#kitchen re-design

[coastessential]

Remodelling to Create Your Dream Kitchen

Designing and remodelling a kitchen can be an exciting yet daunting task. The kitchen is the heart of your home. It's where we cook, eat, and spend time with family and friends. It is essential to have a functional, aesthetically pleasing, and comfortable kitchen that meets your needs and fits your lifestyle.

Planning stage

In this phase you will be gathering ideas, creating a few rough sketches, setting a budget, and creating a timeline. You can browse through home decor and shelter magazines, visit home improvement stores, save images in Pinterest or check out online home renovation websites for inspiration.

Once you have a clear vision of what you want, you can begin creating a budget and deciding on a timeline. Be realistic about your budget and be prepared to make compromises if necessary. Additionally, it is important to consider the practicalities of the remodelling process, such as where you will cook and eat while the work is being done.

Design stage

This stage involves creating a layout and selecting cabinets, countertops, flooring, finishes, appliances, and fixtures that fit your budget and style. Your designer-builder will consider factors such as the size and shape of the room, the placement of windows and doors, and the location of electrical and plumbing systems to help you come up with a design that works. It is essential to create a functional and ergonomic layout that maximizes storage and counter space while minimizing clutter and traffic flow.

Need more space? Will you need to extend the floor plan by moving a wall, or with a bump out addition? Popular kitchen layouts include the L-shape, U-shape, and galley style.

Choose materials that are durable, easy to clean, and complement your style. Consider features such as countertop materials, cabinet finishes, and flooring options. When selecting appliances, choose energy-efficient models that fit your needs and lifestyle.

Execution / construction stage

After planning and designing, the final step is execution. Your design-build contractor will draw up the plans, order materials, and oversee the remodel process. Hire a reputable contractor who has experience in kitchen remodelling, with good references. Ensure that the contractor is licensed and insured and obtain a detailed contract that outlines the scope of work, timeline, and payment schedule.

During the remodel process, be prepared for some disruptions to your daily routine. It is essential to communicate regularly with the contractor so you can make any necessary decisions promptly. Be flexible and prepared to make changes if necessary, but also be firm about your expectations and budget.

The takeaway

Designing and remodelling a kitchen can be a complex and challenging process, but it will also be a rewarding and exciting experience. By following the planning, design, and execution process above, you can create a kitchen that meets your needs and fits your style.

Remember to stay within your budget, choose materials and appliances that are functional and look great, and communicate regularly with your contractor. With careful planning and the right design-build team, you can have the kitchen of your dreams.

Read more at Kitchen Remodelling: Designing a Kitchen You’re Going to Love for Years

[oodlesodoodles]

[elephantbitterhead]

One of my favorite things about working on any DIY project is reading the absolutely deranged statements people try to pass off as design advice. Like this: No matter how much time you plan to spend in your kitchen, you should never lose sight of the fact that it’s a room based around food. One subtle but important fact related to this is that colour schemes based around blue are risky – there are few blue foods in nature, and studies have been shown that this particular colour is an effective appetite suppressant! Combine this with the somewhat sterile appearance of blue colours under many types of lighting, and it’s perhaps best to leave blue as a highlight or contrast shade rather than as the foundation colour.

This kind of 'guidance' -- opinions disguised as objective rules -- makes me want to adopt what it's forbidding, even if I didn't want it before. Can you imagine wanting a blue kitchen & rejecting it on the basis of this borderline haruspicy? As if your design choices are in any way related to the color(s) of food you might prepare. Cruelly consigned to a life of cauliflower, mashed potatoes, and hardboiled eggs by my belligerent white kitchen. I don't see anyone saying that about those pastel-ish reds that are currently so popular -- good luck finding a food that color. Raw red meat, perhaps. What nonsense.

[phagodyke]

wanted to watch smth while I polish my boots but I forgot to put thr dryer on earlier so its on rn and the sound is making my teeth hurt 😭

[sluttywoozi]

(Boy)Friend Material | Part I of II | csc x f!reader

You'd think that, having matched with Seungcheol on a dating app, you would be, well, dating. You suppose you're lucky, but not that lucky.

Rating: sfw (this part) | WC: ~3k | Pairing: csc x f!reader | Genre: emotional fluff, friends/idiots to lovers

Warnings: suggestive thoughts, down bad reader, implied alcohol drinking, kissing

Matching with Seungcheol on Bumble was a fluke, or maybe a miracle, considering the fact that you re-downloaded the app on a whim and his profile was the first to come up. 

The second you saw him in that blue baseball cap and white tee, his jawline sharp and his bicep thick, you knew there was no point in trying to find anyone better. So you conferred with the group chat to crowdsource a good opening line, something about how his birthday should be a national holiday, and awaited his response with bated breath. 

He replied within minutes, saying that he’d always thought so but was intrigued as to why you did too, and you, ignoring your friends’ advice to play it cool, told him that he was obviously a gift to the masses to get them through these troubling times. He got bashful then, but apparently you didn’t come on too strong in a bad way, because the next thing you knew he was asking for your number and requesting to meet up for some coffee. 

That was four months ago, and though it never went further in a romantic sense, you know you’re lucky to have him as a friend. Unfortunately, the thoughts you have about Seungcheol aren’t the kind you’re supposed to have about a friend. 

You wish you could say you haven’t always wondered what those plush lips would feel like on yours, or if he’d be big enough to stretch you out, or whether he’d take you gently or pin you down and fuck you like he means it, but you’ve wanted Seungcheol ever since you first locked eyes with him, even if it was just through your phone screen.

It would be one thing if you only wanted to sleep with him, but it’s a million times worse because you want to love him too. You want to hold hands, and go on cute dates, and get him little gifts just to see his eyes light up. You want to fall asleep in his arms, and take care of him when he’s sick, and tell anyone who will listen that he’s your boyfriend. 

How could you want anything less when he looks like all of your dreams come to life? When he gazes at you with those big brown eyes, always listening so attentively, as if you’re the only one in his world that matters? When he takes care of you without thinking, like it’s just second nature?

Even at a house party like this, where there are plenty of girls eyeing him and more than a few of his bros wanting to talk to him, he’s by your side. The second your shoulders twitched in a shiver, his jacket was covering them. As soon as your cup was empty, he was accompanying you to the kitchen to refill it. And you know that when you give even a hint of wanting to leave, he’ll be guiding you to his car and taking you home, perfectly sober because he volunteered to be the designated driver tonight just so you could have fun and be safe. 

If only you could tell him to take you back to his place instead of yours. The problem is that he would, and he’d take your makeup off all gently, and give you a big t-shirt to sleep in, and tuck you into his bed before going to sleep on the couch, even though it hurts his back and his feet dangle off the edge. You know because that’s exactly what he did the time you managed to scrape together enough courage to ask if you could stay over after a night out. 

You can’t have a repeat of that, not when you woke up wishing you were his (after dreaming that he’d fucked you into his mattress). You barely kept yourself from begging him to make your dreams a reality that morning, especially when he greeted you with bedhead, a gravelly voice, and your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street. 

It took you weeks to get over it, to be able to look into his eyes without wanting to either confess your love or jump his bones. And still, almost two months later, you’re pushing down both of those desires. Holding your feelings back when you’re with him is a constant struggle, one that’s only made more difficult by his affectionate and protective nature. It’s becoming painful, knowing he likes you but not in the way that you like him, being so close to him but never as close as you want. 

Near Seungcheol is your favorite place to be, but you’re starting to think it’s not somewhere that’s good for you, which is distressing because at this point, he’s one of your best friends. You see him nearly every week for meals and little excursions, and you’d go for every day if you didn’t have to keep him from your other friends lest they give away your secret. You don’t know how you’d cope with not being around him, but you can only assume it wouldn’t be well when he’s so enmeshed in your life, even your landlord knows about him.

God, you cancel one maintenance call after Seungcheol fixes your leaky faucet and Jerry thinks every other repair request is bullshit…

You startle as Seungcheol leans in close to ask you something, though you’re too distracted by the weight of his hand on your waist to process his question. It’s warm even through the cotton of your shirt and the denim of his jacket, and he must think it’s too loud for you to hear him because he uses it to tug you closer as he asks again, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I think I’m just ready to go,” you respond weakly, forcing a smile that must look as fake as it feels. Knowing you’re not telling the truth about the first part, he frowns reproachfully at you and lets go of your waist to intertwine your fingers with his, pulling you behind him to the front door. There’s a chill in the air though it’s barely September, and he drops your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders, syncing his steps to yours and holding you tight.

It’s a short walk but the quiet tension makes it feel like eons have passed by the time you arrive at his sedan. He opens the passenger-side door for you and takes your bag so you can climb in unhindered, gently placing it at your feet before patting your knee and shutting you in. You watch as he jogs around the hood and gets in next to you, taking care not to slam his door. You wonder if it’s because the first (and only) time he did on a night like this, you thought he was upset with you for wanting to leave early. 

He was so sweet and concerned when you brought it up, instantly rejecting your offer to uber home so he could go back to the party as if he was offended you even asked, before telling you that there was no point in staying if he didn’t have you with him. That was just one of the many moments that have ruined you for anyone else. 

“What’s on your mind?” Seungcheol asks quietly, turning his body toward you and reaching for your hand. Unsure of what to say, you give it to him silently and fight back a shudder at the feeling of his warm, rough fingers against yours. 

You hate lying to Seungcheol, partially because you always want to be honest with him but mostly because you’re so bad at doing the opposite. He picks up on it immediately, and then he gets this sorrowful, wounded look on his face and goes all quiet, which makes you feel like you’re the worst person on the planet. 

How honest can you be, though?

You could leave out the part about wanting him to fuck your brains out and lead with the non-platonic feelings you hold for him. Or you could leave out the emotional side of things and simply share that you want to ride him into the sunset. Or you could tell him everything, bare your soul and your pussy, and hope for the best. But what if the worst happens? What if he tells you he could never want you like that, that you’re like a sister to him, that he doesn’t want to see you ever again because you’ve ruined this friendship? 

You don’t think you can risk it. 

Still, you’d like to avoid deceiving him and hurting his feelings in the process, so maybe you could just be vague instead. 

“A lot of things, but nothing I want to talk about right now,” you finally answer, avoiding his eyes and pushing down the voice in the back of your mind that screams you’re a coward.

His mouth scrunches to the side and his brows furrow, but after a minute of silence, he accepts it. 

“Okay, just… You know you can tell me anything, right?” He lowers his head to find your gaze, sincerity emanating so brightly from him, it burns. 

Anything but this.

“I know,” you whisper, attempting a smile to appease him, though the way he sighs defeatedly and looks away makes you feel like you’ve just made him worry more. 

Facing the wheel again, he turns the key in the ignition and carefully reverses just enough to pull forward out of his makeshift parking spot. The music coming through his speakers is soft and low, too quiet to really fill the silence sitting between you and him, silence that isn’t usually there. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything at all, your body thrumming with a nervous energy that you’re sure Seungcheol can feel. 

Glancing over, you find his hands tight on the steering wheel and his lip caught in between his teeth. You hate the idea that your anxiety has seeped into him, but he’s always seemed to think your happiness is his personal responsibility, so you suppose it makes sense. 

“Are you taking the long way?” You ask in confusion when you face forward again and watch the on ramp to the highway pass you by. 

“Yeah, I hope that’s okay… Just wanted a bit more time with you,” he murmurs with a melancholy tinge to his voice. 

“Of course that’s okay, I love being with you.” Shit, you wanted to make him feel better but you didn’t mean to sound so-

“Do you?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you never…” He looks over at you and shakes his head, taking a deep breath before continuing to speak. “I know we’re taking things slow but I feel like you’re always holding part of yourself back from me. You never touch me, I’m always the one touching you. I make the majority of our plans. All my friends know you but I don’t know any of your friends,” he sighs in frustration and pulls over into an empty parking lot, putting the car in park. “And now tonight you don’t feel like you can tell me what’s wrong… I just- If you want to break things off, please just say so.”

When he finishes, he gazes at you, dejection swimming in his eyes like you’re breaking his heart. 

In your mind, you repeat the words that stand out to you as if they’re new arrangements of letters with meanings you’ve never encountered before.

T a k i n g  t h i n g s  s l o w.

B r e a k  t h i n g s  o f f.

What  t h i n g s?

“Seungcheol… Please don’t get upset, but I think we might not be on the same page,” you say slowly. “What are we? Because I was under the impression we were-”

“Friends,” you finish just as he responds, like it should be obvious, “Together.”

“You think we’re just friends?! We met on a dating app,” he bursts in a barely contained explosion. 

“You’re so hot, and sure, we went on that one coffee date, but we never went on any others-” You scramble to explain your reasoning. 

“We’ve gone on at least three dates a month since we met! Did you think we were just hanging out?” 

“...Yes?” 

“I plan them, I dress nicely, I pick you up, I pay,” he lists off on his fingers, clearly growing heated. 

“Okay, so maybe those were dates! But we don’t kiss, or have sleepovers, or talk to each other about our feelings,” you attempt to defend yourself. 

“I was trying to follow your lead,” he grimaces regretfully and pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, could I have been kissing you this whole time?” 

“You could have been doing a lot more than kissing me,” you laugh to yourself, thinking about all the wishes and desires you’ve had since you first laid eyes on him. Then you see his face, and it doesn’t really feel funny anymore. 

He looks equal parts irate and amorous, that strong brow furrowed in displeasure though his gaze is greedy, like he’s had enough of you but at the same time, he could never get enough of you. 

“Alright, since I apparently need to lay it all out, here’s what we’re gonna do,” he turns to face you, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. You barely resist the urge to lean into it before realizing you don’t have to resist anything anymore when it comes to Seungcheol, your hand coming up to cover his and hold it to your face. 

His eyes soften at that, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as he says, “First, we’re going to talk about our feelings and get on the same page. Then, I’m taking you to your place to pack an overnight bag and to mine for a sleepover, and this time I’m not staying on that goddamn couch. It’ll take a while to make up for four months of not kissing you, but we can start with tonight. Does that all sound good to you?”

“Everything sounds great,” you breathe dreamily, already envisioning being on your back beneath him with those perfect cherry lips on yours. 

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that,” he groans, his head falling sideways against the headrest. “We have to talk first.”

“Are you telling me or yourself?” You ask teasingly, giggling when he squeezes his eyes shut and swears under his breath. 

“Both,” he sighs out before saying nervously, “I’ll start, because I’m a good boyfriend.”

You have to swallow down the squeal that threatens to burst from you just at the thought of Seungcheol being your boyfriend. 

“I’ve been into you since I met you,” he begins. “You make me laugh, you make my heart race, and you make me want you, all the damn time. The past four months have been the best of my life. You’re smart and beautiful and special and I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Hearing Seungcheol say these things sends a rush of pure joy through you, followed by a flood of affection. He’s all you’ve wanted for four months, and now you know he likes you. And wants to be with you. It’s almost too much for you to handle… Almost. 

“Seungcheol, as soon as I saw you on that god-forsaken app, I knew I could stop looking. You’re funny and kind and thoughtful and devastatingly good looking, and I liked you so much that I tried to be happy just being your friend, but I always wanted more. I think it’s because I was so blinded by my crush on you that I didn’t realize we were more. We are more. Hopefully, you’re okay being with me for a long time, because I don’t know if I’ll ever want to let you go.”

He gazes at you, his face soft and his eyes earnest, adoring. “That’s fine with me,” he murmurs, leaning in. “Can I kiss you?”

“I literally thought you’d never ask,” you whisper, inching forward and holding your breath until his lips finally meet yours. 

They feel supple, lush, just like you knew they would, and he kisses you with a gentleness you didn’t expect. After four months of waiting, you thought he’d be impatient, rough, but he’s moving like he has all the time in the world, like you’re something worth savoring. He pulls away reluctantly, but you’re not done yet, your chin tilting so you can press your lips to his again. 

He sighs against you and you glide your tongue over his bottom lip, gasping when he opens his mouth to lick into yours. His hand shifts to cup your neck, tilting your head so he can kiss you at a different angle, and that’s when the moan slips out. 

It’s quiet, but obvious in the silence of the car, and you pause self consciously for a second before he brushes his thumb over your jaw and moans back. The sound is so hot that you’re inches away from unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing over the center console into his lap, your mind already wrapped up in thoughts of feeling his thick, sturdy thighs under you. He doesn’t let you get that far, breaking away with a gasp and staring at you heatedly, as if he can hear your thoughts. 

“I want too much from you for our first time to be in my car,” he pants raggedly, fighting to catch his breath after you attempted to steal it from him. 

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” you acquiesce, watching as he shifts into drive and makes his way out of the parking lot. When he’s on the road again, he rests his palm on your thigh with a glance and a raise of his brow, as if to ask if his placement is okay. You just smile and intertwine your fingers with his, trying to shove down the giddiness bubbling up within you as you get closer and closer to your apartment.

AN: there was a natural separation between scenes so i decided to make this a two parter!! smutty part two will be posted sometime this weekend (hopefully)

please i am begging u to tell me ur thoughts and ur thots i am deep in seungcheol brainrot and i need to commiserate

edited to add: drop a comment to join the taglist!

PART II

[drdemonprince]

It’s true that America has one of the lowest voter turnout rates in the industrialized world, with only 62% of eligible adults turning up to the polls on a good year, and about 50% on a typical one. But if we really dive into the social science data, we can see that non-voters aren’t a bunch of nihilistic commie layabouts who’d prefer to die in a bridge collapse or of an untreated listeria infection than vote for someone who isn’t Vladimir Lenin. No, if we really study it carefully, we can see that the American electoral system has a series of unique features that easily account for why we find voting more cumbersome, confusing, and unrewarding than almost any other voters in the world.

Let’s take a look at the many reasons why Americans don’t vote:

1. We Have the Most Frequent Elections of Any Country

Most other democratic countries only hold major elections once every four or five years, with the occasional local election in between. This is in sharp contrast with the U.S., where we have some smattering of primaries, regional elections, state elections, ballot measures, midterm elections, and national elections basically every single year, often multiple times per year. We have elections more frequently than any other nation in the world — but just as swallowing mountains of vitamin C tablets doesn’t guarantee better health, voting more and harder hasn’t given us more democracy.

2. We Don’t Make Election Day a Holiday

The United States also does far less than most other democracies to facilitate its voters getting to the polls. In 22 countries, voting is legally mandated, and turnout is consequently very high; most countries instead make election day a national holiday, or hold elections on weekends. The United States, in contrast, typically holds elections on weekdays, during work hours, with minimal legal protections for employees whose only option to vote is on the clock.

3. We Make Registration as Hard as Possible

From Denmark, to Sweden, to Iceland, Belgium, and Iraq, all eligible voters in most democracies are automatically registered to vote upon reaching legal adulthood. Voting is typically regarded as a rite of passage one takes part in alongside their classmates and neighbors, made part of the natural flow of the country’s bureaucratic processes.

In the United States, in contrast, voter registration is a process that the individual must seek out — or more recently, be goaded into by their doctor. Here voting is not a communal event, it’s a personal choice, and failing to make the correct choice at the correct time can be penalized. In most other countries, there are no restrictions on when a voter can register, but in much of the United States, registering too early can mean you get stricken from the voter rolls by the time the election rolls around, and registering too late means you’re barred from voting at all.

4. We Make Voters Re-Register Far Too Often

In countries like Canada, Germany, and the Netherlands, voter registration updates automatically when a person moves. In the United State, any time a person changes addresses they must go out of their way to register to vote all over again. This policy disadvantages poorer and younger voters, who move frequently because of job and schooling changes, or landlords who have decided to farm black mold colonies in their kitchens.

Even if a voter does not change their address, in the United States it’s quite common for their registrations to be removed anyway— due to name changes, marriages, data breaches, or simply because the voter rolls from the previous election year have been purged to “prevent fraud” (read: eliminate Black, brown, poor, and left-leaning members from the electorate).

5. We Limit Access to Polling Places & Mail-in Ballots

In many countries, voters can show up to any number of polling places on election day, and showing identification is not always necessary. Here in the United States, the ability to vote is typically restricted to a single polling place. Voter ID laws have been used since before the Jim Crow era to make political participation more difficult for Black, brown, and impoverished voters, as well as for those for whom English is not their first language. Early and absentee voting options are also pretty firmly restricted. About a quarter of democracies worldwide rely on mail-in ballots to make voting more accessible for everyone; here, a mail-in ballot must be requested in advance.

All of these structural barriers help explain why just over 50% of non-voters in the United States are people of color, and a majority of non-voters have been repeatedly found to be impoverished and otherwise marginalized. But these populations don’t only feel excluded from the political process on a practical level: they also report feeling completely unrepresented by the available political options.

6. We Have the Longest, Most Expensive Campaign Seasons

Americans have some of the longest campaign seasons in the world, with Presidential elections lasting about 565 days on average. For reference, the UK’s campaign season is 139 days, Mexico’s is 147, and Canada’s is just 50. We also do not have publicly funded campaigns: our politicians rely upon donors almost entirely.

Because our elections are so frequent and our campaigns are so long and expensive, many American elected officials are in a nearly constant state of fundraising and campaigning. When you take into account the time devoted to organizing rallies, meeting with donors, courting lobbyists, knocking on doors, recording advertisements, and traveling the campaign trail, most federally elected politicians spend more time trying to win their seat than actually doing their jobs.

Imagine how much work you’d get done if you had to interview for your job every day. And now imagine that the person actually paying your wage didn’t want you to do that job at all:

7. Our Elected Officials Do Very Little

Elected officials who spend the majority of their hours campaigning and courting donors don’t have much time to get work done. Nor do they have much incentive to — in practice, their role is to represent the large corporations, weapons manufacturers, Silicon Valley start-ups, and investors who pay their bills, and serve as a stopgap when the public’s demands run afoul of those groups’ interests.

Perhaps that is why, as campaign seasons have gotten longer and more expensive and income inequality has grown more stark, our elected officials have become lean-out quiet quitters of historic proportions. The 118th Congress has so far been the least productive session on record, with only 82 laws having been passed in last two years out of the over 11,000 brought to the floor.

The Biden Administration has moved at a similarly glacial pace; aside from leaping for the phone when Israel calls requesting checking account transfers every two or three weeks, the executive-in-chief has done little but fumble at student loan relief and abortion protections, and bandied about banning TikTok.

The average age of American elected officials has been on a steady rise for some time now, with the obvious senility of figures like Biden, Mitch McConnell, and the late Diane Feinstein serving as the most obvious markers of the government’s stagnancy. Carting around a confused, ailing elderly person’s body around the halls of power like a decommissioned animatronic requires a depth of indifference to human suffering that few of us outside Washington can fathom. But more than that, it reflects a desperation for both parties to cling to what sources of influence and wealth they have. These aged figures are/were reliable simps for Blackstone, General Dynamics, Disney, and AIPAC, and their loyalty is worth far more than their cognitive capacity, or legislative productivity. Their job, in a very real sense, is to not do their job, and a beating-heart cadaver can do that just fine.

You can read the rest of the list for free (or have it narrated to you on the Substack app) at drdevonprice.substack.com!

[augustinewrites]

satoru bday fic! cw: suggestive

gojo thinks he should be nominated for boyfriend of the year.

not only had he managed to get the kids to school on time, pick up the groceries, get all his reports in to principal yaga, and clean the kitchen, but he’d managed to do it all while extremely hungover on his birthday. 

he’d even managed to do it all before you’d even gotten out of bed.

he doesn’t blame you for sleeping in. the impromptu birthday party he’d thrown had left you all in quite the state by the early hours of morning. you need the re—

“satoru! could you come in here for a second?”

“coming!” he calls back, shoving the coupon that’d fallen from shoko’s birthday card into his wallet before making his way to the bedroom. “hey, let’s get some frozen yogurt when the kids get ho— holy shit.”

your face breaks out into a grin of triumph at his sudden silence. gojo’s rightfully stunned, carefully studying each bit of revealing lace and the way it sits against your body before committing it to memory. 

“is that…”

“the set you had commissioned in paris,” you hum, nonchalant as you drag your fingertips up your hip. “that’s the one.”

he takes a few slow steps toward where you are and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, arousal warming his whole body. “but you said you’d never wear it because—”

“because i was saving it for something special,” you finish, leaning up and shifting towards him. “like your birthday.” 

“well,” he sighs as you close the distance between you. “i should unwrap my gift then.”

“please try not to tear it,” you murmur as his lips brush over your pulse. “i’d very much like to wear it again, and i, oh, i saw the charge on the credit card…”

his reply is no more than a distracted hum as you shift onto his lap, allowing curious hands to explore your body and hungry lips to move against yours. 

the lace is soft on your skin, his hands eagerly working to undo the ties holding up delicate florals and sheer material. 

“satoru, i need you.” your breath is warm against his skin, exciting him more as he goes to pull off garter belt.

“uh, babe?”

“hm?”

“how do you take this off?”

_____

“well, i connected it to this piece—”

“but we can’t take this piece off unless we take this one off too. that doesn’t make any sense.” 

“i’m telling you, that’s how i put it on.”

“then why won’t it come off?”

it’s then that gojo decides custom lingerie should come with instructions. when he’d designed it, he hadn’t actually considered the logistics of this operation.

“okay,” you huff, turning around and placing your hands on his shoulders. “you’re just going to have to tear it.”

“fine by me,” he grins, slightly smug as he curls his fingers around the expensive material and tears—

the two of you scramble up when the front door slams open. it’s in that moment you realize that satoru hadn’t closed the bedroom door. 

“mom!” you hear megumi shout, his stomps echoing through the apartment. “tsumiki ate one of my snacks!”

“shit, fuck.” cursing, you grab his discarded t-shirt and slip it on before jumping into bed. satoru slips in next to you, pulling the duvet up to your chins and pressing against you from behind.

“satoru!” you hiss when you feel something poke the back of your thigh. 

“we just made out for like ten minutes,” he whispers back, only pulling you closer. “you didn’t think i’d get one?”

“put it away!”

“i could, but—”

you manage to summon one of your divine dogs in time for it push the bedroom door closed, breathing a sigh of relief when the kid’s footsteps come to a halt. 

“we’ll be out in a second!” you call, hearing their hushed argument as they trudge back to the kitchen.

“i might need more than a second…”

you hit satoru in the face with a pillow. “you’ll get the rest of your birthday gift tonight, after you drop the kids off at nanami’s.

[petermorwood]

I have a sword question, if I may. Or more of a sword confusion Im seeking clarification on.

In my mind a fantasy european standard sword (that obviously doesnt really exist, but like, when a knight or someone in a story has an unspecified sword), I always imaged a straight blade with a triangular tip, both edges sharp cutting edges.

Then at some point I learned about eg scimitars that have a cutting edge and a ...blunt edge?

I was looking at your recent addition to the post about the Turkish sword, where you distinguish between an inner cutting edge on a sword v an outer cutting edge.

And then Im thinking of those enormous zweihander types that are all about momentum and do those even need a particularly sharp edge? They seem in dnd parlance to be a bludgeoning weapon not for slashing.

And while Im asking, like. Rapiers are very stabby weapons, do they have sharp edges at all or judt a sharp point?

I guess my overall question culminates something like "what parts of swords are designed for what damage and why? Is there anything all swords have other than blade and handle like can they all be used for stabbing or do some have very blunt points etc? Is it a big deal for a sword to be double-edged, does that necessitate specific training? Whats up with different sword blades?"

I realise thats a pretty enormous question that might be unreasonable to ask. Im happy with whstever response you are or arent willing to give. Hope you have a good day :)

Sharp edge / blunt edge is the setup on any kitchen or table knife you've ever encountered, and being able to put a hand on the blunt "edge" - usually called the back of the blade - not only helps when mincing herbs or garlic, but also features in some techniques of swordplay.

Other techniques employed non-blade parts of the weapon, using the pommel like a mace and the crossguard like a pick-axe.

*****

Whether swords should be straight or curved, single- or double-edged, was an argument which continued as recently as the early 1900s.

The last swords issued to cavalry for combat use (modern parade swords don't count) were both remarkably similar designs, straight-bladed for thrusting, adopted by the UK in 1908...

...and the US in 1913.

There was, of course, strong opposition from those who insisted cavalry swords should be sabres curve-bladed for cutting instead.

Equally of course, both sides failed to notice - or ignored, since a certain kind of cavalry officer was only bright as regards boots, buckles and buttons - the uncomfortable fact that machine-guns and repeating rifles had made the whole ta-ran-ta-rah "cut them down with your swords, men!" cavalry charge an exercise in futility.

*****

D&D, unless they've considerably upped their accuracy game, isn't much of a reference for weapon realism.

"Enormous Zweihanders" and other big swords such as the Montante were a lot lighter and more nimble than they'd seem from reading an encumbrance chart.

They had their own techniques to take best advantage of length, leverage and momentum and were indeed sharp. Given a choice between a sharp combat weapon and a blunt one, sharp makes far more sense.

In addition, a sharp blade is lighter than a blunt one simply through having less metal. It may only be a few grams of difference, but it IS a difference.

That's also the reason behind a fuller, the groove(s) along a blade.

They're not "blood gutters", tough and cool though that may sound, but a way to reduce a sword's weight while preventing its blade from getting excessively flexible.

Finally...

The re-enactor is wearing half-armour, but these big swords were also meant for use against unarmoured opponents. Bodyguards often carried them (they looked impressive) and those sweeping strokes could block an entire street while The Boss got away.

That's when an ability to cut rather than merely bludgeon makes all the difference. Determined assassins might try to rush a blunt sword, but a sharp one would give anyone second thoughts...

*****

Double-edged swords versus single-edged ones seem to vary depending on cultural preference - also on period of history and intended function.

Bronze Age European swords had straight or leaf-shaped blades with double edges...

...while Ancient Egypt had the curved, single-edged khopesh, a shape which also turned up in Ancient Assyria (this one's in the Metropolitan Museum, New York USA).

It's listed as a "sickle sword", an incorrect term which I wish would go away because sickles are sharp on the inside of the curve while swords like this - their grip-shape shows how they're meant to be held and swung - are sharp on the outside.

And just when "the Ancient Middle East used curved single-edge swords" looks like a handy generalisation, along come straight swords, one from Ancient Egypt...

...another from Luristan, now part of modern Iran.

This next one comes from Ancient Iberia (Spain), right at the other side of the Mediterranean. Evidence of trading links? Your guess is as good as mine.

Iberia went on to use the falcata, a short single-edged forward-curved sword.

Those extra bits round the blade are scabbard metalwork; the wood and leather scabbard is long gone. This repro shows how they would have looked when in place.

Iberia also used a straight double-edged sword which so impressed the Romans that they adopted it, refined it and used it for several centuries. Here's one of the several Roman versions of that gladius Hispaniensis (Spanish sword), double-edged, mostly meant for stabbing but capable of very effective cuts as well.

Here's my repro of a similar sword, the elegant "Mainz" pattern with its long point and waisted blade. Very pretty, and pretty wicked.

*****

"Curved single-edged swords are Eastern, straight double-edged swords are Western", is another generalisation that won't work.

Here are Eastern straight swords...

...and Western curved ones.

*****

Viking swords were all double-edged...

...except when they weren't.

*****

Many rapiers could cut. Smallswords, which came later, couldn't.

Earlier rapiers with broader blades cut better than later ones with narrow blades, but IIRC even the later Italian and Spanish rapier styles include cuts directed at the opponent's face and sword-arm.

I have a notion that the modern thing about cutting with rapiers is based (like back-carry) on seeing it done in movies. IMO - more about it here - that's actually more a modern stage-combat safety thing than a period real-combat move. A fumbled cut is bruising and unpleasant even with a "safe" prop sword, but a fumbled thrust into the eye-socket or throat with that same "safe" sword can be fatal.

Even those early rapiers wouldn't sever a head or limb - a finger maybe, hence the elaborate hand-protection of swept and cup hilts - but blood from a forehead wound running into the eyes was, and in boxing still is, an efficient way to finish a fight by ensuring the opponent can't continue. One of the duels in "The Duellists" ends this way.

This example is a bit optimistic, IMO...

...but a longsword (double-edged)...

...or a messer (single-edged)...

...was quite capable of disarming an opponent in a very literal way.

*****

Some swords had minimal points, being intended mostly for cutting. One example of this is the Indian khanda broadsword. The second example is also very clearly single-edged.

Another cut-only sword without a point (but with double edges) is the Richtschwert (justice sword)...

...though this was a single-function (and hopefully single-cut) tool rather than weapon, neither balanced for nor intended for combat.

Hope this has helped answer the questions!

[talekinesis]

I need Stan and Ford to see their mom again

Like let's say she's still alive and in her 80s, she's in a wheelchair (ambulatory, she has customized canes) she still lives in their old home because a part of her hoped Stanford would come back, and she didn't want to leave their home, so he'd know where to go back to.

She wanted to stay put in case Ford came back.

So imagine her shock when both her boys come back home to her

Obviously Stan immediately starts apologizing for faking his death, putting her through grief, her arranging and attending his funeral, but she stops him like "I'd much rather it be fake than real." That's her baby boy, back from the dead, something most people don't get, so to her it's a miracle.

Her Jersey accent is thick, and it actually brings out the twins' accents that had faded over time (Stan's sounds natural to him since he always retained it a little, but everyone finds it funny when Ford's accent comes back because he just doesn't seem like the type to speak like that)

THEY MOVE HER INTO THE SHACK

The boys wanna take care of their mama and keep her around since it's been so long, and Caryn is delighted to be moved out of a loud city with rough memories and into a quiet little town where the people are odd but nice. Ford and Stan both work together to make the Shack accessible for her. Ford actually sat in her wheelchair to test everything and make sure she could get around on her own.

They catch her up on everything, and at first they don't think she'll fully believe them but she's like "Stanford built an international portal and got lost for 30 years? Stanley took his place and turned his home into tourist trap? Yeah, that seems like something my boys would do."

When she learns Stan taught himself engineering to re-build the portal, she's obviously very proud of him. "You were never dumb, Stanley, ya just learned different. Honestly, I always thought ya had A-D-H-D but Pa never wanted ya tested. But look how smart and creative ya turned out, son! I think ya did good." And Stan is definitely not crying.

Personal headcanon: Caryn was also really smart and picked up on things quick. The boys had to have gotten it from somewhere, and it wasn't Filbrick. He just took the credit because 1) he was the worst, and 2) times were different back then and no one would have really taken her seriously. But she's the one who would fix things around the house since she taught herself how to keep the place together and running since Filbrick wouldn't pay anyone to come and repair anything.

Imagine little Stan standing behind her with a flashlight while she fixes the wiring in the wall because an outlet stopped working. Both of the boys helping her while she fixes the car for the third time that week because it keeps breaking down. Mama Pines taught herself how to keep things up and running because no one else would or could.

Caryn meets Mabel and Dipper when they come back in the summer, and Mabel is THRILLED

She's technically met them before but they were still newborns at the time so they don't remember her, and she hadn't gotten a chance to see who they'd become

Mabel makes her a sweater and she wears it with pride. And I really think it would go like that scene from Elemental

Caryn: You made this?

Mabel: Oh, yeah, it's nothing-

Caryn: Nothin? Babygirl, my designer dresses were made by 'nothin.' Oh sweetie, you have got to do somethin' with this skill. And to think, I have an original 'Mabel Pines.'

And don't think I'm leaving Dipper out of this, he gets his great-grandma's attention too. She loves talking to him and listening to him tell stories about the monsters they've encountered in the past. She sees a lot of Ford in him, but she also sees a lot of Stan in him in other ways.

I think Dipper's love for "girly" music is something Stan used to share before Filbrick "disciplined" him for it. Child Stan used to sit in the kitchen with his Ma and sing along to the radio, usually listening to whatever she had put on.

Now all three of them sit in the kitchen and listen to the radio while Stan cooks.

Ford feeling like a failure for putting everyone in danger, and Caryn just goes, "Come talk to your mama." And he does. He goes and talks to his mama, like he always has in the past. She's in her 80s and they're grown men in their late 50s, but she's still their mom, and you never really quit being a mom.

I might actually write a short fic about this, I love it so much.

[zara-renata]

Hi, I write fanfiction about Love and Deepspace. Currently Sylus-dominant (heh), although I love and appreciate most of the LIs. Full summaries and tags are in each link.

The Sylus series

Part 1 Alike and cornered beast, Sylus's POV | ao3

I was desperate for Sylus's point of view during the first time that MC meets him in the Alike and Cornered Beast chapters of Long-Awaited Revelry. I wanted to know why he touches MC so reverently but also quite brutally, so I spent a lot of time thinking about possibilities and this is the result.

Part 2 Roleplay, undercurrents, and rising curtain, Sylus's POV | ao3

MC has PTSD from chapter 4 (you know the one), and no one can convince me otherwise, so I re-wrote the auction bits from Sylus's POV to fix this grievous oversight, because I am also firmly convinced he is a champ at handling MC's trauma.

Part 3 No way out, revised | ao3

I thought that MC was too mean to Sylus in his 4 star No Way Out card, and I didn't like it, so I fixed it. I mean, I rewrote how it went like a proper rabid fan.

Part 4 Datura tea, or how all you want is to get some sleep | ao3

You're suffering from insomnia due to untreated PTSD (probably, I don't know, I'm not a doctor or a therapist) from your family getting, well, exploded, and the longer this goes on, the sloppier you become in combat and just existing, and a bad idea is born.

Part 5 Sylus gets a headache | ao3

Sylus has secured the promise from you that he can use your place as a safe house if he's in the area and needs it. Sylus's definition of "need", it turns out, might be different than your own, as illustrated by the first time he shows up unannounced at your door.

Part 6 Wine time with Sylus | ao3

Sylus invites himself over, helps himself to your first aid kit and your kitchen, manipulates you into tasting wine with him, discusses his latest business venture, and gifts you more than one present before he's good and ready to finally leave.

Part 7 Sylus's guide to hiring, or Wine time with Sylus: his POV | ao3

Sylus mulls over all the data he has managed to collect regarding his sweet little hunter so far, and spends some time considering mistakes he's made and his plans for the future. He also hires a new employee and is required to teach the twins to mind their manners in front of guests he's trying to intimidate.

Part 8 Not my type | ao3

Sylus pesters you on your day off while you're at the arcade until you agree to "lend your talents" to him for the evening. So of course you show up at the designated location only to discover it's a nightclub, and you're dressed for a murder, but not on the dance floor.

Control: a Sylus series interlude | ao3

You are feeling a bit depressed after completing a mission that didn't go 100% the way you wanted. Mephisto, and then Sylus, pay you a visit to cheer you up.

Part 10 Sylus makes a deal | ao3

Sylus answers some questions, receives dating advice from a dubious source, makes a deal you can't refuse, receives a birthday invitation, and plans to take you home for the night.

Part 11 Even the rocks on the roadside in the N109 Zone could tell | ao3

Sylus makes one final miscalculation. You wake up from a nightmare in a place you weren't ready to revisit. Sylus has to reckon with the inevitable consequences of how he treated you when you first met him, but you're paying the higher price.

Part 12 Even the rocks on the roadside - Sylus's POV | ao3

Sylus tries to get some paperwork done in his office while you sleep. He receives a call that turns his night upside down and makes him regret some strategic choices he's made up until this point in conquering your heart.

Part 13 Q&A with Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus cares for your injuries and feeds you a meal. After he shows you a part of his home that you didn't know existed, you finally ask him why he was so cruel to you when you first met him. Sylus does his best to answer with as much honesty as he can right now.

Part 14 How you learned to stop worrying and embrace Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus reveals his latest little plot and makes you an offer that you ultimately can't refuse. More lying around talking in different beds with Sylus Qin.

Part 15 The dream, the tie, the tour, the dream | ao3

You have a good dream, get a guided tour of Onychinus's base by the chaos twins, talk yourself into being sad again, and then have another good dream

Creature Feature with Sylus Qin | ao3

You and Sylus dress up for a Halloween gala. This is a short little Sylus series interlude, occurring after these idiots finally get together.

Part 16 The right hand, the left hand, the heart of Sylus Qin | ao3

Sylus meets with his legal counsel while the twins give you a tour of the base, you wake up from a dream, Sylus wastes some eggs, you attempt to get to know Sylus better, and you have your first 'date' with Sylus Qin.

Part 17 The pool | ao3

You dream, you do some art, you go for a swim, Sylus destroys part of his office, you discover the hot tub, you're close to catching a clue. A 'morning' in the life at Onychinus HQ.

One Shots

Sleepy time with Xavier | ao3

You suffer from chronic fatigue and worry that Xavier is only placating you when he says it's fine on the occasions you're too exhausted to follow through on plans together. On one such bad day, he reassures you in a way that you can no longer doubt.

[themintsimmer]

must have mini mods + cc for better gameplay | the sims 4 | all links for mods mentioned

hi tumblr! i have another video of mini mods and cc I've put in my game recently and wanted to share!

s/n: these mods and cc have been re-tested and survived today's patch! ♡

WATCH HERE

gameplay

reading while at table animation override by simkatu

make any desk a vanity by ravasheen

no ea makeup override by elliesimsworld

fenty beauty makeup override by myxdoll

simple selfie pose pack by circusjuney

make the bed mod by utopya

brand new bedsheets by llazyneiph

the appliance collection by bbygyal123

thee kitchen tablet by qmbibi

edible arrangements delivery by qmbibi

luxe gift box override by largetaytertots

passionate gifts mod (designer bag update) by utopya

martini collection by bbygyal123

ui mods

refreshed main menu by simsmatticaly

aesthetic font replacement by largetaytertots

cas tuning / overhaul by northern siberia winds

old moné cas background by largetaytertots

misc

simself outfit - ultra modern girl by coco games

simself hair - smooth medium hair by wingsims

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Gorgeous 1889 Queen Anne Victorian in Omaha, NE for under $500k. 7bds, 2.5ba, 3,656 sq ft, with central a/c, $430k.

Look at the floors- the entrance foyer looks like it has original tile, and the new wood flooring has inlaid around the perimeter. Plus, all the wood is natural - no paint-overs.

Look at the millwork on the stairs, the wainscoting, and built-in bench. The wood looks like it's been refurbished.

Cute small sitting area in the turret tower.

They decided to go with a dark theme, but the house gets plenty of light. Look at the re-done fireplace. Beautiful original design.

This is nice, the dining room has a door to the porch.

This room looks like a dining room, also. Maybe the other room is supposed to be the 2nd sitting room, but this room has the beautiful built-in cabinet and look at the original fireplace.

The kitchen has hi-end appliances, but hasn't been given one of the horrid modern remodels. It clearly has the original footprint of the room and minimal modernization.

It still has modern cabinetry, but they did their best to keep it as original as possible- they left the brick wall and stove pipe opening where the original stove was, and put in open top shelving. Look at the staff stairs on the left, too.

That looks like a refurbished original cabinet in the corner. I would definitely have to ditch the gray walls, though.

Love this original looking sink in the guest powder room.

Beautiful wainscoting and millwork going up the stairs.

They went full-on funky with this bedroom. Looks like an original light, though.

I wish they would've papered the whole feature wall in here. There's a nice curved wall and I guess the bed goes against the black wall w/the 2 light fixtures.

This nice, especially if you need an art studio.

Not bad, they did a vintage-y redo in here. So, it needs some wallpaper and decor.

This bedroom needs some floor work. I would sand and repaint it.

The other bath is smaller and all it needs is some decor.

Nice laundry space in the basement, but that's not the best part of the basement.

They made an exercise room, but still not the best part.

Check this out- with a little work, this can be the coolest mini theatre or TV room. A sunken cinema. And they left the old theater seating.

Look at all the wonderful porches. It definitely appears that there's a big unfinished attic w/the turret. What potential. Wish they would've at least shown it unfinished.

There's parking, but no garage. (Look at all the windows in the attic space, plus that turret.)

4,356 sq ft lot

https://www.redfin.com/NE/Omaha/3524-Hawthorne-Ave-68131/home/103522512

[miriellesandthegiantpeach]

Re-Do | Bucktommy

Buck and Tommy are standing just inside Harbor’s helicopter hangar. There’s a duffle bag in Tommy’s hand and Buck is looking pensively at the chopper waiting for Tommy. It feels eerily similar to standing outside the LAX terminal saying goodbye to Abby all those years ago. Even though Buck knows that Tommy isn’t leaving indefinitely; it’s just a special deployment to Vegas because there’s a wildfire that’s gotten out of hand. Two weeks tops, then I'll be back, you won’t even have time to miss me. Tommy said to Buck as they drove to the station.

“Baby? Did you hear me?” Tommy asks and Buck comes back to the present turning to Tommy.

“Huh? Sorry, I was lost in thought-” Buck sighs.

“Clearly,” Tommy laughs and grabs Buck’s hand. “I should be going, I’ll be home in no time, okay? Thanks for driving me.”

Dropping his shoulders in a slouch, Buck breathes out, “Yeah, yeah, okay.” He pulls Tommy in close by the hand to kiss him soundly. “Come back to me,” Buck whispers against Tommy’s lips.

“Always, baby.” Tommy smiles at his boyfriend and understands his worries - Buck is used to being left, but he also knows not to bring attention to it. “I’ll call when I land, okay?” Buck nods, there’s still tension in his brow. “Hey, I love you. Miss you already,” Tommy says and presses one more hard kiss to Buck’s lips.

“Love you too, be safe,” Buck smiles and Tommy makes his way to the chopper, his hand staying connected to Tommy’s as long as possible.

Stuck in horrendous LA rush hour traffic, Buck gets a call from Tommy just over an hour after leaving him at Harbor. “Hey, babe. You landed already? That was fast. I’m still stuck on the 5.”

“Oh yeah, the perks of having access to a helicopter. Just touched down at the Vegas airport. That giant LED sphere thing freaks me out. It has a face on it and its eyes followed my helicopter as I flew by. Did you see the picture I sent?” Buck sneaks a peek at his phone and sees a picture of the giant dome on the strip from Tommy’s point of view, and sure enough the eyes of the face were looking straight up at Tommy’s chopper.

“It knew you were flying and wanted to get a good look at the hot pilot,” Buck laughs and Tommy scoffs.

“I don’t like it,” Tommy says, totally deadpan. “Huh? Yeah, my boyfriend,” Tommy says to someone else and it still makes Buck’s heart flutter hearing the designation coming from Tommy so casually. “Garcia says hi,” Tommy turns his attention back to Buck. “I’ll text later, just letting you know I landed safely, don’t miss me too much.”

“You know I will,” Buck says, putting on a whiney voice. “Talk soon, baby.” He hangs up the phone with Tommy and feels lighter.

Tommy was right, Buck didn’t have time to miss him between work and taking up Maddie on babysitting requests. Also Tommy is in constant communication with him; they text more often than when Tommy’s home. Tommy texts him updates on containment of the fire and silly selfies and Buck will send pictures of him and Jee doing various things like tea parties or coloring.

Ten days in, Buck is at the station fresh off the phone with Tommy. “How’s that Vegas fire?” Bobby asks.

“It’s about 70% contained so they’ll be releasing the out of state firefighters first," Buck says, unable to contain his giddy smile.

Buck is still looking down at his phone so he doesn’t catch Bobby’s knowing smile. Tommy called Bobby about two hours ago saying he’s on his way back and wants to surprise Buck at the station so don’t tell him.

Bobby checks his phone, seeing a message from Tommy that he’s five minutes away.

Still here, Bobby texts back, willing the alarm not to go off. They’re all up in the kitchen relaxing. When the five minutes pass Bobby goes to the railing and looks down and sees Tommy walk into the open garage. He immediately spots Bobby and gives him a two fingered salute.

“Hey, Buck seems like you have a visitor,” Bobby shouts over to Buck standing at the sink. Buck perks up and jogs over next to Bobby and honest to god gasps when he sees Tommy downstairs. He flies down the stairs, taking them two at a time like he can’t get to Tommy fast enough. “Oh my god, you’re here! I thought you’d said at least one more day!” Tommy catches Buck in his arms and stumbles a few steps with the momentum.

“Well you said come back to you, so I asked to be released early and they let me go,” Tommy says laughing into Buck’s neck.

The smell and feel of Tommy’s arms locked around him makes Buck feel at home, feel more grounded. With an arm locked around Tommy’s neck, Buck kisses him a little less chaste than probably appropriate for being at work, but he hasn’t kissed Tommy in ten days and needs to make up for lost time.

They break apart and Buck rubs his nose against Tommy’s smiling until his cheeks hurt. “Come up upstairs, everyone’s here, at least until the next call,” Buck says and pulls Tommy up the stairs by the hand.

Tommy settles on a barstool at the kitchen island and tells everyone about the job in Vegas; recounts all the exciting bits with enthusiasm. All the while one arm securely wrapped around Buck’s waist and gesturing with the other. Buck’s eyes never leave Tommy and his smile never falters, asking questions that spark more details and exciting moments of the trip.

“It’s been almost nine months and they still look like they're in the honeymoon phase,” Hen notes to Chim.

“That’s what happens when you find your person. Trust me I’m sure I look like that with Maddie and you look at Karen like that too,” Chim remarks. He discreetly snaps a candid photo of them and sends it to Maddie. Guess who’s back early, he texts the photo to Maddie.

***

Buck’s sits heavily on the couch- today was a long day to say the least. A call came in at 3am, on his 21st hour of his shift and as he was lowering himself down on a rope he slipped and grabbed the rope at the exact wrong time, dislocating his right shoulder. He screamed out in the white hot flash of pain and fell until the harness caught him. They used one of the ambulances to transport him to the emergency room.

Two hours later Tommy escorts him from the car into his house and onto the couch. Buck’s arm is in a sling and even with the pain meds the pain still radiates from his shoulder. Buck groans and leans his head back on the couch, just another injury that will put him out of work. His mind flashbacks to his whole leg in a cast and him being couch-ridden as Ali told him she can’t handle the risk his job comes with.

As he’s spiraling Tommy comes into the living room with a mug of hot tea for Buck. “Pain that bad, baby? You look miserable right now. I thought they gave you a good dose before we left.”

Realizing that his face is being way too loud at the moment, Buck softens his brow and opens his eyes. “Oh no, it’s dulled pretty good, I was just thinking about- you know what it’s dumb. Forget it,” he sighs and drags a hand down his face. Tommy sets the tea down and sits next to Evan on the couch, lining up their legs.

“Hey, whatever it is, it’s not dumb. However big or small, I wanna know what’s going on,” Tommy says to him and waits patiently for whatever Evan is willing to divulge.

”I- uh. It’s just, remember Ali? I was with her when the ladder truck fell on my leg, scared the shit out of her apparently and the day I got home from the hospital she broke up with me. She couldn’t handle the stress and worry that comes with the job,” Buck explains. He reaches for the tea just to keep his attention on something other than Tommy for a moment.

“I see. And I’m guessing this situation reminds you of that?” Tommy asks and Buck nods minutely. “Well, I hope you know I’m not going anywhere. I hate to see you hurt of course, but the nice thing is I know exactly what the risks are. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve dislocated something.” Buck finally meets Tommy’s eyes and sees a ghost of a smile on his lips. Something about Tommy’s unwavering steadiness and calm washes away any doubt Buck has.

Three days later Tommy catches Buck rubbing at the unkept beard coming in on his jaw. He wraps around Buck and quietly asks, “getting a little scruffy, I kind of like actually.” Buck laughs at that and reaches for his electric razor. The weight feels awkward in his left hand.

“It gets itchy like this,” Buck notes and frowns at the razor. Tommy releases him and opens the medicine cabinet and takes out a regular metal razor and shaving cream.

“Let me,” he says and maneuvers Buck so he’s turned around and leaning against the sink. Tommy spreads the foam gently and meticulously along Buck’s jaw, mouth, and chin. “The old fashioned way- always gets a closer shave,” Tommy says barely above a whisper.

There’s something so intimate about Tommy shaving him. Maybe it’s the way Tommy’s thumb and forefinger holding his chin, or the way his eyes are zeroed in on the path of the razor scraping down Buck’s cheek, or the way his eyes flick to Buck’s and causes him to smile or wink. It’s a simple act that makes Buck feel so precious in Tommy’s hands. Maybe he can stand the sling for a little while longer.

***

”Fuck him, Fuck him,” Buck spits out as he paces around Tommy’s kitchen. “That motherfucker thinks he’s above human decency!”

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Tommy says calmly despite the rising anger in his chest. He’s never surprised now about Gerrard’s new slight, but wishes he could shield Buck and 118 from that.

“It isn’t anything that can be reported really, it’s all the microaggressions, all his fucking snide ass comments. It just gets under my skin and makes me hate work,” Buck sits heavily at the island and groans into his hands. “I feel like he singles me out because he knows you and I are together. All these homophobic-adjacent comments, like he wants to rile me up and just UGH. Fuck him.”

Tommy hates Gerrard, but even more hates that he’s making his boyfriend miserable. An idea comes to him.

“I‘ll talk to the fire chief, remind him why Gerrard got transferred out of the 118 in the first place,” Tommy suggests. Buck looks up in a panic.

“No-no, that’ll only make things worse, you know how long these complaints take to actually make a difference. Once Gerrard gets wind of the complaints, he’ll get even worse,” Buck rushes out.

“Babe, if there’s a way I could help I want to, I can’t just stand on the sidelines while he’s making your life hell,” Tommy tries.

Buck stands and walks to the other side of the counter and smooths his hands along Tommy’s shoulders, seeing the tension release. They’re silent for a few minutes, searching each other’s eyes, trying their best to communicate all their worries and needs.

“Don’t,” Buck says with finality. Tommy huffs and presses his mouth into a thin line. “I know you want to fix this, but I don’t want you involved with him. Again. So, I’m asking you to keep this here.”

“Okay,” Tommy says with a nod and a squeeze to Buck’s waist. Buck thanks him with a kiss to the nose.

A week or so later Buck walks through the door exhausted and irritable. He’s making it a regular habit of going straight to Tommy’s after work because he needs the comfort of his boyfriend.

Tommy envelopes him in a tight hug, “I can guess, but how was work?”

“Shitty is the new normal. Gerrard will never change and I have to just get through it. At least everyone else hates him too,” Buck mumbles into the soft fabric of Tommy’s t-shirt.

“Ah yes, nothing like strengthening a bond by the power of collective disdain,” Tommy replies scratching down Buck’s back making him hum in response.

Buck realizes that nothing has changed since his last rant about Gerrard to Tommy and leans back to look at Tommy’s face inquisitively.

“Nothing’s changed,” Buck says. “You didn’t do anything.” At first Tommy’s confused but he remembers the conversation they had.

“I didn’t. You asked me not to. Did you think I’d go behind your back?”

You asked me not to. Like it was simple, like Tommy didn’t need clarification or a deeper reason. Just because he asked Tommy not to do something, he didn’t.

“I-I, I’m just surprised I guess? So many people think they know what’s best for me and go around me to do what they think is right despite what I’ve said.” Buck looks shocked but pleased. Tommy just smiles at him,

“I can’t speak for everyone, Evan, but I trust you. You know what you’re doing. Yes I always want to help and be there for you, but I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. And I love you very much because of that.” Tommy pecks Buck’s lips.

“And I love you for listening and taking my word for it,” Buck grins, knowing that with Tommy he’s on equal ground. The irritation of the day is completely melted away and forgotten. Buck slides his hands up Tommy’s chest and shoulders to clasp his hands around the back of his neck.

”Now do you wanna listen to what I’m thinking about doing to you to let off some steam?” Buck quirks his left eyebrow and bites his lip, knowing Tommy’s eyes will follow.

Tommy leans in and noses along the jut of Buck’s jaw and says into his ear, “all ears, baby.”

[mazikeenhyde]

Oh Baby, Pain is Pleasure - Part 3

POLY JUDGMENT DAY X READER (WRESTLER) 

Y/W/N – Your Wrestling Name 

Y/W/N/F – Your Wrestling Name Finisher

WARNING – THESE WARNINGS COVER ALL PARTS OF THIS FICTION- THEY MAY NOT BE SPECIFIC TO THIS PARTICULAR PART!- 

SMUT,  GIRL X GIRL, MAN X MAN, POLY RELATIONSHIPS/SEXUAL, BDSM, BLOOD, SPANKING, VIOLENT REFRENCES, INJURY, ABUSE (CONSENTUAL) CHEATING, STALKERS/ STALKING

I’m going to apologize to you all now, and prewarn you in advance, this is an absolute rollercoaster of a storyline! Shits about to get REAL messy! 

TAG LIST - @babybatlover

Oh Baby…Pain is Pleasure – Part 3

Late afternoon had seen the sun burn the remainder of the clouds from the sky, leaving a beautiful blue horizon view from across the backyard. Flocks of birds gathered as they headed over the break line, waving in and out of the smoke coming from our BBQ pit. 

I sat, gently rocking my feet back and forth on the chair egg swing we had attached to one of the older grand oak trees in our yard. It was all I had wanted when we moved in, somewhere calm and content where I could just exist. Enjoy my time, enjoy my life, and admire the world around me. Ponder life’s big questions… 

‘LOCKER WITNESSES’ 

I re read that message repeatedly in my mind, who was it from? witnessed what? 

I had deleted the other text from my phone, I wasn’t going down that road. 

The sounds of two men’s deep voices bought me back, looking over to my lovers I could see Finn & Damien adorned in their matching ‘TOP CHEF’ aprons and cooking utensils with a beer in hand, either chatting away or debating about how best to cook the chicken. 

Whilst further down on the sun loungers, Rhea had stripped down to one of her thin black bikinis with the metal skull clip fastenings, she was catching the last of the sunrays to her already perfect Sunkissed skin.  Christ, how did I get so lucky as to be a part of this incredible love…. Pentagon? It’s a five-way love triangle, let’s leave it at that.

When we had been initially searching for a house to buy, one to really call home that is; we had all had something in mind we desperately wanted as a feature. We knew it needed to be a big house, one with a master bedroom where we could assemble out two King size beds that had been custom made to attach in the middle, I cannot begin to tell you how comfortable and comforting it is being held close and safe by the four people you love more than anything in the world. 

The guilt though…

Still, obviously Rhea & Finn were dead set on having a large garage/ open internal space to set up the home gym. Of course, whilst on the road we still used a lot of public gyms and one-off hotel workout rooms here and there, but when we are at home, in each other’s company, away from the world, the fans, all that attention. It is so lovely knowing we don’t have to leave our little safe haven.

Damian had specifically made it clear he wanted a huge kitchen, open planned that backed into a dinning area. When we moved in, he had taken the time to build up a barista style coffee corner and a breakfast station on the central island. Then with Finn’s help, they worked on a D.I.Y project together to design and create a full bar set up next to the table and chairs where we ate. They had eventually given in and allowed Dom to help with the painting of the bar, because he wanted to be a ‘DIY Man’ too. 

The boys always referred to it as the lad’s corner, a custom-built wooden bar that was painted a deep tranquil green and black with illuminated LED letters on the wall; ‘ALL RISE, ALL DRINK’.   That however did not stop Rhea and I from emptying some of those back bar bottles on one of many messy nights! For some reason, whenever Rhea breaks out the Tequila, we always end up playing strip twister… Odd. 

Dominick, of course… wanted a gaming room. Not just any gaming room mind you, a ‘Mens” gaming room. 

*Sigh* 

Problem is he is just so adorable at times, and we all give in, he had been granted his request of course! Although Priest put his foot down when Dom had asked for an indoor arcade style basketball hoop game, he was allowed a hoop outside but that was it. We had all seen enough broken windows during the season when Finn had tried to teach Damien and Dominick how to play golf. 

It still makes me laugh when the boys talk about how they would feel guilty that they were off spending time together, while Rhea and I would miss out? Ha. Little did they know when they buggered off to do ‘man’s stuff’ we girls would high tail it upstairs to the family bathroom and strip off into the bathtub for some… girl’s time. *Wink Wink* 

I remember one morning; Rhea and I were standing in the arched doorway at the crack of dawn waving the boys off as they set out on an early start to play a full days Golf. Leaning into her chest I rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes as she bent her head down and nuzzled her lips into the crook of my neck. 

“I tell you now Y/N, I would rather run the risk of drowning when we get in that bathtub, and I bury my face deep in your pussy… then stand in a damp field hitting a stick at a ball.” Her teeth nipped at the skin of my ear lobe and my entire body melted at her touch. 

Christ the things that woman does to me. 

A loud crash had bought me back to reality, Dom had been trying to carry a tray of drinks out to the garden for us all but had tripped over some excess weigh plates we had left outside, sending the poor lad flying arse over tit. 

“Shit! God damn it, ow fuck!” Dom pulled himself up to his knees, swiping the drinks tray away in frustration before noticing blood trickling down his arm from the glasses that he had smashed across the decking. He was quick to freeze, unable to process what to do next or how to stand up safely. 

Rhea was quick to make her way over to him from the sun lounger, followed by Damian who handed Finn his spatula and beer before rushing over to help the poor lad. 

I know, I know I should have been focused on the fact that the boy I loved so much needed some help, some TLC, compassion, and support… 

But I am only human. 

And Rhea Bloody Ripley…. 

Running….

In a mini black laced bikini…

Slightly wet from the heat of the sun touching her skin, God how she glistened. How she got my motor running and…

Finn had noticed my distraction and whistled loudly, gathering my attention. 

“Aye! Lass, enough of that! Go... Take a lap!” He gestured, pointing to the end of the field in our garden. The yard stretched about 1/4 of a mile down and was cut off by the woodland. One of my favorite things about this house was the nature that came with it. It all felt so…natural and back down to earth compared to the chaos and mayhem at WWE. 

Pointing his BBQ tongs and Damian’s spatula at me, Finn raised his eyebrow. 

“No distractions, ya hear!” 

I tried not to laugh at his remark, turning my face away to hide my snicker and rolling my eyes. I was still wearing my gym gear from before; except I had nabbed one of Dominick’s merch shirts on the way to the garden from the drying rack, I was self-conscious about my stomach, and I liked to hide my body where I could. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?!” Finn sternly questioned me as he put the utensils down. 

At this point Rhea was taking Dom inside through the double doors, whilst Damian stood back up and turned in my direction. 

Fuck… they are hot when they get all dominant. 

“Mi Vida, did you roll your eyes?” Damian’s words were colder, flat, and prominent. I could tell he was almost looking for a reason to get me upstairs into the bedroom. Christ I was half tempted to give him a solid reason. 

Put me across your lap Papa Priest, let me feel the strength between your thighs and lay it into me Goddamn it! 

The devil on my shoulder sang its heart out at the idea, but I remembered earlier when Finn has spun the actions back against me. Leaving me alone and sexually frustrated I thought better of the situation. 

“Me? I would never…” I said quite obnoxious/sarcastically and smiled that cheeky brat look at them before hopping up off the tree swing. I could see Damian trying not to break or give in… but a slight smirk crept into the corner of his lips.  

“I’m going to take a lap!” I stated and grinned before making a run for it, heading down and out of sight from the lads. I had a much better plan in mind to deal with my frustrations when I got in the shower later anyway. 

I was out of breath by the time I got back towards our street, less than a ¼ mile to go! I had decided to go for a proper run to clear my mind. A good few miles should do the trick, that’s what Rhea always said! With my headphones in and a decent playlist on, nothing was going to stop me! 

One foot after another I pressed on, sweat dripping down my neck I desperately tried to Shake off all that nervous energy I had built up now that WrestleMania was less than 2 weeks away. I had been on edge at times, and it showed when I trained in the ring with Rhea and Dom. Running back-to-back moves, counters, pins, and submissions, it was like every time I thought I had learnt it someone would come along and wipe my slate clean, and I knew nothing again. 

Maybe I wasn’t ready to be a champion? 

Maybe I was out of my depth? 

Rhea should be in this match not me. 

Me? Y/W/N? Was I really cut out to be a champion? 

I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket as I continued running. I tried looking at my smart watch as I ran, though it was tricky to focus on a smaller screen. 

I could see a couple messages from Finn stating the food was ready, one from Damian also telling me the food was ready, one from Dom telling me he was going to eat my hot dog if I didn’t hurry up and one from Rhea telling me she wasn’t going to let Dom touch my food. 

Honestly this lot, I love them so much. 

Turning into our street I could see our house gate entrance just up the hill, with a little spring in my step I pushed on feeling like I was picking up speed. I felt energized, I felt incredible, maybe I could do this after all! 

With the gate just in reach and the sweet smokey smell of the BBQ lingering in the air I put my head down to push those least few feet… 

But within a split second I felt something behind me. 

The music cut out as my headphones were launched to the floor and my arms locked in tight by a strength I hadn’t ever had to match. Kicking my legs out I felt them rise off the floor and before I could even fathom the mental capacity to make a sound the feeling of sticky back plastic tape suckered its way in across my lips. My eyes pooled up as the bag went over my head and my vision became darkness. A hard and cold metal floor was met with my body weight as I was hurled inside, my heart beating out of my chest the fear became all too real as I felt the ground under move away at speed. 

A hot breath came down my neck, raising every last hair on my skin to react. The voice was muffled, as if speaking through a mask. 

“You did this Y/N…” 

“You did this… and now you cannot handle the monster you created.” 

The silence in between each word was deafening, but it was the next voice that bought the fear of God into my soul. 

“ Told you I’d find you...miss me?” 

TO BE CONTINUED

[tojisun]

so a few months ago, i saw on instagram reel of a dude learning how do his gf's nails so that she doesnt spend lots of money. I cant stop thinking of simon who does bimbo!reader nails.

NAWW THATS SO CUTE :(( he gets so focus and fixated that it confuses bimbo!reader a bit because simon’s being so secretive but she leaves him be because she knows simon’s going to come to her when he’s ready with whatever he’s doing anyway.

he uses the tf141 as practice dummy and they reluctantly let him because, hey, simon has finally got a civilian interest and hobby. of course they’d help cultivate this.

soap gets all the bling (they’re pasted with no symmetry or a singular vibe), gaz is sporting an attempt at french tips but the white polish is smeared all over the place, while price has those pearly-sheen nails.

they’re all so focused that they forgot that they were visiting today to surprise you so when you came home, you get so confused at seeing the mini-manicure sesh that’s going on. but then you see how messy their sets are so you offered to re-do them. “simmy, you too!”

simon blinks. “…you know how to do your nails?”

“yup! i didn’t wanna spend so much money to get them done,” you say, smiling at him. “oh! but when i want specific designs, that’s when i get them done but patty gives me a discount, so…!”

johnny has to smother his wheezing behind his palm because holy fuck. their lieutenant’s attempt to woo you is thwarted–

fuck, this is too funny.

“oh,” simon murmurs. “of course, sweets. that’s great.”

your eyes furrow at his response, cataloguing the way he’s staring at you with a little—no amount of simon denying this later can make it untrue—pout. you run the conversation in your head, noting the dips in his voice, the wrinkles on his forehead.

wait-

oh.

oh!

“baby!” is all what they hear before you’re launching yourself to him. simon easily catches you, of course, and you chuckle when he fixes you on top of his lap so you can rest comfortably.

“thank you,” you coo before tapping the tip of his nose in a boop, akin to the ones you always give mittens. “i can teach you, if you want?”

simon’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, his face breaking into something soft. “i’d love that.”

…his squad doesn’t get to escape faster so there you all are, in your impromptu station, re-doing their nails with ease. they are amazed at how delicate and beautiful you’ve fixed simon’s messy attempts, their new sets shimmering like they’re bought.

(simon only gets a gel manicure of pure black polish with little halo stars.

“hey, no fair that LT’s the only one with practical nails!” johnny whines, waving his hand, therefore also his long nails, around in emphasis.

you stick your tongue out at him. “i’m matching dick grabbers with my man so of course i’d make his different.”

kyle chokes, john’s already standing up to disappear into the kitchen, and simon sighs. all the while, johnny freezes, head tilting.

“dick what–”

im sorry for how late this is :(( hope the lil blurb is oki for u <33 it made me laugh sooo much bc its so cute ughhh i love them

[mangosrar]

call it what you want pt4.

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

“i mean what even is that” you said looking at chris while taking a bite of your burger, flailing your free hand around in utter confusion.

“you’re thinking too deep into it y/n he’s just fucking with you, he does it to us all the time you know this” he replied, chewing on some fries

“oh your brother pulls you into a closet and kisses your neck?” you laughed, looking at him with a cheesy grin.

“not exactly but he’s just trying to get under your skin…or maybe just under you” he said giggling and dodging the punch you sent him.

you just rolled your eyes and tried to hide your smile.

“but in all seriousness, kid probably smoked too much weed and started bugging, don’t get in your head about it” he told you, nudging you with his elbow, attempting to settle you.

that’s what you loved about having chris as a best friend. he always knew how to put you at ease. like now, after you straight up dragged him out of class and forced him to drive you to mcdonald’s, just so you could rage about his brother, he still somehow knew exactly what to say.

“do your parents know yet?” he asked, looking at you with a worried expression.

“i haven’t told them but, caden saw us this morning and when you’re the favourite child desperate for mommy and daddy to hate your sister, word travels fast” you replied, nodding your head as you spoke.

he just hummed in agreement, as you both continues to eat, basking in a comfortable silence.

you never really understood how matt was the way he was, when his brothers were so great. you always wondered what matt would be like if things were different. would you be as close as you are with nick? would he be able to make you laugh like chris does? or would you still hate the bones of him?

-

“chris bring me a drink” you shouted from the living room, as you cuddled up on the couch with a blanket, waiting to start the movie.

“do we have to watch this?” chris whined, padding over to you with a bottle of water in his hand for you.

“yes we have to watch this, it’s the best coming of age movie ever” you replied, taking the bottle of water from him and watching as he slumped down on the couch, huffing as you pressed play, and the movie began.

“i hate this movie” he muttered, crossing his arms, like a grumpy child. you just laughed at him before a voice appeared behind you.

“what movie?”

it was like he was always somehow creeping up on you, ready to pounce at any moment.

“the breakfast club” chris tensed up, not bothering to look back at his brother, instead keeping his eyes trained on the tv.

you weren’t sure if he was miraculously interested in the movie, or if he was too scared to look up, in fear your gaze might catch his and kill him instead of matt.

“and what the fuck are you doing here?” matt said turning to you, with furrowed brows.

“oh did you not notice? i’m re designing your living room. what the fuck does it look like i’m doing ass hat” you scoffed, turning your eyes away from him and back to the tv.

“so hostile y/n” matt tutted sarcastically before sauntering off into the kitchen. god how you just wanted to grab his face and-

“y/n!?” chris yelled snapping you out of whatever daze matt had managed to get you in. you hadn’t even realised that you were watching him.

“you’re staring” he spoke quietly in a sing song voice, smirking at you while wiggling his eyebrows.

you just swatted his arm before muttering a quick “shut up”. was it that obvious?

-

9pm rolled around fast, and before you knew it, chris was pulling up in your drive way.

“hey let me know how it goes in there” he said as you got out of the car, referring to your parents.

you just smiled, thanked him before closing the door and making your way in the house.

the thing was, you had great parents, but boy were they strict. they had rules for everything. no parties, no drugs, no boys, no skipping school, no staying out past 10, no grades below a B, the list went on and on. the only time the rules were let a little loose was when you came home with elija whitlock.

if your parents wanted you to be with anyone it was that man. he was your ex boyfriend of 8 months, and your parents worshipped the ground he walked on. he was smart and funny, came from a good family, he was well respected, and had a first class scholarship to the top college in boston. what more could they want for their little girl?

but in reality he was a complete and utter jackass. he was the most generic, stereo typical, fuck boy, captain of the hockey team, jock who partied, smoked and cheated behind closed doors.

everyone wanted him, and some how he landed the good girl with parents who would choke at the sight of a tattoo.

but all good things must come to an end, and after months of cheating, lying and borderline torture, you called it quits. you dumped his ass and left him in the dirt. it was like all hell had broke loose. everyone in the school had heard about it, but it hit you pretty hard.

although he was a complete douche bag and treated you like shit, he was your boyfriend and you loved him regardless, wether it was one sided or not. but no one loved him more than your straight line down, watching paint dry parents.

“you’re home late”

his voice made you jump as you placed your foot on the bottom step of the stairs, closing your eyes and scrunching your face up before turning around to face him. you had almost made it. almost.

“yeah, chris drove me home” you spoke quietly, before clearing ur throat.

“mhh. have fun?” your dad asked while looking at you and standing up, putting his hands in his pockets.

“yeah we just watched a movie” you replied. swapping from one foot to the other, like a nervous child.

“was matthew there?” shit.

“um, no he-“ you began.

“don’t even try and lie to me y/n because i already know” he cut you off. his face was hard as he stared at you from across the room.

you just swallowed and looked down.

“what has gotten into you? he’s not a good kid y/n and you know it. he drinks, he smokes and you know what? you will follow in his footsteps” he paused, pointing a finger at you, jabbing it in the air as he spoke. “i’ve seen it happen before, one week you’re fine, the next you’re on drugs, getting in the back of a police car” he nodded

“what are you even saying dad? that’s never going to happen!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms up by your sides and letting them fall again.

you weren’t sure why, but your mom had been oddly silent this whole time. usually she loved giving her 2 cents on things like this. but she hadn’t even looked at you yet.

“does he play sports?” your dad asked, raising his eyebrows.

“yes he’s on the hockey team, the same as caden” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

there was a brief moment of silence, your dad rubbing chin, like he was deep in thought and your mom looking at whatever book she was reading, like this conversation wasn’t even happening.

“the same as elijah” there was that 2 cents.

“fantastic observation mom. yes he’s on the same team as elijah, are we pointing out any other obvious facts that we’re all aware of or just that one?” you snapped, cocking your head in her direction.

she turned to look at you with her eyebrows raised as if to say “excuse me”, making you feel small.

“we’re looking out for you, he’s a bad influence y/n” she stated.

“you don’t even know him” you spoke quietly. this whole interaction made you feel a little stupid, they were completely right, but for the sake of your fake relationship, you had to fight your corner.

“no but i know he liked to drag you into janitors closets to do god knows what” she smiled sarcastically, looking back down at the book in her lap. and as if on cue, that shit eating, vile little creature you call a brother appeared in the doorway.

“snitch” you spat at him. he just frowned and placed his hand over his heart, in fake sadness.

“hey! he’s looking out for you, like we all are” your dad spoke, sending you a authoritative look. you weren’t actually sure you had the brain power or energy to entertain this conversation much longer, you were never going to win. between your parents and your brother, you were toast.

“whatever. can i go now?” you sassed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“don’t let me catch you in any closets, up to no good” your mom demanded. you just rolled your eyes and stomped up the stairs.

although that whole lecture was soul sucking, there was a small part of you that wanted to jump for fucking joy, purely for the fact that matt sturniolo was your long haired tattooed, weed smoking, fake boyfriend.

i message.

chris 🤓

y/n: parents flipped. they think i’m gonna be arrested🥳

chris: i can’t tell if thats a good or bad thing

y/n: time will tell. elijah was brought up

chris: should have known. your parents think the sun shines out of that dudes ass

y/n: trust me i know

chris: want me to tell matt?

y/n: na it’s cool i’ll tell him

chris: gotcha

matt 🖕

y/n: you didn’t tell me my brother saw us today?

matt: i forgot your dumb and can’t read context clues

y/n: oh so pulling me into a closet kissing my neck are context clues? makes sense matt good job!!!!!!!!

matt: i had to keep up the act or he would know it’s fake.

y/n: wow. i wasn’t aware caden could see through walls😱

matt: don’t act like you weren’t enjoying it.

y/n: i think having needles in my eyes would have been a better experience. nice try tho !

matt: whatever helps u sleep at night sweetheart.

ass hole.

——————————————————————————

taglist: @christinarowie332 @jenna0rtegaswife @mattswifue @chrisenthusiast @mattslolita @secret-sturniolo @gloomymatt @urfavstromboli @gwenlore @mattestrella @iloveneilperry @ifilwtmfc @iammattsturniolo @sturniolos4lifee @honestlybabymiracle @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @kasiaslayuje @blondiesjailer @crazycoka @honestlybabymiracle @morgannmay @megamia44