#nodding enthusiastically

[simcardiac-arrested]

do you see my vision . idk why waybacks so small, an anvil fell on him ig

HE IS THE EXACT TYPE OF GUY TO SAY URETHRA !!!! THIS IS PERFECT

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Like, I know it was wrong, but this scene was just oh so good

[suckmyarschkarte]

[astralhope]

Rank 15: A shared bond

The pages without edit under the cut:

[deadboydetectives-confessions]

*inhales deeply* demiromantic Edwin *slowly fades into the background*

.

[allieisacrybaby]

do y’all understand or ??????

[your-hologram]

Just thinking about Dreamstat in a corner when Louis takes Armand's hand and calls him the love of his life

[bunnygibson]

chronic yapper hodgson x active listener irving

[wanderingblindly]

((I’m faux answering your message so I can courtesy cut your fic!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My reply is below!!!!!!!!!!))

part 1

“Hey, can I change this twenty in for quarters?”

”Bouncy balls are, what, like five bucks? Can’t I just buy it?”

”Are you kidding me? Any other arcade you can get twice as many credits for the same price as this shithole. This is ridiculous.”

“Can I get five nachos and six cokes? Actually, can you make one of them a sprite? Thanks.”

The rush of people finally dissipates and Oscar can take a breath. He takes the opportunity to wipe down the counter. There’s not much on it, but it helps to break up the day a little bit.

He looks up for the next customer.

Ah. It’s frosted tips guy.

”Hello, Oscar!”

Oscar’s heart stutters a little bit before he remembers he’s wearing his goddamn name tag. “Hi there,” he says with a little wave. What the fuck is he doing.

Frosted tips smirks slightly. “I’m here to tell you that today is a momentous occasion,” he says rather pompously.

Oscar can’t help but smile at him. “Oh? What is it?”

He puffs his chest out a little. “I’m gonna win that lava lamp today.”

Oscar crosses his arms over his chest. “Alright. That’s gonna be 5,000 tickets.”

Oscar expects him to balk and set his sights on a more reasonable goal. Instead, he gets this thoughtful look on his face, a hand coming up to scratch at the non-existent hairs on his tanned chin.

“Alright. I’m gonna need one of them slurpie thingies–“

”Slushie.”

”– right. And,” he dumps a handful of five and one dollar bills and some coins on the counter, “however many credits this gets me.”

After he gets frosted tips guy’s slushie flavor (“cherry, obviously”), he hands back the requested slushie, the appropriate amount of credits, and a one pound note he found amongst the dollars.

”Cheers, mate!” frosted tips says cheerfully as he strides determinedly towards the arcade machines, chomping on the straw as he slurps his slushie.

Oscar salutes him as he leaves. He’ll need all the luck he can get to gather that many tickets.

part 2

Frosted tips dumps a bunch of tickets on the counter. ”Alright. Where am I at?”

Oscar counts out the tickets, but he can already tell by the pile that it won’t be enough.

”That’s two hundred thirty-two.”

Frosted tips gasps loudly.

“No!”

He flops over dramatically, then sips on his slushie, looking completely dejected. Like a sad, wet cat. Cute. Wait, what?

Suddenly, his face pinches up and he starts pacing wildly in front of the counter. “Gah! Brain freeze!” he says, before dropping down to the floor.

”… Hello?” Oscar calls tentatively. There’s a long drawn out groan in response.

”Do you want to keep going?”

”Mmph.” A hand comes up from behind the counter and slaps a twenty dollar bill on top.

”Thanks.”

”Hnng.”

”Here’s your credits.”

”Mmhmm.”

”Are you alright?”

”Hmmng.”

He watches frosted tips guy slowly clamor his way to standing, then point seriously at the slushie cup. “These things are dangerous,” he says with all the solemnity of the grave.

”Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind.” He can hear the smile in his voice. Damn it.

”Good,” frosted tips says, “you should.” He maintains eye contact for a few moments longer before waltzing off, cherry-flavored slushie still in hand. Oscar watches him take a tentative sip, wince, then take another sip. Oscar still has a smile on his face when the next customer comes up.

part 3

Frosted tips slams his tickets on the counter as he rushes past.

”Can you count these while I go pee? Thanks kay bye,” he says all in one breath.

Oscar starts separating the tickets into strips of 10, glancing over to the ticket-counting machine to his left. If he feels warmth blossom in his chest, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

”Okay,” frosted tips says upon his return, “that sorted, where am I at?”

Oscar glances up. The man in front of him is practically bouncing on his feet, repressing a smile like a firefly caught in clasped hands. Oscar wants to set it free.

”Your total now is,” he checks the previous total he’d written down on a notepad, “one thousand and two.”

And oh, there it is. His smile is softer than he expected, even as he preens. Quietly pleased.

”I finally found a game that I’m good at.”

”Uh huh?”

”Yeah. The basketball one.”

”Nice.”

Oscar crooks a smile in his direction, who beams back at him. Oscar is staggered by the force of it, something cracking open in him a little in response.

”Right, I’ll just crack on, then?”

And oh. Right. Conversation. He’s pretty sure that he’s been staring, given the way that cute guy’s (when did he decide to change that moniker?) eyes are twinkling at him.

”Ah, yep, sure, see you in a bit.”

And then cute guy winks at him. Cute guy. Good grief.

part 4

”It’s hopeless!” cute guy moans from where he’s slumped on the counter. He dejectedly shoves another nacho into his mouth, face still pressed against the counter.

”What happened to basketball?” Oscar refuses to think of his pout as cute. Except he already thinks of the other man as “cute guy” so that battle is probably already lost there.

”My arms hurt,” he whines, “I’m not cut out to be a basketball player.”

”Yeah, I could already tell that by your height.”

”Hey!” cute guy yelps in indignation, sitting up in the foldable steel chair he found to make his pity party more comfortable.

Oscar watches him eat some more nachos. “So, are you quitting your quest for the lava lamp?”

”Nah,” he says once he’s finished chewing and has a swig of sprite, “I just needed to refuel. Seventeen fifty you said, right?”

Oscar nods, quietly impressed that he’s continuing. However, as the night goes on, cute guy gets quieter and quieter every time he stops over to check his total as it becomes clear that he won’t be able to meet his goal. When the arcade finally reaches closing time, he shuts everything down and goes to find the man that’s been the highlight of his shift.

”Hey, I’m sorry but we’ve gotta lock up.”

Cute guy straightens up from the pinball machine, looking a little rueful, a little sad, but not despairing. “Ah, well. Didn’t quite make it. Gave it a good try, though, eh?” He laughs a little, drily. “Knew it was impossible. We both knew this was how it was gonna go. But I tried anyway, right?”

And yeah, that just won’t do. Mind made up, he says “come on,” to the cute guy with the frosted tips, and walks over to the skee ball machine.

“Hand me whatever credits you have left.” He hands them over, mystified but clearly understanding where this is headed. Oscar takes the credits, slots a couple in, takes a deep breath, and plays.

Skee ball is a simple game.

You’re given five tries at it, each ball about the size of an apple, and a ramp to reach the target. There’s a bullseye in the middle with concentric circles surrounding it for less and less points the further from the center you go. The goal is to slot the ball in to a hole at the bottom of each circle to win the most points.

The real points, however, are in the upper corners.

”Holy shit, Osc!”

The rest of the arcade is empty, but Oscar knows he only would’ve heard them in their little bubble anyway. The beeps and ringing noises of the skee ball machine. The satisfying thunk and slide of the ball itself. The pretty boy beside him, yelling in his ear, filling him with lightning.

By the time Oscar retrieves the lava lamp, cute guy (he really should know his name by now) is quietly smiling, hands in his pockets.

”Ta da,” Oscar says, about as playful as he gets. “Now, I got you your lava lamp and I don’t even know your name.”

He carefully sets the box with the lava lamp down, treating it reverently. He turns. He holds out a hand.

”I’m Lando.”

”Nice to meet you, Lando. I’m Oscar.”

”Yeah, I know.”

”Right. The name tag.”

”Yeah. The name tag.”

They both pause, the moment warm and syrupy.

”Well-“ is said.

”See you–“ at the same time.

They both laugh.

”Have a good night,” Oscar says, his voice curled around a smile.

”Yeah. You, too.”

STOPPPPPPPPPPPP PURPLE HEART THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE ;ASDKJFA;LSJDFLASJDFLKAJSDFLKJASLDKFJLASDFJLSAJDFL oscar and his recently discovered Emotional Support Idiot, that's it. That's the fic that's the twee that's the thesis oh my GOD

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

PINK!!!!!

PINK!!!!!!

[myemupen]

I'm having a lot of fun

[drummer-from-down-under]

One thing I love about making my cruddy little videos is having certain realisations about Nowhere Boys, like someone saying something in the background that I've never really noticed or how insane the bbc censorship of this show is (removing both Andy and Felix off-handedly saying that Sammy was better looking than Sam, removing Jake holding up Andy's voodoo doll in Series 1 and Felix holding up Sam's in Series 2, removing us much as they can of Sam muttering one sentence about the dark arts despite it being in the background, etc.) or...

Jake anytime Felix and Sam interact

vs

Sam anytime Jake and Andy interact

(I'm absolutely gonna compile clips together to make a stupid little crack video)

[roblogging]

Jegulus shippers kys challenge

kill me yourself ;)

enemies to lovers type beat, i'd be into it.

[noodyl-blasstal]

Walk this Fae

Day 20 of @taznovembercelebration! Today's prompt card was "fae AU" (FaeU) and I drew another card for fun and got "sweet"

Read below or on Ao3. Missed yesterday's? Find it here.

-

Kravitz fills the dish with a few chocolates and questions, yet again, whether this was rock bottom.

The break up hadn’t been unexpected, per say, Cyrus had been drifting further away and things had felt heavy and weird for a while. Not that they ever felt particularly good, but Cyrus was there and things were fine and then they weren’t. He wasn’t sad about it per say, hadn’t even really cried apart from quick self-pitying one in the shower. But feeling fine about the split didn’t change the fact he’d said he was bringing a plus one to the awards ceremony and he’d definitely said ‘he’ when talking about his boyfriend so he couldn’t really bring Sloane unless he fancied trying to explain the concept of a he/him lesbian to his immediate and very distant coworkers and then also explain why he, Definitely A Man, was dating said he/him lesbian. The prospect sounds deeply unappealing so he turned Sloane down, even though she ‘generously’ offered to wear a tux for the occasion (she’d find any excuse, honestly).

At some point in the thought spiral about the whole mess of it, he decided the best and most logical option was to turn to folklore. He wasn’t going to do anything insane like hiring a date, obviously, so he had to find another solution. This one is simple. He just has to leave the dish out for a final night now and then he can up the ante. It was supposed to be cream, but, well, that seemed unhygienic and he didn’t know if Themselves understood about clingfilm, so he’d been leaving a few Lindt chocolates instead. They were basically just solidified cream if you thought about it. He also didn’t have a back door so he’d been leaving them outside the front door, but you know, they were going, so it was probably working.

Now there were just two more weeks left and he was going to be at the point where he could have a conversation! Probably? Either way it was unequivocally easier than attempting to do dating ever again. Deals with Themselves have rules, there’s a clear path, it’s all laid out in the book and you can cross reference! Kravitz loves to cross reference. It’s simple, the offerings increase until a time when one of Them will be prepared to make a deal with you, usually related to Cornish Fairings as far as he can tell, but they can negotiate biscuit preferences closer to the time, he’ll buy a few packets of different things and they can taste test. Maybe he can make it a fun thing? The fae can rate the best dunkers and see if he agrees with Kravitz’s preferences. There’s no reason a business deal has to be dull.

–

The chocolate is gone the next morning, and there’s a note! “Thanks, T xoxo” is scribbled on the back of a receipt. Kravitz has no idea why a fae lord needs to buy cat litter and dark chocolate - maybe he found it? But he’s happy to take it as an auspicious sign. He just needs to figure out his next steps. Probably leaving the door open to tempt the fae in? No, not tempt, that sounds creepy, invite! That was better. Invite them in.

Kravitz surveys his efforts, the door is propped slightly open, (he tries not to feel weird about that, it’s fine, he can break the ‘always lock your door’ advice that his Mums gave him for something this important) but it doesn’t look as inviting as it should. Even the string of lights he added just look a bit ominous.

He can fix this. More snacks inside! The sign’s not subtle, but it should do the job.

–

“Knock knock!” Comes a lilting voice.

Shit. It’s happening! Yes! “Come in!” Kravitz tries to keep his voice even.

“Are you going to serial kill cha’boy?”

“No?”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“Telling! I’m not going to murder you.”

“Cool!” The voice says, and there’s a swishing jangling step as someone approaches.

Kravitz squeezes his eyes shut, he’s got to stay calm. He can’t eat any food or drink anything he’s offered. Oh! Thinking of drink, he quickly pours the water into the teapot and sets the timer. He knew keeping the pan at a boil would be sensible.

“Oh, hey Krav!” Taako appears in the doorway. “I didn’t know this one was you.” “Is this some kind of trickery thing?” Kravitz asks in the most even voice he can manage. Maybe this is what they do, appear wearing the face of something you desire.

“What? You invited me in.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You said there was more snacks inside?”

“That wasn’t for you… wait… have you been?”

“It’s a long way up the stairs. Cha’boy thought you were leaving snacks for sustenance while the lift’s out.”

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no!

“You’ve been eating the offerings?”

“What?”

“For Themselves!”

“You’ve been leaving offerings for the fae?”

“Just to get one in here. You’re the one who’s been eating random door chocolates!”

“Hold on, you’ve been trying to fuck a fairy?”

“Don’t call Them fairies! You know They don’t like it.”

“You’re not denying the ‘fucking one’ bit of that accusation.”

“It’s for a work thing!”

“What do you do?”

“No, it’s not like… shit.” Kravitz wonders exactly how hard it is to disappear. He doesn’t really want to cut up his bank card and throw his phone into the sea, but he’ll do it if it means he gets to stop having this conversation.” He settles for flopping into a seat at the kitchen table.

Taako perches on the one opposite him. Maybe he is fae, he’s certainly ethereal enough for it with his colourful clothes and his layers and his cheekbones and his ass. Wait. Not the last bit, fuck. This isn’t about Kravitz’s stupid pointless neighbour crush.

“Wait, did you make these?” Taako tugs one of the biscuit rating cards towards himself.

“Give that back!” Kravitz snatches it out of his hand. He doesn’t need to be mocked any more. He’s going to be reliving this every time he wakes up at 3am for the rest of his life, there’s no need to prolong it or add dimension to the torture.

Taako grabs the other sheet and reads it as if nothing happened. “Big fan of the rubric.”

“What?” Is Taako complimenting his biscuit criteria right now?

“It’s important, durability but also mushiness, they’re two separate things.”

“Yes.” Says Kravitz stiffly. He’s scared to lean too far into the conversation, worried it’s a trap. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had pretended to be interested in what he was saying to flip it back on him later.

“Did you make the tea already?”

“It’s brewing. There’s a timer.” If he doesn’t say too much he probably can’t make this situation worse. It could even be salvageable if they promise never ever ever to speak abot it again.

“Mmmhmm.” Taako drops his usually casual demeanour. “Would you like cha’boy to go? Taako doesn’t like to outstay his welcome.”

“No!” Kravitz says it fast and panicked. He’s not sure why. If Taako goes he can sit on the floor very still and very quiet and think about how exactly which lie to tell about why he can’t come and get the biggest award of his career… but also, also, it’s nice to have him here. This is better than chatting in the laundry room, it’s always hard to hear him over the washing machine.

Taako shrugs as if it’s no big deal, as if this situation isn’t ridiculous, and settles back in his chair. “Which one’s your favourite?”

“I can’t tell you that!” Kravitz cannot believe Taako’s lax approach to research ethics. “It’d bias your opinion. You’ve got to go in fresh.”

“So Taako’s allowed, then? To stay and play?” Taako gestures at the array of biscuits.

If he wants to then he definitely can. “Yes. I want to know what you think.” Kravitz nudges a custard cream themed pen at Taako - appropriate tools were necessary for the job. He keeps the one with the springy Jammy Dodger on top for himself. Taako eyes is jealously, but he should have brought his own.

The tea timer bleeps delicately, Kravitz got it specifically for its tiny boop. He hates being startled and the old one was too aggressive.

“Do you take milk?”

“Yes, no sugar.”

“You’re sweet enough.” Kravitz finishes.

Taako smiles a big smile at that. The pride swelling in Kravitz’s chest at the sight of the delight on Taako’s face. It’s unexpected and he did that!

“Hey Krav?” Taako asks, somewhere between biscuits 8 and 10. “What’s someone like you doing messing with the Mooinjer Veggey?”

“Someone like me?”

“Well, you’re not exactly the usual type, lost fiddler on a hill and all that.”

“I’m pretty good on the cello.” Kravitz shouldn’t be offended, but how dare Taako not assume Kravitz is a fiddle prodigy? He could be! There’s no evidence to the contrary.

“Oh well then, private concert for one, do you take requests? Can you do the Thong Song?”

He can, is the thing. He shouldn’t go and get his cello right now and demonstrate that fact.

“One second!” Kravitz leaps up.

“Are you serious?”

Kravitz doesn’t say anything, just runs to the corner of the living room and opens the case with a flourish.

“My dude, if you are about to crack out some Sisqó on the extra big violin Taako’s going to lose it.”

Kravitz pretends he’s in his fanciest suit, flips the tails, and sits. Drinks in Taako’s smile, relishes the fact his eyes are fixed on Kravitz. It’s not usually something he likes, but in this case he’ll take double staring.

By the time he hits the chorus Taako is laughing so hard he’s flopped sideways and snorting and still just about managing the backing vocals. He’s perfect.

“So I think that Themselves would probably keep me under their hill forever.” Kravitz says once the last note has died. He tries not to be smug, he does, he knows it’s impolite, but it’s hard, he deserves to be pleased with himself.

“You’re not wrong, handsome.” Taako says, still slumped on the sofa. “I think I’m crying.”

Kravitz automatically offers the tissue box, he has one in most rooms, just to be safe.

“Why did you do this?” Taako asks again.

“You said you had a request.” “No, not this.” Taako points to the cello. “This!” He gestures at the tea, the biscuits.

Kravitz isn’t sure if it’s wise to admit the truth, but a minute ago Taako was crying on his sofa about the Thong Song so Kravitz isn’t sure Taako has much room to make fun of him right now.

“I need a date.” Kravitz says quickly. Maybe if he just gets it over with it won’t be too bad.

“You what now?” Taako looks like he’s about to try and reboot his ears for being defective.

“I won’t be accepting any supplementary questions at this time.” States Kravitz, wishing more than anything he had a business curtain to close, or a door to lock, a tannoy announcement. Shut for business for the day, no further questions, thank you all so much for playing!

“So this is a monster fuck thing! I didn’t think you were the type.” Taako gives him a very slow once over that Kravitz doesn’t have any bandwidth to process right now.

“No!” Kravitz is fairly sure the werewolf cowboy romances on the shelf by his bed don’t count. Probably.

“Then why?”

“There’s a work thing.”

“Hang on, you’re serious?”

“I just said it was!”

“It sounded like a lie.”

“Would you like me to make up a more plausible lie than the lie-sounding-truth?”

“No no, go on, cha’boy needs to hear this.” Taako looks positively delighted, but it’s probably too late to back out.

“There’s a work thing… it’s an awards thing, and I was dating a guy and now I’m not, but they already ordered the food and I don’t want to tell anyone because they’ll do the weird squinchy face and not know what to say bit and we’ll all just have to marinade in the terribleness together and long for escape.”

“Bad.” Says Taako with feeling.

“Bad.” Kravitz agrees. “You get it.”

Taako nods solemnly. Then cocks his head to the side. “Taako could be your date.”

“What?”

“Well, I ate your cream… Wait, no!”

It’s too late, Kravitz is laughing hard and ugly and happy.

“I ate the chocolates.”

“You did.” Gasps Kravitz, trying to calm down.

“And the biscuits.”

“Yes.” That was true.

“So now I owe you.”

“You don’t.”

“I think I want to owe you.” Taako smirks and Kravitz is almost convinced it’s flirting.

“It’s black tie, the event. You know. Fancy nonsense.” He’d better make sure Taako knows what he’s getting into.

“Oooh! Is there fancy nonsense food too?”

“Probably. I can check the menu.”

“There will be.” Taako says confidently. “It’s gonna be bad and your company will have paid too much for it.”

“You don’t even know where it is.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you about why it’s all shit.”

“Okay.” Says Kravitz, scared to break the spell.

“Okay.” Taako replies firmly, solidly, making a date-ly. “We’re going to take the world by storm. Anyway, what’s the awards thing for?”

“Nothing much. Just, you know, work stuff.” Kravitz waves a hand dismissively. There’s no way he’s going through the embarrassment of admitting to Taako that he’s the guest of honour. It doesn’t change anything about what they’ve agreed.

“Okay. Well, just send cha’boy the details, I wrote my number on the biscuit form.”

“Before the Thong Song?”

“Before the Thong Song.” Taako confirms solemnly.

-

I hope you enjoyed! Want to read more? Tomorrow's prompt is here.

[maliro-t]

agh orym "If Ludinus had sent people to your home and taken your brother and your father and countless others away, how philosophical would you be about it, Dorian?" like there is a deep and cruel irony to his complete inability to recognize that it's actually not philosophical to him. like lolth in real life a few days ago literally ambushed dorian's family on the road and killed one and stole another and completely destroyed the home that he had built for himself. and it is actually not. hypothetical or philosophical or abstract resentment that he is feeling. it is fresh and real and pointed.

[regicidal-defenestration]

Thank you I know. I'm so smart. No I'm writing an essay about tropes within the Discworld (focusing on Men at Arms specifically) and happened to find that Vimes has been compared to granny Weatherwax and it fits - he is afflicted with "knurd", that is to say, he is - at full sobriety - two drinks too sober, seeing the world as it really is, which the thing I was using for reference compared to "first sight" like in witches, and then also went on to draw comparisons with his inherent need to control himself and his "bad impulses" ( 'quis custodies ipsos custodes' ('Who watches the watchmen?') "me. I do that, too"), which is similar to Granny Weatherwax and ger fear of her own powers and. and.

👀👀!