#or be disgusted by the stuff people draw and say but jesus christ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lumini-317 · 4 years ago

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Hello!

This will be my official “introductory” post!

My real name is Erica, but I go by many names. My nickname repertoire includes but is not limited to: Lumi, Lumini, Cricket (I have a habit of rubbing my feet together, lmao), Jinx, Eri, Er, EriJoy, Sunbaeby, and Aceir (my real name but in alphabetical order).

This is my first ever Tumblr blog. I’ve had it for a while but have rarely posted anything, that along with the fact that I’m on mobile is kind of a mess so I apologize for mistakes and all that.

I have 3 older brothers, an older sister, and a younger brother.

I’m an ambivert. Sometimes I love hanging out with bigger groups of people, other times I dread it.

I’ve taken the “16personalities” test 4 times and all 4 put me in the “Diplomat” category, however I got “Advocate” (INFJ) 2 times, and “Protagonist” (ENFJ) and “Mediator” (INFP) 1 time each.

I am LGBTQ+. I’m asexual, aro+panromantic flux, and while I feel like I’m genderfluid, the changes are very subtle and so I sometimes just go with agender, gendervoid, or neutrois. It’s a lot less complicated that way. I’m ambiamorous, and also pronoun apathetic!

I love whump. I’ve loved it for as long as I can remember but only found the whump community maybe 3(?) years ago.

I also love K-Pop, C-Pop, J-Pop, and Asian dramas, mainly K-Pop and K-Dramas, though.

I’m a HUGE multistan. ATEEZ, SKZ, TBZ, EXO, BTS, Red Velvet, SHINee, iKON, MONSTA X, TWICE, TO1, WANNA ONE, SuperM, X1, MIRAE, Ciipher, Golden Child, Purple Kiss, BAE173, SF9, IU, ONEUS, ONEWE, The Rose, PIXY, LUCY, STAYC, WEi (which I pronounced as “way” for an embarrassingly long time), Dreamcatcher, Brave Girls, TXT, ENHYPEN, SNSD, KARD, AKMU, SHAUN, Gaho, NCT, GHOST9, 1team, SE7EN, Cross Gene, D1ce, AB6IX, CRAVITY, BLACKPINK, CIX, VIXX, f(x), 4Minute, CLC, YEZI, B.I, Wonho, (G)I-DLE, EVERGLOW, SEVENTEEN, BROOKLYN, Ha Hyunsang, DAY6, GOT7, Teen Top, BAP, TREASURE, UNIQ, etc! It goes on, far longer than I can list. I am also very much against fanwars, they disgust me.

I’m also a HUGE animal lover, and a big softie. I can’t even squish insects. I don’t care that they can’t feel pain and don’t experience emotions, I just can’t bring myself to. I make it my mission to save any type of animal I come across. I find toads in our koi pond and immediately pick them out and take them to a safe place. I help turtles across the road. I got a mouse out of a puddle and revived it, releasing it when it was healthy enough. I saw a snail on a piece of wood that was going to be thrown on a fire and carefully pulled it off and put it somewhere else. So far I’ve found 5 stray cats (Piper, Toothless, Felix, Kai, and Kit Kat—all were found as skinny, sickly kittens) and took them in, raising them as my own. I rescued a chipmunk from certain death-by-cat. I’ve even saved a few baby raccoons, ducklings, lizards, spiders, and snakes in my time. And I’ll keep doing so for as long as I live.

I love writing, drawing/sketching, and painting, however I’m not confident that I’m good at any of those things, lmao. I mean, I don’t think I’m the worst, but my finished “works” often leave me unsatisfied with my “skills”. But of course, that won’t stop me from trying to improve!

I’m a maladaptive daydreamer. This can cause issues in some places while helping me out in others. On one hand, it makes doing chores and such kind of difficult. Like one time I had to take care of my dad’s pigeons while he was fixing our shed and one time he pointed out how slow I was with the chores. His words were something along the lines of, “I’m already almost done with what I have to do and you’re still working with the pigeons.” Also, it (and maybe ADHD if I do have it?) made school a nightmare for me. But it’s also helpful because then during church it’s really easy to keep myself occupied while the pastors go on about their Magical Sky Daddy™’s son throwing a tantrum and killing a figtree because it didn’t have any figs and how that story should “challenge” us or something.

The characters in my daydreams are weird, though. They merge and separate with each other to make different characters depending on the situation. Most of them don’t have definite genders. Only a handful of them have names because they’re always merging and separating like some kind of Shadow Clone Masters or something. Stuff like that.

One of my characters is for sure a demi-boy, though, and his name is Kyler.

I brought this up because I was watching The Andy Griffith Show and Andy was giving Opie a lecture on how many poor kids there are in the world and used the ratio “one and a half boys per square mile”. Opie then says that he’s “never seen a half a boy before”. Kyler just sort of pops into (fake) existence, jumps off the couch, and throws his arms in the air while saying, “Half a boy, right here!” I burst out laughing. Thankfully it didn’t seem weird, since my parents started laughing at Opie and thought that I was just laughing at it, too.

Any-who.

If I daydream while I’m standing, I’ll often pace and gesture with my arms while moving my lips. Sometimes I’ll even whisper. If I’m sitting down, I usually fidget a lot (such as pick at my shirt and rub my feet together), stare into space, and move my lips or whisper. My family sometimes ask me, “Why are you whispering?” Or, “What are you grinning about?” And I just shrug because I don’t know how to explain it to them without risking them calling someone to pray over me, lmao. I mean, I wasn’t even allowed to have imaginary friends because that was “evil”. When I was about 7, I told my parents about my imaginary unicorn friend and they gave me a lecture and “prayed over me”. It was embarrassing and awkward for me.

I’m suspicious that I might have ADHD, but don’t have the money to actually get a professional diagnosis. I’m also too scared to ask my parents about it.

Speaking of which, my family and I don’t see eye-to-eye. I mean, they don’t know it because I’m good at hiding it, and they think I agree with mostly everything they do but boy, is it a mess.

You see, they’re evangelical conservative Christians. “LGBTQ+ people are going to hell”, “ThE LeFt ARe eViL AnD ARe TrYiNg To BrAiNwAsh OuR ChiLdrEn”, “Trump was sent by God”, “Intersex is fake”, “Women must submit to men”, “You should get married no later than in a year or ‘the temptation’ to have sex might become too much”, the whole bit.

Meanwhile I’m over here with my (imaginary) pride flags, just existing as an agnostic leftist who wants everyone to have equal rights, regardless of gender identity or sexual orientation, and would rather redo my horrifically atrocious kindergarten closing program role than pray to a god who (if they/he/she/it/whatever exists) gives cancer to kids and killed millions of innocent animals and people in the Bible.

But they have no idea that this is how I feel and now expect me to be baptized within the next month to show that I have “accepted Jesus Christ as my savior”. Yeah...that’s gonna be an awkward discussion...

Anyway, that’s just some things about me. Sorry that I got sidetracked a few times, lmao!

I look forward to posting more and maybe even making friends!

Thank you for reading (:

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skullrock · 4 years ago

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the captain

pairing: Steve x Hagan!Reader

request: Can I please request a fluffy fic where Steve falls for Tommy H’s sister? She stops by Scoops Ahoy to buy ice cream and they go all “Oh, it’s been a long time since we last saw each other” kind of? I love your writing so much 🥺

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Steve being Big Idiot, mentions of T*mmy H*gan

a/n: tommy’s party by peach pit intensifies in my head

===

“We’re out of sea-berry.”

Robin doesn’t look up from her book. “What?”

Steve grabs the empty container from the display case and nearly chucks it in her direction. “We - are out - of sea-berry.” He chucks it dramatically into the trash and throws his hat on the counter, then leans forward to rest his head in his hands.

“Steve, it’s just ice cream,” Robin says. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I am having a bad day.”

Robin’s brows knit together. “Because we’re out of sea-berry?”

“It’s not about the ice cream, Robin,” he says, lifting his head to glare at her. “It’s about working at a shitty minimum wage job with this stupid hat and my arms hurt from scooping stupid ice cream for stupid customers.”

Robin puts her book down and sighs, hopping off the counter. She claps Steve’s shoulder and he bristles at the feeling. “Hey, slinging ice cream isn’t stupid.”

“Oh?” he asks. “In this - in this costume?” Steve tugs at his shirt. “You don’t think this job is stupid?”

Robin winces. “Spoiled,” she mumbles, and leans against the back counter. “How’s the girl thing coming along?”

Steve sighs loudly, dramatically, and leans against the cooler, back to the seating area. “How do you think?”

“I haven’t kept track today, but knowing your record, not good.”

“I give up!” he cries out, throwing his hands up. “I give up. The - the - God or whatever - wants me to suffer. I am fruitless.” He stares at the ground and crosses his arms. “My dad’s trying to teach me a lesson on being responsible and the universe is trying to teach me a lesson on being - I don’t know.”

“Not an asshole?”

Steve winces now, eyes trained on his shoelaces. “Yeah, maybe.”

Robin sighs, feeling some pity for the boy in front of her. “Look, you only have a few more hours, okay? Just make it til then.”

Just make it til then. Steve can do that, he thinks.

And then you come into the store.

Steve does a double take, looking up from the to-do list he’s reading for the fiftieth time that day. His brows furrow and he goes a bit slack-jawed, shocked to see you. He hadn’t seen you in forever - since junior year, at least. He hadn’t even thought about you; Tommy and all things related had been forcefully eradicated from his mind. But he knows you from anywhere - knows the freckles and hair, knows your smile. Knows the laugh you share with a friend before you walk into the store, alone, playing with your wallet.

Steve continues to stare with his mouth agape as you approach, and you also do a double-take. You remember Steve - of course you remember Steve. He was all you thought about while Tommy was close with him. You’d begged your brother two things your whole life - to stop being a dick and to get Steve to go on a date with you.

Of course, he did neither.

But you’re grown up now, more confident and less desperate for a date. Still, despite the growth, you’re completely smitten. Steve’s even cuter now, has grown into himself. His hair, salon-highlighted, bounces as you both make eye contact. You remember the moles on his neck, his hands, his eyes - god, his eyes, warm and brown and always kind even when Steve wasn’t. And he was kind, to you, at least. You could always see past the bullshit facade. You knew who he was, deep down. You knew him as a quiet boy at the pool, the one who said please and thank you to your mother, the one who shoved Tommy when Tommy was mean to you. He always wanted to make you laugh, no matter what. You just felt comfortable with him.

You realize at this point that you’ve stopped walking and you blush as your feet begin to work again.

“Look who it is,” you say, smiling widely. “The one that got away.”

Steve smiles despite not understanding the joke. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Steve.”

“Been a long time,” he says, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah.” You smile sadly. “Tommy wouldn’t tell me what happened. I just knew I wasn’t going to see you anymore.”

Steve stiffens a bit at the mention of Tommy, but he shrugs a shoulder. “Well, you know -”

“I do know,” you say. “I wish I could lose Tommy and Carol.”

“I guess I got lucky, huh?”

“Yeah, guess you did,” you say, eyes trained on his. “And I got unlucky. I missed you.”

Steve perks up a bit, but his brows twitch together. “You missed me?”

“I - yeah,” you stutter, blushing. “Yeah. You were always cool and nice to me.”

Steve’s smile widens and he leans against the counter, clasping his hands together. “Yeah? Well, maybe I missed you, too.”

“Really?”

“You were fun,” he says, “and I think we connected because deep down, we both hated your brother.”

“And Carol.”

“And Carol,” he laughs. “God, remember when they made me have a pool party? And you and I went inside and played Monopoly for hours while they made out at the pool?”

You laugh, too. “Jesus Christ, your pool probably has mono.”

“Probably.”

You both stare at each other a little longer before you clear your throat. “So - ice cream? What do you recommend? I’ve never been here.”

“Lucky you,” he says, straightening. “Well, we’re out of sea-berry -”

Robin sighs behind him and he turns to glare at her, not enjoying the audience, but whips back around to you. “But we have other flavors.”

“Oh, boy,” you say, your smile starting to hurt your face. “Lay ‘em on me.”

Steve takes you through each flavor, dramatically reciting what they are and what the selling point is, handing you a small spoon for each one. You really don’t care to taste them all, but you care about talking to him - you care about your fingers brushing every time he hands you a sample, how his eyes light up when he laughs, how dorky he looks and sounds.

“We also have sundaes and stuff,” he says, “which I can also attempt to sell to you.”

“Do you make this much of an effort every time you make a sale?”

“No, just for you.”

You both blush but the smiles stay, and Robin is nearly gagging behind Steve because it’s frankly disgusting to watch straight people flirt.

“What do you usually get?” you ask. “I think I trust your judgement.”

“I don’t give this place my money,” he says, “but when I steal, I always get the USS Butterscotch.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What is it called?”

“Look, I didn’t name it!”

You laugh. “I bet you didn’t pick your uniforms, either.”

Steve snorts. “No way, I’d pick something much nicer -”

“What, like a pastel striped polo?” Robin quips from behind him.

Steve whips around again and opens his mouth to retaliate, but you say, “I think it looks good on you.”

He turns to look at you, head inclined as if to say yeah, right. “No, I look stupid.”

“No!” you protest. “It’s really nice. The color is nice on you.”

Steve can’t stop the blush that creeps onto his cheeks, and he rubs the back of his neck. “You think?”

“Yeah,” you say casually. “And it really shows off your arms and legs.”

At this point, Robin gets up and walks to the back, leaving you and Steve alone. Finally.

“What about my arms and legs needs shown off?” he asks.

You roll your eyes. “Like you don’t know.”

“Like I don’t know what?”

“That you’re cute.”

Had Steve been drinking, he would have done a spit-take.

“I mean - like - uh. Like - you’re - conventionally. Attractive,” you add, anxiety gripping your veins. “Like. You know.”

Steve smirks. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” you say, leaning across the cooler to tug on his ascot. “You know you’re attractive. That was your one personality trait.”

Steve pouts. “Hey -”

“I’m kidding,” you say, pushing him a bit before leaning back to your side of the cooler. “I’d like a - whatever you said earlier.”

Steve whips his scooper out and twirls it in his hand before getting to work. You smile as you wait, watching him do everything very dramatically and with flair. He turns and produces the concoction to you, gesturing towards it theatrically before handing it to you.

“How much?” you ask, reaching for your wallet again.

“No way,” he says, crinkling his nose. “You’re not paying.”

Your shoulders drop and you frown. “Steve, come on -”

“It’s on me. I like to steal from this place.”

You laugh and shake your head. “Like Robin Hood.”

“Sure,” he says, not knowing who that is. “Like Robin Hood.”

“This better be good,” you say. “Because I’m not coming back if it sucks.”

“That’s too bad,” he pouts, leaning against the cooler. “I guess that means I’ll have to see you outside of work, then.”

You raise a brow and smile, grabbing the spoon in your dish. “Let’s see.”

You slowly take a bite. It’s actually pretty good, but you want to see Steve somewhere else.

“It sucks,” you say. “Worst thing I’ve ever had.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “I guess that means I’ll have to meet you at the movies tomorrow at eight?”

“I guess so,” you say, trying to suppress a smile. “What a bummer.”

Steve smiles fondly. “What a bummer.”

After a few moments of intense eye-contact, the bell at the counter rings, signifying Erica Sinclair’s entrance. Steve sighs and grits his teeth, looking back at you with a sympathetic smile. “I’m very glad you came in here.”

“Me too,” you smile. “Tomorrow? Eight? Movies.”

“Tomorrow, eight, movies,” he repeats, nodding, and you smile wider at how his hair bobs over his forehead as he does.

“Sailor Man!”

“Jesus,” Steve mumbles, sending you one last smile before going towards the register.

===

“That was so gross,” Robin scoffs. “You guys - ugh. For fifteen minutes!”

Steve smugly smiles at her. He walks towards her board and grabs her marker, dramatically drawing a ‘I’ on his side of the board. “I rule.”

“This time,” Robin says, unable to hide her smile. “This time, you rule.”

===

taglist (join here): @harrington-ofhawkins @comedy-witch @gothackedalready@wolfish-willow @sassisaluxury @willowrose99 @harringtown @write-from-the-heart @m-blasterrr @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @the-almond-dinger @ssanjuniperoo @darth-el @sourapplebaby @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @andyl394 @astil-be @troop-scoop@ilovebucketbarnes@mybestfriendthedingus @unknownherelm @metuel18@magnitude101999@simplesammyx @lukeskisses @stevenismyboy @dungeons-and-demodogs @scoopsahcy @strangest-hour @lucifer-reads @stevexscoops

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot

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thedubiouslittlefool · 3 years ago

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Rant time

I just kinda wanted to express how much I hate the art community and just fandoms in general and how some of the people,in it are fucking gross.

Like the only people I fucking like anymore is my friends cuz at least they don’t draw gross shit💀

A couple days ago I stumbled across a invader zip account that was drawing Zader, zoo Philip and necrophilia shit and it actually made me gross. I had seen someone like like this before but Jesus Christ this was like way worse. Like do kids not understand that zim is older then dib ?💀💀 like you can fucking look it up, dib is 12 while zim is 160 earth years old. Like I can understand why people see zim as a kid but Jesus Christ. I can admit when I was a kid I was stupid enough to think zim was a the same age as dib but when I looked it up you bed your sweet ass I stopped with the zader shit so fucking fast. And around that time is when I stopped looking at invader zim stuff all together, only fallowing a couple accounts that I knew where not fucked but all of them have since died. Bruh and both those fucking necrophillia accounts I was talking about got all pissed off when people where saying it was bad, LIKE ITS BAD DUDE, DRAWING DIB HAVING SEX WITH ZIMS DEAD BODY WITH MAGGOTS AND SHIT ALL OVER IT IS FUCKING DISGUSTING 💀💀 one of them wasn’t even a kid they where fucking 20 dude like-

Listen I understand when it like a little 12-13 year old that just dose not know any better but when it’s a adult that knows dame well what they are doing then that’s when It gets sus.

Bruh and those same people said vore was bad, LIKE DUDE NECROPHILLIA AND VORE ARE TWO DIFFRENT THINGS AND ONE IS WAY WAY WORSE THEN THE OTHER. Like trust me I have met some fucked up people in the vore community but I also met my best buds on there too, and when we aren’t talkin about vore they are such fucking cool and sweet people. ( zee, skelly, spoof I am LOOKING AT YOU👁👁)

I remember when I was younger I thought vore was this bad thing that I could never enjoy cuz it was bad and I should never talk about it or anything. And I just stopped looking at anything vore related, and I remember that solid year I stopped looking at social media and vore and just everything was prob the worst years of my life.I fell into a deep dark pit of sadness and it was real bad. But when I came back into the internet I just went wild and looked at everything and tbh it made me way better. Vore isn’t really a kink to me. It’s what I make it. If I want it to me kinky and sexual then yeah I will make it that way. Anyone can made it that way but I don’t. I see it as a comfort thing,most people that are into vore like it cuz of its comfort factor. It’s a closeness that people want, weather it’s with a friend or partner or anyone. Recently I have sifted over to the pred side of the vore community cuz like I think I got board of just being like a small meek prey thing and now I’m just like nah imma eat you instead HWNWJWHHWJW.

Lmao sorry for ranting about vore I got off topic.

ANOTHER THING I HATE

Closed spices.

Like come on they are fucking stupid what more do I have to say, like half of the closed spices I have seen already fucking exist and have already been made by someone else 💀like Do I even have to explain why they are fucking dumb?

Like a closed species had to be SO UNIQE in order for it to actually be worth something, but when you are just making a fucking creature with a tv head or any object head with a animal body like- That’s not original at all. And that’s just one example of shit that isn’t fucking or Original at all or interesting.

And dear lord THE MONEY THAT IS ASKED. LIKE HALF OF THEM ARE JUST THE SAME BASE THAT HAS BEEN RECOLORED LIKE- ITS FUCKING STUPID HOW MUCH MONEY THEY FUCKERS MAKE STUPID KIDS PAY-

like I would rather fucking hit up my friends and have them make something for me, cuz at least I don’t get traces or bases that are fucking recolored and don’t fucking asked for 50+ dollars. Like people don’t buy from those people they just want money they don’t have fun with their art it’s lazy shit that they pump out. Commission a actual artist that will give you good shit. Bruh like when I see that shit all I can think of is NFT’s and it’s just funny to me😭😭.

Ok rant over. Also sorry if I have been kinda quiet or not texting some people I have just been feeling like shit. My guts hurt greatly. My brain hurts. But I promise I will send y’all funny memes soon.

I will post funny clown too me promise😵‍💫

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poguesofthebau · 5 years ago

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Idea to write for OBX!!!! The pogues just having a good evening together, like playing truth or dare like 16 year olds before the events of the show take place!!

heyo all, writing is hard for me recently so i decided that i would do something based off what real life is like right now with a lil inspo from this request tossed in :) hope you like it!! (naturally, reader is dating jj in this bc i can’t help myself hehe oops)

summary: jj, y/n, and the rest of the pogues (including sarah) live in the world we’re all currently living in: quarantine. so what happens when the craziest friend group in the obx are trapped inside the Chateau for weeks at a time without any authority figures or outsiders? to put it simply, anarchy happens. (alternate summary: what i wish i was doing during this stupid quarantine instead of sitting in my room to avoid my parents’ hovering.) (alternate, simple summary: a hot ass day in quarantine with the pogues.) word count: 2101

sticky. why the hell were you sticky?

you opened your eyes with a deep groan, peeling yourself from jj with a disgusted look on your face. “jj, get off of me.” you’d both been laying on your stomachs as you slept, but the boy had somehow wound up directly on top of you. it would’ve been kind of endearing, cute almost, to wake up so close to jj, if it wasn’t so fucking hot.

someone across the room laughed lightly, and you slipped out from under jj and flipped onto your back, sitting up and squinting to see who it was. when you saw sarah, kie, and pope staring at you from the table a few feet away from the pull-out couch, you let out an annoyed puff of air, raking a hand through your bedhead to slightly calm it. leaning back on your hands, you glanced back down at your boyfriend. his nose was scrunched up, and his hand started rustling around the sheets until it made contact with your right calf. satisfied, his face relaxed again. before you could look back to your friends, pope was speaking. “i don’t know how the two of you managed to sleep like that all night. with those body temperatures combined, i’m pretty sure you should’ve burst into flames by like, 2am.”

“c’mon, pope,” sarah smirked. “they’re in love. their feelings for each other, they’re hotter than anything. like, hotter than--”

“hotter than the flames in hell!” kie interrupted proudly. “and the obx may feel like it’s hotter than that already, but--”

“nothing compares to their sacred, burning love.” sarah and kie both smiled smugly at their own ability to finish each other’s sentences, fist bumping as pope shook his head. “that was good. i love us.” the girls giggled again, and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit too.

“can you corny fucks shut the hell up? a guy can never get a wink of sleep around here, shit.” with that, jj was rolling over, too, a very unimpressed look plastered on his face as he scolded his friends. not as eager to be awake as you had been, jj groaned as he stretched, flopping into your lap on his back when he was finally done waking himself up. your hands naturally found their way to his hair, scratching at his scalp subconsciously as you looked around at the mess of the Chateau. “where’s jb at? and why is it so fucking hot in here?”

“you can’t really complain about body temps when you’re curled up in your girlfriend’s lap like a cat, bro,” pope pointed out. jj rolled his eyes as pope continued. “but since you asked so nicely, it’s the first heat wave of the year-- you’d know that if you ever listened to anything i say throughout the day. john b’s out trying to get food and water and stuff before it’s all gone.”

jj muttered something under his breath about wishing pope had gone out with their other friend as his eyes closed again at the feeling of your fingertips on his hairline. “you know what we should do today?”

“make out? at least let me brush my teeth first, you animal,” jj interjected. you flicked his nose, ignoring the comment otherwise. “oh, so you don’t wanna make out? alright, y/n, but just remember, it’s your rule!”

“jj, why does everything always have to be about you?”

“i have needs, kie!”

“okay, okay, okay, i think y/n had an idea. let the woman speak!” sarah quickly redirected.

“thank you,” you smiled pointedly at sarah. “i think-- and tell me if there are any objections-- i think, maybe, we should day-drink.”

as soon as the words left your mouth, the door beside you was swinging open with a creak, john b bursting into the room. “did someone say-- DAY-DRINK?” he held up a six pack of beer in each hand, that bright and proud john b grin plastered on his face. the entire group cheered, jumping up to help him bring in the groceries he’d gotten his hands on. “thanks to mr. c’s non-existent credit card limit, we are now loaded. thanks kie!” he tossed her dad’s card back on the table, the curly haired girl laughing at his words. kiara had somehow convinced her parents that spending her quarantine with the pogues at john b’s house was an acceptable idea, and they had even given her an emergency credit line for necessities and necessities only.

beer was an absolute need for the pogues, to be fair.

----

a few hours later, everyone was pretty day-drunk, so to speak.

sarah was currently engaged in a deep conversation with pope about why, exactly, he wanted to be a coroner so badly. you were in the middle of an arm-wrestling tournament against john b, with jj and kie passing the group’s second blunt of the afternoon back and forth. “y/n, your hand is fucking slippery!”

“fuck you, john b! it’s sweaty! haven’t you noticed that it’s a million damn degrees in this place?”

the arm wrestling tourney came to a close soon after, and the group went back to sweating, smoking, and throwing back beers. your feet wound up in jj’s lap as you tried to fan yourself with an empty, folded up cardboard box that one of the six-packs had come in. “hey kie, do you think your dad would mind if we used his credit card to buy a decent air conditioning system for this shithole? no offense, john b.”

“actually, y/n, i kind of take offense to that. just a little, you know?” you stuck your tongue out at your friend, throwing your piece of cardboard at him.

“you know, guys,” sarah spoke up. “me and my sister used to play this game--”

“oh, sarah, please tell me it’s not truth or dare with no dare.” john b’s face twisted into disapproval, and it was sarah’s turn to stick her tongue out at him.

“it is truth or dare with no dare, and i don’t hear any better ideas from anyone else, so we’re playing.”

jj’s hand came down on your ankle as he sat up and looked at the other blonde of the group. “actually, i’m thinking me and y/n will just roll another blunt and go hide in the guest room. that would be a better idea, i think.”

“no way, dumbass! if we have to do it, you two are sticking around for it too. pogues never abandon pogues, remember?” kie and her rules. “so, who starts?”

“well usually when i’ve played before it’s only been two people, so maybe i’ll ask the first question and we can all go around and answer?” jj groaned at this new development, causing you to smile. you flopped around on the futon a bit until your side was pressed against his, and he threw his arm around your shoulders once you’d settled. “okay, first question. um, let’s see... i don’t know. what’s the weirdest dream you’ve ever had?”

----

“weirdest place you’ve ever had sex. three, two, one, go!” jj pointed to john b, and the entire group erupted into laughter. john b was clearly struggling to think of an answer, and jj, who had become strangely invested in hour-long game, was running out of patience. “c’mon, man!”

“jesus christ, jj, i don’t know!” john b choked out through his laughs. “a bell tower, i guess?”

“great! sarah? where’ve ya done it, kook princess?” that one earned a smack on the arm from you, and jj quickly rephrased. “sorry! i meant, uh, where’ve ya-- i don’t know. just-- what’s your answer?”

sarah glanced between john b and jj, hesitating before she answered. “conveniently enough, my answer is also... a bell tower.”

with the ruckus that answer caused, you weren’t expecting the game to end any time soon.

----

“oh, my god. i finally don’t feel like i’m burning alive anymore.” pope threw his arms victoriously above his head as he made the statement, kie smiling at him and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“that’s how fucked the weather’s gonna be forever if humans don’t start taking care of the planet, pope. isn’t that crazy?” pope looked at her and nodded with a slightly terrified look in his eye, not finding the person kie became when drunk completely trustworthy to not flip out on him for his history of littering and excessive plastic use.

“you know, guys,” john b called out, quickly changing the subject. “this is kind of insane.”

“what do you mean, johnny boy? what’s so insane about a heat wave?” your head was pretty much buried in jj’s chest as you spoke, with his hands slowly tracing big circles in your back. the last blunt of the night had just been smoked, and it was hitting you both a little harder than the others had. for the past few minutes, you’d been thinking about you and jj finally making your way to the guest room for the more intimate one-on-one time that the weed had made you crave. as soon as he’d put the roach down, you’d crawled into his lap. the temperature had dropped reasonably, and the sticky feeling you’d experienced that morning was now completely out of the picture. your left hand was wrapped around jj’s neck, your right just hidden under his shirt as your thumb stroked back and forth just above his hip. jj had watched you nuzzle into that position through hooded red eyes with a little amused smile playing his lips, before returning the physical affection by sliding one hand reassuringly onto the back of your neck and letting the other draw shapes into your back.

by the time john b had finished gazing around lovingly at the group before answering, you had almost forgotten about having asked a question to begin with. “not the heat wave, y/n.” his correction reminded you of what the conversation had been, and your tilted your head up to make eye contact with jj. when you locked eyes, you knew jj was thinking the same thing as you: john b’s about to get corny and emotional. and you were both right. “seriously, look at us. isn’t this crazy?” you and jj smiled at each other, and you placed a loving kiss on his jawline before refocusing your sight on john b. “how did we all end up together? i mean, three losers who met in elementary school,” john b listed, looking to you and jj with a bright smile as you felt jj squeeze your neck lightly. “a weird kid who, for some reason, is totally obsessed with dead bodies and shit,” pope looked a john b awkwardly as kie giggled, slipping her hand into pope’s. “and a couple of fucking kooks.” sarah hummed from her spot next to john b, kie sarcastically saluting with her free hand. “you guys, somehow, we all got together, all found each other. what are the odds of that? what are the odds that we found this totally perfect, totally dysfunctional but perfect little family?”

before you could stop yourself, you felt the first tear slip down your face. “fuck you, john b,” you muttered quietly, taking your hand out from under jj’s shirt to swipe at the wetness on your face. scrubbing away the rest of the tears in your eyes before they could escape, you put your hand back down on jj’s arm this time.

“yeah, fuck you, john b. why you makin’ my girl cry, bro?” everyone chuckled softly, admiring each other in the moment. “alright, though, really. since she’s already crying, i guess i should say it now.” your head lifted back up to look at jj, and he looked back down at you as he continued. “i love you.” as you both broke into smiles, he looked back to your friends. “i love all of you guys. you’re all annoying as fuck, and i know i live for giving you all a hard time and stuff. but seriously. this is my family. pogues forever.”

“shit,” kie muttered this time, her thumb swiping under her own eyes as pope looked down at her adoringly. “pogues forever, guys. thank you for taking in us stupid kooks and letting us be who we are. pogues for-fucking-ever.”

“as corny as it sounds, i feel like we’re kind of required to group hug now,” pope added. “everybody up! i love you sickos and psychos, criminal records and all!”

and then, you all hugged the shit out of each other. pogue style.

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lulusoblue · 3 years ago

Text

this isn’t me vagueing or anything, or I’m not intending to because people have previously expressed the same of what I’m about to rant on, and I don’t want to @ or refer to any blog specifically for reigniting my bafflement of this take because this isn’t a personal grudge match against anyone, just a general *what* of this concept, but

jesus h christ on a stick, why do people want BioShock Infinite’s Elizabeth to have been a racist?

I get an AU fic of another timeline where Comstock’s motives weren’t messy as fuck and he didn’t just plan to force his messiah with a spinal shock collar from the word go, like “what if” stuff, but like saying she should have been racist in the original game and actually wanting this change because it would “improve” her character?

like, disclaimer because I am a white woman who may not have a say in things like this anyway, but honestly the racism angle was a huge mistake in Infinite in the first place, and should never have been done in this game because the lead writer is a white man and I can bet my bottom dollar he most likely did not consult anyone on race or racism beyond what historically accurate heinous racist acts to not depict in the game so players could “sympathise” with the flying racists getting their dues post-Finkton.

You know how important the racism of Columbia is to him? How relevant is it to the ending of the game? Answer: it isn’t. BioShock 1’s ending has the failings of Rapture relevant to the ending regarding the player’s choices. The ending of Infinite, however, focuses on Elizabeth, Booker and the multiverse, where nobody mentions the Vox or how Columbia was a failure or anything. Nothing with the Vox Populi or Columbia’s hubris is linked to the game’s ending. Both are left feeling superfluous. It was just something to stick into the background rather than be a story element that properly tied in with the story’s real focus. If you wanted Levine to write a better racism story I would have to ask you why??? Do you trust him to?????

What reason was there that we switched from extreme nationalism and its consequences in the demos as late as 2012 to “racism bad but the victims of it are also bad if they fight back” in 2013? Who fucking knows. Probably shock value, because I don’t see how time and resources would cause such a change from what Irrational put out there in interviews leading up to release. Given how Levine tried to retcon Daisy’s story in Burial at Sea (and keep in mind Black Lives Matter didn’t start as a movement until a few months after Infinite’s release and before BaS Episode 2 was released) he certainly didn’t commit to “Daisy and Comstock are the same”. If he had conviction for his “both sides” story, he wouldn’t have tried to rewrite it to Daisy choosing to play monster as a necessary sacrifice for her cause (which itself is its own can of worms with how it now plays out).

Considering as well how we had that article revealing how long it took to get a playable build out of Irrational thanks to Levine’s lack of solid direction, as well as the recent revelation that he had never read Ayn Rand when making a game about a city BUILT ON HER IDEOLOGY, I’m pretty sure the poor writing around Columbia’s racism and the Vox Populi in the final game was just made up as he went along to push out a finished product, because it had been five years at that point and 2k was piiiiiiissed.

Then we have how Elizabeth is your companion character, your escort mission. Friends, do you know how escort mission characters were viewed back pre-2013? Bad. The AI could just look at a player funny and they’d draw a 5 page comic on how awful a character they were and post it to deviantart. One of the worst levels in BioShock was when we had to escort a very killable Little Sister with a fishbowl filter on our FOV, and one of the major complaints people had with BioShock 2 was how they had an OPTIONAL escort mission to get more mutation juice. We didn’t start getting games with escort characters like Elizabeth or Clementine or Ellie, characters people actually cared about and WANTED to protect, until around 2012-2013.

You think the people creating Elizabeth, the escort mission character built to be a likeable, enjoyable to be with and empathise with her character, who can never get hurt or kidnapped in combat and actively helps the player, should have had her been a racist??? In a post-Mass Effect world??????

Ashley Williams is a woman from a military family. She is a proud member of the Alliance military who has concerns on working with aliens after having had no prior experience working with aliens. However, you can ease those concerns and help her warm up to building alliances in the first Mass Effect game. Ashley grows to trust alien squadmates, and even without your character’s influence will regard two anti-alien groups with disgust for their outright racism and human centrism.

And here’s the kicker, even with that nuance to her character, in a game of plenty of other more overtly racist and prejudiced characters? ASHLEY IS STILL THE BUTT OF THE SPACE RACISM JOKES. She had flaws, she developed, she proves her loyalties to the point of refusing to work with you when you’re forced to join one of the human centric groups, AND SHE’S STILL MOCKED FOR SPACE RACISM. EVEN IN PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL SHE’S RETROACTIVELY REGARDED AS BEING DIFFICULT TO WORK WITH. THAT IS HOW MUCH THE FANDOM AROUND MASS EFFECT HAS AFFECTED HOW ASHLEY IS SEEN.

And you want Infinite to have Elizabeth be very obviously racist with real life racism? (which is the vibe i’ve been getting) Like, you think all the people behind Elizabeth’s design, her game functionality, her interactions and personality, would give players ammunition to hate a character you’re supposed to enjoy having around on purpose? You think they’re going to give the actual racists and bigots and nazis of the internet a mascot????? Because we already had the facebook header image debacle for a Columbian propaganda poster, you KNOW they would.

And personally I don’t think it would make great character development, because the game is not in the format for that kind of exploration of character’s story. BioShock Infinite is not an RPG with you making dialogue choices with squadmates where you feel like you really influenced them to see the error of their ways. Infinite is a linear shooter. There is no real sense of the passage of time in a linear shooter, the player will experience it like it really doesn’t happen in the span of 20 hours.

Unlearning racism and religious brainwashing is not a quick fixit, and a quick fixit is how it would feel in the 20-40 hours you take to play through the entire game. If Infinite had had Elizabeth going from “I’m racist” to “*sees a black person suffering* maybe racism is wrong???” to “i am no longer racist, I see the error of my ways, you can like me now” in the span of what feels like less than a day to players in a linear game, people would be super critical of the pretty white girl getting cured of her bigotry way too quickly and how the game makes it like we’re supposed to applaud her for being so brave and mature and open-minded, and how much Levine really doesn’t understand nuance or anything about how internalised racism works.

BioShock Infinite’s final release proved that the Vox Populi should not have been handled the way they were. Yes, more media should be discussing and making audiences aware of what is racist, and how irrational it really is when you get down to it, but BioShock Infinite should not have been that media. It was originally written for two opposing sides in a city built on extreme nationalism, much like how BioShock was for objectivism, and then changed relatively last minute. It was written by a white man who’d already written the franchise’s only gay named character as a horrific monster of a man (Cohen) and has expressed how autism is what made a person evil (Tenenbaum). It was written with Elizabeth in mind, a main character who was literally designed to be an escort mission players would actually enjoy, most likely from Day 1 given how much behind the scenes stuff we know of her.

I wouldn’t trust someone like Levine to write a story of a character unlearning racism over the course of a game’s story, i don’t think he should ever have touched a story where racism is a such a prominent element with a 100 foot pole.

#in which i rant #bioshock #bioshock infinite #elizabeth comstock

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sequackquack · 4 years ago

Text

Late night visit

After being home for a few days and getting settled in you finally got friends and family over. The twins have been home for a week now and are starting to show a bit of their personalities. After being exhausted from visiting family and friends for a week on top of taking care of not one but two babies. You are so ready to just get some sleep. But something tells you otherwise that isn't happening tonight.

"Keigo, I'm worried what if something happens?"

"Lovebird I am one of the top heros, we have the highest security, and we are at the top of the building."

"I know but-"

"You need to sleep! It has been a good few weeks since you got your last through the night sleep. You need this… We need this."

"Okay" but there was still an uncertain feeling in your stomach.

The first night all of you get a good night's sleep something unexpected happens.

You hear crying and sit up to see your worst nightmare you see he's holding your son.

"So Keigo it's been a while? You had a kid and I wasn't even invited to the baby shower or anything? You actually had two and said nothing? Huh what a shame I thought we were closer than this."

"Put my son down Dabi. NOW."

"Oh we must not wake them now. You know it is important for babies to sleep. And how frail and fragile they are." He tightens his grip on Soarin. And he continues to cry. Hawks flies across the room in a flash. He's a foot away from Dabi. His wings puffed out and the shadow looming over them both making him appear larger.

"Hm your funny Keigo you think this scares me? I know all your little secrets, your weakness, your strengths. All of it." He smirks

Hawks lowers his wings and takes a step forward looking straight into dabis ice cold blue eyes.

"Why are you here and what do you want with my children?"

"Well I would be a bad uncle if I were to not visit my newest niece and nephew."

"What do you really want with them?"

"It looks like only one of your kids has wings? Do you prefer one child over the other? I know you've always wanted to have kids that have wings. So is this one insignificant to you seeing the one thing you wanted he doesn't have?" Dabi responded ignoring hawks question

"DABI WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH MY CHILDREN!?"

"You know how much kids sell for? Let alone a hero's kid. He might even develop a quirk later on and make him worth more. And you are one of the top ten heros. Man the more I talk about it the more dollar signs I'm seeing. But that little munchkin over there is worth almost double seeing that she was born with her quirk. And selling her feathers could stack up fast. But I figured you wanted to keep that one cause she has your wings." He shrugged

"You are a disgusting piece of-"

"Ah I heard somewhere that talking negatively to someone with another person in-between. That person actually feels your emotions and thinks it's directed at them. So watch your mouth while I'm holding your baby." Dabi cocks an eyebrow.

Tears begin forming prickling hawks eyes blurring his vision. His chest rising and falling rapidly with his hitched breath.

"I don't know why the fuck your here now. Or Why you want to hurt my children. But I never had a family. I never thought I would. And I've told you this Dabi... When we were kids. I looked up to your dad as a figure."

"Don't bring my old man into this Keigo. This about you, me, and your kids. "

"Dabi please, why are you doing this. Why now? Why my children of all things." He says crying

"You know why Keigo. It's not just them. You left me to train intensively all alone. With that piece of shit father of mine. You promised me that you wouldn't leave... And you did anyway. I waited for you to come home. To see me, visit,call me, anything. I missed you and you never reached out.

"Dabs I-"

"Keigo no it's too late for that it's not just one thing. Not just you didn't tell me you were a top hero. Not just that you were working for my dad. Not just that you got married. Had kids, bought a house... Keigo our dream house that we built as kids."

"Excuse me is there something that I missed? Why a villain is in my house holding my baby and talking to you like he knows you?"you ask

Keigo turns to look at you.

"So me and Dabi grew up together. My parents sold me to the hero commission and his dad is a hero training him to be the best. We lived in a room together, trained, played, grew up together..."

"Ok so your childhood best friend is a villain?"

"The training we endured at such young developmental stages was horrific. So we grew and talked through our trauma together."

"That doesn't explain why he is as batshit crazy as an ex girlfriend"

"The hero commission decided we spent too much time together and spit us up but continued training. We would sneak out to talk to each other. By the time we were 16 and had our provisional license they let us go. So the first thing we did was go live in this cheap little beat down apartment together. Sharing such a small space.meant we had to share a bed. Which wasn't unusual to us because when one person had a bad dream as kids the other would get into bed with the other. We kept having nightmares after nightmares and reliving the trauma. One night we both woke up and talked about what happened and how we feel and something just clicked and it lead to both of our first kiss. After that things felt weird. So Dabs decided to move out with some of his friends from work. We started hanging out less and less and one time we were getting coffee he brings up this girl(toga) he was introduced to by a roommate and she was super weird into dead things and stuff like that she invited him hang with this group she's with all the time(lov) so dabi hung out with them. I got jealous and left the coffee shop. Once I got over it I texted dabs I want to meet these new people he's hanging out with. And he said why not hang out and meet them at my new place. I'm staying with them now. So I go over and see these super weird people. I meet them and hang out a bit and me and dabi go to his room and pits on some of our favorite songs. We kissed again that night and I left him immediately after. Once again I get over myself and we start talking again like old times except he isn't into the same things. I'm going and seeing him whenever I'm not at work. I'm working a ton! Then one night exactly like when I first went over he put on our old favorite and we are laying in bed. As a kid I would trace over his burns to show him it didn't have to hurt. So I started to mindlessly draw shapes all over him but I noticed he was way more scared than ever but it might be because he's working now rather than training. And that night we slept together in a different sense. So in a way yes Dabi is my ex… We were a lot of each other's firsts."

"That still doesn't explain why he is holding our son. He is still one of the top villains Keigo!"

"Oh so I'm famous huh? Didn't know I had a following."

"Dabi I understand that you could sell my son for money but what is your real motive?"

"Alright alright it's because I am jealous"

"Of a baby?"

"No you dipshit of y/n… this was supposed to be our life. This is our dream house that has a balcony for you and a fireproof bedroom for me. As broken kids we wanted to adopt so we could change their lives. Have the family we could never have."

"BUT YOU LEFT!"

"ONLY CAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO RUIN WHAT WE ALREADY HAD!"

Soarin starts to squirm and hiccup. And they both lower their voices.

"what about toga hmm? Did you have a thing? That's why when we got coffee you talked about her.

"I was telling you how weird she was and all those new people I was around. And how they couldn't compare to you Kei. I hung around them cause they were so different not cause I was interested but to see if you were paying attention. But you were too busy focusing that I was with another person. Also that coffee date was to ask you if we could love together again. And try this thing out."

"Touya… I. I'm so sorry I didn't know and I'm sorry I treated you like that."

"Too late for apologies now hot wings."

"Well what now? I'm married and have kids. And of all that I'm a top hero and your a top villain."

"You really think I would sell your kid? I am hurt and broken and all these other things because you didn't even mention to tell me that you were having a baby let alone two. But I'm here to see if we can start over. After all there are two new lives literally."

"Touya." He says with tears smiling

"Excuse me do I not get a say in this? After all I did make,carry, and birth the babies. He just put his dick in me and came. And I also had to deal with the shit he went through with you Dabi. He was such a wreck when we first got together I couldn't believe all of that was from one person!"

"Heh you definitely picked a good one Birdy."

"I know but She actually picked me. I was still so hung up over you that it took me and y/n 3 months of dating to realize we were together." Rubbing the back of his neck

" Look I'm really here to see you again Keigo these kids just gave me an excuse. I want to help you guys with them. I don't think your partner is up to it."

"Like a polyamorous relationship?"

"Yeah that's why I said y/n probably won't be thrilled at the idea. But It could still be a polyamorous relationship just between us Kei. But at the least, I want to be in these guys' lives. You have to check in with your wife about that though."

"We will definitely discuss it."

"Thanks. Sorry to give you such a scare for just that but I really don't think like a normal person anymore. Here is your son. I promise my hands were clean before I picked him up." Said with a smirk

"Soarin."

"What?"

"His name is Soarin."

"Are you fucking kidding me. You name your kid Soarin. Jesus Christ poor kid. You let him name him that?"

Dabi points at you rolling his wrist backwards

"Look I was tired. I had already given birth once already and only cared that he was healthy at the time."

"Huh. Well alright. What about baby girl over here"

"Don't say it like that it's gross and now your chances of being involved have lowered. But it's Phoenix."

"Not bad but again you guys really? These poor kids already have daddy as a number 2 hero and mommy is also a pro hero."

"Watch it I picked that one patchwork."

"Ok ok just ribbin ya"

"They already did enough of that. I don't think I need anymore in my life."

"Ooh okay momma got it."

"Yeah their full names are Phoenix Sage Takami and Soarin Percy Takami."

"They have your family name?"

"Yeah the Takami name is a strong one and should be known and used in more than just in vain."

"Good choice. They will be strong I can already tell. Just like you."

"Hey I'm the one who's squirting milk out my tits and tore almost to my ass."

"Damn that's hot. Maybe sometime we can both fuck your wife birdbrain."

"Ah dabi not around the kids."

"Sorry. I'll work on it."

"Alright say goodbye to uncle dabi guys." He says taking back his baby

"Huh? Uncle dabi what do yo-"

"Me and y/n still need to talk about the whole situation. But you can still be uncle dabi at the least."

"Really? Wow I didn't think you would say that… thank you." Smiling

"Ya ya don't get to hung up on it."

"Psh shut up your the one to talk mr I didn't know we were dating till 3 months later."

All three of them sit in silence watching the two babies sleep peacefully.

" Well I'll be back in a few days to see them again. Don't be afraid to text me k?"

Keigo nods smirk

He stands in the window a second longer to look at them both and jumps down. He walks down an alleyway and says out loud to himself.

"Uncle Dabi oh please" shaking his head.

#kiego-takami #baby #hawks x y/n #dabi #dabi is a todoroki #baby with wings #twins #hawks

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the-firebird69 · 2 years ago

Text

I can see that he's still there and we have warrants on him for everything he's invading is trying to harm us all the time I'm so sick of this it doesn't cover us up at all you idiots better get your s*** together you sons of mine Jesus Christ is stupid

Mac

We need to do stuff to that guy and get rid of them tell you what some stuff draws them out of there and some stuff draws people in right now we should go fight over the Genesis auto dealers it's a great idea and it's comforting his father and mother and we should also fight to buy them but you can't buy them yet and I'm going to tell you something if you're driving around so we should have Tommy F to volunteer driving around with terminators into traps you don't care just get rid of them

Daniel

I'm going to do that and take a bunch of those as an option I'm just going to send it in see if you guys approve and work much smoother and you too BGA this guy's a goddamn nuisance

Tommy f

I'm going to take our share and we're going to send it in and I want the light cycle place opened up and I want everybody to pitch in take the stupid son of a b**** down such a f****** loser he's an animal needs to be killed

Bja

I'm going to shoot him I'm going to shoot his kid I'm going to shoot every single damn one of them until they stop coming back it's like pet freaking cemetery over here with these dumb assholes it's so goddamn stupid they revive anything it's gross

Bg I'm going up there I know the nature of the job and his people will be there too I tell you what every once in a while we're going to stand up there and pick all of them off this would be a huge pile of stupid head I'm so sick of that happening it's a matrix and we have to find it I don't think so I think these idiots are stupid

You're finding the talk disgusting but we keep doing dumb things I keep bothering people trying to take the stuff we won't go do anything logical and won't team up that's just the way it is and we're going to lose at least we are

Trump

Yeah you're going to lose you're going to lose your life you're going to lose your licenses your positions I'm going to start firing you I don't care if the Maxi yes or no I'm going to fire you and order people to do stuff and it'll look like them having me do it it's a trick I'm going to start doing it and holy s*** you are a huge a****** you need to get away from you f****** f****

Biden

I can't believe you're afraid of a $200 front thing you are such a loser we're bringing you up on charges of treason you be shot on site if you found guilty of treason and you wouldn't even know it you're such a freaking huge loser I can't believe how f****** stupid you are you get away from him and we're going to send orders I want him out of there anybody in the way of it it's going to get killed so Stan's not the way of it you can't do anything he's under threat by this guy there's way too many down here the federal government needs to send down a lot more troops so I'm going to order that now

Camilla

We're sending troops in their Max too we have to get these assholes out of here and the foreigners too they got a good contingent to them I got to clean out New York and other areas too this sucks so bad they're so gosh darn stupid where are they coming from maybe they're coming from New Zealand making clones

Biden and robots my nephew sent us grandson that it says

We could have told you so don't leave him down there alone just going to keep sending s*** heads here

Billium

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Text

Rockstar (Indruck)

A friend on discord, @morganeashton, requested #28 of the meet ugly list for Indruck: I’m a famous singer and you’re the new techie who just tripped and pulled the plug out of my microphone mid-concert [extra awkward if they lip sync, extra badass if they keep singing and their voice is still on point]. This is NSFW.

A peril of high quality sound equipment is that when it goes out, it’s very obvious.

The mic goes, his guitar and Dani’s bass cut out, and the effects are gone. For a moment it’s total silence as the audience watches him.

Then he picks up exactly where he left off, notes coming as easy as breath. After a moment Jake starts up quieter than usual on the drums, giving him rhythm. By the time he finishes, the mic and instruments are back on and the applause is deafening. He smiles to himself.

He’s still got it.

------------------------------------------

Duck knocks on the dressing room door.

He’s so fucking fired.

“Come in.”

Mr. Cold is sitting at a mirror, takes note of Duck’s reflection.

“Ah, Duck, I thought it might be you. Mama said you were the one who disconnected our sound tonight.”

“Yessir. I, uh, it was an accident, I was movin somethin in a tight space and caught my foot on the cord without noticin’. I’m, uh, I’m real sorry, and, uh, I’ll, uh-”

Mr. Cold holds up his hand and Duck shuts his mouth. The singer turns, in his chair, face now free of make-up. His features still have that alien edge to them, the strange mix of young and old that’s made his attractiveness the subject of much debate. Duck knows where he falls on it; anyone who thinks Indrid Cold is anything other than sex on legs should get their eyes checked.

That won’t help him, he knows that.

Indrid leans back in his chair, “you don’t need to plead your case to me Duck, for two reasons. One is that I’m not the one in charge of hiring or firing the road crew. That falls to Mama and Joseph completely, and if I ever tried to toss someone out for an accident they’d put me in my place very quickly. But more importantly, I’m not angry with you for what happened. Quite the opposite.”

“You...wait, really?”

Mr. Cold counts off on his fingers, “The space was small, so everyone could still hear me. There’s been rumors I’ve been using a dub, so this ought to quell them nicely, and” he looks at Duck over his trademark red glasses, smile widening, “it was unexpected, something that’s rare for me these days. When you get to this level of fame, everyone is terrified of not having a flawlessly executed plan. But that is not how the world is; it’s not how art is. So it was nice to have the chance to show everyone that the unexpected can be invigorating. Thank you for that.”

“You’re, uh, you’re welcome?”

Mr. Cold smiles as he stands up, “you should sit down, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“It’s fine, uh-”

The singer simply rests a hand on his shoulder and gently pushes. Duck sits.

“Would you, ah, like a drink? The hosts here left a very nice bottle of tequila.”

“Sure.” Duck tries not to stare as he bends over to retrieve a glass and a bottle, pouring Duck a shots worth of tequila that costs more than his rent. Duck mumbles a thank you when he hands it to him, then gawps when Mr. Cold sets the bottle aside and retrieves a Capri Sun from the mini-fridge.

“I can’t stand alcohol. Used to try for the sake of fitting in but” he makes a face like a disgusted cat, “eech. One moment, I need to change.” He disappears around a corner, leaving Duck to wonder what the fuck the polite thing to do is. Mr. Cold is always polite to his crew, but he keeps to himself much of the time. Not to mention Duck’s only been with them since the tour started a month ago.

A photo on the table catches his eye, and he scoots his chair closer to get a look.

“Was, uh, was this an alternate cover or somethin?”

“Hmm? Oh” a light laugh, “no, though you’ve got a good eye; we shot it the same day we shot the cover image for The Cryptids. That was a shot that was nixed because we looked too silly, I think Vincent had said something funny and cracked Barclay up, who set me off. I bring it with me to every show, a sort of good luck charm mixed with a reminder of where I came from.”

From the faded photo, nineteen year old Indrid Cold smiles at him.

“I take it you’re a long time fan, then.” Mr. Cold reappears in a pink and yellow bathrobe, the last color scheme Duck would have assumed he owned.

“Yeah, over a decade. I, uh, I was sixteen when The Cryptids released their first album. Scraped together fifteen bucks to buy the C.D and wore the damn thing out I listened to it so much. Never heard anything like it. That’s, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “that’s not why I took the job, though. Mama didn’t tell me who I’d be crewin’ for until after I accepted.”

“If you’re afraid of looking like a ‘fanboy,’ don’t be. Do you know how Joseph came to be our manager?”

“Uh, story I always heard was he came backstage during a show on your first tour and offered.”

Mr. Cold chuckles, “he did. But what very few people know is that he came back in his lovingly homemade ‘Bigfoot’s Boy’ t-shirt and a a lot of glitter--remember, that was the E.T tour so everyone was space themed--clearly having left the house with the intent of trying to get into our bassist’s pants, and instead proceeded to tell us he’d seen how our manager operated through the night and we could so better and here’s how.”

“Jesus.”

“He was remarkably intimidating in spite of the glitter and his argument was airtight. So we fired Hayes and hired him. He did eventually bang our bassist, but that was perhaps obvious.”

“Given that they’ve been married for like five years, yeah. Still can’t believe Barclay went from beiin a rockstar to bein’ a chef.”

“He was always an ingenious cook. He once made breakfast using nothing but the still-hot engine of a mini-van.”

“AGH, god, why?”

“We were broke and hungry and there was nowhere to buy food.”

“That’s hardcore.”

“Mostly just oily.” Mr. Cold grabs another Capri Sun, sitting down across from him, “hmm, if you were sixteen when we started, did you ever get to see us?”

Duck shakes his head, “only kinda. Y’all mainly played twenty-one plus places even after you started gettin big, then you weren’t tourin nearby. When you announced the farewell tour, my friend Juno and I drove to Richmond to hear y’all play from outside the stadium. She’s still got a picture of us from that night somewhere, all geared out, tryin to look cool enough to be there.”

“You’ll have to let me see it, so I can determine if you pass muster.” Mr. Cold teases.

“I ask if she can send me it. Christ, I remember bein’ so fuckin bummed when y’all announced The Cryptids were disbanding, then so fuckin relieved when you said you were gonna keep makin new stuff and performin just as Indrid Cold. Your voice is fuckin amazin.”

“That’s not always the word used.”

“So you don’t sound like Bruno Mars or some pop diva, big fuckin’ deal. You sing and people listen because they ain’t ever heard anyone like you. No one in the world sounds like Indrid Cold.”

The singer gives him an odd smile, “that’s very kind of you to say.”

“Sorry, guess there’s still some fanboy hidin’ out under the roadie.” His cheeks heat up as he finishes his drink.

“I think we should both get some rest.” Mr. Cold stands, ushering him to the door, “and that we should talk again sometime. And thank you again, Duck, for your happy accident.”

‘You’re welcome, Mr. Cold.”

A famous smile that’s never stopped being weirdly captivating, “please, call me Indrid.”

---------------------------------------------------------

“You sure Indrid wants me on the bus and not just to, I dunno, load it?”

“Yes indeed.” Ned, Indrid’s publicity man, gestures grandly to the open door of the tour bus, “now kindly get yourself and your bag on it so we can get a move on.”

Duck climbs aboard, awkwardly sets his bag on the carrier shelf as he nods hello to Boyd, Indrid’s driver and part time bodyguard.

Indrid is lounging on a black couch, but sits up when he sees Duck, “ah good, you decided to join me.”

“Yep. Uh, did you ask me for a reason or?”

“I like talking with you.” Indrid cocks his head, as if puzzled by the question. Duck wants to point out that the a god of the alt scene, a musical genius, who could have anyone he wanted for company, seeming to be excited by hanging out with a roadie is a bit confusing.

Indrid, meanwhile, is shoving drawings and notes aside so Duck can sit down, “mind you, I don’t expect you entertain me or something; I’m working on some poster art right now, for that fundraiser, so if you have things you like to do on the road, you’re welcome to do them. My room is that way if you want to nap, and it has a t.v as well if you want to watch something. Oh, and we have wi-fi, of course.”

He sounds like a college kid showing off his first apartment and it wrong-foots Duck enough that he just grabs his book from the pocket of his bag.

“Thanks, uh, think I’ll read for a bit.”

Indrid grins, goes back to his drawing, pen scratching hurriedly as the bus jolts to a start and pulls onto the road.

After awhile, Indrid glances at him and asks mildly, “what was your favorite album? Of The Cryptids, I mean, not my solo stuff.”

Duck taps the spine of the book against the table as he thinks, “I mean The Cryptids has that whole edge by bein’ the first, because there was nothin like hearin’ your sound for the first time. But I gotta say...Unsolved. Whole thing is fuckin amazin, but your vocals on “To a Flame” still give me fuckin chills.”

“I haven’t played that song in a long time.” Indrid says softly, smiling, “it was always a favorite. I wrote it about someone I could never have.”

“You can feel it. In, uh, in the way it’s arranged, the way you sing, gives this whole feelin of someone who’s decided to love someone completely even though they’ll never be loved back.”

Indrid looks at him a moment, that same odd, small smile quirking his lips, then returns to his drawing. When the road gets bumpier, they move to a couch in the middle of the bus with a low table nearby. Duck pulls out his laptop and plugs in his headphones, pulls up Planet Earth as Indrid’s head starts drooping. Two episodes in, the singer falls asleep, flopping sideways so his head is in Duck’s lap.

He should move him, Indrid will probably think this is weird when he wakes up. Then again, he looks so cute like this. And it’d be rude to wake him up.

Duck’s to the episode on jungles when a slender, tan hand reaches up and plucks his left earbud out. Startled, he looks down to find Indrid putting it on and adjusting his head in Duck’s lap, clearly engrossed in the carnivorous plants onscreen.

“Do you want me to just turn the normal sound on?”

“No” Indrid murmurs sleepily, “this is perfect.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Duck assumes the bus will be a one-time event, but he’s ridden with Indrid each time since. Which is why, when his phone dings, Indrid is sitting right beside him.

“Looks like Juno found the, uh, the photo.”

“Let me see” Indrid grabs the phone from him, cackling with delight when he sees the image, “you two were really the pair of cryptozoologists, weren’t you?”

“Told you we were tryin too hard.”

“On the contrary, I love it, it’s exactly the kind of weirdness we wanted to inspire in people. And if seems you did like to collect our merch, that shirt you’re wearing was a limited run.”

“I know. I, uh, I saved up for it, way I always did if something had art of yours on it.” He slaps his hand over his mouth, embarrassed by the admission.

“That’s very sweet.” Indrid smiles at him, then lifts his glasses for a better look, “what does the collar you’re wearing say?”

“I, uh, fuck, I don’t remember, got, uh, got amnesia, collar specific amnesia, fuck, uh-”

“C, O, L...you were wearing a collar with my name on it.” Indrid’s grin takes on a hungry edge, “someone was downplaying whose fanboy he was.”

“I, I didn’t want you thinkin I was creepy, or that I was just bein nice to you because of the crush I had on you in college.”

“I don’t, I promise, though I appreciate the consideration. Here” he hands the phone back, but as Duck takes it he leans in and whispers, “but you really should wear a collar more often.”

-------------------------------------

“Sooooo how’s it going with Indrid?” Aubrey, Indrid’s magician opening act, sits down next to Duck at dinner.

“Good. Wait, shit, are people talkin about us?”

“Kinda? I mean, Indrid hangs out with the band, and with me, plenty, but none of us get to be on that bus. Not like I’m complaining, Dani and I have our own sweet ride.”

“There ain’t anythin goin on between us. It just...Indrid seem like he likes bein’ friends with me.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Yeah” Duck sighs, wistfully, “y’know, it’s funny. Even after I started workin here, he was still Indrid Cold in my head, the guy who sang like he was diggin down in my head, who did wild shit like kiss his male bandmates on stage, who was always so fuckin cool. And now he’s Indrid, this guy who’s kinda awkward and wears way more pink than I assumed and flaps his hands when gets excited and somehow that’s even better.”

“Awww, someone has a cruuUUshh.”

“Had, Aubrey. Had.”

“Whatever you say, Duck” she winks at him, “whatever you say.”

-------------------------------------------------------

“Are these yours?”

Duck shakes himself awake. They’ve been driving all evening and well into the night, and he must have nodded off and knocked his notebook over. Which is why Indrid is now holding several sheets of loose paper.

“Shit! I mean, uh, yeah, but they ain’t anythin special.”

“I didn’t know you wrote songs.” Indrid scans the pages with a critical eye.

“Sometimes. Like I said, they ain’t anythin to make a fuss over.”

Indrid makes a noncommittal noise and picks up a nearby guitar, tuning it, “you can go back to sleep, I’m just going to fiddle about for a bit.”

Duck lays down on the couch, and falls asleep to the sound of Indrid’s hums.

He’s shaken awake two hours later, and is thoroughly confused to find Indrid in tight black pants and silvery shirt, black boots on his feet and a deep green on his lips; that’s his stagewear, not his pajamas.

“Put on your most punk-rock outfit, and make it fast.”

He manages to get an old Cryptids t-shirt on along with black jeans that, if he does say so himself, make his ass look good, and is tugging on his boots when the bus pulls into a dusty parking lot.

“It’s the only goth/gay bar in the county.” Indrid says by way of explanation as he pulls Duck out the door, Boyd following them as Ned stays behind to watch the van (“in case we need to make a hasty retreat”).

“Wait, holy fuck, I always thought that was a myth, that you would stop at random clubs and play.”

“Not in the least, though it’s been awhile. Ooh, whoever is already playing sounds very good.” He pushes open the door, the smell of smoke and stale beer and sweat pouring over them in waves as they enter. Indrid keeps to the side of the room, holding Duck’s hand all the while, and spots the tiny merch table with “The Hornets” painted on a yellow sign on the front.

“Wait for me here.” He kisses Duck’s cheek and disappears into the crowd. When the band finishes the song, a youngish woman waves them over to the side of the stage, strangers in the crowd turning to each other to ask what the fuck is going on.

The guitarist and lead singer reappears, giant H on their shirt, and grabs the mic, “y’all aren’t gonna believe this, but the Hornets have just acquired a new singer and it’s gonna blow your fucking minds. Give it up for one of the gods of horror-surf, the grinning man, the mothman himself, Indrid fucking Cold!”

The crowd screams loud enough to shake an entire coat of dust from the walls as Indrid steps on stage, beaming and waving.

“Thank you very much, Hollis. I’ve got four songs for you tonight, including something very, very new. So, without further ado” he grabs the mic, flicks his hair, “let’s prowl.”

The Hornets launch into the opening notes of “on the prowl,” the crowd cheering and hooting and singing along with so much energy that Duck can’t hear Indrid’s voice until the last verse. He claps along with everyone else as Indrid takes the mic of the stand, “and here’s one I haven’t sung in far too long.”

The bass and guitar start in a minor key, half country swing and half horror sting.

“Always on the outs, always in the dark.” Indrid shuts his eyes as he croons, “always so hungry for one little spark. Always so willing to play your game. What can I say? I’m like a moth to flame.”

Duck knows the song by heart but he’s never heard Indrid sing it live, like there was someone in the room he was hoping would hear it and know it was for them. He doesn’t breathe until the song ends; he doesn’t want to miss a single note, miss the way Indrid’s voice curls around the room as if searching for him.

As the crowd applauds at the end, Indrid crosses to Hollis, who hands him their guitar. He loops it over his shoulder, returns the mic to the stand.

“Now, this next song is very special, it doesn’t have an arrangement yet, so you’ll have to live with just my melodious voice.” He picks the guitar, brow furrowed in concentration, and Duck gasps.

He knows this song, he’s just never heard it played anywhere but inside his head. Indrid sings it flawlessly, the crowd swaying in time with him, and Duck realizes he must have practiced nonstop while he was asleep.

The short song comes to a close and he tilts his head, “what did you think?”

The audience bursts out cheering and Indrid grins, “yes, that’s about how I feel too. I can’t take credit though, it was written by a friend.”

He returns the guitar, nods to the band, and purrs into the mic, “the sun goes down and the moon comes up.”

Shit how did he know? Does he know? He can’t know.

He can’t know this is the song Duck used to jack off to. A cover of a cover, a video where Indrid growls and purrs and nearly fucks the mic as he sings.

“You better duck, when I show up, the goo goo muck” he writhes in time with the music, “I’m a nightmare, honey, looking for some head.”

God, fuck, how could he have forgotten just how Indrid sounds when he sings this, like the monster under the bed came to life, turned out to be hot, and really wants to fuck you. Indrid is on his knees now, working the front row, dragging his free hand across his body with moans between the words.

“He must really like you, mate.”

“Gahfuck, Boyd.” Duck jumps, but doesn’t take his eyes off the stage.

“I’m just sayin’, he’s never let anyone come to one of these before. I only do because Stern’ll kill us if we let him go without some kind of backup.” Boyd pats his shoulder, heading back towards the door.

Indrid finishes the song panting, the Hornets looking harried from keeping up with his energy. As the crowd screams and claps he bows, and hurries off the stage. In cries for an encore and the darkened house, Indrid finds him again, grabbing his hand and sprinting outside.

“God I missed doing that!” He laughs as they run, “did you have fun?”

“Fuck yeah, Indrid, fuck, you really liked my song?”

“Of course. And it seems they did too.” The bus doors close behind them, but Indrid doesn;t stop moving, “we’re both very tired, going to bed now, goodnight!”

Duck’s about to point out he sleeps on the pullout couch, not the bed, when the bedroom door slams shut and Indrid yanks him into a kiss, tongue in his mouth and hands in his back pockets, groping him with a growl.

When Indrid breaks the kiss, Duck’s certain he has stars in his eyes.

“Is this alright?”

“Hell fuckin yeah it is.”

“Good” Indrid shoves him backwards onto the bed, “shirt off.”

Duck obeys, Indrid stripping his own away and tossing it on the ground. As Duck fights with his jeans, Indrid retrieves a condom and something black from a box, setting them on the bed. He notices his struggle and shakes his head as he prowls on top of him, “ah ah, we don’t have time for that.”

“Butmmmmfff” Duck gasps and moans as Indrid kisses him again, demanding and messy.

“Get them low enough for me to fuck you.” He bites Duck’s lip and sits up, wiggling his own black pants down enough to free his cock. By the time he gets them free one leg and down to his knee on the other, Indrid has the condom on.

Indrid tosses away his glasses, gives him a long once over, licking his lips, “good boy.”

Then he’s on top of him again, cock inside him and fingers tangled in his hair.

“Oh fuck, you’re soaking, god, what got you so wound up, hm?”

“You, just you, watching you, Indrid, god please fuck me.”

“Gladly, goodness, fuck, that’s it sweetheart, you take me so well.” Indrid hammers into him again and again, kissing him each time he whimpers or moans.

Duck wraps his legs around him, manages to get his head up enough to tease his tongue along Indrid’s nipple.

“AH! Good boy, mmmm, I knew you’d be perfect to fuck.” He adjusts so he can run his hand up Duck’s throat. There’s no pressure in the gesture, but plenty of possession.

“What do you think, shall we get you a new collar?”

“Yes, yesyesyes, Indrid, god, fuck please.”

“Oh you like that, mmm” he switches to slow, deliberate thrusts, a counterpoint to Duck’s frantically jerking hips that makes them moan in tandem, “we could get you several, would you like that? I could put them on you according to my mood and what I wanted you to be that day.”

Duck means to say yes, whines instead, grinning breathlessly when Indrid strokes his cheek.

“Good. I’d like it, too. Nnnh, god I’m close.” He stops entirely, awkwardly shifts and pulls them until he’s on his knees with Ducks ass in his lap, “but I want you to cum first.”

“I, I can try.”

“It was an order.” He reaches down, revealing the black object from earlier; a vibrating wand.

“Oh fuck yeah, fuckFUCK” his legs thrash when the vibe presses against his dick, “Indrid, sugar, ohmyfuckinggod.”

Indrid grins, wide and wanton, and turns the toy up, eyes flicking between Ducks face and cock as he cries out and bucks his hips.

“What a good boy, getting my cock so wet” he wiggles his hips with a moan, “you feel delightful when I use this on you, perhaps tomorrow I’ll have you sit on my cock and do the same thing over and over again, edge myself with the feeling of you needy and tightening around me.”

“Indrid, fuckplease, yes, yes, fuck, I’m so fuckin close darlin, ple-fuck, ‘Drid!” He cums with groan, whole body shaking as pleasure overloads his nerves.

The vibrator thunks to the floor as Indrid lunges forward, pinning him to the bed and fucking him hard and fast, cock thudding into him in time with his purring groans.

“So, so good, my Duck, so very good, god, yes, yesyes” he’s moving so violently Duck is now grunting from the force of the impact, “that’s it, good boy, take what I give youAHHnnn, Duck, Duck.” His hips slow as he groans, Duck drinking in the sight of him, orgasmic and loving above him.

Indrid pulls out, condom hitting what is hopefully the trash and not his guitar case, and immediately curls around Duck, kissing his neck and face.

“Thank you, thankyouthankyou.”

Duck giggles, kisses him back, “why are you thankin me? I’m the one who just got to fuck a rockstar. You got to fuck some regular dipshit.” He bumps their foreheads together to show he’s teasing.

“Incorrect. I got to fuck you. You, who are funny and charming and to the point, and who has taught me a remarkable amount about plants.”

“S’important to have hobbies.” Duck mumbles into his shoulder.

“Indeed. My point is, you make me happier than I’ve been in a long, long time. And while fucking you has been on my mind has been on my mind lately, it was not actually what I planned to do first. I, ah, I” he rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, hides his face in his neck, “I wanted to ask if you wanted to be my boyfriend.”

“Hell fuckin yeah.” Duck hugs him tight as he laughs with relief, “Indrid, I wanna be with you, the real you, not the one I had the crush on all those years ago. I wanna make you happy.”

“You do that just by existing, but I have some other ideas as well.”

“Oh yeah?” Duck kisses his nose.

“Well, for starters” Indrid’s eyes gleam as he looks up at him, “how would you like to write some music with me, boyfriend?”

“I think that sounds fuckin amazin. Boyfriend.”

#indruck #rockstar au #indrid cold/duck newton #meet ugly #prompt fills

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ettawritesnstudies · 4 years ago

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Hello we interrupt your normally scheduled writerly shenanigans to share the only two pieces of creative stuff I’ve done in the last week, but had fun with anyhow!

[Image Description: A pen and pencil drawing of two figures, one giving the other a surprise hug from behind. The one being hugged is Crutchie, from Newsies. The hugger is my OC, Clara, a tall girl wearing a blouse, skirt, with a long braid tied back with a blue ribbon. They look at each other and smile. End Image Description.]

These two are the mcs of my Newsies fic, Lost and Found (Again) that I’ve been sporadically publishing on ff.net. I don’t draw them much, because replicating a likeness of AKB is hard compared to coming up with something from scratch since there’s no comparison with OCs, and I’ve only done one or two pieces of ship-art for other people before, but not these two, so this is a first for me. I’m really happy with how cute it turned out!

[Image ID: a messy greyscale sketch of a gnome lady from DnD. She’s wearing a belted frock, pants, and a cape. Her hair is cut in a bob, with some of it pulled up in a bun and the front two strands in braids, and she reads imperiously from a scroll nearly as tall as she is. the caption says “Road Work Ahead?! I sure HOPE it does.” quoting the vine. End Image ID.]

This is my character from an old DnD campaign I played with @thescreamingtwenties (our long suffering and ever patient DM). This character’s name is PATRICIA, and she’s an overly impulsive but well-meaning cleric who recites phrases from her god’s holy book (which are all just vines). I created her with the sole intention of rolling a nat 1 and then stomping off yelling. “I AM DISGUSTED I AM REVOLTED I DEDICATE MY LIFE TO OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET?!?!”

I think she got thrown through a bookshelf that time lol

#etta's art #etta rambles #not writing #other creative shenanigans #dnd #fanfic #newsies fanfic #fanfiction #crutchie #crutchie newsies #crutchie morris #oc #lost and found again #lafa

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chrisbailey814 · 4 years ago

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The Tick

The tick was burrowing into the soft pale flesh on the inside of his right arm. Just above his elbow crease but below his bicep. Or rather, where his bicep would be, if he wasn’t limp with fear at the sight of the invading parasite.

“Get this fucking thing off of me.” he almost yelped.

It was quite pathetic. The others laughed at the change in tone.

“Gary was that a castrata?” Dylan’s quip provided a second barrage of laughter.

“The kid has cooties. Give him a lollypop.” Alice added. A third round. Around the camp no one seemed to pay much attention to the group. Gary stared at the small lump on his arm with a panicked look. His eyes wide with the fear of Lyme’s Disease and the rest of his face scrunched down around clenched teeth. The rest of them carried on laughing and joking at him around the fire. The light and the dancing shadows making it more difficult to see, and the not knowing made the pain more agonizing.

“Stop fucking laughing at me. It’s not funny. I don’t want to die.” His protestations fell on deaf ears as the rest of the group continued their discussion about the thirty kilometres they faced tomorrow.

It looked like a piece of tree bark that had splintered and lodged itself in his skin. It looked like he could pull it out with a pair of tweezers.

“What are you doing?” Alice asked as he moved over into her tent, rooting through her rucksack.

“You’ve got tweezers haven’t you?”

“What? No! And even if I did I wouldn’t want your fleas on them. Jesus Christ Gary, just relax. It’s just a bug.”

“It’s not JUST a bug. It’s a fucking parasite. It transmits Lyme’s Disease and unless you want to fucking carry me, you’ll help me figure out how to get it out of my FUCKING skin.” His tone had changed. The rest of the camp noticed. The word ‘parasite’ had caught everyone’s attention. The word ‘disease’ too. Despite Gary’s ordinarily annoying mancunian accent, the sound of ‘dizeeeeze’ fizzed in their heads.

“You can’t pull it out.” Eric’s voice boomed from his tent. His feet sticking out through the canvas flaps in desert boots were all that could be seen of him.

“Why not?” Gary’s question slipped back across the camp unchallenged. The boots started to shift. He was sitting up, you could hear him sit up. When he moved, it sounded like ropes being pulled and stretched. Parts of his body creaked and other parts clicked and snapped. He groaned and his feet disappeared from view for a moment.

“Because if you pull it out, then only part will come out. And the part that stays behind, will leech Lyme’s into your blood.”

“So what do we do with him?” Dylan asked.

“Nothing. At least not for now.” Eric’s reply was not exactly helpful to any of them. “Everybody just calm down. It’s only a tick. We’ll deal with it tomorrow when we have some light.”

The camp was made of four tents in an x shape. The doors facing inwards towards their opposite. Each tent had four people in it, except the tent Eric was in. His was slightly smaller, but older. The poles were metal not carbon fibre, the fabric heavy weight canvas rather than lightweight polyamides. Eric’s tent was his. Everyone else had just grabbed what they could. They had split the carrying so they each had part of a tent and could share the load. Eric carried his tent. It must have been heavier but he didn’t show it. Apart from his tent, he travelled lighter than the others. The same boots, the same clothes. A bar of soap in a ziploc bag, a mobile phone with a charger, a lighter and a multitool. Everyone else had more stuff with them. Two pairs of shoes instead of one, several changes of clothes. Nothing extravagant, but it weighed them down. It slowed the group.

As the campfire dwindled, the light turned a darker red and and only really lit the group’s skin in particularly muted highlights. The conversation too began to soften and quieten. Some of them had gone to bed already, the last few sat around talking in not much more than a whisper.

Dylan turned to Gary. “Does it hurt?”

“Fuck off Dyl.”

“Oh come on mate. I’m sorry, we were only joking around.”

“Yes it hurts. It feels like it’s burning my arm.”

“Eric will get it in the morning. Try not to worry about it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. The final crackling sounds of the dying fire filling the still night. The silence lasted until it became too uncomfortable to exist in, but too heavy to break. Alice decided she would be the one to break it.

“What do you miss?”

Gary thought before speaking. “I know it sounds stupid but I miss my bed.”

“That doesn’t sound stupid.” Dylan had been thinking the same thing.

“It’s not just my bed though.” Gary continued, “I miss being in it and watching telly. I miss -” he paused for a moment, “I miss Paul. I miss feeling his heat next to me and just watching shit on the telly.”

The others couldn’t see it but a tear, slid down Gary’s face, down his jaw line and onto his jumper.

Dylan and Alice looked at each other. “I miss…” Dylan dragged out the word as he thought aloud. “KFC. I fucking miss KFC.”

“Eugh. Sick.” Alice grimaced, “I can’t believe you ate that stuff. It was so gross. It always tasted like slime and saltwater covered in crispy shit.”

“You make it sound alien.”

“It was alien. It was disgusting. Cottage Chicken. That was the best.” She smiled, remembering the taste of chicken. It had been so long since any of them had eaten anything resembling junk food. The food they had now was junk, but not in a good way.

They both looked at Gary. He smiled weakly. He had tried to open up but they had shut him down. He didn’t know how long they would be together once they made it to the border. He thought he might not stay with them. He was an outsider to most of them and if he had had a choice, he probably would have waited, but the time had run out in the end.

“I miss chocolate.” He joined in. It was frivolous and cheap, but at least he could pretend to enjoy it. They all groaned, the memory of chocolate filling their mouths. The rich, imaginary flavours created a temporary unguent from their saliva, and they laughed - together this time - before retiring to their tents.

Morning arrived, and the camp woke up. Tents were dismantled and folded into rucksacks. Ash from the campfire was covered with earth and trodden down. The stones thrown randomly back into the woods and any amount of litter or unnatural dirt was removed so as not to draw attention. Eric sat on a fallen tree, his bag packed and ready. He held his multitool blade over the flame of his lighter and watched it heat up.

He shouted across the camp, “Gary. Come here. Let’s get that thing out of your arm.”

As Gary came closer, Eric spoke calmly, “This is going to hurt a bit, but soon we’ll be safe and we’ll find you some antibiotics.”

Gary winced as the hot blade made contact. The tick crackled for a moment before popping out of his arm. “Better safe than sorry.” Eric put the blade away and picked up his bag. “Let’s move” he said, so they did.

#short fiction #short story #amwriting #writing #writingcommunity #post apocalypse #lgbt

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parkeraul · 6 years ago

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spill your guts or fill your guts

a/n: anon suggested me but for a reason i couldn’t load this gif on the post, so it’s gonna be here lol. as the hoe that i am for james corden and this very specific part of the program, i’m unable to say no. warnings: disgusting things, cursing.

“Okay, Shawn-Shawn-Shawnie-Boy,” James calls Shawn, spinning the table filled with all the stuff he likes to call “delicacy”. She’s sitting in front of him, James standing in the middle between them both and, so far, the questions were not that hard to answer (they were but the foods and the smell of them made they both gulp and think twice). “I’m gonna give you...” The host is prolonging the tension, making Shawn turn his face away and look at the crowd, awkward smile showing up. It doesn’t matter what he’s gonna pick, Shawn might probably answer whatever it is so he won’t have to swallow down a bird’s saliva or a thousand-year-old egg — and let’s not get started on the cow’s tongue and fish eye. She’s biting on her lip, nervous for him because it’s not like she can’t suffer along with him, she’s the one who kisses his lips (maybe not for the next couple of weeks, though.) The table stops and James takes his hands off the wood, “I’m gonna give you the bull’s penis.”

Shawn sighs, putting both elbows on top of the table and facepalming with both hands, still not ready to face the weird thing standing below his face. He’s holding his breath, covering his eyes and pressing his palms even harder against his cheeks, blocking every single way so maybe the food will take the hint, create some legs and walk away. His desperation makes him consider that this idea can actually happen if he asks with all his heart. The audience is clapping and screaming like crazy, making James smile devilishly and feel internally proud of his choice. Y/N, on the other hand, waits for the noises to shut down so she can let go of her lip and breathe before saying. “You know you’re consequently dragging me down with him, right?” She points to her husband, who hasn’t moved a inch yet. “Of course!” James says, chuckling. “But after some rub-rub of tongues the taste will go out, I promise you.” She pokes her tongue out just to the thought of tasting it on Shawn’s mouth. She’d probably make him brush his teeth for the next several hours and drink all the vodka in the world to burn the flavour somehow. “There’s no fuckin’ way I’m eating this,” Shawn tilts his head up to stare at James, who’s getting a card and tapping if twice against the table. “I don’t care what you have in there, I’m not gonna put this thing in my mouth.” “Well, Shawn,” James starts, reading the question all over again and struggling to hold back the giggles. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” His shoulders are shrugging repeatedly from the laughing and he starts whimpering, bringing the crowd to giggle with him and at Shawn’s discomfort. “Okay,” He breathes in, laughs fading out and everyone goes silent to hear the question. Every muscle on Shawn’s body starts tensing for dear life — he doesn’t give a shit, he’ll answer whatever he needs to answer: about his career, his childhood, his secrets, the times he didn’t feel good on stage, the place he loved playing at the most... Anything that can free him from eating a bull’s penis. “Shawn Mendes...” “James Corden.” Shawn answers, legs shaking uncontrollably under the table. “You and Y/N have two lovely children, that I even met sometime ago...” James says after laughing at his instant reply, highlighting his name like it’s the most normal thing to answer after someone calls your name. “Yeah, we do...” The audience yells again and clap their hands, Shawn and Y/N smiling proudly although his heart is sinking, wondering what the hell does their children have to do with this clownery. “And you say you can’t ever favourite one of them, correct?” “I could never.” At this moment, Shawn’s heart starts beating more calmly, thinking of his babyboy and babygirl at home with Karen, probably asleep one on top of the other with the blankets they carry around the house. “But,” Corden calls out, raising his index finger in the air. “Which one of them did you have the most fun conceiving?” And as if this question alone wasn’t enough, he completes: “And where did it happen?” Both Shawn and Y/N’s mouths fall open and they’re silently hoping the kids are sleeping or playing somewhere far far away from the TV. They aren’t older than 10 years old but they’re also not stupid — and oh God they’d hear lots and lots of questions back home, as tortuous as the questions they’ve been answering during the show. “That’s fucked up, man,” Shawn takes a sip of water, wishing this sip could last forever so his mouth would be filled with something actually decent and he’d be unable to answer. “That’s... Shit!” He hisses the last word, placing his glass back to where it was before. “I... Lemme think.” “What?” She nearly screams, looking at her husband totally shocked. “Are you actually thinking of answering this question?” The people are laughing hard along with James, having the time of their lives and for a second no one — I repeat, no one, Shawn included — can imagine what his decision is gonna be and he wishes he was just joking to build up extra expectations, but the memories are rushing back inside his mind and they’re too delightful — if he’s honest — but ugh there’s fucking bull’s penis sliced in front of him and ugh his children are involved and ugh people would probably tweet about this until the end of his days. “I mean... I think I remember when Raul was—“ “Oh my God, he’s answering!” James can’t believe his ears, he thinks he’s hallucinating or whatever. “Lord Jesus Christ, Shawn,” She thinks she’s never been this religious before, not only mentioning but praying to all the names she knows that her husband is only playing around. “Do you still wanna be married after this?” James throws his head back and Shawn, who was starting to gesture his hands in the air, looks at her and laughs nervously. Little Raul was the first one and, although he wasn’t exactly planned, it was a nice story to be told. It happened 5 years ago but it was one of the best unexpected things that’s ever happened to him — in all possible meanings — and he finds himself reliving the moment here and there. “Don’t you remember, honey?” Shawn asks her, like they’re at home without five or six cameras pointed at them while they’re live for the whole world to see. He lifts his hands up so he can draw the moment better. “Like, we were at—” “Shut up?!” She kind of asks too, sounding extremely squeaky as she feels her heart missing the beats and the wedding ring on her finger getting cold along with her fingers. She thinks she might faint at any time if he doesn’t stop joking around right now. “Will you shut up, please?!” “This is so good!” They hear from James who’s nearly crying his eyes off from how much he’s been laughing at the situation, barely okay to speak like a regular person. “Babe, it’s bull’s penis,” Shawn emphasizes, widening his eyes and grabbing the little bowl and moving it next to her. She pulls her hair back and smells, quickly getting back to stay away from that horrible thing. “It’s simple: we’ll just never tell Raul about this or... Let him watch this interview.” “So Raul was the best?” James asks, his big smile swelling his cheeks up and almost hidding his blue curious eyes. Shawn goes speechless, smelling the food and putting the bowl back to its place. Fuck, it’s really disgusting. He looks at it and imagines that the texture is probably awful, and the taste has to be even worse. Knowing little Raul and concluding that he might only grow up smarter than he already is, Shawn rubs his whole face before placing both hands down on the table, tilting his head when he thinks about the other situation. “Well... Now that you asked I might say that Isabella was also very very fun to—” “No way!” Corden comes out very loud and everyone laughs, some people covering their mouths just like Y/N is doing right now. Yeah, no way. “I can’t believe this is happening...” She mutters to herself but audible enough for the mic to capture, making the crowd go wilder with her reactions as she looks down with her hand doing its best to support her forehead leaned against it so heavily. “What?” Shawn opens his arms like he’s questioning a normal thing. “She’s going to be so mad at me if I don’t bring her up! You know she’s jealous.” “I’m gonna be mad at you if you bring her or Raul up,” She says through gritted teeth, only facing him to point a finger towards his chest like she’s promising to bury a knife deep down his chest at home if he keeps on rambling. “Eat your penis.” She says and Shawn knows she’s not asking, covering his lap with the napkin they’ve offered. She’s coming off dramatically to increase the fun, but a huge part of her is being dead serious. Lord knows what the kids would say and how much they’d be teased in school. They can’t take the risk, that’s not even an option. There’s a moment of silence when Shawn rearranges himself on his chair, gulping harshly as his hand threatens to go inside that bowl, moving back and forth repetitively. In a lack of sanity, with a grimace taking over his whole face — hard enough to the skin under his hairline move so strongly that some curls fall from their place — Shawn takes three pieces between his fingers and shut his eyes close, shoving the food inside his mouth and chewing sloppily while he reaches the bucket on the floor, covering his whole face with it and spitting the food as fast as possible. “Who-hoa!” James says, laughing weakly to let his words out. “That’s Shawn Mendes, everyone!” People go back to clapping, screaming and whistling and Shawn practically swallows down his water in two large gulps. “Thank God.” She says under her breath, relaxing in her seat. “Is the marriage still up?” Eyeing her, Shawn asks raising an eyebrow and his grin is undeniably cute as his sweet puppy eyes study all her face, waiting for her response while he run his fingers through his curly hair. “It is.” “Then kiss me.” “Na-ah!”

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfics #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes masterlist #mine #ficsofmine #the blurb saga**

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luke-o-lophus · 4 years ago

Text

Coming Back to Life (Part 3)

Part 2 can be found here

Sam Wilson, Indian/Desi Reader, Bucky Barnes friendship

Warning: This episode has mention of attempted sexual assault. Apart from that, canon-typical violence and injuries, and conversations regarding these. Mention of smoking. Do tell me if I need to add more warnings/missing out on any warning.

Bucky took another drag of his cigarette, his phone pressed to his ear. In the dying light of the day, Sam could see his silhouette where he was standing in the balcony. Sam was on his fifth cup of coffee, sitting on his couch and flipping through some magazine. He could hear snippets of the conversation.

“....still at Sam’s...not yet....dunno Stevie...yeah...no you don’t have to...’kay...love you too....don’t you dare...yeah bye’‘

Sam wipes the tiny happy smile off his face before Bucky can see it (he’d never let him live that down). But times like this make him think of those years. Wondering if he was a guy who should be saved, or stopped. And now here Bucky was, on a phone with his century old lover, worrying over a friend who was still sleeping nearly twelve hours since she came home. The situation today is far from ideal, but it’s still days like this that still give him hope.

“You should stay”, Sam tells him as soon as he gets back to the living room. They’d tried to wake you up once, for lunch. You’d just opened your eyes with a blank stare, cowering slightly. Then recognition had sparked a bit, but you’d rolled over and continued to sleep.

Bucky lets out a noise between a hum and a grunt, pondering whether he should sit, or go check up on you. It was past six, and you’d really need food and another dose of medicines soon. Also the fact was, he wasn’t very good at waiting. Especially when you were passed out, hurt and prone, and he didn’t know why.

“I think we should try again”, Sam says with a sigh, dropping his magazine. Bucky shrugs in response but follows eagerly. The guestroom is dark, the last glow of dusk peeping in from between curtain flaps. Sam flips on the light, and does a double take.

You're in bed, yeah, but curled up on yourself. Eyes open wide and lost somewhere in the distance, an unnatural glaze in your dark iris. Bucky recovers first, and covers the two strides to your bedside. He calls out your name softly, and your response is squeezing your eyes shut. A hand gingerly touches your forehead. Bucky's lips fall open at the jarring temperature difference between his cool vibranium and your forehead. "Sam, she's burning up", he whispers curtly. You blink your eyes open to the sight of both of them hovering over you.

"Am fine..", you insist, your voice small and rough from sleep. You try to offer a tiny lopsided smile,"Hey Buck. When'd you come?"

"Around six...In the morning.", He swipes some locks away from your clammy forehead. "When'd you wake up, doll?"

You look away at that question and make a move to sit up. You're grimacing the moment you lift your torso off the sheets; Sam steadies you silently as you lean back on the pillows Bucky fluffs up.

"I'm sorry", you whisper to no one in particular. "I... Should have told you I had a mission." Your words are spoken stiffly with obvious effort, you tried not to move your lips as much as possible.

"We can talk about that later...", Bucky offers an encouraging smile. You close your eyes with a sigh, letting Sam replace the blanket with a thicker one.

Bucky makes a move to get up for a cool washcloth but notes Sam's figure go still. He turns and quirks a brow at his expression, and the other man makes a quick motion with his head towards your legs. Bucky's blood runs cold when he follows that gaze.

Your shorts have ridden up in your sleep and the exposed flesh of your calf and thighs were marred with long purplish marks. Of fingers, gripping too hard? Looked that way. But, could be something else too, right? A quick glance to your face, eyes closed and blank, and another glance at Sam's face that looks this far from tortured. And he knows, the same thing's going on in Sam's head too. Bucky storms out of the room.

"What the fuck, Barnes", Sam hisses. He's standing inches from him in his kitchen, Bucky's fists flexing in anxiety.

"You know very well what the fuck." Bucky seethes, his blue eyes piercing into Sam's brown ones.

"How 'bout we let her tell us instead of making assumptions?"

"We could call Natasha...Or Wanda...Maybe she'll..."

"Man, she doesn't know them well. She trusts you, a lot."

Bucky looks up at that comment, his eyes softening somewhat. "She trusts us, Wilson. She did choose your place to crash." And that could be the biggest compliment Bucky has ever spoken aloud.

"Guys?", Your small worried voice makes them turn swiftly, to the sight of you leaning against the door frame, sheets wrapped around your form. You take a tentative step, supporting yourself with a hand on the wall. "It's not what it looks like", you whisper, lips and body trembling. Maybe, fever...maybe, nerves. You weren't sure.

"Jesus Christ" , Sam swears. Walking over, he takes your hand in his and guides you to the nearby couch. "Grab an ice pack, Barnes", he calls over his shoulder. His fingers gingerly touch your cheek that was more swollen around the cut. "You didn't have to get out of bed, tiger", he soothes you in his warm voice.

"You were worrying", you argue. After a pause, you blurt out, "My mission was successful, but it didn't go as planned."

The couch dips beside you where Bucky sits; he's waiting for you to go on, ice pack forgotten in his left hand. Gentle strokes on your cheek have you look up to Sam. He is nodding, egging you to go on.

"It was simple", you shrug. "It was this rich white guy who runs an illegal weapons ring as a side business. Has connections with..Terrorist organizations, trafficking rings. Has location of important bases. And apparently a 'taste in exotic young women'. The last words are spoken with obvious disgust, makes both men clench their jaws.

"You're not supposed to go solo on stuff like this", Bucky chides gently, dropping the ice pack to the floor before he can unwittingly ruin it with a squeeze.

You wring your fingers, turning to face him. Sam pulls a chair to sit; Bucky's cold metal fingers cup your cheek in the gentlest hold possible.

"Wasn't alone...." You whisper breathlessly. The men share a glance and Sam speaks up.

"Who was with you?"

"Harry"

"Harrison Drew? Agent 35?"

"Yeah..."

"Where's he now? In the hospital or..."

"Home....I think"

"How's he faring?"

You suck in a breath, pulling back from Bucky's touch. "He's doing well, yeah", you say, your head hanging. Tears brim in your eyes, you sniffle, not meeting their gaze.

"Sweetheart, can you tell us what happened, please?", Bucky whispers. "Or do you want us to call Wanda or..."

"I can", you interrupt indigantly. "You know I tell you guys everything", your eyes shine with unshed tears when you look up.

"We know", Sam is quick to comfort. "Of course, but if.."

"I don't want...you to freak out. Or..I don't know...I know you care about me...I don't want to be the reason Harry...."

"What'd Harrison do?", Bucky's voice has a sharp edge.

"I'm...I'm sure it was a misunderstanding", you try to reason.

"Yeah?", Sam holds your hands to give a comforting squeeze, encouraging you to continue.

"Hmm...", You hum. "There's no other reason why he'd turn off his comms, right, and..."

"What?"

"Yeah and it was fully charged so it couldn't have run out. The plan was to seduce the guy and let him take me to his place..Harry would follow and download the data while I kept him distracted, then kill him and get out, but....."

"But?"

"Harry didn't follow from the bar...I thought he hadn't noticed we left. I tried to contact him...Send the emergency signal when we reached...I thought he was coming but...The guy brought over two more people...And...I..Kept up the game, tapping out the signals...He, he didn't..."

"What... the hell", Bucky whispers.

"How'd you get out, tiger?", Sam coaxes you gently. You swallow and blink, tears spilling out at that motion and drawing a wet line down each cheek.

"When they were....You know..You saw the marks right? I know you did. I knew I had to get out before they could...Do it. But my hands were tied up... this freaky game of theirs...And I...For a moment..." A small sob rips from your throat. "This was..Was stupid but...For a moment I really thought I wouldn't make it. I'd never see you guys again and even if I did...I don't know how I'd...And I hadn't even told you I was going and...No one was coming with help 'cause...They thought Harry was with me and..."

Bucky's face, the tips of his ears, they're red. He's fuming with guarded anger. Sam is still too, his eyes wide.

"But yeah...Long story short...I broke out before they could do anything else...And..You know the rest, all is well.."

"Where...Was.. Harrison?", Bucky's voice is dangerously low and even Sam glances towards him in concern.

"In...In front of the bar? He drove me here."

"And..He just gave you his jacket? That's all?"

"N-no...That was one of the target's...I felt..Like I needed more cover..."

Sam sighs deeply, rubbing his face and sending the other man a gaze that told him to zip it for now.

"Sweetheart...You know how serious that breach is, right? Even if we don't take action, what he did would warrant a suspension anyway. Maybe more."

"He..He said he'll fill the paperwork..And report..."

Sam balks at that. "He..Said that? He had the fucking audacity to suggest that?"

The two men watch you finally break down in heaving sobs. "I..I thought he cared..I thought he actually cared, I thought after this mission I might even...", You hiccup.

Your face crumples in pain and guilt and you choke on another sob. "I ...I wasn't thinking Sammy...I agreed to it...He told me in the car he'd do it and...I just couldn't argue...I don't wanna go on a mission with him again Sammy and..Oh god I..I just let him do all this to me..."

They let you cry. Bucky quietly wraps an arm around your shoulders and Sam's thumb strokes on your palm. They ground you, but don't ask you to stop, or say anything for that matter. You cry till the sobs have ebbed to sniffles, then all is quiet. When you come to yourself again, you're resting your head on Bucky's shoulder, and Sam is wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"You people...Have raised my standards in men", you attempt at joking. Bucky snorts, relieved to see you pull yourself together. His fingers stroke through your hair in slow soothing motions.

"Men are stupid, and irresponsible", he adds.

"You're a man, married to a man", you deadpan, making Sam chuckle.

"That changes nothing", Bucky huffs.

"You did amazing, okay?", Sam slides onto the couch on your other side. "You were strong, and damn brave. I'm proud of you." You give him a lazy grin, your eyes already closing.

"We'll deal with this tomorrow, rest up now. You're safe."

That word alone is enough to send you into peaceful slumber.

A/N: This was supposed to be a oneshot but it's turning into a series! Part 4 is in my head already!

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