#no fucking way this dude play ukulele

[chaamenos]

guys he’s not a groomer 😔 just a loser 💔

[randomthefox]

Flynn literally swooped in and did to Stanley what he did for Penders at the beginning of his own career: play the fix-it guy

If I were Stanley, I'd almost be offended. The whole issue was nothing more than the characters trying to patch up plot holes (Sonic insisting that he had no other choice) and giving affected apologies (Jewel and Lanolin - also, as predicted, the focus was more on the latter being tricked, and not on her being abusive. Silver certainly was all 👍 about it). He also broke up the DCs because it's clearly what he thinks development is.

It really smacks me of the same energy of Flynn having Eggman scream that he hates being called Baldy McNosehair because it was never funny. Way to mock someone else's writing. When will he recognize his own mistakes?

(there are other issues like Sonic being a cunt or Tangle policing Whisper's desire to kill Mimic, but that's minor)

It really does come off like he thinks he has the right to piss all over everyone else from atop his ivory tower, doesn't it?

I call it out for being insecure and pathetic because, from the perspective of a writer: man who even fucking CARES? So some whiners online said it was stupid that Sonic dressed up in a disguise, and Jewel didn't think to crash the plane into the Hudson River instead of a shopping mall. Whooptie fucking doo, who gives a shit. The POINT was we got to draw Sonic dressed up as Kamen Rider and it was cool, and Jewel had to endure an intense emotional conflict where she had to choose the needs of the many over the needs of the few. We told the story we wanted to tell in as complete a form as we were capable of telling it. So what if some nerds picked some nits. Dust off our hands and move onto the next one.

I don't know how Stanley feels about it, but that's how I would feel if I wrote this dogshit comic. I'd move onto the next story. Oh shit, somebody stole the chaos emerald that Tails apparently had the whole time! Better get to the bottom of it woohay!

But no, Flynn apparently thinks its worth dedicating TWO ENTIRE ISSUES to fucking clean up? Whereupon half of it is just him shoving his own words into the characters mouths to have them address and respond to fan criticism??? About a story HE DIDN'T EVEN FUCKING WRITE?

Why is he SUCH a fucking LOSER, man? Ian Flynn is SUCH a LOSER, it fucking pisses me off. The man literally cannot deal with ANY CRITICISM AT ALL it's so pathetic. I still remember the hissy fit he threw because people were memeing on "big oof" up to the point that when Kyle lightly referenced it as a rib Flynn responded with this overwrought annoyed sigh. And eventually he just said that it was Adam Bryce Thomas's fault for drawing the panel wrong. Like, dude. You wrote a silly little line of dialog and people thought it was funny. Get a sense of humor about yourself for fucks sake.

And not only is it pathetic in this case but it's also patronizing because HE DIDN'T WRITE THE STORY. STANLEY DID. And yet he STILL feels the need to slam on the fucking breaks and turn around and start yelling at the kids in the backseat to shut the hell up or we're turning around and going home EVEN THOUGH HE ISN'T EVEN THE ONE DRIVING. His ego is so fucking fragile that he cannot tolerate people criticizing the comic just because he's associated with it, even when he had nothing to do with what people are criticizing.

He could have used this issue to do fucking ANYTHING. He could have had a little aside showing what Knuckles was up to all this time. Or a little interlude of Rouge going on a heist or something. Or a silly little story where Cream is exploring away from home to find some flowers to make a coronation for Vanilla. Or fucking ANYTHING that might have been actually fun or interesting. But no instead he has the issue be devoted to Sonic patching up plot holes with chewing gum, and Lanolin playing the ukulele.

At least they finally drew Silver properly.

[mysadblacksoul]

Let's talk about Clancy, eh? (plus the livestream)

So I'm watching the livestream (the vod) and I decided to share my opinions about each songs!

without the first 4 singles

But tbh I think I'm an Overcompensate girly, that before hearing the rest of this album this is my top 1

With Backslide as a close second

Wait why should I increase my volume

Oh that's why

It was a trap

Okay Midwest Indigo, let's go I'm so ready

What an outfit Mr Joseph

Omg it's so bouncy

JIM

JENNA

I love the shouty lyrics

This MV is so goofy what the hell

Okay so it's so happy, so funky I love it!

The drums make want to do a lil dance

Hope the next one won't be sad

Yes Tyler, this song will go so hard live, I agree

And yes, put Josh on the mic!

Routines In The Night everybody

Oh so it's the rap one?

It's much less bouncy, but I can still tap my leg to it so I'm fine

You think that this is like the sister song to Ode To Sleep?

The chorous is so catchy what the hell

Yes! Give me those adlibs!

The dances, the visuals, the face card that never declines

What is he eating for Lord's sake

I can't pay attention to the songs when every time one ends those fools pop up on my screen again lol

"not every video is gonna be lore based" my ass

Wait so Routines is not lore oriented? But I see so many references :((((((

Vingette!

So it's a crowd's favourite? Aight

Oh it sound so nostalgic

More rap? okay, okay

Omg the vocals????

It's so different, like I can't predict where are we going with the beat

The bridge is so out of place but so in place???

What is going on

No but I see why they like it, for sure

God I love all the Joshes in the MVs

So Jenna's version will have another MV?

Sounds fun!

Oh it's soft version

So this is a fanmade mv for Jenna, how cute

No for real it is emotional, but in the best way possible

This version is filled with so much love, I can't even explain

The flashbacks to the young dudes? I might cry too

Yeah I se the vision. Like The Craving does feel more "right" played on the ukulele. It gives it much more emotion!

Now you just bully him lol. Tyler has two hands to hold two ukuleles, this is lore guys

Lavish whoo!

Before we start why the hell is the title of this song the only one written in different font in the lyric sheet in the CD, huh?

O damn man in black, get it I guess

The vocals are so dreamy, so different

Another leg mover

Why all of this songs are so catchy are you putting crack in it or what

It's also very chill so far

I also really like the use of the strings, it makes the song more full!

It kind of sounds like a movie soundtrack? Or is it just the MV that makes it feel this way

The silliest MV so far lmao

And seeing the amount of work that went into it makes it even better

And now Navigating!

I have to stop myself from looking for lore

I'm 3 seconds in, why it already sounds like a bop

This might be my new favourite song from this album

The electric guitar? With the synth? 11/10

The chorous is so amazing, simply

Will the bridge be sad or will he scream

Oh come through with this bass

JOSH ISN'T REAL THEORY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE WE IN THE FOREST FIC

Where did he go irl lmao

No for real it might be my favourite now, sorry Overcompensate

The Bandito one is the real one, write that down

NO I THINK I JUST GOT IT, THE WHOLE LORE MAKES SO MUCH SENSE NOW

What the hell Tyler, we have such a different taste then

Snap Back let's go!

What is going on

I'm like a second in

Oh no, it's broken

Instead of Snap Back premiere we have the premiere of Next Semester (ukulele version)

I'm not mad at all

Okay, let's go for real this time

Oh it's so dreamy

So this is the MV with head shaving lmao

BACKSLIDE, I heard that everyone

The drums are really shining on that song

And I love the contrast between low tone verses and more melodic, high alibs in chorous

The bridge seems sad I fear

Or are we picking up the tempo?

Nah we are putting more adlibs now!

Even better

Oldies station better be nostalgic

And quick question before we start, what the hell did you do to Josh?

Is this ballad?

Soft, fun and with funky vocals!

The lyrics are so beautiful, god

Omg Josh lmao

What a contrast to the song lol

Oh we are switching

I don't know how to justify it, but it feels like such a twenty one pilots song

Like it just makes sense for them to make it

I really like it

Honestly At The Risk Of Feeling Dumb sounds silly from the start

So is the MV

I really like the rollercoaster of the vocals. They are kind of all over the place, but still makes a lot of sense

It's the beat drop on the "drop"

Oh rap some more sure!

Why does he want to fight in every MV

Very fun, very chill and then you have the post chorous that are hard hitting

Love the contrast

Am I crazy or did they use kalimba in the end? I might be wrong tho

That's so sad that we are already finishing

One last track

Paladin Strait whoo!

I'm afraid that this one will be the sad one

The tears producer

The heart clencher

The ukulele strikes back

Love those low vocals

It's a song to sway this time

The drums strikes back

I don't know why it kind of sounds like the end of the western movie. Like after the good ending the cowboy is walking towards the sun, you see my vision?

This song is full of hope, so amazing

God the lyrics sounds like Clancy is finaly free

I might cry

It sounds like good ending to the trilogy

So it feels like a scam

It's too good to be true

But I don't know, maybe after all the ending of this story is good for all of us

What, is the silence in the official audio or is it just the end of the livestream

NO WAIT THERE IS MORE

no

wait guys no

FPE?????

WHO THE HELL

IS IT BLURRY

WHAT THE HELL

Now I need the MV to see what the hell is going on

The End

Nah, I'm not leaving you like this

I still think that Navigating is my fav from the new songs

But I'm gonna go listen to the album some more and then decide for sure

It's a good mix of everything, very twenty one pilots style

I just wished for more rage and screaming, but we need to be calm sometimes, I get it

There isn't a song that I don't like, that's for sure

So yeah! This are my feelings, thoughts (and prayers)

Give me your favourite song in the comments!

[deada55]

Kloktober 2024 day 23: as a different genre

Hope y’all like Eastern European Folk Music. I know I sure do.

… it seems like I didn’t think about it but I’m actually obsessed with this AU in particular. I fucking love Eastern European folk. Love it. I was in an ensemble for six years. Ask me about it sometime!

”What fuckin’ weird high school even does that shit?”

“Come on, honey,” sighed his mother. They drove through miles of bright green yards and spring gardens, complete with the occasional capri-clad housewife with a push mower waving at them as they passed. Nathan blew his hair away from his mouth. “Give it a try. It’s supposed to make you more globally conscious. And tolerant, I guess! You know, even for the—“

“You’ll just have to make the best of it!” Oscar spoke over her and slowed down as they turned into the drop-off loop at the new school. “Have a good day, champ. We love you.”

“Ok.”

Nathan got out of the car and followed the crowd into the building. From there, blind luck got him to the front office for his schedule, where he was surrounded by purple and green and the school’s mascot: the Zoot Cats. Huh?

Fortunately, Nathan’s school-assigned cultural exploration elective was at the end of the day this quarter. Unlike the other kids who’ve been there for a while, he didn’t get to pick, and his schedule only had the room number, not the name. Some of the electives were film study groups, book clubs, themed creative writing workshops, even cricket! Still, Nathan passed Spanish in his old school because he… No, he failed Spanish, but cheated off of a guy who spoke Spanish in math.

He showed up at the cultural exploration elective room two minutes behind the bell, and walked into a seminar room with all the furniture pushed up against the cinderblock wall, leaving the other half with five chairs, an instrument that looked like a giant lute with a round back, a guy holding a three-stringed banjo with a triangular body, another guy in a My Little Pony shirt and unwashed fingernails with a ukulele-version of the giant lute, and some wannabe punk at a pile of percussion odds-and-ends, sitting on a drumbox. The gay dude with the triangle guitar was seething and tuning the ukul-luté.

“Oh, hey. You, uh, joining us?” The punk’s wild red hair didn’t even move when he stood up, not from product but from its own thick, coarse texture. He stepped forward to greet Nathan at the door.

“Oh, wow!” A fat kid with a grease-stained shirt wiggled his way out from under a table in the back of the room. “They gave the stupid new kid to the Russian Music Ensemble. Great. Now we’re going to sound fucking awesome.”

“Shut up, he knows Accordions,” said the blonde fruit who was white-knuckled with obsession as he tuned two strings to E with as much perfection as possible for a souvenir instrument from the Soviet Union. He shoved the instrument back in his co-string’s hands and stood up to pull a battered red resin accordion out from behind small percussion mountain. “I arranged your parts. I hopes you don’t needs them written down. It sounds like-“

”It sounds like this!” The MLP guy used his disgusting fingernails to sloppily claw-hammer the triangle-thing through a tangle of chords.

“No-“ Just like that, he was completely distracted and arguing with the MLP guy.

”Uh…” Nathan looked around for an empty chair, then started looking at the door.

The redhead piped up. “Hold on, uh, I’m Pickles, and that’s uh…” The blonde guy was Skwisgaar, playing the prima domra, he was yelling at Toki, prima balalaika, and Murderface was tuning the bigger instrument, the bass domra, with a scowl. “It’sch William, dickweed.”

“And, so… Let’s just show him what we do, guys. You’ll recognize this one. Kalinka.” The band all exchanged nods and sat up straighter (except for William, but whatever.)

Pickles raised a tambourine to count off, then Skwisgaar and Toki furiously strummed a chord in a fast, hard crescendo. The timing was hinkey from that point on, but Pickles lead with his voice, high and strong.

“Кааааааааалинка, калинка, калинка моя—“

They chopped through the song, then attempted to accelerando together and ended up a mess until Pickles burst through with a long hold that modulated down. Then, there was a collective breath,

“Ах, под сосною, под зеленою,”

The strings plodded along lightly, with flourishes from Skwisgaar undermining Pickles. Murderface’s plodding was steady and depressive. Toki’s strumming got more and more sluggish as the verse went on, until it concluded in one more big buzz from Skwisgaar and Toki together.

”Кааааааа—“

”Schmoke break!” Murderface shouted. He let his domra all but hit the floor.

”Really!? Right now? Murderface,”

”Come ons! Wes got to practice!”

”Moidaface! Butts the juuleses is for fools!”

“Uh…” Nathan droned. “I don’t actually know how to play the accordion.”

[gaykarstaagforever]

...Well, at least he didn't sigh and play a ukulele.

1) "...Assuming we believe any of this." Append that to everything I say here. I don't believe a word this guy says. He comes across as chronically narcissistic and making excuses for inexcusable behavior. Even when he admits that, it feels like he is ONLY doing that to worm out of the consequences of getting called out for it. He is still just doing damage control, so he can regain his channel and avoid getting a real job. Trust me, I'm a narcissistic asshole, too. We can smell each-other. Like bears. This whole thing is just disingenuous.

I don't even believe his personal stuff. I want receipts for his diagnoses and family turmoil. Is that fair? No. But how else can we trust him at this point? It is what it is, because of what he did.

2) As he says, personal problems and having dreams aren't excuses for lying, cheating, and grifting. Yet he did all those...and is still kind of trying to score sympathy for why he "felt the need" to do them.

Giving an explanation is one thing. But that isn't what this feels like. Maybe I'm being a biased dick here. But I smell more grift. It just feels like he's gunning for sympathy to wiggle out of his whole YouTube career collapsing.

3) No one gives a shit about your boiler-plate liberal guilt identity issue bullshit, Jimbo. You got in trouble for stealing. No one cares why, see #1. It absolutely doesn't matter. You don't get a pass for stealing because you're gay and white and sad about it. That is a shameful thing to drop here. Asshole.

4) The movie grift thing was STILL a grift, regardless of your intentions. Moral failures are an assessment of actions, not motives. It doesn't matter the circumstances: you got paid to do something you didn't do, and kept the money. That's a grift. And the grift is the problem.

5) Hbomberguy doesn't need your money or your apologies. Neither does the international gay community. Your sins were against specific people. You claim you are dealing with that directly. I hope so. But that is exactly all you need to deal with to atone for this. Stop acting like a wounded god trying to save the world from your stumble. We're good out here. This was your personal fuck-up, in relation to specific people. Cut the narcissistic crap and focus on that.

6) ...If you can. This guy might be helpless against his own inflated sense of self-importance. Narcissists have that problem. I don't know how you deal with that, if this whole mess wasn't enough to compel you. ...But that also isn't an excuse to get away with shit behavior, so fuck you either way, honestly.

7) He said he is going to make content free from his previous garbage, and give the money away. Yeah sure, dude. I'll believe it when you prove it. It means literally nothing otherwise.

8) Stop exposing your personal shit online. This has always been a problem with you. It just comes across as a plea for an excuse to be a dick. There is connecting to an empathetic audience, and then there is trying to cash in expensive sad gay chips you think you have. Knock it off. We don't like or trust you, so we do not care about YOU. If you want to regain trust with good content, shut up and do that. Otherwise, just shut up. We don't need you here, bellyaching for attention.

9) You didn't even MENTION Todd in the Shadows?! A shoutout at least, dude!

...I realize that is petty of me. But still.

10) I want to point out again that James Somerton was never King of the Gays. He seems to think he was, and he dropped his crown. That isn't a thing. And we aren't desperate for you to pick up the thing you never had to drop. There is that raging narcissism again. Very off-putting.

[freetheworms]

okay so i’ve had this weird Geraskier trucker AU stuck in my head for a while and i just don’t know if i’ll ever get around to writing it properly, so instead i have compiled my headcanons!

(this got super fucking long somehow, so most of it is under the cut)

so Geralt is a long-haul trucker for a small, family owned company called Witchers Express Transportation (WET for short. haha)

of course it’s his family that owns it. Vesemir started it years ago back in their small town of Kaer Moren as something he could pass onto his boys, and to be honest, they all kind of enjoy the travel and a little solitude, although none as much as Geralt

Geralt truck is black with a wolf emblem on the side, because of course it is. Lambert’s is red with flames on it because he loves to fuck around and also i make the rules. Eskel’s truck is forest green because i just think that’s nice. Coën’s is grey (with flames because Lambert insisted he needed to “spice it up.”) Vesemir mostly stays at HQ and handles orders now, but his old truck was also black. none of that matters but it’s important to me that you know this

Geralt also has a black cat that travels with him in the cab of his truck like those adorable dudes on tiktok. i’ll give you one guess at her name ((it’s Roach. duh))

anyway. Geralt is out on some cross-continent haul, and pulls into a truck stop in Posada one evening, cause y’know. a man’s gotta eat. and drink. and sleep (if he’s lucky)

insert bard. i imagine their first meeting is essentially the same as it is in the show, except Jaskier is playing the ukulele instead of the lute because it’s modern times, and a guitar wouldn’t be playable in the truck. i am big brained

eventually Geralt goes to head back on the road once he and Roach are fed and rested, and finds he has a loud, obnoxiously-dressed shadow following him through the parking lot

“hey, so wait. okay wait. what if i, uh, y’know, came with you? like, in your truck?” Jaskier is running away from his stuffy pompous home life, and this big sexy trucker looks like his very climbable ticket

“you don’t even know where i’m going” Geralt is so not having it.

“well, no. i mean. you could tell me? but i don’t really care, as long as it’s not here!”

“i could kill you” Geralt is putting on his scariest face. it is decidedly not working

“nah, don’t buy it. i feel like murderous truckers don’t have kitten companions,” the idiot kid actually winks at him. “so, where are we going?” Jaskier is already climbing into the truck and Geralt, sweet, awkward Geralt, doesn’t want to have to rip him out of it so he just kind of. goes with it, begrudgingly. the kid probably won’t last long cooped up in the tiny cab, anyway

Geralt is very, very wrong.

Jaskier is happy to sit in the truck and look out the windows, commenting on every weird or mildly interesting thing they drive by. he’s also maybe a little too happy to flirt with Geralt at every given opportunity. Geralt definitely, totally, feels no ways about this, why would you even ask that?

Geralt keeps waiting for him to fuck off at one of the truck stops they pull into, but the kid just keeps coming back

if Geralt waits for the bard to finish his set, or his conquests before he drives off, that is definitely not because he likes the company. nope. he just feels bad for the kid, okay? it’s dangerous for a naive little fancy lad out here

oh, also. Geralt’s radio doesn’t work and Jask thinks that’s the most insane thing about this guy. i mean, travelling for weeks on end with nothing but silence and the occasional meow to listen to? absolutely psychopath behaviour. can’t have that.

so Jaskier spends a lot of his time in the passenger seat, composing songs about the various people he’s met on their travels, or about Geralt, and even once about Roach. Geralt pretends to be annoyed when Jaskier plays them in the cab, but secretly he’s realizing maybe he doesn’t miss the silence as much as he thought

Jaskier still gets himself in trouble sleeping with the wrong people at the inns they frequent, and Geralt of course has to be his Big Beefy Backup™️ when the occasional angry husband or wife tries to skin him in the middle of the motel lobby

Geralt is absolutely not jealous of the people Jask sleeps with. he’s not. nope. no, sir. he’s just annoyed at having to rescue him, is all

and if they share a bed half the time, it’s only because motels are expensive and getting two rooms seems like a waste of money. they’re just being smart!

so, they travel together like this for a couple of years; Geralt making deliveries (and excuses for the weird, overly friendly man constantly in his passenger seat) and Jaskier using all this experience to further his meager singer-songwriter career

they do part ways sometimes so Geralt can go back to Kaer Moren, or so Jaskier can try and record one of his now numerous ballads, but they’ve exchanged phone numbers (for safety!) and they somehow always end up coming back together

Jaskier absolutely did not turn on Geralt’s location sharing so he could “happen to turn up” at the same truck stop as his favourite trucker

so, yeah. they do this little dance around each other for almost 10 years before Geralt’s guilt finally gets the better of him on a bad day. he’s kept Jaskier cooped up in his tiny truck for far too long. it’s selfish. Jask deserves to see the world, and not from behind a windshield. he says as much, one day when they’re stopped in some shitty diner parking lot

Jaskier suggests they take some time off the road then, maybe see the coast together? 

Geralt insists he can’t just leave his job, and that Jaskier should go on to live his actual life without an old grumpy man weighing him down

Jaskier does not take that well. “i’m the one that asked you if i could travel with you, you big brute! you don’t get to be all self-sacrificing about this!”

Geralt does not take Jaskier not taking it well very well. cue yelling. cue Geralt saying things he doesn’t mean about Jaskier holding up his deliveries with his dilly-dallying at stops. about Jaskier never shutting up and being annoying. about how he wishes he’d never met that stupid kid at the truck stop in Posada. 

big “go on! just get outta here you stupid dumb animal!” vibes

cue Mountain Breakup moment. they banter, sure, but Geralt has never actually yelled at him like this. Jask gets out of the truck with a dejected “see you around, Geralt.”

they travel separately for a good few months, almost a year before Geralt starts to think he might go insane in the silence. he even considers fixing his radio, but something about that feels wrong. also he’s a little scared he’ll hear one of Jaskier’s songs play and lose his shit entirely

so eventually Geralt is home at Kaer Moren, moping more than usual, when Eskel somehow notices that Geralt and Jaskier are still sharing locations. Geralt didn’t even know that was a thing you could do??? How long has that been on????

Eskel just gives him this Look and Geralt realizes what he has to do

he sets out to find Jaskier, pinging his phone at some bar just outside Posada

well, thank god he did because he find a tipsy and very scared Jaskier in the back alley, about to get his shit rocked by a group of angry locals whose spouses he probably fucked

Mr. Big Beefy Backup™️ scares the 3 or 4 people off easy enough, but then comes the hard part. time to apologize for being a supreme dickhead, Geralt. go on.

Jaskier is still just standing there in shock because what??? just happened??? why is Geralt here? how is Geralt here? he knows for a fact Geralt would never figure out Jaskier’s location sharing trick on his own; this man can barely figure out how to answer a text. 

he’s about to ask when Geralt finally starts speaking

and it’s an apology? from his Geralt?? okay, maybe he’s drunker than he thought

but no, Geralt really is apologizing, and he looks sincere. in fact, he looks downright miserable as he tells Jaskier he never meant any of it, and he’s so sorry he let his guilt get the better of him. says Jaskier didn’t deserve that hurt, and Geralt would never do it again. he’s really trying to be better. he will be better, just please. he just needs his bard back, if he’ll have him

the silence is deafening as Jaskier just stands there, gaping like a fish

he was going to shut Geralt down, at least for a minute. he was. he’s thought about this moment a zillion times, and he really was going to tell Geralt it wasn’t enough, that he’s worth more than that

but Geralt looks genuinely heartbroken and vulnerable in a way Jaskier’s never seen, and he can’t do it. he doesn’t want to.

so Jaskier steels himself and kisses him instead, because for once, he’s at a loss for words. because he’s a little drunk and he’s wanted this for the better part of a decade. because he’s afraid this is the only chance he’ll get

and when Geralt feverishly returns the kiss, Jaskier knows he’ll happily climb right back into that cramped old truck with him. knows there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than with this big, stupid man that he loves. he says as much

and Geralt smiles, actually grins as he says “i love you too, Jaskier”

Jaskier does set some new boundaries and ground rules between them though, because we stan Growth and Knowing Your Worth. luckily, Geralt is more than happy to oblige

and then they drive off into the sunset together to see the coast :)

also, Jaskier has never been more grateful for Geralt’s broken radio. there’s, uhh, no need for Geralt to hear his latest single, Burn Trucker Burn

wow. okay, well at this point i may as well have written the actual fic but Y’KNOW. maybe i will some day. who knows. let me know if uhhh if anyone would want to read it?? validation is my lifeblood and i’m real nervous about posting this for no reason

also, if anyone else for some reason wants to give this stupid AU a go, please for the love of god, tag me! i’d love to read what you come up with :)

[talesfromsiteredacted]

Incoherent Out Of Context Quotes

Random bits of nonsense overheard on duty.

343: "For the last time, Dr. Beringer... I am not making you a snow cone."

Agent Strelnikof to a trainee: "Listen, Viktor... you will never last if you let every little odd thing get to you. Tomorrow, when Dr. Clef starts playing that blasted ukulele, just ask someone to dance."

049 to a random junior researcher: "Oh my. It appears Dr. Bright has caught a terrible sickness."

Junior Researcher: "Not the Pestilence, I hope."

049: "An even worse disease. Stupidity. I do hope he does not infect the others."

073 to Dr. Jakobi: "It's rocket science, not brain surgery. You can figure it out."

Random D-Class: "I thought being in lock up was bad. At least my biggest worry there was Tiny Tyrone thinking I was kinda cute. Now I gotta dodge big cranky alligators, the zombies, the creepy old dude, the angriest edgelord in history, reality warpers, killer statues, and... Dr. Clef. Should have stayed the fuck out of Priapat."

Iris, to Dr. Huang: "Do I really need to know all this, Doc?"

Huang: "Knowledge is power, Ms. Thompson. Any bit of extra information can mean life or death."

Iris: "But Doc... no one, ever, in recorded history, needed to know algebra to shoot photos. Face it, Al Gebra's ex isn't coming back, and if he can't figure out why that's on him."

049, hearing an agent cussing out a fellow agent: "Agent, such language. Clearly I need to disinfect your mouth."

Agent Takamura, swearing loudly in Japanese... no translation.

Dr. Clef: "English please, Agent Takamura?"

Takamura: "If I ever find a way to do it and get away with it, I swear on my ancestors I will end Jack Bright. I am NOT a furry! I do not even know what that is! It's not my fault I have fox ears!"

Dr. Clef: "Death to the oppressors!"

Agent Fisk: "Dr. Clef, we're the ones going around covering up anomalies, neutralizing threats, suchlike. Pretty sure we're the oppressors."

Clef: "Death to the Chaos Insurgency, then!"

Fisk: "O5 revoked your kill privileges."

Clef: "Grrr. Fine. Extremely improbable bad luck to the Chaos Insurgency. Happy now?"

Agent Denisovich: "For the last time, my name is not Ivan, I've never even tried boxing, and I am Ukrainian not Russian. Stop asking me for Rocky's autograph."

Random guard to 076-2: "He looks so sweet when he's asleep. You can almost forget the insane bloodlust and anime hero powers."

[ghostwriterdiariesxoxo]

Down For You (Ch:16) History Repeats (TEASER)

Teaser warnings (Language, Adult content)

[It feels like a perfect, endless, afternoon. The beach seems to drift further and further from view as we swim, talk, and play, tilting our faces to the sky as we laugh. My muscles burn from the rhythmic push and pull of the tide, but there’s something about it that I welcome because it somehow makes me feel more alive. I wasn’t aware of the weight that Bo and I have had on our shoulders until now, as it lifts towards the sun, slowly sinking from its position overhead and I’m happy just to witness the nearly constant smile playing on his lips that tastes like the salt of the ocean with every kiss. When the tide begins to swell, we slowly make our way back to the beach. The pale gold light of the sinking sun is warm on my skin as we trudge through the sugar-white sand towards the Escalade. 

“Do you want to stick around here and watch the sunset?” Bo asks, pushing his soaked hair from his face. He looks at me, flashing a grin. “Or are you still aching to get back to the beach house?”

 “No,” I laugh, giving him a playful push. “Let’s stay here.”

 With the hatch lifted over our heads, we settle in the back of the Escalade. Bo sits, propped against the frame, one leg hanging out over the edge, the other, drawn close to his chest. And for a while, he watches me, with a gentle, adoring smile while I play the ukulele. The notes are soft against the distant roar of the ocean and from time to time I lift my gaze from the strings, to watch a golden retriever in the distance as he tears through the sand in pursuit of a frisbee. 

The sun is now hovering on the horizon when he steals the Ukulele and I laugh, as he’s once again personally offended that it doesn’t play like a guitar. His fingers get bundled, one over the other across the fret, and he curses through a smile, his damp hair sweeping the top of his sunkissed cheeks as he shakes it wildly out in front of him.

 “Why is it so tiny?!” He fusses through clenched teeth.

“That’s what she said?”

 He huffs a laugh at my lame attempt to be funny.

“Then she obviously wasn’t talking to me.” He tosses the Ukulele to the side just as his phone begins buzzing, illuminating atop of a pile of damp towels. “Aw shit,” he says, glancing at the screen. Putting it on speakerphone, he tosses it down between us. “Heeey Mitch.” 

“Hey buddy!” A deep, but offensively loud voice responds. “You ready for this weekend?”

 Bo Rolls his eyes, sweeping his palm over his beard. 

“Dude, of course! I’m SO fucking ready, are you kidding?”

There’s a brief moment of silence on the line before the guy, apparently, named Mitch, responds.  

“You forgot didn’t you?”

 “Yep.” 

 “Classic! Good thing I called to remind you then!”

 “Uh-huh.”

 “I’m assuming Camille isn’t coming with you? I hear she’s back at her home away from home.”

“We aren’t together,” Bo replies quickly. “But yeah—she's probably not gonna show.”

“Oh no! You guys split already?” Mitch’s words are thick with sarcasm as he belts out a hearty laugh. “Good call man— that girl’s the biggest whore in L.A.”

  Bo’s expression seems to tighten as he looks out towards the ocean.

 “You do realize you’re marrying Victoria Layton, right?”

 “Says the SECOND biggest whore in L.A.” Mitch says ripping into another round of laughter. Bo lays his head back on the frame, shaking his head as Mitch continues. “Well, Camille must be pretty fucked up this time because she’d never miss the reunion party of the century! Hey! Be prepared to get fucked up!”

“Got it, man,” Bo says as he leans forward, over the phone. “I’ll see you then.” He ends the call with a faint sigh before looking up.  “So, my insanely obnoxious, but well-meaning friend Mitch, is getting married this weekend. Puts a damper on our trip but—want to be my plus one?”

I smile. “A wedding date with the second biggest WHORE in L.A?” I tease. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted!” I laugh but he returns a weak smile. “You don’t seem very excited about going…”

“I’m not,” he sighs. “But—I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t.”

 Without much further conversation we turn our eyes out to the horizon, just in time to watch the sun sink behind the blue.

 It’s twilight when we return to the beach house, illuminated beautifully over the dunes. As much as I’d love to let Bo strip my bikini off right inside the door, I have sand in every place I never wanted it, so I quickly make my way towards the bathroom to get a quick shower.

Just as I make it through the bathroom doorway, I hear Bo speak as he suddenly closes in behind me. 

“Not so fast,” he says quietly. Hooking his finger over the back strap of my bikini, he pulls me back against his body, lifting my hair with one hand, his lips graze across the back of my neck, while his other hand sends my eyes rolling as it travels south of the border. “Make it quick,” he purrs into my ear. “I started regretting that decision to wait, hours ago.”

 I bite my lip with a smile.  “Good,” I say, trying to breathe. “You deserve it.”

 He spins me around, twisting his fingers into my hair and his mouth sinks deeply onto mine. Our bodies both radiate the heat from the sun we’ve been absorbing all day and when he sighs across my lips, I start to reconsider that shower. The ring of his cell meets our ears from the bedroom and after two rounds, his hands drop from my hair to his side in defeat as he takes a step back. He tosses his head to the side, clearly annoyed as the melodic cock block starts on round three. But I’m not minding all that much as I dreamily study the way the saltwater has made his hair curl around his face.  “Quick,” he repeats before leaving. 

 Once in the shower, the background noise of my mind turns to full volume, taking in the feeling of the warm water as it journeys over my skin. Questions and worries, sitting both at the forefront and the back of my mind. Starting with the new and unexpected plans to attend a wedding this weekend. Bo explained on the way back from the beach that Mitch called it the ‘reunion of the century’ because it’s essentially bringing their entire circle of friends together from over the last decade and a half.

 The fact that my own wedding, steadily approaching, still sits unresolved and uncanceled chews at the back of my mind. Attending this wedding isn’t going to soften that feeling and plus, the idea of being surrounded by a crowd of Bo’s history suddenly fills me with a bit of anxiety. Who knows who will be there, staring at me, wondering who I am and what on earth I’m doing with Bo. Because so far, that’s all I’ve witnessed. 

But the main concern I have still sits heavily on my mind. Is Bo okay? Although it somehow feels like days later, it was only just last night that I listened as he cried himself to sleep. He’s been chipper today, although there’s been a few moments he seemed to be miles away in his head. I know one conversation and one quiet cry aren’t going to take away the violent echoes of that night. So where’s he tucking it away? How long will it be until it resurfaces?   It’s a lot to process but I do everything I can to pull it back behind the wall in my head as I climb out of the shower. But I suddenly consider that maybe I should leave these thoughts strewn about because somehow the stress of it all is manifesting in desperate want for him. So, while my head grasps around in the dark for resolve, my body is clawing at him, viciously in need.

Wrapped in a towel, I head into the bedroom. After a quick sweep of the space, I realize it’s empty. But, the double French doors leading to the porch are wide open and along with the breeze sweeping in from the beach, I hear the faint sound of his voice trickling in. When I make it to the doorway, I peer out, spotting Bo. His back is to me, where he leans against the pillar, his cell phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear. The full moon overhead cast his shadow, inky black and stretching out over the length of the porch.

 I open my mouth to give him a quick heads up that I’m out of the shower, but when he starts speaking, I pause.

 “It’s gonna be all right, Cam…..You’ll get through it….. It’s fine….if you need me, just call me.”

My heart drums in my chest and I’m not sure if it’s from a rise of anger or shock. But either, it’s breaking. He said he was done with her. For good. But it’s clear he isn’t… and I’m suddenly faced with the realization that Camille might be right after all. She’s here to stay. And what exactly does that mean for me…..]

[potato-on-your-head]

I was rambling in the tags about this and reached the 30 tag limit so apparently this demands to be its own post. this is not going to be eloquent whatsoever and will read like tags

Mathman and I are officially done. he FINALLY told me he’s dating someone so i Friendship Broke Up with him a couple days ago. and it sounded like he hoped he’d see me in person this week at our workplace’s giant back-to-work thing??? so I’m not sure if that means he wants to talk or just a chance to say goodbye or what. my guess is just a chance to chat and say bye. and then that’s it for me. I video called him (he lives 40 min away from me) and told him I’m ending our phone communication - maybe not forever but for the foreseeable future. and he was like, ‘well. that sucks’ which I thought was the perfect response - like!!! yeah it does suck!!! I wish I could stay your friend because I care about you but unfortunately I care too much!!! and I can’t make myself Not like you because feelings are dumb!!!

but anyway he strung me along all summer saying ‘yeah we can get together in August and hang out!’ which we usually do at his house, have drinks and sit out on the porch, play guitar together, him playing me singing, the whole deal. some of my favorite memories in recent years have been made on those nights. and then we’d talk late into the night and he’s so fucking smart and funny and driven and attractive and UGH. but I kept following up about it after I finished my grad classes end of July and he kept giving me these wishy-washy answers when I asked. ‘maybe the 17th or 18th’ ‘thursday possibly’ so FINALLY the literal DAY he kept saying ‘maybe’ we could hang out I was like. yo dude. I’m guessing we’re out of time to hang out this summer????? and then he was like oh sorry I thought I responded to your last text I’m dating someone and it’s probably not a good idea for us to hang out anymore....

LIKE!!!! DUDE!!!! jerk move! you don’t get my friendship anymore if that’s how you’re going to treat me! if you can’t have the hard conversations with me and you keep me hoping THIS LONG then this has to end. I was literally looking forward to this ALL SUMMER. like, this man is good at many things but being vulnerable is not one of them. my guess is he was putting off discussing it with the person he’s dating, thus kept giving me wishy-washy answers, and then FINALLY at the last minute asked if she (I’m assuming they’re a she) was okay with it and obviously the answer was no. so then he FINALLY talked to me about it. or my persistence finally just made him tell the truth

GOD I’m just so pissed. and sad and grateful and hurt and glad I got the time I did. it sounds dumb but he changed me as a person. when we first started hanging out three years ago, I realized how many of my interests depression had stolen from me and had a bit of a freakout (he kept showing me all this music he was into and he was so passionate about things and all his hobbies and I was like. OH FUCK. I AM A BLANK SLATE. I HAVEN’T LISTENED TO NEW MUSIC IN 5 YEARS. I HAVE LOST SO MUCH) and through seeing what he was passionate about, and his life goals and his house projects and such, I started rediscovering my interests and finding new music and moving forward again in so many ways. I don’t think that would’ve happened nearly to the same extent if I hadn’t known him.

3 years ago on one of those hangouts I brought my ukulele to his house and borrowed my sister’s and taught him the basics, and he was better than me in like 15 minutes. he always said he wasn’t musical and he WAS. he learned a bunch of more complicated things on uke using youtube tutorials and then showed me the next time I came over, and I was like, holy shit I never even thought about doing that. then he got a guitar and started learning that, and from there our music hangouts grew. I was inspired by him learning and got a guitar of my own. I wouldn’t have had the bravery to finally start learning guitar for real, and I wouldn’t have known about certain music artists if not for him, and I wouldn’t have had this radical shifting of my musical identity away from classical and into the pop and rock realm if not for him. he! has changed!! my life!!!!! and I WISH I could be just friends but I can’t. I’ve had feelings for him since the 2nd day I knew him, four years ago, when he worked at my building and I was just starting this job, and I can’t get rid of them. and he doesn’t feel the same, and this is the logical end of that whole arc. 

so yeah. I’m really sad, and also proud, because *I* was the one who womanned up and had the conversation and I only anxiety puked once before I did so that’s a win in my book.

who can say if I’ve been changed for the better, but because I knew you, I have been changed for good, blah blah blah etc.

goodbye, my one-sided love. I’m done chasing you. I’m letting go.

[funnelcloudd]

The last dude I fucked was an ex coworker that I kinda sorta had a crush on way back in the day but didn’t really anymore, but he made a move on me while I was drunk at his house and I was just like “alright might as well” and the sex was pretty bad. Especially because afterward he wouldn’t stop talking about what my (dead) dad would think if he knew about it (my dad worked for the same company so he’d met him a few times), and looking back I think it must have been some weird fetish thing so now I’m extra skeeved. Great.

I don’t know why I’m talking about this. It’s probably the edible. Anyway what I’m saying is I need to get properly dicked down for once in my goddamn life preferably by someone I like who also likes me back. The pickin’s are fuckin slim when it comes to the men around here because the only men that are attracted to me are bubba bearded tractor dickheads and the only men I ever go after are little artsy fartsy motherfuckers who all deeply need therapy and they only fuck skinny women who look like elves and play the ukulele or whatever. You know what I’m talking about.

I guess what my sudden massive crush on Matt Berry has taught me is that I need to stop chasing these stupid straight version twinks around town and find me a lovely soft person I can be a sensuous fat fuck with because that just sounds so much better than settling for the first dipshit that pays attention to me or else being relegated to somebody’s secret shame fetish pile. I’m more in love with fat people than I’ve ever been, we’re just so fucking sexy god damn.

[hubbytaeil]

request: mark lee smut please :3

a/n: thank you for your request! I think I got a little bit carried away… I’m sorry if it’s too long and not that good :(

Genre: summer camp!au, smut

Characters: Mark Lee x Female Reader ft. Johnny, Jaehyun, Lucas, Sicheng

Word count: 3051

Summary: Mark Lee may be terrible at basketball but he sure compensates in other departments.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

As much as you denied it, you loved summer camp, you adored sleeping in a bungalow with your friends, sitting around a bonfire while playing random songs on your ukulele and swimming in the lake nearby. More than anything, you loved how many sports you were able to play. Every summer the campers would be divided in two teams and they would have to compete against each other in various matches. This year you were part of the team called Tigers and you couldn’t wait for the competition to start.

“Are you ready for the first match of the summer?!” one of the camp counsellors shouted into a megaphone while everyone was still having breakfast. All the campers responded with loud cheers. “Enjoy the rest of your breakfast, I’ll see you all at the basketball court at 10AM. But first… can I hear some cheers for the Tigers?!”. Your team started clapping their hands, slamming their fists on the table and you chanted with a few other girls the teams name. “Can I hear the Dragons now?!”. The opposing team did the exact same thing, some members even stood up throwing their hands in the air. To be precise, there were three guys who were giving it their all to cheer. The shorter one of the three who were standing up shouted “Dragons rule!” while pointing at your table. You looked at him and rolled your eyes in the most visible way possible so that he could see. He was clearly irritated by your reaction but you couldn’t care less and turned back around

“I think you pissed off Mark Lee, y/n. He’s staring, like, really hard”. “Who?” you answered unbothered, although you were tempted to turn around and a look for yourself. Your friend Lily explained that this was his first time at this camp and that he had a bit of a reputation back in his hometown. “A reputation for what?” you asked with your eyes never leaving your bowl. “A reputation for being so hot!” she responded excited and the other girls in your team giggled. “You guys have terrible taste, let me tell you.” You pointed out while smirking. “Look who’s talking! Also, have you seen his friends? The one on the right is called Jaehyun and I think the other one is called Johnny. Damn… I’d climb that like a tree.” “Lily! What the fuck!” you almost shouted while laughing. “Oh God, they’re all staring at you now. Quick don’t turn- wait I said don’t turn around, y/n!”. You ignored Lily’s words as you shot a deadly stare at the guys but they continued untroubled. The one whose name was Johnny leaned over to Mark to whisper something in his ear and he laughed in response, without taking his eyes off of you. This whole situation was getting on your nerves; you wished you could’ve smacked that little smirk off his face. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you practicing your sad face for when we’re going to kick your ass?” Mark exclaimed while fist bumping Jaehyun. You grinned mockingly at that remark. “You’ve got a lot of confidence for such a short guy, are you sure you can play darling?”. Mark’s friends started laughing at your comeback and hit his arm. “I like her.” Said Johnny in between laughs and Mark glared at his friend, hurt in his pride. Then he turned to you and mouthed “See you on the court.” You couldn’t be bothered with giving him an answer.

The boys’ teams were first up in the line-up. When the Dragons arrived on the court you and other team mates started booing. Mark met your gaze and threw a middle finger up in your direction. In response, you decided to throw him off so you put your hand on your lips and blew him a kiss. Mark was clearly taken back and his cheeks turned bright red. You laughed and shouted “Loser!”. Soon after your team joined the court and you stood up clapping enthusiastically while rooting for your friends. “Go Lucas! Show them how it’s done!” you exclaimed as loud as you could. Your friend Lucas in response pointed at you and winked, which made the crowd howl. “Wow, are we in High School Musical or something?” said Lily while clinging on your arm. “Did you…?” “Lily, doesn’t your mind get tired from thinking about sex so much?” “I’m just asking! I mean he’s hot, who wouldn’t try to get with him?” “Right.” You smirked while thoughts of the night before started invading your mind. Hot, sweaty bodies pressing against each other as the moonlight reflects softly on the water. Whispers, low grunts and inaudible swears filling the air around you. Big hands kneading your ass and your palms pressed on Lucas’ muscular chest. Your cheeks burned as you started to picture those moments, you looked down and then back at Lucas as he was getting ready. He smiled at you and you reciprocated. Lily was quick to notice. “Wait… no way! You go girl!” she wasn’t exactly subtle and you blocked your hand on her mouth but people were already staring, even Mark whose eyes would go back and forth between you and Lucas. Then he turned to Johnny and said something to him while holding his fists. Almost immediately, Johnny started walking in your direction as Mark protested and Jaehyun held him in his place.

“Y/n!” shouted Johnny to get your attention. “What do you want?” you answered with a poisonous tone from the bleachers. “Me and the boys want to make a bet.” You cracked a fake smile at the proposal, but surprisingly you were in interested in what they had thought of. “If we win, you and Mark are going on a canoe ride together tonight.” All the campers knew what taking the canoes at night meant, it was everyone’s excuse to go fool around in peace. You looked at Mark as he avoided your gaze, clearly embarrassed. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re the worst wingman ever, dude?” you said while crossing your arms in front of you. “What? Too scared to say yes?” you didn’t want to appear weak so you accepted. “I mean, our team is going to win anyway, so saying yes won’t hurt. On two conditions.” “What is it?” asked Johnny. You beat around the bush for a few moments as you watched Mark’s reaction at every single words you said. You couldn’t explain how pleased you were while seeing him struggle. “Both the boys and the girls’ team have to win. If only one of them wins, the bet is off. And If we win both times, you are going with Lily on the canoe.” Lily widened her eyes in surprise. Johnny gave her a bright smile in response “Deal!” and then walked back to his team as soon as he heard the whistle. “Y/n… we have to beat them. We must” exclaimed your friend. You just laughed, confident in your team’s skills. You saw Lucas in the corner of your eye with an angry expression on his face. Trying not to let anyone around you notice, you pointed at him and then pointed at your pouting lips. He couldn’t stay mad at you for long and your cute expression only gave him more motivation to win.

As expected, Lucas was a great player; there wasn’t a time where he would be caught slipping, his eyes were always on the ball and his movements were swift and neat. Although the opposing team had very competent players like Jaehyun, who would give them a hard time, Lucas would never miss a hoop. As the referee’s whistle marked the Tigers’ victory, everyone stood up and clapped. Lucas came running straight to you and you climbed down the bleachers to meet him halfway and congratulate him. “You were fantastic- Lucas!” out of the blue he lifted you from the ground and held you in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, I’m all sweaty.” You felt him pout in the crook of your neck. “It doesn’t matter.” You replied while putting your arms around him lovingly. All the others members of the team started making fun of you with all sorts of jokes and you were starting to get embarrassed. “Please, put me down now.” You said with a shy smile on your face. “Just one moment.” Said Lucas as he started spinning around with you still attached to his neck, making you dizzy and causing just louder noises from the others. “C’mon Lucas, she has to play, put her down!” said Sicheng, trying to cool down the situation. After he finally put you down and got his lips closer to your ear making you shiver. “Now go win so you can get out of that stupid bet.” You moved away to meet his gaze. “You know I always come in first.” You replied with a smirk. “Oh, I know” chuckled Lucas while pinching your hip playfully.

The girls’ teams match was just as upbeat and exciting, if not more. From time to time while playing, you could see Mark in the corner of your eye as he scratched his knee nervously. You felt uneasy at how many times you had made eye contact during the entire match. There you were, in a pool of sweat in your basketball shorts and a crop-top, unaware of your charms in that moment. Unaware of Mark’s deepest thoughts as he watched your glistening body bounce at every jump. As you shot the last lay-up, you heard a whistle. “The Tigers are our winners today!”. You turned to Lily and started jumping in excitement. Soon you were all cheering in a circle as you rejoiced in your victory. You caught a glimpse at the losers and you nodded your head to make them come closer. Mark was the only one that stayed in his place. You held out both your hands to Jaehyun and Johnny. “Good game.” You exclaimed with a smile. Both guys shook your hands while smirking. “Also, you’d better get your canoe ready, big guy. My friend Lily is not a cheap date.” You winked at him and then turned to a rather embarassed Lily.

As the sun was setting, everyone was busy setting up the tables for dinner. Lucas was helping you put on a tablecloth, never taking his eyes off of you. “What?” you said playfully. “You look great in that skirt.” He mouthed so he could not be heard. After you finished, he put his arm around you and kissed you softly on the cheek as you two sat down with your friends. Once again, you were drawn to Mark who was standing in the corner of the main room silently. He noticed your gaze and quickly avoided it. You kind of felt bad, after hurting his ego all day long. All of a sudden, the camp counsellor entered to make an announcement. Two people were going to collect some extra firewood for the bonfire that night. The groans and complains of the campers didn’t move the old man at all. “Okay, let’s see whose turn is it… Mark and y/n’s turn!”. Took by surprise, your jaw dropped. He was the last person you wanted to be alone with and you were sure that the feeling was mutual. You felt Lucas’ arm twitch around from jealousy but you put your hand on his leg to reassure him. “I don’t like him. Not even a bit.” “I don’t either.” You weren’t sure if you truly believed those words or you just wanted please Lucas.

Twenty minutes had probably passed after you had left the main room. As you and Mark were walking through the woods in complete silence - you wondered if you had ever felt so awkward in your whole life. But you also felt pity for him, this guy had been the target of all the jokes for the entire day, not only by the opposing team but also his friends. “Mark…” you uttered hesitantly, which caused him to look at you while he was holding a bunch of wood pieces. “I’m sorry about today.” “For what? It’s not your fault if Johnny’s an asshole and never thinks before opening his mouth.” You noticed his muscles tightening around the logs revealing two strong biceps you hadn’t noticed before. “But what does it matter to you anyway? You’ve got your pretty little boyfriend waiting for you, am I right?” “He’s not my boyfriend.” Mark shot his eyes at you with a relieved expression. “You know what? I think you’re jealous.” you fired back. “N-no, I’m not jealous! What the fuck.” “You seemed like you were this morning.” You raised your eyebrow at him. He froze and the spot but soon after a grin appeared on his face. “Oh, you thought I was jealous? No sweetie, I was just thinking about how that guy’s so tall that he can’t fuck you right.” Mark’s dirty words caught you off guard and as much as you tried to feel disgusted, you were undeniably turned on by his boldness. “You’ve been talking such a big game all day, but I bet you’re all talk and no actions.” You pointed out while biting your lips unconsciously. Mark did not talk back, he just threw all the logs to the ground, grabbed your face fiercely with both of his hands as he started kissing you roughly. You cursed yourself at how easily you had given in to the kiss. Your mouths were clashing against each other, both of you fighting to assert dominance, resulting in even sloppier kisses that only made you feel wetter than you already were. He grabbed your ass as he pushed you against him and you inevitably felt his boner against your denim skirt, which made you moan against his mouth. Then he started attacking your neck as you began grinding your core against his to get some sort of relief. “Want my cock that bad, uh?” “Yes, too bad there’s an asshole attached to it.” You said in between moans while grabbing his length over his jeans. He grunted at your remark but completely forgot his anger as you jerked him off painfully slow. While your hand worked on his member, he slipped a hand under your skirt, making you squirm. After a few minutes you moved him away, causing Mark to frown. “Get on the ground.” You ordered. “What?! No way, what if I don’t want to?” then you got closer to his face “Either you get on the ground right now, or you don’t get to fuck me.” You replied with devilish look, as if some sort of sex demon had possessed you on the spot. And Mark loved that. He followed your orders with no more complains. You got on top of him, pushed up your skirt and removed your soaking panties, revealing yourself in all your glory as Mark licked his lips. As you adjusted yourself on him, he grabbed your breasts eagerly and was caught by surprise when he realised that you were not wearing a bra. You smirked at his incredulous face and you slowly guided his own hands on your bosom. The sight of you grinding so hungrily on him as you threw your head back lost in your own pleasure, had Mark feeling light-headed. You, on the other hand, were no different. Letting Mark get his way with you in the middle of that forest did something to you, you couldn’t put it into words. You forgot about everything, about that stupid basketball game, about dinner, the logs, about Lucas. Every thought was washed away by Mark’s sweet moans as he kissed your nipples over your shirt. Completely out of patience you unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants finally freeing his cock. “Come here.” Grunted Mark while grabbing you by the hips. You looked into each other’s eyes as he entered your wet entrance. You mouth released a silent moan as you held on to his shoulders for balance. His cock felt so good inside you, all you could do was moan and sigh desperately. “Damn, you’re loud, baby.” Mark managed to exclaim. You grabbed his jaw with one hand as you kept fucking yourself on him “Shut up and fuck me right like you said you would.” Your words made Mark’s eyes turn dark. He grabbed your hips once again and fully lay down as he pounded into you way harder than before, making you see stars. You tried to hold back your moans by forcing your hand on your lips, fearing someone might hear you, but Mark wasn’t helping. “I wish I could’ve done this during the game, when you were wearing those basketball shorts. God, you looked so fucking hot. I could’ve just fucked you in the middle of the court- oh, God.” His words made you clench around him resulting in him losing his ability to form any sentences.”S-so that’s w-why you were s-staring? Because y-you wanted- oh God!” your words were cut off as he started playing with your clit. You were both so needy for each other, so eager as you chased your highs. You pushed your head in the crook of his neck, getting lost in his scent as he hit your sweet spot repeatedly. “P-please, m-make me come.” That was last sentence you were able to utter. He nodded as he kissed your lips. “I’ll make you come so hard, don’t worry.” All it took you were a few more moments and soon after you felt an explosive orgasm taking over both you. You grasped a fist of Mark’s hair as you rode out your high. Then you pushed yourself off of him and lay on the ground next to him. Pants filled the air as they became one with the chirping of birds. You turned your head to face Mark only to find out that his eyes were already on you. You blushed. “Oh so, just a few moments ago you were ordering me to fuck you and now you’re blushing? I don’t get you at all.” He chuckled and the sound of his laugh made your heart flatter. “But that’s why I like you.” You looked at him and smiled. You shifted to your side and put your hand on his as you pressed your lips on the corner of his mouth. “We should do this more often.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

bangs pots and pans together loudly FIC UPDATE COME GET YALL SOME JUICE

Apparently the vital, missing component to enjoying school was having a friend there. Go figure.

He and Kevin only have that first period class together, but they make the most of it, passing notes back and forth between the two of them, the teacher too tired that early in the morning to notice, or care. Lunch isn’t depressing anymore. They sit together under the shade tree, and Kevin does seem to also appreciate the view. “Can you even imagine working up a sweat, on purpose?” Betelgeuse pats his gut. “You know I can’t.”

“I can’t believe how little the track shorts are. That’s obscene. You think I’d look good in them?” “You join track and I’ll come to every meet, an’ it won’t be for th’ love of th’ sport.” He doesn’t think normal friends talk to each other like this, but he doesn’t actually know. Does everyone flirt with their friends? Are friends just cool people you wanna fuck but haven’t yet? Is it demon hormone bullshit, making him read into everything? Unclear.

It’s all going so good, until it isn’t, suddenly.

One lunch, two months into being there, Kevin pulls a huge and impressive old book from his backpack. “Look what I goooot,” he sing songs, waving it in Betelgeuse’s face, and he sneezes in response. “Smells old.” Emily and Lydia would love it. “It is. It’s very old,” Kevin confirms, and he moves so he’s sitting next to Betelgeuse, shoulder to shoulder, both their backs to the shade tree. “It’s about demons.”

Betelgeuse loses interest immediately, and focuses on not going pink at their shoulders touching, instead. “Z’at so?” he grunts. Kevin doesn’t seem to pick up on his moodiness, though. “It talks about all these ancient beings,” he explains, flipping pages. “Their summoning circles, their aspects,” he gives Betelgeuse a nudge at that, “all the things they can do for you, and the boons they grant.” He feels uncomfortable. “What’s with this? You obsessed with me, or somethin’?” He tries to play it as a joke, but that glint in Kevin’s eyes is back, and he doesn’t like it. “Of course, who wouldn’t be obsessed if they learned all this shit is actually true? It’s like there’s a whole secret world behind a locked door, and I’ve got the key.” Kevin looks back up at him.

He gets the feeling he’s the key. It’s not a good feeling.

“Where’d you even get this fuckin’ thing?” he lifts a finger, and the book slams closed in Kevin’s lap. His friend huffs. “Internet, of course.” “No, I mean… why were you lookin’ for somethin’ like this?” “I want to learn more. Don’t you?” Kev presses, and reopens the book. “I mean, what if there’s something amazing you can do, and you just don’t know, cause you’re not bothering to try?”

“So I’ll never know, so what?” Betelgeuse feels like this is a losing argument, but he tries anyways. “What’s so great about bein’ weird? You’re lucky you’re human.” “Dude, don’t even start with that. You can fly.” “So can humans,” he points out. “Wh- A plane and fucking levitating for fun are not the same, and you know it, BeetleJerk.” Kevin honestly can’t understand why he’s not excited over this. “I just mean… I’d rather be human, than this.” He blinks at his own words, because he’s never expressed that out loud before, ever. But it doesn’t feel untrue. “You’re out of your mind, more so than usual. Every human alive wants to feel special, and do the stuff you can do. Why are you acting like it’s so miserable all of a sudden? You use your powers all the time, I’ve seen you literally teleport five feet because you’re too lazy to walk.”

“You don’t get it.” He’s feeling sullen now, and he wiggles a little away from Kevin, and crosses his arms. “BJ, come on-” Betelgeuse teleports away to under the bleachers, and he eats his lunch there, until the bell rings.

He’s waiting for Emily after school, not feeling particularly friendly, when Kevin approaches. They stand there awkwardly. It feels tense, and weird, and he waits to see what the breather does. “Don’t be mad,” Kevin says, finally. “M’not mad.” “You sound mad.” “You know what mad on me looks like,” he finally turns to look at his friend, amber eyes burning with irritation. “First hand.”

Kevin looks down, and kicks at a rock that might not actually be there. “I thought you’d be excited. BJ, come on, I don’t wanna.. Not be friends over this.”

Betelgeuse signs, and scratches at the scruff on his chin. “It’s not like that,” he relents after a moment. “I just, I don’t care about that stuff. An’ I don’t wanna sit around, focusin’ on it. I don’t exactly like feelin’ different. Yeah, I do tricks an’ use my magic an’ stuff, but it’s hard to control. I lose my temper once an’ I could seriously destroy somethin’, or hurt my family. It doesn’t exactly feel good, knowin’ that. No one else my age can stand me, cause they can tell I’m weird. Before you, it was fuckin’ lonely, Kev.”

He feels a familiar pressure, because Kevin has taken his hand, and the human gives it a squeeze. He accepts it, melting a little against the other boy. “Still friends?” Kevin asks, and Betelgeuse purrs in response, resting his head on Kevin’s shoulder.

It’s not till later, at home, that he realizes Kevin never actually apologized.

```````````````````````````````````````````````````````

It’s like that, for a while. He knows Kevin still has the book. He knows he’s reading it, and sometimes Kevin will bring up demon stuff, but Betelgeuse has almost exactly a minute and a half of patience for answering questions or hearing about it. Still, Kev doesn’t stop. He might feel angrier if the breather wasn’t so god damn cute.

The air is starting to go cold, and leaves are beginning to fall. October is settling in, getting comfortable, and mom’s starting to break out the Halloween décor. It’s the middle of a kind of gloomy, Autumn day, when things get weird.

Kevin has the book open, much to Betelgeuse’s annoyance, and he’s blabbing away about a demon that supposedly grants wealth- “Do you think you could do that?” -when Betelgeuse looks down at the book, and sees Juno looking back at him. It’s not really her, it’s an illustration, but he’d recognize the bitch anywhere. She’s ink, glaring up from the page, those same age lines etched into her face, confirming his private theory that she’d been an old hag even when she was young. The slit neck is prominent, and as he stares, he sees smoke billow out of it. Oh, fuck no.

He grabs the book and slams it shut, startling Kevin, and then he teleports it directly under them, a mile down in the rock of the earth. Kev blinks for a moment, confused, before looking at his friend. “Wh.. Dude, WHAT?”

“Possessed book,” he croaks out, feeling tense, because he can smell cigarette smoke. “And you’re afraid of it? Why? You are also a literal fucking demon!” “That’s why I’m not messin’ with it!” Betelgeuse stands up, uneasy. The ground around the tree feels weird, now. He doesn’t like it here anymore. “Cause I actually understand why it’s a bad fuckin’ idea! God, you should have instincts that tell you not to mess with this stuff! You’re deficient, Kev, seriously.”

“Me deficient? Seriously?” Kev snaps, which hurts in a new, unexpected way. “Whatever, asshole. Give me my book back.” Kevin stands up, too, but he’s not uneasy, he’s angry.

“It’s better off where it is.”

“Which is where?”

Betelgeuse glances down. The grass around the tree is starting to wither. Kevin follows his gaze, but doesn’t seem to notice the dying vegetation. “You buried it? Come on!”

“Leave it, Kev.”

“This isn’t just your cool secret, anymore, it’s mine too!” Kevin glares at him. “You can’t keep me out of it, BJ. That’s not fair. God, at this point, I know more than you! You should be listening to me!”

He feels his volatile temper flare.

“Ex-fuckin’-scuze me?”

He waits for Kevin to take it back. Instead, his friend doubles down. “Demons have to listen to humans,” Kevin crosses his arms. “If they’re summoned. It’s in the book.” “Nobody summoned me,” Betelgeuse snarls, letting his real snake eyes show, an intimidation tactic that works for about half a second. Kevin’s too used to him, at this point. “I’m up here on a deal.” “Bet I could do it. I bet I could summon you. Then you’d have to listen to me.” “Yeah? Well, good luck without your stupid book!” He storms off, leaving Kevin standing there.

```````````````````````````````````````````````````````

The rest of the day sucks. He’s moody all day, annoyed in the car, grumpy in his room. He cranks metal and wishes he’d learned to play a guitar instead of his rinky, happy sounding ukulele. The instrument isn’t going to produce the noise he wants to express himself, right now. He throws it across the room, into a wall, where it smashes, and reforms a minute later, because… it’s still his favorite, after all. Even if it’s no good for expressing his teenage angst.

He can hear shuffling, and talking, outside his room, though he can’t make out what’s being said over the music. After a moment, though, there’s a knock at his door. “Hey, Bug?” Emily calls. “Can you come give me a hand with something?” He wants to tell her to piss off, go away, to leave him the hell alone, but.. It’s Emily. The CD player lets out a strangled choke and suddenly stops, and the door swings open, all without him moving from his flopped position on the bed. “Sup, ma?” he grunts. Emily peaks her head into the room, and smiles when she sees him, the expression radiating warmth and adoration and.. Oh, God/Satan, bless his sunbeam of a mother. “Just wondering if you’re free to do a little decorating?” She reaches behind her and grabs a fake severed bloody limb from the box he assumes she’s dragged into the hallway from the attic. “Don’t you worry it takes away from the “wow factor” to do Halloween twice a year?” He asks, standing and stretching, before apparating in the hallway behind her, and giving the decor box a nudge with his boot. “What? No way, there’s never enough Halloween!” Emily grins. “Get that, please.” The box floats along behind him as they head downstairs. They pause in the entryway, as Emily thinks out loud. “So, maybe the kitchen should be-” “Functional as a kitchen, please,” Charles calls from the living room. Emily rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine! Spoilsport! We’ll focus on the entryway for now,” she decides. “You wanna put up cobwebs in the rafters?” She gets on tiptoes to reach into the floating box, and he lowers it a bit for her, as she grabs the fake webbing. “I could just instantly decorate the whole room,” He takes to floating next to the box. “Could make sure it’s all normal human stuff, too,” He adds, before she can respond. “I know you can… But I like decorating,” Emily says brightly. “It’s not about getting it done quickly. It’s about, you know, doing it together.” “So why are dad and Lydia slacking?” Her smile doesn’t falter, but becomes softer. “It kinda felt like you needed some mom time, today,” She says simply. God, she can read him easier than Kev can read his stupid book. “We got in a fight,” he admits. She hums at that, because he only has one friend. It’s not hard to guess who he could possibly mean. “I’m sorry, Bug. What over?” He hesitates. So far he’s not let any of his family in on this book business. He’s been sort of hoping it could just go away on it’s own, and not be a thing. Kevin’s made it into a thing, though, and not telling even his mom feels… bad.

“He’s really into demons. Like, really, really into em,” He rasps, floating up and beginning to put up the spiderwebs, as his mother takes down the usual, sort of spooky wall hangings and trades them for her very intentionally spooky Halloween ones. “He’s got this book, an’ it’s all about demons an’ like, how to summon them, an’ their powers, an’ stuff… Sometimes th’ way he talks, it’s like.. Are we friends cause we’re friends, or friends cause you think I’m gonna be... useful?”

Maybe that doesn't make any sense, but that’s how it’s been feeling, like there’s an invisible shoe hanging midair, and it’s about to drop. His mother waits until he’s finished before looking up at him. “And you fought over that?” She prods. “Not exactly.” How the fuck can she even tell that, though? Damn her mom powers. He really, really didn’t want to talk about this, not to her, but… “I saw Juno. In th’ book,'' He lowers back down to the floor, and digs through the box, pulling out fake body parts. Back up he goes, to stick these in the fake webbing. “It was just a drawing of her, but it started like.. Billowing smoke-”

“From the neck,” His mother remembers, suppressing a shudder.

“Yeah. I could smell the smoke. So I got rid of the book, buried it in th’ school yard, but Kev got all pissy about it. He thinks he’s an expert on this shit, an’ he’s gonna mess with somethin’ big if he keeps this up.” “I’m sure you’ve told him that.” “He doesn’t listen. He gets this look in his eye, like it’s a game, or like… I dunno. Feels sometimes like he thinks he’s…” He searches for the words. “Like he thinks he oughta be the boss a’me, or somethin’.”

He rubs absentmindedly at the moss on his nose. It clings, stubborn as ever, same with the patches by his hairline, and he’s found it’s easier to just add another little layer to his glamour than try to do anything about it.

Maybe that’s indicative of a bigger problem. It’s easier to do a bit of magic and make everything look better than to actually fix the underlying problem. Ugh, introspection, how absolutely miserable. He wants to keep thoughts like that locked away tight, but they have a habit of slipping past his mental defenses and making him feel worse. Absolutely no one can make him feel shittier than he himself can. He sinks to the ground, going purple, and he’s instantly wrapped in his mother’s arms. “It’s okay, Beetlejuice,” Emily has both her hands on the back of his head, and he pushes his face into the crook of her neck. “I just.. I’ve only got the one friend,” he groans. “I don’t wanna stop bein’ his friend, but.. Fuck, ma.”

“I know.” Her voice is a soothing balm. She works her hands through the mess of purple hair at the back of his head. “I know, sweetheart. I know it’s lonely at school, but school isn’t forever,” she tries to assure him. “If your friend is treating you this way, well.. He’s not a very good friend. Do you want to be around someone who makes you feel this bad? Does it feel worth it, to you?”

He knows the correct answer is, “No,” but he’s not sure if his self esteem is high enough for that.

“I like him a lot,” He grumbles, and she hums again. “He’s handsome,” She says, and then pulls back far enough to pinch his nose. “But not as handsome as my son, of course,” and it’s silly enough to help knock away his mood, so that’s something, at least. “What should I do?” He doesn’t pull away from her, just soaks up the mom energy for as long as he can. “I think you need to have a talk,” Emily tells him. “Lay out how you’re feeling. Try to get his side of things, and make sure he hears your side, too. Then, at least you both tried, you know?”

It’s such a mom type answer. He groans again.

“I was worried you’d say some shit like that.” She fuzzes his hair, and he feels the tingle in his scalp that means it’s changed colors. Back to green, he assumes. “You know your moss changes color along with your hair? And your creepo-stache?” “Leave the stache alone, it’s tryin’ it’s best,” He pretends to be defensive.

“It makes you look like the founder of a forum for people who marry their cars,” Lydia offers, from the bottom step of the staircase, where she has apparently been just chilling and listening.

“Wh-! Mom, it’s not that bad, right?” Emily tilts her head to the side and gives what can only be described as a condescending smile. “Oh, you’re both in for it now.” He brings the various decor items to life to terrorize them, and then Charles joins his side, sympathizing with his son vis-à-vis bad teenage facial hair, and by the time the whole squabble is over, hardly any decorating has gotten done… But he does feel better. His family’s good like that.

```````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Monday rolls around, same as it always does, but there’s a weird feeling in the air. Halloween is a week away, barely missing getting a weekend date, but there’s some big Halloween bash the school is apparently throwing. There’s fliers for it everywhere, plastered all over lockers and bulletin boards. He’s not much of a participator, though, and his reaction to his locker being plastered over with invites to a party he doesn't care about is to snap his fingers. All the fliers on all the lockers up and down the hall, all instantly fall loose at once, littering the floor. A few students jump back, but no one looks his way, because why would they?

He’s grabbing his history textbook when he feels a tap on the shoulder, and when he turns, it’s a girl he recognizes, but her name is absolutely lost on him.

“You’re BJ, right?” Miffy askes, and he nods. “Yeah, s’right,” and Margo seems to wince at how gruff his voice is, before continuing. “Um, you and that guy Kevin, you’re like…” Milicent trails off, waiting for him to finish her thought, but sorry, baby, he can barely finish his own. “Like…?” He says, with his gravel voice copying her tone and inflection, and she huffs. “Together?” Marge asks, “Like, all of the time?”

He cocks his head, and squints at her, hands t-rexing at his sides, as Lydia likes to say.\

“Usually,” He concedes, and he gets the feeling he’s dragging this out much, much more than Mango clearly wants, because he spies a group of girls a little ways off, waiting for her. One of them is staring intently, more focused on him, but he pushes that thought aside.

“Look, okay, he’s gonna be out for a few days, and I’m just trying to see if you can take him his homework,” McGrubber has grown tired of having to stand here, talking to the chubby goth loser, apparently. “I’m a student aid in the office and they’re trying to make me do it, but I have track practice!” Thaaaat’s where he knows her from. She looks different, not bouncing and sweating and also not half a football field away. “Sure, fine, I’ll make sure Kev gets his work. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on running in a fuckin’ circle, Maria.” Her face sours. “It’s Blair.” So close. “Who fuckin’ cares,” He replies, and turns back to his locker. He can hear her rejoin her friend group, all of them fawning over her harrowing experience of having to speak to him in public. The last thing he hears from Blair is, “He’s just so goddamn weird,” and then the group rounds the corner.

He closes his locker harder than he maybe needs to.

Kevin isn’t in class that day, or the next, or even the one after. The shade tree has withered and died completely, it’s color sapped and gone, and even walking near it makes him feel uneasy. His new lonely lunch spot is under the bleachers, which feels even more voyeuristic of a spot to watch the track team, but even that activity feels tainted, somehow. He’s back to being lonely.

He can’t stand being lonely.

It gets so bad he contemplates sitting, wait for it, on the bleachers, and maybe even trying to strike up a conversation, but he’s too chicken shit. He’s been going to school with these kids for the past three years, and no one’s wanted to talk to him or chat with him in all that time. He can’t imagine that’s about to change.

Still, on Thursday, miserable and lonely, he gives it a try.

Sitting up here sucks. It’s just a hard metal seat on a gloomy day, and when he’d ventured up and sat down, other people had slowly moved away from him, until he was sitting by himself, all the breathers huddled in a different area, away from him. He'd tried talking, but hardly had a "Hey, how ya doin'?" grated out before the migration began.

Figures.

He finishes eating and lies on his back, resting his hands on his chest, eyes closed, and after a while he feels someone standing over him, and something laid over his hands. He opens his eyes. There’s the most beautiful girl staring down at him. She’s got long, bleach blonde hair, darker at the roots, which is hanging down in a halo around her face, and the biggest, clearest blue eyes he’s ever seen. He glances down, to see she’s placed a daisy over his hand. He looks back up at her, amber eyes questioning.

“You looked so still,” She smiles. Her voice is like music. He thinks he can hear harps. “With your hands folded like that. Kind of like an open casket.” He’d been forgetting to breathe, apparently, which happens sometimes. She thought he looked like a corpse, and she placed a flower over him.

“Sorry, if that’s weird. You’re.. BJ?” She asks, and he picks up the daisy, sits up, and nods. “Yeah, you’re…” “Barbara,” she fills him in. “You’re not so good with names.” “Mmm. Buffy tell you that?” He recognizes her now, from that group of girls. Barbara sits next to him, which makes zero sense. “It’s Blair,” she corrects him gently, but not without a giggle in her voice. “Oh, right.” Her name could be fuckin’ Moonpie and it’d make the same amount of difference to him, but he’d agree with anything Barbara said, if it meant she kept sitting there, talking to him. “Are you going to the Halloween party?” She asks. “Supposed to be pretty killer. It kind of seems like your scene.” “I’m not exactly a social butterfly,” which is the understatement of the god damn century, honestly, but she laughs and nudges her shoulder with his. “Well, I think you should come. I bet you’d have the coolest costume. Maybe think about it?”

“I guess, maybe..” He says lamely, because his brain is short circuiting from that small touch.

“Barb, come on!” someone calls to her from a ways away, on the track. Lunch is nearly over. She stands, and smooths down the long skirt she’s wearing, which is modest but flattering. “Later, BJ,” she smiles, and just like that, she’s gone, like an angel going back up to heaven in a beam of light, off to rejoin her friends. He can hear what she says to them, though. “You guys are mean, he’s not so bad. Just shy.”

He keeps the daisy in a little glass of water on his dresser, and strums love songs on his ukulele.

```````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Thinking about Barbara and her smile and the way she nudged him is a fun distraction, at least for a little while, but when it’s Saturday, and he still hasn’t heard from Kevin, he decides it’s time to demon up and see what the fuck is happening with him. He’s been just teleporting Kev’s homework inside his room, and he’s sure it’s falling into a pile on the floor each time and startling him, but no one ever said how he had to deliver it. Today though, emboldened by the pretty girl on the bleachers, he appears at Kevin’s front door instead, holding Friday’s work, and he knocks. It takes a moment, but Mr. Loh answers.

Betelgeuse hasn’t had much chance to interact with Kev’s dad. He looks like a normal, tired dad, wholly unimpressive, and kinda short. Chuck could wrestle this guy to the mat, no problem.

“Oh, BJ,” Mr. Loh says, and then glances at what’s in his hands. “Kevin’s homework? Thank you. He’s holed up in his room… won’t come out.. Maybe,” and he suddenly looks hopeful. “You two are friends. Maybe you can try talking to him?”

Well, that’s what he was there to do anyways, so sure. “I gotcha, Mr. L,” he nods, stepping inside, and heading up the stairs and down the hall to Kevin’s room. The closer he gets to the door, though, the weirder he feels. Something stinks, figuratively and literally. It smells like… It smells like the waiting room. It’s that same, veil is thin type air that he can smell on Halloween night, but how the fuck is he smelling it here? He bangs on Kevin’s door. “Hey, Kev, it’s the B-Man,” he calls, trying to keep his tone playful, but he feels like he’s doing a poor job. What the hell is going on? “Come on, man, open up!” He tries again, when he receives no response. He thinks he can hear a shuffle behind the door. “Dude, I will bust this fuckin’ door down,” He growls, all the play gone from his tone. “You know I will. Better yet-”

He appears inside the bedroom, just in time for Kevin to slam shut the closet door. Kevin turns to look at him, back pressed to the wood. There’s a beat, both teens staring at each other, wide eyed, Betelgeuse in that weird way he does, and Kevin looking frazzled. “What,” the demon grates out, “the fuck, are you getting up to in here? It smells like the netherworld, Kev.” Unfortunately, that makes Kevin’s face light up. “It does? Oh my god, that’s perfect! It must be starting to work!” He crosses the bedroom, going to his desk, where an old book is sitting open. It’s not the same one he took from his friend, it can’t be, that book is still a mile down in presumably solid rock. “Another musty ass tome, great,” he growls, but Kevin ignores him, flipping through the book.

He hates feeling ignored.

A black and white striped arm sprouts from Kevin’s desk, and slams the book shut, which makes the breather turn and glare at him. “Get out of my room, BJ,” is all Kevin says, and Betelgeuse ignores that, instead crossing the floor to get a look at that book. “Where th’ hell do you keep finding these fuckin’ things?”

“This one I bought from a one armed man living out of a 1973 Oldsmobile Delta 88 Royale,” Kevin recites. Betelgeuse squints at him, top teeth over bottom lip. “You’re too gay to know what that means,” he says, plainly, and Kevin shrugs. “He wouldn’t stop talking about his stupid car. I now know more about that antique than I know about geography.” It feels fun, for a second, like this drama isn’t happening, and they’re just having a conversation. It doesn’t last, though. He can’t let Kev off the hook.

“So you bought a second cursed book, this time from some amputee homeless guy, and you’re just, doing the rituals inside of it? And this seems like a super good idea to you?”

“I’m practicing,” Kevin replies.

“So what’s in the closet, Kevin?”

“Get out of my room, Betelgeuse.”

The way Kevin says his name is weird. It doesn’t feel like how it normally feels when a breather says the full thing. He shakes it off, and gives his friend a defiant look, before waving a hand and throwing open the closet door. There’s a cleared spot, in the middle of the closet floor, and a fucking summoning circle in what smells like, “Pig’s blood? Couldn’t get human?” He turns to look at Kevin, who is glaring at him intently. He matches the look.

“Betelgeuse Shoggoth, get out of my room.”

That gets his attention. It feels like an invisible hand is pushing him, and he stumbles back out of the room, confused. “W-what?” Kevin is just standing there, staring at him, and Betelgeuse stares back, eyes wild. “You motherfucker,” he hisses, eyes in snake slits, teeth sharp, claws extended. “You wanna do that “real name” bullshit with me? That the choice you’re makin’ here, Kev?”

Kevin doesn’t even look phased. “I’m working on gaining a bit more control, but looks like that works, for now.”

“You’re cracked!” Betelgeuse growls, absolutely furious. “You’re really tryin’ to summon me? Are you out of your head!?”

“You’re wasting your powers,” Kevin storms forward. “You’re a supernatural being, and you go to school and play your stupid ukulele, and don’t even try to do anything bigger. You could be stepping on everyone under you,” his former friend is going red in the face. “You could be leading, you could be ruling, but you just jerk off in your room and play pretend at being human. But someone might as well profit, here. Why not me?”

“I thought.. I thought we were friends,” is all the demon can say, lamely, and Kevin’s smile is the meanest thing he’s ever seen on a breather. “Once you’re fully listening to me, we can be friends again. Betelgeuse Shoggoth, get out of my house.”

He feels that same invisible pull, and he thinks maybe if he was stronger he could resist it, but a demon’s true name is like a lead on a dog, meant to control them, and unfortunately, Kevin has a tight hand on his leash. He makes it to the front door, and stumbles out, covering his face until he can calm himself enough to reapply his glamour.

Shit, he thinks, straightening up, and staring up at Kevin’s bedroom window. He is so fucked. ``````````````````````````````````````````````` Posted this chapter and another over at Ao3. You can read it right here

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

I MEAN IT GAVE ME CHILLS IN A GOOD WAY. and also it would be hilarious to write imo; just these 6 dudes that all look the same and just made up A Guy.

“Thomas,” Roman announces quite suddenly, with a triumphant gesture that manages to inadvertently sweep half of the script drafts off the couch in the process.

“I still can not believe we’re doing this,” Virgil says.

“Oh, you’d better believe it, Way Down Gay-destown, ‘cause I just got the perfect name for him. Thomas. That’s his name – Thomas Sanders.” Roman pauses, and wiggles his fingers a bit. “Thoughts?”

Remus perks up. “Oh, our fictional character has thots now?”

“Crawling all over him like weevils,” Virgil nods.

“I thought we were calling ourselves ‘Sides’,” says Janus.  

“Guys, please,” Roman begs.

“Thomas sounds good to me,” is Patton’s opinion. “It’s nice and friendly, and also it has two syllables, like the rest of us! It kind of fits in like that.”

“It is a surprisingly apt name, especially when you take into consideration that Roman most likely did not know of the linguistic root when picking it,” Logan muses.

Remus waves a hand lazily from where he’s draped backwards over the couch, writing Transformers inflation porn on the notes app of his shitty phone. “Uh, noparoni, falsehood, all that jazz. I was watching. He went on babynames dot com and everything for this.”

“...What he said, yeah.”

“Ah, yes, babynames dot com, the internet’s premier and leading source for all accurate name derivations,” comes the dry response.

“Thomas means twin,” Roman says. “It means twin, and it’s funny because we all look identical! It’s like another layer of meaning! A fun little injoke, just for us.”

“Yes,” says Virgil, “you’re right. We need many, many deep layers of meaning and in-jokes woven into the shared identity we’re crafting as part of Roman and Remus’s wild, spur-of-the-moment internet scam.”

“How dare you,” Roman objects loudly, flailing so suddenly that he nearly falls off the couch. “This is polar opposite of a scam, we’re – we are merely taking advantage of our uncanny shared appearance to... share joy amongst the humble Youtube vlogging community! And perhaps show off. Just a little. But to say that it’s a scam – ”

“No, this is definitely a scam,” Janus says. “I mean, look at us. We’re inventing an entire person for internet clout.”

Patton looks like he’s having second thoughts about this whole thing. “I’m having second thoughts,” he says. “Like, on an ethical, moral sort of level, is any of this... really a good idea?”

“People invent other people for shittier reasons all the time, I think we’re fine,” Virgil says. “I mean, look at internet catfishes. Or every male fiction writer with a very obvious and creepy fetish. Or J.K. Rowling.”

“J.K. Rowling doesn’t exist?” Janus says. “Excellent. We won, boys.”

Roman grabs a pen and scribbles it into the notebook, next to a hasty little stickman doodle of an average-looking guy and a list of qualities and attributes and skills. “Well, all that aside, nobody seems to have an objection to this, so Thomas it is! Thomas Sanders. Thomas I’ve-Just-Realized-He-Needs-A-Middle-Name Sanders.”

“Thomas F Sanders,” Remus suggests.

“The F stands for ‘Fucking’, doesn’t it,” sighs Patton.

“Well, yeah.”

“Way to go for the low-hanging fruit, dude,” Virgil says. “Okay, put a pin in the middle name for now. Our collective brainchild has a name, so... that’s something. I guess.” He grabs the notebook from Roman and squints down at the short-ish list they have so far. “Any more character traits we wanna give this guy?”

“Intense love of Disney films,” Roman says.

“We’ve already got that; you suggested it about five times already.”

“Maybe he can play the ukulele!” Patton suggests.

Virgil nods, and starts to write it down before stopping abruptly. “Wait. Can any of us play the ukulele?”

Silence.

“He can only have traits that we already have,” Virgil reminds them. “That’s the whole idea. We’re derivatives of him.”

“Well, I’ll work on the ukulele thing,” Roman says decisively. “Put it down anyway. Anyone else?”

“He can’t cook to save his life,” Janus says.

“Catholic guilt,” Logan provides, with a little wince and a slight adjustment of his glasses. “It provides a good base for many of the plotlines we wish to include in this, I believe.”

“Give him a huge dick,” Remus says.

“Remus,” Roman growls.

“Just a humungous badonker of a penis. He beats his meat and the entire earth rumbles.”

“Remus,” Patton groans.

Remus grins. "He’s packing some real chunky meat down there. As in, his drill is a five star excavator. A proper manmade wonder. It's the kind of meal you get a prize for finishing. A bridge between two warring nations. And the girth! God had to resize the Earth so the radii wouldn't match. You can use his cast iron pelvic greatsword as a radiation shield in Chernobyl. His – "

“Remus, weren’t you listening? We’re only giving him traits that we already have,” Virgil says, looking Remus dead in the eyes. “I’m not going to let you misrepresent yourself like this.”

The room almost immediately erupts into a loud chorus of enthusiastic oohs. Quite a few people throw things at Virgil, who lets out a snort of amusement and ducks to avoid getting nailed in the eye by a stray television remote control. Remus just cackles.

“We’re going to have to tone back the dick jokes, probably,” says Janus with some regret, once everybody calms down a bit. “Don’t want to get demonetized within the first few weeks.”

“Well, Remus already broke the Youtube demonetization speedrun last week, so at least we know what not to do,” Patton says absently. “The real question is, though – who’s going to actually play this Thomas person?

“Don’t look at me,” says Janus. “I’m looking forward to getting the play the villain for once.”

Patton points at him, mock-glaring. “Hey, don’t think you’re missing out on a redemption arc just because you like the evil aesthetic!”

Janus lets out a little affronted hissing noise at that, but doesn’t actually object.

“Well, I’m not shaving my moustache for any of you fuckers, no matter how much internet clout we’re gonna get for it,” Remus declares.

A quick, meaningful glance is exchanged between the four remaining people in the room.  

“Leave me out of it,” Virgil decides.

“I don’t really mind, either way,” Patton says.

“In that case, I shall arm-wrestle you for the honor of portraying our glorious, talented and entirely fictional centre of being on our upcoming Grammy-award-winning sixty-part webseries,” Roman declares, flexing dramatically.

“Which may or may not be a scam,” Logan says.

“...Look, are we doing this or what?”

“Absolutely.” Logan places down his book, and shrugs off his jacket. “I should warn you, however – I am what I believe is colloquially referred to as ‘absolutely fucking ripped’.” He breaks out into a surprisingly wicked smile. “Roman, let me be clear. I am going to be the one to portray Thomas Fucking Sanders, our beloved nonexistent media superstar culmination-of-our-collective-selves. And I am about to flat-out destroy you. Let’s go.”

There’s a beat of silence as everybody stares at Logan. The stares range from impressed to terrified to obviously horny. All of these are equally valid emotions to be feeling, because Logan is ripped, and somehow none of them have ever realized this before.

“Well, before we do that, give me five minutes to make popcorn,” says Janus. “Because I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”

[inyourroomzephyrmix]

i have been tagged by @braindeadalive​ :D i’ll tag @juicy-couture-noir​ @severedlips​ and @federfleisch​ as well as anyone who wants to do this (but also you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to i’m not holding you at gunpoint)

nickname(s): eb and its the only name i have

zodiac: virgo. maybe :)

height: 52 meters!!!!!! just kidding but i dont give my real height out like candy

last movie: dune 1984. also i took a personality test that said i was most like the baron out of all the characters and it made me want to off myself

last thing i googled: randall tier hannibal

fave musician: last.fm says placebo, the cure, malice mizer, nine inch nails, tool

song stuck in my head: keine lust by rammstein

other blogs: @3099​

blogs following: 222

amount of sleep: thats a hard fucking question because of my work schedule, id say i usually try and fail to go to sleep at midnight every night and wake up at 7am if i’m opening, otherwise i sleep in later but i think i get around 6-8 hours on average

lucky number: 13. edgy right i literally have it tattooed

what i’m wearing: dethklok t shirt, nightmare before christmas pajama pants, my valued pair of rammstein boxers + the necklace and ring i wear 24/7

dream job: roadie/lighting or sound tech if everything with college goes to plan

dream trip: realistically, go on a roadtrip to my hometown in vegas, otherwise i want to go back to england or go visit castles in multiple european countries like a serial killer

fave foods: i have really low standards but spam musubi, pansit, my dad’s chicken casserole

play an instrument: bass and guitar, im shit at both. also ukulele but not in a white girl way, more like “dude who is literally native hawaiian”

languages: english and the smallest bits of french

fave songs: disgustipated by tool and pictures of you by the cure are childhood faves, of the last 180 days its this

random fact about me: i’m good at squatting and duckwalking also my family was friends with big hoss from the pawn stars’ family

describe yourself by aesthetic things: the skies in takato yamamoto pieces, flies and moths and butterflies co-existing, late 90s 3d chatrooms, clouds and snowcapped forests filmed with an old camcorder, graveyards at night

[thesleepy1]

Apple Pie And Nurse Cas

A/N: I’m in the mood for a sickfic. That is all. Unbeta’d as always.

Pairings: Dean x Cas

Summary: Dean catches a cold, Sam urges him to stay home, and Cas wears a sexy nurse outfit.

Word count: 1,026

Warnings: foul language, suggestive themes, suggestive language

Dean rarely got sick. He couldn’t afford it for one, and two, if he was sick, who would take care of Sammy. Ever since they were kids, it was always him taking care of Sam, not the other way around. The kid didn’t need to worry about him like that, he could take care of himself just fine. And that meant not getting sick, ever.

Ever.

Not even in the coldest of seasons. He was careful, he had to be. Always wearing layers, having a hot drink in his hands when he could, always ending the day with one extra beer just to make sure his body was nice and warm. Dean was very cautious when it came to this, he just couldn’t catch any sort of illness.

He couldn’t then, and he damn well couldn’t now.

Much to his dismay, there were always expectations. It was officially the second day of winter, though it had been cold for far longer than then. Dean hadn’t thought much of it, not as concerned with the precautions he had taken previous years. He hadn’t gotten sick in over a decade if not longer and it didn’t make much sense if he got one now. And because of that, he was a little hasty when getting ready that morning.

“Are you sure you’re alright? That’s the third time you had a sneezing fit in the past hour, dude,” Sam asked in concerned, eyebrows wrinkled in worry. It made him look old, in Dean’s opinion. To much like a hippie whose ukulele broke in two.

“I’m fine, it's just cold,” Dean brushed Sam off, finishing his burger. “I just need a new jacket, is all. Haven’t gotten a new one in years.”

“Probably more than that, considering that’s my jacket,” Sam pulled on the tab behind Dean’s neck, the tag Sam’s size instead of Deans.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t leave your clothes laying around,” Dean bit back, taking a sip of his coffee. It had gone lukewarm in the time spent arguing with Sam. Great, he’ll have to get another refill if he wants to stay warm until they got back home. He flagged the waiter down just to do so. “It's warm, so it's my jacket now,” he grinned at his brother.

“Not how it works,” Sam argued, “You’re giving that back when we get home because you’re sick.”

“Am not!” Dean said in between bites.

“Yes you are,” Sam replied. “You get cranky when you’re sick.” Sam stood up to pay the bill, coming back with a to-go box of apple pie. “If you behave you get a treat,” Sam said in the same voice Dean used to use to get Sam to take his medicine.

Dean rolled his eyes, pulling his coffee into a to-go cup. “I’m not some kid, Sammy. That’s not gonna work on me.”

“Oh come on, taking the day off isn’t that bad. Plus Cas is at the house,” Sam wiggled his eyebrows, teasingly. “You get an angel playing nurse.”

“Don’t be weird about your brother in law,” Dean scolded, eyeing the to-go box. He could feel drool already forming in his mouth. “I’m not going home sick. And you’re not solving this case on your own.”

“Remember, no whining unless you want your treats,” Sam mocked with a shit eating grin, getting into the driver’s side while Dean sat opposite him.

Suffice to say, Sam dropped Dean off without a peep from the man, handing the oversized child his treat as he urged the older into the warmth of their home. “I just explained to Cas what’s going on and to make sure you stay home all tucked up and warm. Cas is on nurse duty while I’m gone so don’t make him go crazy with your whining.”

“I don’t whine,” Dean said after a coughing fit that frankly did not prove his point. “My throat is just so fucking sore.”

Sam resisted the urge to his eyes, turning on his heels to leave. “Remember what I said, Dean. Cas is in charge.”

“How can Cas be in charge-” Sam was gone with the slam of the door. “Asshole,” Dean grumbled, rubbing his nose red. No matter what Sam said, Dean wasn’t sick, he just had a cough and a runny nose. That’s not the flu,that just means he’s been outside for too long. They had spent the morning running around like cocks with their heads cut off after all.

“He’s not the boss of me,” Dean remarked, heading to the kitchen to find a fork. He didn’t whine once on their way home, which was one of the most difficult things he had to do this month alone. He deserved this apple pie, thank you very much.

“Actually, I am,” Cas said in his deep, hoarse voice from behind Dean. Dean turned around like he was struck with a hot iron at the sound of Cas. His heart jumped out of his chest at the sight of the angel; partly out of surprise and mostly out of utter disbelief.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Dean exclaimed, his eyes running up and down the angel out of his usual trench coat-suit combo. The pale ivory skin covered with a thin layer of dark hair that Dean knew from experience was soft to the touch. Cas still had the markings on his neck and inner thighs from last night. Though most of the markings on Cas’ chest were covered by the white and red classic nurse one piece Cas had on. Complete with the proper nurse’s hat with the red cross bright and center.

“Sam said you were sick. He told me I had to play nurse,” Dean explained in a flat tone. “Now get in bed,” he ordered in the same tone, but there was a hint of command at the sight of Dean’s obvious interest. Cas pressed his forehead against Dean’s to take his temperature, but it was more sensual than it should have been when Cas brought his hand to the back of Dean’s neck and grabbed. “You’re burning up, Dean. I have to get you in bed.”

[darlington-v]

PPRINCE :D!!!!! i basically know how 2 play your new boyfriend on ukulele now :•] !!!!!!

i still mess up one or 2 of the chords but i made it all t he way through the song a few times without too many mistake s!!!!!!!!!

GREY!!!!!!

thats super fucking cool dude!!! :]

im proud of u ur makin me wanNA FIX MY GUITAR FASTER

I WANNA LEARN IM SORRY BORIS SO FUCKING BADLY

THE TUTORIAL MADE IT LOOK RELATIVELY BEGINNER FRIENDLYYYYY