#like id love to do walks or picnics but its cold as fuck and i dont live in dublin so its like fifteen euro just to even get there

[yourcomputerr]

how do you even text people

[kyotarou]

practicality

Inspired by @iwaixiumi-main on Tumblr! (using your quirk for the first time headcanons)

characters: katsuki bakugou

plot: you’ve only used your quirk in front of your friends for fun little tricks, but never at its full potential. your classmates witness this for the first time when katuski bakugou hits a nerve.

warnings: swearing, angst, dedgration (not sexual), kind of a fluffy ending

word count: 1.5k+

a/n: i apologize for making kirishima the secondary love interest that gets thrown away at the end for the second time 💀💀 i promise i’ll write smt just for him 😩

Your Quirk: You have the ability to control any water around you. When under your control, the water can become as strong as iron (you determine the strength). The downside: the more you use, the heavier it feels—use too much and you could injure yourself from the weight (possibly even crushing yourself).

   Your classmates had seen your Quirk in action many times before, mainly for fun, but never during combat. You knew water wasn’t accessible in every situation, so you stuck with fist to fist action. After exam season, it surprised you to find your name on the list of students with top scores, especially on the combat portion since you barely used your Quirk. Nevertheless, a large weight was lifted from your shoulders.

     Denki and Kirishima invited all of Class 1-A to the beach to celebrate. You brought your bag inside one of the stalls, taking your sweet time to change. It was the weekend, after all, no need to rush. Worn out from exams, you planned on using the day to relax, unlike your classmates who buzzed with energy. Your plan was foiled when Kirishima caught you tiptoeing out the changing stall, hoping no one would spot you.

     “Hey hey hey, (Y/N)!” Kirishima slung his arm around your shoulders. “You ready to hit the waves with us? Maybe you can finally show us your Quirk!”

     You shook your head with a small laugh. “Come on, Kiri, you’ve seen it before.”

     Kirishima led you towards the shore. “Yeah, yeah, but I wanna see how manly it can be!”

     You pushed him off with another laugh which turned into a scream when he shoved you into the water. “Oh, you are not getting away with that!” 

     As Kirishima tried to run, tendrils of water wrapped around his ankles, keeping him grounded. He tried using his Quirk to escape, but you were stronger. You and Kiri spent the next few minutes stuck in a splash battle, which gained the attention of the others. Though you wanted good old-fashioned fun without your Quirk, the rest of the class encouraged you to show your best tricks, and their jubilant faces made it hard to refuse. You sent waves crashing at their feet to see who could run away the fastest, played volleyball with a bubble of water with Uraraka, and even swam out to the deeper parts of the beach with Kiri who was starstruck when you created air bubbles around your heads, letting you safely view the fish that swam by. 

     On the shore, Bakugou watched with steam coming out his ears. He gritted his teeth as you and Kirishima sat beside him at the picnic table, Kiri’s arm wrapped around your shivering body as the sun began to set. Jealousy nipped at his skin like harsh bug bites.

   Why should I give a fuck? Not like I’m into them or anything.

   But he knew damn well he wanted it to be his arms around you and the one to brush the wet hair out of your face instead of stupid Kiri. He glared at you and the red-haired boy, him feeding you a piece of sushi like a baby.

     “Brrr, the airplane’s coming, open wide!”

     “Dammit, Kiri! Just give it to me already.”

     You twirled your finger and a stream of water flew into Kiri’s nose. Bakugou rolled his eyes as you doubled over in laughter, chin resting in his palm.

     “Tch, couldn’t use your Quirk for something useful?”

     You shrugged. “I’d say this is pretty useful.” You stuffed a piece of sushi from Kiri’s plate into your mouth as he wiped the snot from his face.

     “You’re an idiot. Just cause you can do cool shit with it doesn’t make you the shit.”

     You gave Bakugou an awkward smile, who kept his eyes glued to the table. The rest of the class went quiet. His taunts were usually followed by a scoff or chuckle, but his voice was sharp and cold.

     “Never said I was. Not my fault everyone thinks it’s cool, right guys?” Your classmates chimed in agreement. 

     Bakugou snorted. “So why didn’t you use it during exams? Why don’t you use it for something better than shitty party tricks? Don’t you want to be a hero? How can you do that when you’re too afraid to use it against a real opponent?”

     “I-I’m not afraid!” Your cheeks burned with the anger bubbling in your stomach. “It’s just not practical!”

     “Not practical, my ass. Admit it, dumbass, you bribed your way up the class rankings, didn’t you?” 

     Kiri looked between the two of you nervously. “H-Hey man, I think that’s enough. Let’s all calm down and have some fun, alright?”

     “Shut up, Kiri! This isn’t about you!” Bakugou snarled. What the hell was he saying? Even if he refused to acknowledge his feelings, you were his crush—he let his mouth talk without thinking and there was no going back. He was letting his explosive attitude get the best of him and part of him felt relieved to blow off some steam.

     The table shook as you shot out of your seat, your clenched fists shaking at your sides and furious tears streaming down your face. 

     “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

     The class murmured as ocean water climbed slowly up the sand, dangerously close to where they set up the barbecue. “You know I studied so hard for those exams. Don’t you remember all those nights I spent awake in the middle of the night? Shitty party tricks, is that all I am to you?”

     The water rose like a cape above your shoulders, casting a dark shadow over your wrathful face. Your arms trembled under the weight, but the adrenaline ignored the pain. Kiri scurried from the table, leaving Bakugou to stare at the ominous wave blocking the last of the sun’s golden rays from view. It truly did look like an iron wall, so close to crashing down and crushing him underneath. Bakugou set off an explosion as the wave stopped inches from his neck in the shape of a spear, the tip sharp enough to slice his skin.

     “Is this practical enough for you?” you sobbed. You sank to your knees and covered your tear stricken face. The water retreated to the ocean, leaving everyone untouched, except the poor table, now charred from Bakugou’s hand. Sniffling, you snatched your bag from the sand and excused yourself before slamming the door of the changing stall. After getting dressed, you declined Uraraka and Deku’s offer to accompany you to Heights Alliance. With the mood now sour, Class-1A packed and cleaned the area before heading home in tense silence. 

     Bakugou couldn’t sleep that night. He stared at the ceiling with a frown, hands clasped together on his stomach. He cared about you so much, but he let his stupid jealousy consume him. Now, you would probably be angry with him for the rest of your life, and Bakugou couldn’t live with that. Seeing you walk away with your head down and wiping your tears shattered his heart. You were the one for him and he fucked it up like he always did.

   He jumped from his bed with a pounding heart. He slipped on his shoes, which were on the wrong feet, and left his dorm.

     What the hell am I doing? 

     Bakugou pounded on your door. He couldn’t care less if the whole building woke up—he had to see you. He was never one to share his feelings, but with you in mind at that moment, there was nothing more he wanted to do. Bakugou pounded on your door again, tempted to blow it down if you didn’t wake up. To his surprise, you answered with a scowl and puffy eyes. 

   “What the fuck do you want?”

     You swore your ribs almost caved in when his strong, muscular arms wrapped around your body fervently. Bakugou kept his hand on your head as he nuzzled his nose into your hair, inhaling your sweet, comforting scent.

     “I’m sorry…” he murmured. His grip tightened when you tried to push him off.

     “Is that all you have to say?” you hissed. Your voice shook at the foreign feeling of his warmth, making you wonder if it was someone else disguised as him.

     “No, it’s not.” Bakugou cupped your face with both hands, heart beating a mile a minute as he stared into your eyes. “I like you id- (Y/N). I’ve always liked you, and I’m sorry.”

     You were paralyzed. Bakugou’s calloused thumb brushed a stray tear you didn’t even know had fallen from your face. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

     He… likes me?

     His words from earlier rushed back into your head. You tried to shake off his grasp. “What a great fucking way to show that.”

     “I know, I know. I didn’t mean any of it, you have to believe me. I was just… I was jealous, okay? I was fucking jealous of you and Kiri getting all buddy-buddy, and I said shit I shouldn’t have said.” Your eyes widened as he placed a tentative kiss between your brows. “You’re more than a party trick; you’re everything to me. And I can’t live with the idea of you hating me, cause I like you too much to handle that. Hell, I might even love you.”

     Your lip quivered at the sudden rush of emotions. You clung to the front of his shirt and pressed his face against his shoulder. “Do you really mean that?”

     “Hell yeah, I do. I-”

     You cut him off with a gentle kiss to the lips. “I like you, too, Katsuki. But what you said…”

     “You don’t have to forgive me right now. But you’re my world, my little teddy bear, and I just want to hold you. Is that too much to ask?”

     You shook your head. “It’s never too much to ask.”

[heycasbutt]

From the Beginning

A/N: This is my first attempt at Dom MGG, requested by @princesswagger15, and also i decided to try my hand at it since my Dom Spence fic was so well received. i was hesitant about this one, but I really honest to God hope you love it as much as I do. This one focuses on ageplay, and it’s more of a Daddy Dom/Little Girl type situation. It was inspired by @dontshootmespence ‘s Long Shot Series-which is amazing and every one of you should check it out. 

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Age Play. No actual sex occurs in this one, but there is some fingering and spanking so don’t say i didn’t warn you. 

Enjoy!!!

You had become enamored with Matthew since he walked into the coffee shop where you worked when you were 16. He came in daily that summer and always ordered the same thing. A large black coffee, and a blueberry scone. By the third day you had his order memorized and had it waiting for him.

It was 2 years before he officially asked you on a date. You had grown close during your encounters at the coffee shop. You’d sit with him during your breaks and talk about classic literature. Chaucer, Jane Austen, Edgar Allen Poe, Ray Bradbury-your personal favorite. Being nearly 18 years your senior, Matthew was hesitant to pursue a relationship with you, and you understood. So you told him to wait till your 18th birthday, then you’d be in the clear. Nothing to worry about. So he did just that. Technically he took you on your first real date the night before your 18th birthday, but he didn’t kiss you until he took you home just after midnight. 3 days later you graduated from high school and he asked you to be his girlfriend to which you wholeheartedly accepted. He took you to dinner again that night and later you made love for the first time in his living room.

At 19, you were moved in with Matthew, content in life, and almost done with your sophomore year of college. Matthew insisted you let him put you through and you vehemently rejected having saved every penny you could since you were 5-in addition to getting a small scholarship that put you through your freshman year. But of course, he couldn’t listen and you found that out when your first bill arrived for your sophomore year and said your semester’s tuition had been paid in full. You called the school wondering who had paid it and the sweet lady on the other line, her name was Tanya told you your husband had done it. You thanked her and hung up the phone, stalking across the house to find the offending figure of Matthew. When you found him, he was sitting in the garden, reading a book, a picnic laid out in front of him.

“What’s this?” You asked coming to sit by him. He just smiled and pulled you close.

“Shemar once told me that it takes about 3-5 business days to fall in love. Anything faster than that is faster than Amazon Prime and that’s just unrealistic. But I knew I loved you from the first day I met you in that coffee shop. I knew that my life had come full circle and was complete when I took you on that first date and kissed you. I knew that I loved you when I watched you graduate and then we made love that night, the first night of many thank God!” Matthew chuckled softly. He produced a small box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a simplistic but gorgeous engagement ring. You gasped softly and before Matthew could even ask you to marry him, you had pinned him to the ground and began kissing him hungrily.

“I take that as a yes?” Matthew laughed and kissed you again sliding the ring on your finger. You nodded with another smile as Matthew stood up and carried you into the house.

You eloped 3 weeks later at a courthouse in Pasadena. Shemar and A.J. were the only ones there to witness the ceremony. Your parents had all but disowned you after finding out you were dating someone nearly old enough to be your father and Matthew’s parents were of the same mindset, not too happy their boy was dating a girl fresh out of high school. But that didn’t stop either of you, You smiled the biggest, dorkiest smile you’d smiled in years when you slid the gold band on Matthew’s finger and officially made him yours.

Now you were 20, a Gubler, and happier than you had been in your whole life. It was quickly approaching your wedding anniversary with Matthew and he was due home any minute. You took extra care to change the bedsheets to the deep burgundy silk ones that Matthew loved. You fluffed all the pillows and covered them in silk pillow cases before placing the large white duvet back on the bed and situating the decorative pillows. You had cleaned every inch of the house, and prepared Matthew’s favorite meal, your grandmother’s lasagna. You still couldn’t legally drink but that didn’t stop Matthew from keeping a few bottles of wine in the house for dinners like these. A red wine you had received as a wedding gift had been chilling in an ice bucket when the lock on the front door sounded and your favorite person in the universe stepped through.

“Hey you,” Matthew muttered against your lips as he kissed you over and over again. He had only been gone a week, but Skyping just wasn’t as good as having the real thing.

You ran your hands through his hair and smiled as his eyes rolled back in pleasure. You peppered kisses along his neck and popped open the top two buttons on his shirt.

“Much better,” You cooed in his ear as he slowly backed you against the wall.

“Dinner will get cold,” You reminded him as you tugged on his hair. His stomach growled loudly and you both laughed rather loudly at the interruption.

“Let’s eat then. I want to talk to you about something,” Matthew said releasing you from his grip. You made your way into the kitchen and spooned up some of the hot food for Matthew and yourself. Pouring you both a glass of wine, you sat at the small kitchen table.

“Alright. Go for it, Matthew,” you smiled as you took a small bite of food.

“So, you know how I’m nearly 18 years older than you?” Matthew smirked taking a sip of wine and leaning back.

“Yes...” You replied tentatively.

“So I was doing some research and reading on the flight home and I thought maybe we could try something in the bedroom,” Matthew looked down shyly and your mind started spinning with all the possibilities.

“What is it?” You asked walking around the table and sitting on his lap. The food long forgotten now.

“I was thinking how sexy it would be if you were my little girl” He kissed your shoulder “And I was your daddy..” Matthew trailed kisses up to your neck and began sucking softly eliciting a delicious moan from deep inside you.

“Oh daddy, I’d love that,” You groaned again, gripping his knee. His hands traveled up to your breasts and kneaded them gently.

“Now, while daddy has been gone, have you been a good girl? Have you touched your sweet little pussy and thought about daddy?” Matthew cooed in your ear. You felt all the blood pool in your nether regions and you thought you were going to explode.

“Yes daddy. Every night. I missed your hard, thick cock thrusting in and out of me making me scream,” You moaned breathlessly. One of Matthew’s hands had made its way up your skirt and he was lazily circling your clit. Your breath hitched in your throat and a low guttural moan came forth.

“Well, the rules are going to change my sweet baby girl,” Matthew said picking you up and carrying you bridal style to the bedroom. You squealed in anticipation of what was to come.

He laid you softly on to the large bed and kissed down to the swell of your breasts.

“God you’re gorgeous,” Matthew moaned as he slid your shirt and bra off, his lips attaching to one peaked nipple. You moaned and knotted your fingers in his delicious locks.

“Let go,” Matthew cautioned as he lightly dragged the tip of his tongue between the valley of your breasts.

“But daddy...” You moaned and bucked your hips against him. He pinned your hips to the bed and got closer, a fire flickered behind his eyes.

“I said. No. You are my sweet little girl and my naughty little slut and you do what daddy tells you to do when daddy tells you to do it. Do I make myself fucking clear?” He growled and nipped at your ear. You groaned as he enveloped your lips in a heated sensual kiss.

“Oh yes,” You groaned in his ear, desperate for any sort of friction between your legs. As quick as the words escaped your lips, Matthew had pulled you upright and grabbed your ass.

“What the fuck did you say?” He whispered low and huskily to you. You knew what would happen if you lied but you took your chances anyways.

“Oh yes,” You repeated more breathily and sensuous than before. Before you could see the reaction on Matthew’s face, a hand came and whacked you on the ass. You squealed and then let out a small moan.

“Do you like that? Do you like when Daddy punishes you for being the naughty girl that you are?” Matthew crooned into your ear, his sex voice always sent pleasurable shivers up your spine.

“Y-Yes Daddy,” A loud moan escaped your lips as Matthew pushed you onto all fours and slid 2 long fingers into your slick center.

“Good girl, you’re so wet. Is that all for Daddy, hmm?” Matthew trailed a finger down your spine, making you shiver. You arched your back into him and grunted in reply.

“I didn’t hear that, girl,” Matthew commanded, slapping your ass again. The sensation sending you face first onto the bed. You were flipped over onto your back and Matthew kissed and nipped along your collarbone as he slid 2 fingers back into you and rubbed your clit with his thumb.

“Yes Daddy, it’s all for you,” You whined softly and reached for Matthew’s head to push him further down your body.

“That’s more like it. Are you going to come for daddy?” Matthew growled in your ear and shoved his fingers deeper inside you. His thumb rubbed feverishly on your clit, you could feel the ecstasy building within you and you cried out in pleasure. Matthew groaned and sucked roughly on your hardened nipple. Your walls clenched around his fingers as you rode out the first waves of your orgasm.

“Oh my fuck, Matthew!” You cried and buried your fingers in his hair. Your orgasm slowly subsided and Matthew tenderly pulled his fingers out of your center. Making eye contact with you, he sucked the remnants of your ecstasy from his fingers.

“You’re such a fucking slut. But, you’re my slut, understand,” Matthew whispered into your ear and then kissed you softly.

“Yes, Daddy,” You nodded with a smile and kissed him again. Pulling away slightly, you pursed your lips in thought, “But, can we make love now? Just as Matthew and Y/N?” You asked innocently, as you scraped your nails up his still clothed chest.

“No,” Matthew said firmly and got up walking into the en suite.

“But-“You called after him.

“Patience my little girl. Good things come to those who wait,” Matthew said coming to stand in the doorway of the bathroom, his shirt hanging open.

The ever elusive ‘They’ always said Patience is a virtue, but tonight, you weren’t feeling like such a virtuous woman.

[flusteredmountainman]

Since a bitch got sent one (1) ask only about. my ask meme that I created lol I’m going to go through and answer B) all of them bc i can... its selfcare.....

First 3 answers above the cut, other 47 below lmfao

Favourite of the main 6? I think the title of my blog speaks for itself lol

Least favourite of the main 6? Garbage stink piss man (Lucio)

Which of the main 6 do you want to slap the most? The aforementioned piss man but.... also kjaenfjkfea at times. Julian very badly because he’s just Like that but he’d probably enjoy that unfortunately

^

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^

Which of the main 6 have the most similar interests to you? (favourite colour, flower, food, drink, season, hobbies etc.) Portia tbh!!! She’s a very sweet spring girl and I also have a fairly similar personality to her. 

Who has the most tragic backstory? Mmmm.....muriel.......... I mean everyone has a pretty sad past but Muriel’s really is something else. The man is Heavily traumatised and I desperately want to give him a hug :(

Favourite side character? Mazelinka.... adopt me challenge kjaefkjnaf. i cant stop thinking about “goat bitch” what a fucking icon

Favourite animal friend?  Faust!!!! shes a good girl!!!

Best/worst of the courtiers? fuck i dont remember any of their names but valerius is. hot basard. worst is vlastomil hands down im kinkshaming anyone who wants to fuck the worm

Fuck, marry, kill (asker’s choice) Well skajfnkajf I’ve shot myself in the foot but. TBH its like. Marry Muriel, fuck everyone else, kill Lucio (full disclosure I only just finished julians upright ending and haven’t played Nadia’s yet so this may change except for wanting to marry Muriel and kill Lucio lol)

Romance or fluff? (Muriel) Fluff!!!!! Muriel deserves all the affection in the whole wide world. He gets sick? Bundle him up in furs by the fire and cuddle up into him with a good book. You look at him once? he blushes. it really doesnt get fluffier than that ++ a lot of his character arc in general is going to be.... letting himself trust you............. which is. so fucking wholesome

Wild night out or quiet night in? ( Muriel ) Quiet night in lmfao. We’d just hang out inside drinking hot chocolate and talking until we fell asleep propped up against the wall in his tiny house having completely lost track of time. 

Adventure or domesticity? ( Muriel ) I wanna say adventure because. I love travelling! I love going out and trying new things! And Muriel very does Not but I feel like getting him out of his comfort zone would do him some good! Starting small would probably be best, like maybe a tramp or going camping once in a while, then building up to bigger trips to other cities once you’ve convinced him you’ll both be ok as long as you’re prepared.

Cute date to the aquarium/zoo/park or elegant dinner date? ( Muriel ) I already answered this one B) I said: “ Definitely somewhere casual!!! I feel like he’d be most at ease somewhere like the park on a sunny day! Pick a nice grassy spot by a creek and bring a basket and have a really nice, chill picnic, and have a nap together in the early afternoon sun. Go for a walk after and talk about Plants (because i. am a biology student lol)  and generally just have a really relaxing time. Give the man a flower? Tuck it behind his ear? and he’d die kjnaefjnaej. Alternatively….. aquarium………. “

Coffeshop AU, high-school/college AU or modern AU? Give a headcanon about the one you chose jnakfjkjaf coffe shop AUs are so cliched but I actually love them for the settings of meetcutes. You meet Muriel when he’s on his rounds as a part time dog walker around the block and you barrel straight into him coming out of the shop when you’re checking an email, spilling the (now cold) remnants of your beverage all over him. You apologise profusely and he shrugs it off, blushing over your fussing and awkwardly tries to excuse himself. You insist on helping him finish his walk with All these dogs, anyway, you like dogs so it’s no trouble, and he begrudgingly agrees to finish the interaction sooner. You end up having a nice chat with him and notice in the weeks after that he starts coming by the shop without the dogs during the times you’re usually around, even though he doesn’t drink coffee. Your conversations with him during these short interludes quickly become the highlight of your day, and you start to suspect, eventually, that he feels the same :)

If (Muriel) turned up on your doorstep at midnight covered in blood, how would you react? Well I’d clean it off.... of .......course............. 👀👀👀

You’re stranded on a desert island; which 2 of the main 6 do you want with you? Muriel of course not only because I adore him but he’s. also a mountain man. Handy. And Asra because hes a good good magic boy and can make sand into water so.... handy. also asra is just an incredibly blessed person so kajefnkjaef

If your apprentice could go back in time and change one thing before the events of the game, what would it be? lucios birth :^)

You’re sick; who do you want to take care of you and why? I think I’m becoming predictable but. Muriel kjaefnkjafnjf you took such good care of him so it’s only fair that he should return the favour. He’s got a surprisingly good bedside manner and is generally just very gentle. Cooks eggs and grumbles that you should be taking better care of yourself but when you say thanks for all his help he blushes and kinda. stands up slightly straighter bc hes secretly happy he can Help

If you were trapped in an elevator with one character for 8 hours, who would you want it to be and why? Jojaefafjoafe ok so. Porbably Portia because she seems 1. one of the least likely to panic and 2. Would have fucking great conversation the whole time. 

Give a headcanon about Nadia She loves romcoms!!!! She would never ever admit it to anyone though, but she’s a huge sucker for romance stories in general. Cries at the end of mamma mia. Uses it as an excuse to snuggle all the way into your shoulder.

Give a headcanon about Asra He’s extremely lactose intolerant but he eats it anyway bc hes Chaotic and gives 0 fucks about how bad his guts feel afterwards, the cheese was Worth it dammit (and I say this bc thats also me kjaenfnef)

Give a headcanon about Julian Had a brief stint in his teen years where he unironically identified as sapiosexual

Give a headcanon about Portia She loves playing with hair/having her hair played with! Catch her falling asleep with her head in your lap as you weave your fingers through her hair.

Give a headcanon about Muriel I also already answered this one!:  “ He’d be really into gardening if he knew how! Catch me digging up all the dirt around his house and planting herbs, flowers (*cough* forgetmenots *cough) and other medicinal plants, and some strawberries for when spring comes! “

Give a headcanon about Lucio Unironically identifies as sapiosexual now even though he’s a huge dumbass himself 

Give a headcanon about a side character/the apprentice (asker’s choice) Nadia’s dad gets pegged

Give a popular opinion that you disagree with People calling Muriel a dom. have you. looked at this man. I have to laugh

Give an unpopular opinion Lucio sucks lol

Tarot or zodiac? Zodiac!!! Mostly bc I know exactly 0 things about tarot, I appreciate the aesthetic tho!

What is your patron major arcana? Oh worm I just looked at all the explanations in the wiki and tbh. The empress uh. dragged me with how much I ID with that (both reversed and upright) so akejfkjfae thats mine

Upright or reversed ending? Upright

Ot3? Me x muriel x asra (muriel has 2 hands and 2 tiny partners)

Brotp? jakjefnkanfe i love. portia and julians sibling banter. the good shit

Favourite non-apprentice-based ship? asriel............................. till i die............. (pordia is also fucking god tier)

Is the apprentice you, or your OC? thats just me bich kajefnkjnafe we living our best self indulgent lives 

Tell me about your Apprentice(s) im a big bi mess and i would die for muriel and thats it really

Favourite piece of worldbuilding lore? already answered: “ I really love how much of a shithole Vesuvia is kjbanefknaefk like. No formal process of trial/law? Public executions just being how people Do things? someone fucking help this city lmfao”

Favourite background/location? ok i really love nopal bc of all the cacti but tbh like. really anywhere theres a lot of cool nature? the forest is fucking good

The Forest or Nopal? bring the cacti from nopal to muriel’s hut in the forest and it’s perfect

The Palace or the shop? thheeee shop. i like the palace but i think id get Overwhelmed not being able to just. be in my own space a lot lol

The Rowdy raven or the library? the library with a healthy amount of alcohol lol. 

Favourite sprite?

43. Favourite character design?  I !!!!!!!!! really. love Asra’s design bc of its howl callback but all the designs r fucking cool 44. Best masquerade outfit?    Nadia’s..... glamorous..... 45. Best scene? Muriel. hugging. faust you and asra. hes so fucking wholesome ill cry...... or just straight up both of his books akjenfkjafn 46. Worst Scene? Honestly any containing lucio 47. Favourite song on the soundtrack? I love Crowd hammer! (predictable) but also memory 48. Best tale/bonus content? I dont remember names im terrible but i/ love the muriel one ofc kjneafkjn 49. Best CG?/ 50. Favourite memory?

[theliterateape]

Requiem for a Bartender

By David Himmel

When I was growing up at summer camp in Decatur, Michigan, I would overhear tales of a mystical place called the M-40. The camp counselors—men and women of drinking age and those close enough—would gather at this M-40 after long days in the summer sun wrangling rambunctious children. In the mornings, huddled over Styrofoam cups of coffee from the mess hall, they’d reconnect the pieces from their nights. Some wore M-40 t-shirts purchased from the bar. Kids with a few bucks cash could find the right counselor to buy them a shirt. They would wear it with pride until the camp owners caught wind and banned the t-shirts. After all, you can’t have alcoholism advertised by thirteen-year-old kid billboards at a summer camp designed to churn out intelligent, diversified members of society.

I never had the scratch for a t-shirt, but I was determined to one day go drinking—whatever that was—at the M-40. And when I could do that, I’d get me a t-shirt.

It wasn’t the beer that I was so drawn to. It was the camaraderie the counselors seemed to share because of this place. The M-40, I’d come to learn, was the closest thing to reattachment to the real world beyond the bubble of a summer spent in ignorant bliss. Because of the way legend takes form, this little bar in this little southwestern Michigan farming town transcended drinking. It was a mecca of love and good times.

✶

I’m struggling to write this. It’s almost a year since we went in to pandemic lockdown. I’m struggling to write this in the same way I’ve struggled to write anything over the last year. In short, I’m tired of sitting. Tired of typing. Tired of completing almost every interaction through a computer screen. But right now, the struggle is comfortably different. Right now, I want nothing more than to be at a bar, slouched over the wood engaged in deep conversation and debate over the most importantly trivial of matters, drinking beer—lots of it—from room temperature mugs that began frosty while pumping five dollar bills into the jukebox stacking the playlist with ’90s grunge and alt-rock with the occasional disco, Motown, or Credence Clearwater Revival slipped in for spice.

Specifically, I want to be drinking at the M-40. The M-40 before the fire. Before it was gutted and cleaned up. The M-40 with the gently tilted pool table and the low lights and the bathroom doors that don’t latch. The M-40 where we could smoke and dance on the banquet chairs. The M40 where all our summer friends were together all at once and where Steve the bartender kept the good times rolling by taking our money and filling our pitchers, feeding us quality burgers and the most perfect mozzarella sticks to ever grace a taste bud.

That’s all I want to do now. That’s the only place I want to be. And I have Steve to thank for this kind, nostalgic struggle.

 ✶ 

Steve McIntyre, who died February 17 at 47 years old from complications of diabetes, wasn’t the first bartender I met. He wasn’t the first bartender I befriended. But Steve was the bartender that was most impactful. I learned to drink in Decatur. First, as a teenage camp counselor where three cans of Miller Lite would put me on my ass like I was leaving Las Vegas. I graduated to Jim Beam and Coke on picnic blankets late at night down at the Lake of the Woods Public Access boat ramp. And then, finally, when I was twenty-one and old enough to saddle up to three foot of wood in front of a mirror and a rack of snack size potato chips, I drank pitchers of beer at the M-40.

As camp counselors, we were a ragtag group of kids from mostly midwestern states. The rest of us were Australians, Brits, Israelis, Dutch, Germans… A global economy with collective goals—drink, laugh, dance, play pool, maybe screw, try not to puke.

The Decatur Townies didn’t like us. We were the “Jew counselors” from that “Jew Camp” down the road. It was far from an accurate description of us, but the feeling was palpable. We always tried to make friends with Townies—an affectionate and accurate term for the year-round regulars. Despite the stinkeye that came from those select townies, we camp folks thrived. And, while I’ve never seen the M-40 books, it’s impossible to assume that our time there did anything other than help feed the bottom line with delicious American USD.

Steve ran the joint. Tending bar was the family business. His father, Tom, ran it the generation before mine. Steve and I became fast friends. That’s the bartender’s job, after all—to befriend their loyal patrons. But I was also young, boiling over with energy, and thirsty to learn the ways of drinking legally in public. Steve gave me, gave so many of us that arena.

The drinks were cheap. The food was good. The company was always preferable to any other. There were the big nights out where twenty of us counselors would make the short drive from camp to the M-40 and join the twenty or thirty Townies for loud dancing and heavy drinking, but there were the quieter nights, too.

I shouldn’t, but I do remember the night I, along with Jorg Stender, my counterpart back down at the sail dock, saddled up at the bar. Jorg was in the mood for Beam and Cokes. Steve happily obliged. A few Townies were at the other end of the bar as Jorg and I drank and talked, drank and talked, drank and talked. Every other drink, as if he were a finely tuned Swiss watch, Steve would come by, join us for a few minutes of casual conversation. He slid perfectly into and out of the deep, drunken nonsense Jorg and I were churning out.  

I worked at the camp only one summer while old enough to drink at the M-40 but I kept in touch with Steve over the winters and the years. He (and the bar) was on my Holiday Letter mailing list. On occasion, when drinking on my own, I’d pick up the phone and (drunk) dial the bar just to talk to Steve. It wasn’t out of loneliness, it was out of a desire to have a drunken conversation with my favorite bartender. He’d always say, “When you come back out here, Dave, we gotta go fishing.” I would have liked that. But distance and other silly excuses kept that fishing trip from happening.

A few times we made our way to The 40 to see Steve during the winter months, again, long after I had stopped working summers there. So, sometimes, it’d be years from when we last saw Steve. The surprised but welcoming look on his face when we’d walk through the door felt better than even that first cold beer.

In early 2001, a small group of us headed to The 40. I was home from college in Las Vegas. Dan Bates, Doug Bates, James Boulware, and Jeff Miner all made the few hours’ drive to meet at the M-40 for a single night of revelry. The bar was mostly empty. We had Steve all to ourselves. The six of us got good and loaded falsely accepting invitations to go fishing with Steve, but desperately wishing we had the availability that coming summer to cast a line and crack a beer in Steve’s fishing boat on that summer lake of ours in the woods.

We brought an even bigger gang of summertime friends in October of 2004 to celebrate Miner’s fortieth birthday. Miner was the elder of the group and about thirteen of us old camp pals traveled in from all over the country to celebrate Miner’s advanced age at the most appropriate place possible: the M-40. This celebration even gave me and one of the great loves of my life an opportunity to reconnect as part of the party planning committee. No romance was rekindled, but we hadn’t talked in more than four years proving that Steve’s M-40 was the Great Uniter. Would everyone have flown in to celebrate Miner if the party were at a Dave & Buster’s? I’d like to think so, but probably not.

✶ 

During the summer of 2000, there was a second bar counselors would frequent on nights out called BT’s located a town over in Sister Lakes. BT’s was easy on fake IDs, so the underage kids preferred it to The 40. One day, my seventeen-year-old brother asked if he could borrow my ID to get into the bar. Despite him being a few inches lankier than I am, we could easily pass for one another.

“Yeah, you can use it tonight,” I told him, “but do not take this to the M-40. Steve knows me. You won’t get it. It’ll be a bad move. BT’s only.”

The instructions were simple. My brother did not follow them. The next night, I went to The 40 not knowing what my brother had tried and the first thing Steve said to me was, “Dave.” He was disappointed. “What’s this bullshit with your brother using your ID to get in her last night?” I was embarrassed, apologetic, and furious.

The following morning, I caught up to my brother walking back from breakfast in the mess hall. “Eric!” I shouted to him as I ran to catch up. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“What?” he said incredulously.

“You took my ID to The 40. You did the one thing I asked you not to do.”

“So? I didn’t get in.”

“I know! But you pissed off Steve and made me look like an asshole. And you put the rest of the counselors in a bad light. Steve’s my friend and you tried to pull one over on him.”

Eric got more defensive. I got more angry. Then Doug and James had to pull me off of him and remind me that beating my younger brother to a pulp in front of campers was an even worse idea than trying to get one past Steve. But was it?

As the years went on, the M-40 lost its status as the bar for counselors to go to. The next generation didn’t have the affection for it, didn’t see its charm, didn’t appreciate how Steve and his bartenders wouldn’t let nineteen-year-olds drink. And after too many of-age counselors causing too much trouble, the M-40 unofficially closed its doors to those counselors from that “Jew camp.” And I get it. These kids ruined a good thing they never took the time to understand.

✶ 

The news of Steve’s death came to us via the M-40 Facebook page. Dan Bates texted a small group of us the link. I quickly shared it in a larger text then a Facebook message. Through our phones, these old camp friends had our own little memorial for Steve, the lovable bartender, the best Townie in Decatur, the man who wanted to take us fishing.

Today’s M-40 doesn’t look or feel like it does in our memories. It’s brighter now, fresher. A fire a few years back cleaned the place up a bit. I think it lost the charm in the smoke and flames, but Steve was always there. And like any bartender worth their salt-rimmed glasses, that was enough to keep me charmed.

[tanyaodebra]

You 2.5: “Have a Good Wellkend, Joe!” – Halfway Home

Five down, five to go. Ugh, it’s so hard to only watch one of these at a time while I write each recap! At the end of the last episode, Forty was trying to secure a plane ticket from Austin to LA for his new girlfriend, Amy. Looks like they decided to drive instead, or perhaps Amy’s ID says Candace and she doesn’t want to blow her cover. Candace isn’t as skilled at having a fake identity as Joe, because she’s not an actual fucking psycho like he is. When Candace’s ride stalls in Arizona because her car needs a charge, Forty dials up a private jet to whisk them back to LA – his mom doesn’t like it when people are late. I called it! It’s time to meet the Quinns! Quinn must be an alternate spelling for coin, because damn. These people have “we met at Esalen” money. Dottie and Ray Quinn (Saffron Burrows and Michael Reilly Burke) are renewing their vows for their 30th anniversary, so the gang is in for a whole weekend, aka Wellkend, of hippie bullshit that will culminate in a wedding ceremony officiated by Love. Okay, so when the invitation reads “abundance,” that’s apparently code for flaunting that cash. Got it. From the get-go, Dottie’s a little handsy with Will, and then she tries to conceal her cold reception of Love. Hmm.

Now is the moment the viewers have been waiting for: Candace and Joe face to face. This shit is on. Will looks like he’s going to vomit, but he manages a remarkable recovery. The two engage in a verbal tango, each doing their best to trip the other. A little while later, they end up alone at an outdoor bar where she divulges how she found him – she happened upon video of Forty’s outburst at Hendy’s, and Joe was in the background. Candace trolls Joe during a group session, claiming she wants to fulfill her life’s dream of traveling to Italy. Viewers from last season will remember that Joe hacked her Instagram to post postmortem photos of a fake trip to Italy in order to cover his tracks. Joe counters by forcing her to hug him in front of everyone. It’s too much for Candace, so she excuses herself to her yurt. Joe has the nerve to follow her, thinking they can somehow call a truce. He has convinced himself that SHE is the crazy one. Candace attempts to defend herself with a knife, but he’s stronger than she is and he easily disarms her. They find themselves alone again after the wedding, and Joe cautions Candace that he’s not afraid of her – she doesn’t actually have anything on him or she would have used it. Candace knows him too well, so in her eyes all she has to do is wait; he’ll fuck up sooner or later. Joe knows she’s right.

The word is out about Hendy’s death, which has been ruled a suicide. But the police are still dotting their i’s and crossing their t’s, because they check in on Ellie since she was the last person he was supposed to hang out with, according to his IMs. Delilah gives them the run-around, so they never actual speak to her. Ellie’s doing some snooping of her own, because she found the homemade underage porn-stash Delilah’s been hiding. Delilah comes clean about the real reason she didn’t want Ellie hanging out with Hendy, but Ellie doesn’t believe any of it. Later on, fuck buddy cop shows up. Delilah’s whole dynamic with him reinforces the idea of an inversion of Joe’s New York life. Delilah is so together, unlike Ray’s mom. And the cop is actually a good guy, unlike Ray’s mom’s boyfriend. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I love this cop. He’s so genuinely invested in Delilah’s happiness and well-being. Anyway, he’s back for the photos so he can try and nail a motive on Henderson’s suicide. Delilah tries to hand them over, but Ellie snatched them earlier. With a little help from Joe, Delilah tracks down Ellie at a Raymond Chandler film festival. This is the second Chandler reference, but unfortunately I’m not very familiar with his work. Something about detectives, maybe? Or maybe it has more to do with Double Indemnity which I haven’t seen or read, but seems to deal with mistaken identity of murderers and faked suicides. Either way, Ellie has finally come to terms with Delilah’s sexual assault. She apologizes to Delilah and convinces her to burn the photos. A savvy internet teen, Ellie knows Delilah’s photo will follow her forever if they were made public. Delilah agrees and the two flush them down the toilet. Ellie seemed very sincere, but I can’t help but feel a little suspicious about this choice.

Love is slowly showing more signs that she is not the person she’s pretending to be. The Big Bad Wolf metaphor has been extended to this episode, and our sweet little Love is not being painted as Little Red Riding Hood – quite the opposite. First, she pulls a wolf toy out of the gift bag, and as Joe heads to Forty’s yurt, she tells him not to get lost out there. There’s a real live wolf at one of the activity sessions and Joe tries to approach it, but it growls at him �� we’re dealing with more than one Big Bad Wolf. Our Little Red Riding Hood might actually be Candace. Each time Love walks in on a conversation between Candace and Joe, she seems mildly displeased. She drills Candace about her relationship with Forty and catches her in a lie about her job. Again, Candace is not at Joe’s level when it comes to catfishing, and you’ll recall that Love can name every fish in the market. If I were Candace, I’d watch out for Love. During a fight in their yurt, Joe accuses Love of throwing him to the wolves: her family. After Forty takes another giant leap out of sobriety, his mother’s reaction to his stoned antics at her wedding reveals more of Love’s damage – Dottie slaps her after accusing her of not protecting Forty. Joe attempts to form a trauma bond with Love by sharing his own childhood abuse. Love ups the ante and discloses Forty’s sexual abuse at the hands of their au pair. Turns out the au pair committed suicide after having been exposed and subsequently fired. Weird that so many people adjacent to Joe and Love tend to die. As Joe consoles her, Love pulls the wolf toy from under herself and shoves it into Joe’s neck, growling maniacally. He’s not put off by this – in fact he sooths her with kisses until she confesses her love for him and he reciprocates. They decide to come up with a new word for love to separate it from her name. Love tells him she “wolfs” him – he “wolfs” her, too. They officially join each other’s pack. But viewers know that Joe will never be a part of a pack; he’s a lone wolf. If Love is a mirror image of Joe, what will happen when two lone wolves pair up?

Finally, the audience gets filled in on the whole Candace situation in this episode’s flashbacks. I’m glad they’re shown from Candance’s POV. One thing I loved about the first season was that we got both Joe and Beck’s separate POVs. There must be a reason we’re not getting Love’s POV, and it’s got to be that she’s a stalker and/or killer, too. But Candace’s flashbacks are deeply disturbing. After they break up at his apartment, Killer Joe abducts Candace and keeps her tied up in the back of the van of every woman’s nightmares. I don’t even need to describe it, because we all know it’s a plain white van with no seats in the back. He’s made them a picnic so she’ll take him back. She plays it cool, then runs as soon as he puts her outside – the dumb-dumb only tied her hands. She doesn’t get far before he catches her and smashes her head against a downed tree, accidentally killing her. Or so he believes. In one of the most disturbing moments of the season, Candace emerges from her own shallow grave. Seeing a woman in a shallow grave hits me hard. Not only is it common in real life, it sends the message that she’s not worth the effort of a full burial. That she’s disposable. That no one will care to figure out who she was or where she came from. This concept is reinforced when Candace tries to report the crime at the police station. The (female) cop (Cara Mitsuko) seems totally uninterested in helping Candace – if she has no corroborating evidence, there’s really nothing that can be done. But what appears to be a lack of concern might instead be realism. This cop knows Candace’s assailant won’t be punished; he’ll get off with nothing but a restraining order. Off the record, the cop tells Candace that the best thing she can do if she wants to stay alive is to pretend to be dead. I fear this cop was right, and that Candace should have followed her advice.

The episode ends with a postcard from Will. Looks like he’s in the Philippines, blissed out with Gigi. Maybe Joe’s safe on that front after all. Or maybe Will got someone else to send it. The note is in the style of the hangman game. I’m not counting Will out yet. Side note: am I crazy, or is Love constantly handling lemons at Anavrin? I digress. Lest we fool ourselves into thinking our would-be Little Red Riding Hood is totally lost in the woods, Candace shows Joe she’s still on track. Forty’s latest filmmaking gambit will be an adaptation of the posthumous autobiography of none other than Guinevere Beck. If murder hasn’t followed Joe on its own, Candace is giving it a map. That’s a pretty big bomb to drop at the end of the episode, but somehow that isn’t the end. PS – the police think Henderson was murdered. Candace is right on top of this shit. She knows immediately that Joe is the culprit. I hope she gets to nail his balls to the floor, but I have a terrible feeling that she won’t live long enough. If the saying is true, Love trumps all. See You next time!

[annoyinglydissosiated-blog]

Get to know me

0: Height 5′6″

1: Virgin? No

2: Shoe size 8.5 cause ya girl got big ass feet

3: Do you smoke? rarely

4: Do you drink? also rarely

5: Do you take drugs? nothing illegal

6: Age you get mistaken for? Honestly like people always think im older than i am id guess like 25?

7: Have tattoos? I wish boy but im broke 

8: Want any tattoos? YES

9: Got any piercings? Just the normal ear

10: Want any piercings? Lowkey want a industrial but my ear shape isnt right

11: Best friend? Her name is Odessa and shes a babee

12: Relationship status? Somehow engaged lol poor sucker

13: Biggest turn ons? dark hair, strong arms, caring and effeminate 

14: Biggest turn offs? Assholes, bad hygiene

15: Favorite movie? Oh god.... maybe Muppets Christmas Carol? LOL I dont watch a lot of movies sorry

16: I’ll love you if you send me money cause im poor AF

17: Someone you miss? My grandpa (he recently died) 

18: Most traumatic experience? LOL BOY, Watching my step mom die? My dads abuse? IDK

19: A fact about your personality? Well you know BPD, but ive always been someone who puts others before myself to the point where its dangerous or detremental to me? I also love animals they rock my world.

20: What I hate most about myself? My fat ass tummy

21: What I love most about myself? MY GREEN EYES AND RED HAIR AND WHEN I GET FRECKLES IN THE SUMMER LIKE GET IT GIRL

22: What I want to be when I get older? An Occupational Therapist, boring I know.

23: My relationship with my sibling(s) Blood sibling? GREAT! Various past and current step siblings? Not so much.

24: My relationship with my parent(s) My mom is the bomb dot com but me and my dad barely talk

25: My idea of a perfect date? Walk on the beach with a picnic and lots of cuddles and food

26: My biggest pet peeves? People who dont watch where they are walking like bitch dont fuck with me

27: A description of the girl/boy I like? Hes tall and has brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes and hes shy but i pestered him so he loves me now lol he loves anime like a nerd and is the smartest boy ive ever met

28: A description of the person I dislike the most? CONTROLLING TEENAGE BITCH

29: A reason I’ve lied to a friend? Being too depressed to see them and worrying ill have a breakdown in front of them

30: What I hate the most about work/school? IDK maybe homework when i feel like shit?

31: What your last text message says? Love you too! (lol lies to my dad)

32: What words upset me the most? When i feel like someones mad

33: What words make me feel the best about myself? Beautiful, loving, wife?

34: What I find attractive in women? OMG I love caring women who love adventure and are really into health (Im Bisexual) 

35: What I find attractive in men? Effeminate, caring, and strong

36: Where I would like to live? Olympia WA

37: One of my insecurities? My weight 

38: My childhood career choice? Working at a Zoo lol

39: My favorite ice cream flavor? Pistachio! 

40: Who wish I could be? Someone naturally skinny and healthy and gorgeous? Like Loren Grey or something

41: Where I want to be right now? On the beach its cold as fuck

42: The last thing I ate: Toast cause my tummy hates food

43: Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediately? My Fiance is tasty 

44: A random fact about anything? I HATE BUTTERFLIES THEY SCARE THE FUCK OUT OF ME