - "Chelsea here, and now it's time for the weather. Daniel, if you please?" "Hi Chels! So in preparation for the semi-finals, Liverpool and Galatasaray's trainers have-" "Daniel, c'mon. We talked about this!" "Mmmmnope, 'we' didn't. YOU talked about this, I didn't get a chance to say a damn word!" "That's not true! I asked for your opinion lots of times." "Yeah, you did. And then you interrupted me to explain why my opinion didn't matter!" "Whining about your colleague's incompetence doesn't count, Daniel. Ugh, you're such a child. Isn't he a child, Beejay?" :sheep: "Beep, beep, I'm a sheep, I said beep beep I'm a sheep." "Yes we know. You said that fifteen thousand times already, yarnface." "I told you to stop being bigoted, Daniel! Apologize right now, or you'll end up sleeping in the doghouse again." "Yeah, whatever." - "Chelsea here, now it's time for the weather. Alright Dan, give us what you got." *ambient crowd in background* "Hello Chels! Yes, we're all very excited today." "Are...are you in a stadium?" *crowd cheers* "We're here to watch the arrival of a trough of warm and humid air from the West! After sweeping across the sea, it's coming for us and already past the coast. But, what is that-?" "Daniel, what the hell?" *crowd swells* "Oh, oh! It seems a stagnant mass of cold air from the North is blocking the way! Will the warm sea air make it? or will the continental cold prevail? What do you think, Chels?" "C'mon Dan, you know I hate suspense. Wait, why am I even-" *crowd OHHs and AHHs* "Hey, what's that? *cups earpiece* ..Seems our station has spotted something, and it's nearly on top of us!" "Ugh... fine! you got me hooked." *gnawing noise* "Here comes the warm air!" *crowd goes almost silent* "Oh, oh, it's here! Chelsea, it's happening!" "W-wha? c'mon, you're peaking my anxiety..." "The warm mass has us blanketed, and now it's clashing with the cold! If there's any condensation, this might mean rain within the next couple days." *crowd swells into WOAHs and OOHs* "Now if I were a funny guy, I might make a sex joke or two here..." "Ugh, skip iiiiit!" *gnawing intensifies* *crowd cheers in rhythm* "We await anxiously- oh! Oh! Is that a tiny white plume I see?" *cheering grows and speeds up* "Yes. yes! Chels, we are seeing cloud formation! I repeat, we have clouds!" *crowd goes wild, drowning the rest of Daniel's speech* "Phew! alright! *deep breath* ..Alright, that's enough for that one single location. What about the rest of the damn country, Daniel!" *crowd noise oversaturates mic, Daniel talks unintelligibly* "Daniel! You hear me, Daniel?" *viewers screaming into mic* "I...I don't fucking get paid enough for this. I can't take it anymore!" *sob* - "Chelsea here, time for-" *inhale, sigh* "...the weather. Okay Dan, lay it on me." "Well hi, Chels! Today-" "Actually, y'know what? Let's skip the weather this once. That okay?" "Wha-? B-but Chels!" "And now-" "WaiwaiwaiWAIT! Chels, lemme do it!" *pause* "...You. You wanna do the weather?" "Yep! I've been practicing all day for it." *eager agreeing grumbles in the background* "Oh, well- alright then." "Yay!" *ahem-hem* "It is partly... cloudy, over the northwest, and- hum." "Yes..?" "...a-and with a few showers on the west coast." "Mhm?" "We will have... lots of sunshine, across the east and s...southern areas." "C'mon baby." *ahem* "The uh, temperatures... ah, will exceed 75 on the southern half..." "Yes..!" "...rrhm...remain stationary around 60-65 throughout the west and...and-" *sniffle* "You're almost there, sweetheart." "...and between 50 and 60 across the centre and northern regions this has been the weather with Daniel on Fucks News please have a nice day please and thank you" "Yes!" *sobs, sniffles* "I knew you could do it, sugar!" *clapping* "Æugh... I hate it." *comforting mumbles in the background* *gasps and more sniffling* "Oh I'm so proud of you, sugar." "...Hi, so proud of you sugar, I'm Dan." *loudass cheering and laughter in background* *crying stops* "I will fucking end you, Daniel." - "Chelsea here, now it's time for the weath- uhm, Dan?" *shuffle shuffle* "Yeah." "Daniel, what are you stuffing into that suitcase?" "My stuff." *more shuffles* "You're...you're stuffing your stuff?" "Well yeah, Chels, do I have to repeat myself?" *thud* "Yeah no, I got that. I meant like, why are you-" "I'm leaving, Chelsea." *gasp* "W-wha? Le...leaving? But, but you did so well last time!" "I know, and it was painful!" *click clack* "I don't think I can handle any more of this." "I can't believe you would do this to me." *sniffle* "Sorry, Chelsea. I was hoping to be gone by weather time, so we could avoid this painful goodbye." "Oh, Daniel!" *sob sob* "I'm... so really sorry, Chels. At least we weren't about to have a raise soon or anything." *snoooorf* "Oh, about that, Dan..." "What? Don't tell me you are-" "Yes! I've been expecting for a while." *sniff* *gasp* "Oh... well shit, congrats! How long have you been-?" "For a while, at least three months." *heavy sigh* "Oh god, Chels. How come you've never told me?" "I wanted to surprise you, Dan! But I never imagined you'd be deciding to leave so soon!" "Well, do you know what it's gonna be?" "Oh, somewhere around... two hundred more a month!" *whistle* "Two hundr- wow!" "Maybe more!" "Alright, well..." *creak* "Hnng! shit's heavy." "So... y-you are still going, huh." "Yeah. I really am sorry, Chelsea." "Same here, Daniel." *sniffle* "I wish you the best with your new salary." "I wish you the best, too." *sob* "Wherever your new job may be."