#philly small business

[buddycraft]

Micro Pride Flag Stud + Dangle Earrings / Collection 2 // buddycraft on Etsy

[mansorus]

Be your own biggest fan & Work smart

Kill ‘em Wit Results 🦅🦅🦅

[spazoutloud]

This weekend! I'll be at the Philly Punk Rock Flea Market. I am braving the heat and selling from a parking lot.

[chloeadrianne]

PSA!! Due to several issues with my Etsy account, I am no longer able to list most of my handmade soaps/body products in my etsy shop. Etsy has a lot of restrictions and rules against claiming anything can heal, treat or cure ailments. Despite the fact that the shampoo bars, body soaps, and body butters that I make are 100% all natural ingredients that have proven healing effects on many skin conditions.

In all of my body product listings, I provide information about every single key ingredient and how they benefit skin health. I value sharing and teaching others what I have learned and know about natural healing. I started by making all of these body products for myself in order to cultivate healthier skin and to use less plastic, and I wanted to share how amazing these products work with others while offering affordable prices. I do not profit from making and selling because of all the time and money I invest in creating high quality healing products.

Until I figure out another way to list my products, I am using my instagram and can also use my tumblr to sell directly. All of my soaps are currently listed in my instagram account highlights. Everything else, including my new art prints, are still available on my etsy account.

If you are interested in a Birth Chart Reading, we can easily do that directly as well. Please just send me your birth information (time of birth, date of birth, year of birth, city/place of birth), and I will get started on your reading. Payments can be accepted via PayPal or Venmo. (Birth Chart Readings are $30)

Sorry for any inconvenience and I truly appreciate any and all support. 💚✨

[theeethereal]

Kick Trends Out of Fashion w/ Puke Palace - Thee Ethereal

Are you tired of wearing the same old clothes and fitting into the norms of society? It can be troubling to find a place that caters to your unique style and taste. While you could spend your days researching and still never come to a conclusion, Puke Palace might be the place you are looking for.

Puke Palace has many accessories and clothing items for you to choose from. Whether you want earrings, necklaces, or tote bags that are unique, this is the place to look!

If you’re struggling to pick just one item to get, the owner of the shop, Serenity says:

“My baby bottle earrings have been the most popular! They were made of small baby bottles that I filled with pink and holographic glitter with some silver hearts on the chains. I get most of my materials second hand or on sale so I have to work with what I can find. I completely sold out of them which feels really motivating to think about. I likely won’t remake them. partly because I cant find the right materials again, and because I like the idea of limited runs.

I also made a small run of zippered pouches with flowers with sad faces on them. I will likely make more of those because the materials are easier to source.”

Origin of Puke Palace

Originally, the name was made for their Instagram page and then it turned into a business name as well! Serenity says, “ I was thinking about how in Ancient Rome they would experience luxury in ways like eating large amounts of food and throwing it all up after just so they could eat more. I really like the idea of a lavish lifestyle that is also kind of disgusting in a way. I think we as alternative and DIY artists can give luxury a new meaning, it doesn’t have to mean expensive brand names anymore.”

Q: What do you think makes your business unique?

My brand is unique because I make things that don’t cater to the mainstream. I want people that usually feel like outsiders in society to feel welcomed and understood when they look at my brand. Additionally 100% of my fabric is from the thriftstore. Sustainability has often been expressed as earth tones and minimalistic. My work is quite the opposite and staying within sustainability is very important to me.

Q: What’s the best way for people to purchase from you?

Recently I have taken a step back from selling so I could take care of my mental health and reevaluate my designs. I’m currently working on building my website that I hope to have up by the spring 2023. Besides that I will be starting to do markets again in Philly which is another way folx can purchase my work and see it in person.

Q: When did you start this business and how did the idea come to you?

I started it sometime in 2021 or the end of 2020. It started out as more of a hobby and snowballed in to something more. I started sharing some of my projects to friends on social media and got positive feedback that inspired me to keep going. I think that a lot of folx take fashion way too seriously, I want others to have fun with fashion and play dress up. This inspired me to build a brand that would align with that and give folx clothes that they wouldn’t normally find or think of wearing.

If you are looking to revamp your style, check out their store here when launched or stay up to date with what market they will be at through Instagram: @puke.palace!

[jeridandridge]

For Lovers At Night pt 1

Melissa meets someone that makes her reevaluate her marriage and life choices. Pre-doc crew at Abbott. Part 1

Melissa Schemmenti is miserable. Sitting at her kitchen table mindlessly flipping through a book her eyes catch the gold band on her finger. Joe had promised her when they first got married he would get her a diamond as soon as they got money. That was twenty years ago. She thinks back to before she got married, how carefree and happy she was. She spent her free time in clubs, bars, and artists dens, meeting whoever she wanted and most importantly being a mysterious woman that did whatever she wanted.

Sitting at the table she closes the book and stands up knowing Joe won’t be home for dinner anyway. Heading through the house she goes to their rarely shared bedroom and opens the closet door. Pushed to the side of the closet sits an old leather jacket she hasn’t worn since… god she can’t remember. Most likely since she and Joe got back together the last time.

Running her hand along the tough leather a small smile spreads across her lips as memories are brought back to her. The last time she wore it she opted on the back of a gorgeous woman’s motorcycle and flipped Joe off as they rode off into the night together.

That feels like a life time ago now.

Pulling the jacket out she slips it on and fluffs her hair looking in the mirror. She notes the crows feet by her eyes, the way her freckles are more prominent now in her forties. Looking at her hand she flexes her fingers for a moment. Taking a breath she slowly slides her wedding ring off setting it on the dresser.

When Melissa gets in her car she’s not sure where she’s going, but she knows she’s going into the city. Somewhere alive and lit up. Sticking her hand out the window as she drives she moves her fingers along the chilly night air, her ring finger bare for the first time in many years feels weightless against the wind. She can’t help but smile to herself, something she realizes is happening at random.

Driving through the busy streets she goes to an old haunt of hers not even knowing if it’s still open or not. In an old building on one of the bustling streets of Philly sits an old bookshop, The looking Glass, one that she went to many times in her college days and even after. Pulling up she beams seeing the store still there and the open sign on. She could go for a fireball hot toddy and a new book tonight.

Going up to the door a whiff of fresh books and coffee hit her, throwing her right back to her college days. Walking inside everything’s the same. The hot drink section with its bar behind it, the small counter on the opposite side holding the register and other little items for purchase, multiple seating areas, and of course the shelves and shelves of books so cramped together that if it were any other place it would be a problem. Melissa feels at home.

Walking past people she glides through the rows of books looking around and getting lost in her little chunk of paradise she hasn’t had in so long. Across the establishment behind the bar, you nudge your friend nodding towards the row of books the gorgeous redhead is standing near.

“Just your type. Good luck with that one.” He pats your shoulder as he goes to the back room. Looking across the room with a smirk on your lips you watch the redheaded stranger reach up for a book, her hair cascading down her back in waves. She was beautiful.

Across the room Melissa turns around book in hand, flipping through the pages as she walks up to the bar not bothering to look up until she’s standing right in front of you. “Hi, what can I get for ya?”

Melissa looks up with a friendly smile playing with the spine of the book she found. “Can I get a fireball hot toddy, hon?”

“Name for the order?” You ask moving around the work area, black warm cup in hand.

“Melissa.”

“Melissa, I’ve never seen you in here before.” You smile writing her name on the cup in gold flowy letters.

Setting the book down on the counter so she can open her purse, Melissa shrugs. “I haven’t been here in a long time.”

“I figured. I’d remember someone like you.” You smile making the drink and sliding it on the counter.

Melissa catches the comment and the way you’re looking at her, and feels a warmth spread through her. “I doubt it, hon.” She chuckles handing the money over for her drink.

“If you need another or just wanna have a riveting conversation, I’ll be here.” You gesture to the counter with a laugh.

Melissa looks at your name tag with a smile.

“Thanks, hon. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Moving across the room with her drink and book in hand Melissa sits on a sofa near a dim lamp, just far enough to glance up every so often to the woman behind the bar. Sipping her drink the warmth from the alcohol spreads through her chest giving her a comforting feeling she hasn’t felt in a long while. The woman behind the counter is stunning, and something about her eyes made Melissa feel something deep within her that she can’t place just yet.

Eventually, she gets lost in her book and before she knows it she’s more than halfway through it and the woman from the bar is gently tapping her arm.

“Melissa, we’re closing up.” You hum with a soft smile.

The bar is quieter now, people are heading out and the main lights are on. Melissa looks around the bar and begins to gather her things. “Sorry, I got lost there.” She chuckles.

“Don’t apologize, I would too if I were reading Jane Rules greatest love story,” you smile.

“You’ve read it?” She asks curiously.

“I have, it was a big deal for me in high school.”

“So when, last year?” Melissa teases making you laugh in return.

“No, more like fifteen or so years ago.” You hum. “Something about an older woman breaking free of a metaphorical cage and finding herself with the help of a wild younger woman always intrigued me.” You admit with a smile. “Let me buy it for you.” You offer.

“I can’t let you do that, hon.” Melissa shakes her head.

“Sure you can. I own the place, I can do what I want.”

Melissa looks at you in awe. You looked so young yet here you were with a business and a personality wise beyond your years. Before she can say anything else you’re already wiping down the coffee table with a rag.

“Wow. It really has been a long time since I’ve been here.” Melissa sighs. “Thank you, for the book and the environment.”

“You don’t need to thank me, just come in more often.” You smile.

And that’s what she does.

The next night Melissa makes sure her hair and makeup are to the nines, her jeans are tight, her nails are painted, and she may or may not spray on an extra shot of perfume. Standing in front of the mirror she fluffs her hair once more and takes a breath.

“Where are you going all dressed up?” Joes voice sounds from the bathroom, a rare thing now.

“Barb talked me into a book club.” She offers with ease. He still hadn’t noticed her wedding ring was off and he didn’t ask any questions- just how she liked it.

“That sounds nice. Have a good time.” He says closing the door.

It doesn’t take long for Melissa to grab her keys and make her way to The Looking Glass. Walking through the door there are more people than the night before given the fact it’s a Saturday night. The redhead can’t help but frown, a pang of sadness hitting her as she makes her way in and doesn’t see the woman from the night before.

Slipping through the crowd she gets to the bar looking up at the menu despite being ready to order her wine.

“Melissa!”

Across the floor near the back doorway the mysterious woman from last night appears.

“Hi, hon.” She lets out with a giddy grin, her heart leaping in her chest as you beckon her over with the wave of your hand. “I didn’t think you were here.”

“I’m always here.” You chuckle. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” You admit with a smile as you lean against the side of the bar.

“Why’s that?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. “I overthink too much I guess.”

“Yeah, I know the feelin.”

“Come with me, I want your opinion on something.” You hold your hand out to the redhead.

Gently taking the younger woman’s hand Melissa feels her cheeks heat up at the simple touch. Walking to the back hand in hand she can’t help but feel butterflies in her chest.

“So it’s dark and cold now,” you start flicking a single hanging lightbulb on, “but I’m planning on expanding the sitting area to here. Less storage, but more room for pretty girls to browse through the books.” You smirk.

Melissa tips her chin up with a matching smirk meeting your eyes. “Do you flirt with all your customers this way?”

“No, I can’t say I do. Just the one I find incredibly beautiful.”

Smile not faltering, Melissa ducks her head realizing your hands are still entwined together.

“Careful, I might think you’re interested in me.” She chuckles lightly.

“And if I am?” You smile.

“I think,” Melissa whispers, her ringless hand still in the woman’s, “I’d like that.”

Everything Melissa knows goes out the window when she sees the look in your eyes. She thinks of all the shit Joe has put her through the last twenty years and how she can be happy if she allows that for herself. It’s what she desperately wants.

“I can’t stay long tonight, but I’d really like to talk to ya while I’m here.” She offers with a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you can that is.”

“I can,” you smile. “Come with me.”

As Melissa is lead through the back room once again she gently squeezes the woman’s hand as they get to the office in the back of the building. It’s simple, a desk, a large couch, and of course a couple bookshelves.

“Make yourself at home,” you offer letting your hand slip away from the redheads, fingers brushing as you go to the small fridge in the corner. “Do you like wine?”

“It’s usually my go to. I bet you have the really good stuff.”

“I do, but this is regular stuff.” You chuckle taking out the chilled bottle. “I’ll have to break the good stuff out another night.”

“Already thinking about seeing me again?” Melissa grins watching her hands move. The lust she felt for the woman was something she’d not felt in her marriage in over ten years and she forgot how much she missed the warm feeling.

“Not to scare you off, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last night.” You admit handing her a glass of wine.

“Trust me, hon it takes a lot to scare me off.” Melissa was terrified of what she was doing, but she didn’t need to share that.

“Interesting.” You grin into your own glass. “You seem really mysterious, Melissa.”

“Private mostly,” the redhead shrugs. She’d always been private. Her family and connections were usually all she needed in her life, it even took a full year at Abbott Elementary before she let her best friend, Barb, into her life and that was ten years ago.

“So if I gave you my phone number could I expect a call from a restricted number?” You joke.

“No,” Melissa smiles fishing the device out of her purse, unlocking it before she hands it over. “It’ll be just a number.”

Taking the phone in your palm you type your number in followed by your name handing it back after you hit save.

“I haven’t done this in a long time.” Melissa chuckles nervously, so uncharacteristic of the hard exterior she presents.

Sipping your wine you lick your lips setting the glass down. “Someone hurt you pretty good didn’t they?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Melissa offers thinking of Joes cheating and lack of presence. “I’m kinda gettin over it though.”

“Well, whoever they are, I feel sorry for them.” You smile as the redhead finishes her wine.

Melissa can’t help but duck her head a bit at that. “Thanks, hon.”

“Tell me about them,” you prompt leaning back in your seat.

Melissa sobers up immediately at the question. How could she tell a practical stranger, one she was incredibly attracted to, but still a stranger none the less, that she hated her husbands guts and wanted out before she got any older?

“If I answer you have to tell me something important about you.” She shoots back.

“Deal,” you nod with a smile.

“I-“ Melissa breathes out unsure of where to start, “My ex husband made me miserable. He cheated, rarely came home, expected all the cliche housewife cliche things.” She shrugs through the lie. Yes it was a lie, but not entirely.

“What an idiot.” You shake your head unable to break eye contact with the woman. There was something behind her eyes that you couldn’t yet place, but would soon find out.

“How did you buy this place?” Melissa asks breaking the tension.

“It was left to me. I started working here when I turned eighteen and I’ve been here ever since.” You smile. “The original owner helped me out a lot in college and when she retired, she sold ir to me cheap.”

“That’s amazing,” Melissa smiles. “I always loved it here and I’m happy to see it’s the same.”

“I do my best to keep it up and get more people in here. As much as I love talking about my job, what do you do?”

“I teach second grade.” She offers. During your back and forth, Melissa keeps that same look in her eyes and it only changes when she says she has to leave. It changes from whatever it was before to sadness.

“Let me walk you to your car?” You ask hopefully.

“Yeah, hon. I’d like that.”

Getting up you rest your hand on her lower back as you two walk out to the main part of the building and out the front door.

“That’s it there?” You ask with a laugh spotting a black two door truck.

“That’s me.”

“You get more and more interesting.” You grin as Melissa unlocks the truck. “I hope I hear from you soon.”

“You will, hon.” Melissa smiles while she climbs in.

“Drive safe.” You offer with a nod, settling your hands in your back pockets as you watch the truck drive off into the busy night. Turning around you go back into the bar with a smile knowing you met someone special.

Part 2

[ateriblewriter]

Goodbye Doesn't Mean Forever

Jamie knocked on the door to Trevor's home.

He didn't have much time from the time he got the call to packing up the essentials to getting on the plane to Philly.

On top of that he had Kinsley to think of. What was he going to do about her?

Never mind that now. They had one purpose now. Saying goodbye.

Trevor knew who was on the other side of the door, he knew what was coming. He didn't like it either.

"Hey man. I heard. Philly" Trevor greeted his friend.

"I don't have much time. Do you mind if I?" Jamie couldn't quite finish his sentence, because he knew if he did he probably would have shed a tear or two.

He didn't want to leave. But that wasn't his choice, not it was never his choice to begin with. Now that reality was starting to sink in that he was dealt to another team, he needed to leave. Say a quick goodbye to his friends that turned into family and be on his way.

"How much time do you have?"

"Fifteen minutes at most. We need to head for the airport after this." Jamie handed Kinsley over to Trevor.

"Mama" The small child reached for on of her favorite people. Trevor held her tightly and she snuggled into his shoulder.

He was going to miss this.

"You have taught me so much over the past year Kinsley Jo. I'm so glad your daddy asked me for help." He wipe at the invisible tears that felt like they were falling down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to go on all the adventures I promised. But I'll visit or your daddy can bring you back here when he plays."

Ducky really wasn't listening to what Trevor was saying. She had quickly found the little bucket of toys that was kept at his home. She grabbed a couple of the building blocks to play with.

Trevor knew they didn't have time to do this, but what harm could one little tower do? Especially since they would probably never really do this again. So he helped her build the little tower and Ducky shoved her favorite stuffy into it, toppling it over.

"Ta-da!" She giggled throwing her arms in the air. Trevor laughed again, tears starting to fall. Ducky started to build it again, looking up she noticed him crying.

"No. Mama." Baby Duck held up Sheldon the shrimp up for him. She tried giving it him. Maybe it would make him feel better. Trevor shook his head no and handed it back. Nothing was going to make him feel better now.

The fifteen minutes were up and they needed to go. Trevor handed Kinsley Jo back and gave Jamie one last hug. This was it.

"Hey it was nice while it lasted" Jamie sniffled walking out the door with his daughter who started screaming.

"We'll see each other again. Goodbye doesn't mean forever."

Jamie and Trevor didn't see each other for the rest of the season. They would facetime when they could, but with busy schedules they were short. Trevor sent her a present on her birthday. They tried to meeting up over the summer, but it never worked out.

The next they would see each other again would be the following season when the Flyers were playing the Ducks in Anaheim. Jamie set something up at the end of the ducks practice. They were going to surprise Trevor.

"Daddy, where go?" She was confused as where her father was taking her.

"You'll see kid. Your favorite person." Jamie nodded to familiar faces as they walked through the practice facility to the sheet of ice.

"Unca Z!" Duck screamed getting Trevor and everyone else's attention.

"Ducky?!" There was a big smile on Trevor's face as he skated over to see the little family. The two kids reunited at last.

[lady-raziel]

Cna i... Can I ask what the beef is with M Night Shyamalan?

fair warning, this is a self-indulgently long post. but if you endure the page break, you may find the story entertaining.

a long time ago...in a small indie comic book shop in downtown Philadelphia...

picture this. it's circa 2016. my hyperfixation at the time is DC Comics-- the Flash specifically. I like the Flash, but I really like his nemesis, the Reverse Flash. This guy's gimmick is that he has the same powers as the Flash, but he's also evil because he used to be a Flash stan and his idol didn't validate their parasocial relationship when they actually met in person, and now he just wants to kill the Flash instead. It's a long story. Reverse Flash has died many times. He's also from the future, but that's not the important bit right now.

Anyway, despite being one of the Flash's main enemies, there are not that many comic book issues that feature the Reverse Flash for some reason. My main hobby at the time of this whole ordeal is to go to the local comic book shops and search through the bins of back issues to find anything with the Reverse Flash in it (bonus points if he's on the cover, but at a certain point you can't be picky). I'd been fairly successful at this, and had even been able to avoid buying too much off Ebay as I really didn't care too much about the condition or grade of the comics. The comic book shop in downtown Philly I was in on the day of the Incident was one I'd been to before, but not in a while as I went to school out in the suburbs and didn't leave that general area too much.

So. I enter this shop, and it's not too busy. That's a good thing as it's not a large space and if there were too many people it would have been very difficult to navigate around the displays of Funko Pops and tables of back issues. However, as I was soon about to find out, it doesn't matter if there's only one other person shopping at the same time as you if that person is the wrong person.

I make my way to the back where all the big boxes of old comics are, and scan the rows alphabetically to find the 'Fs.' I see 'Firestorm,' and 'Fantastic Four,' and all the others...but there, right there, where the Flash comics should be...there's a guy. Standing there. In the way.

Now, that's alright. He just seemed to be perusing randomly and wasn't actually looking at the Flash comics specifically (my Flash comics), and I can just go look at the action figures or something until he moves to another section of the shop. No problem. I mean, it's one box of comics, Harold. How long does it take to look through it? 5 minutes? No, all I have to do is wait a little bit and then I can examine those 1980s Flash comics with my own grubby little paws.

So I do a loop of the store. I examine the Funko Pops (they all look the same), the t-shirts (only Hot Topic quality), the new comics (Superman #1? How many times are they going to reboot this thing?), and even the super expensive vintage comics up on the wall (no Reverse Flash here, and it would still be beyond my price point anyway). But when I finally make my way back to the back issues, the guy...is still there. He hasn't moved. And now he's not even pretending to look at the comics anymore.

Now, to my horror, he seems to be having a full-on conversation with one of the store employees right on top of my box of comics, and neither of them seem like they plan to end this discussion anytime soon. You may be asking at this point, "well Raz, if you wanted to look at the comics where they were standing, why didn't you just ask them to move out of the way?" You're right. I could have done that.

But problem. I have social anxiety. And sometimes it gets very bad about very small things. So while it would have been entirely reasonable to ask these two men to move their conversation elsewhere, the crippling social anxiety made it so that asking for that very small and reasonable thing would have been akin to asking these guys if they would set me on fire right here right now, please and thank you. It wasn't gonna happen. My only option was to hover uncomfortably 6 feet away, pretending to go through the back issues systematically and hope they picked up on what I was doing and moved out of the way when I got back to the 'Fs,' or give up and suffer an hour and a half on the SEPTA train back home with nothing to show for it.

now, i've never had a conversation with famous filmmaker and director M Night Shyamalan. I didn't even know what he looked like at the time, so when all this happened I thought he was just Some Guy who in his unawareness was keeping me from completing my mission. Maybe he's a really engaging conversationalist and talking with him causes you to not notice anything going on around you. That may even be the case-- as neither the Twistmaster himself or the besotted store employee seemed to notice I was there. But I WAS there. And my frantic silent social cues were being "returned to sender," unread.

Meanwhile I was enduring a level of internal turmoil on the level of a character in a Greek tragedy. This was my crucible. Surrender, or do something I was honor-bound not to do. Was this the meaning of an impossible choice?

It was only after almost 15 long, agonizing minutes and two more laps of the store on my part that finally, finally there was a breakthrough. Unaware Man (for this would be Shyamalan's superhero code name) and Employee-Bro had moved to the cash register, as the former had found something he wanted to buy. With speed rivaling the Flash himself, I descended on the fated box of comics like a plague. It seemed that the day had not been lost after all.

However, like any film from the man himself, there was to be a final twist to this tale. One last turn of the knife. You might be thinking-- "And it turned out that there weren't any comics in the box you wanted to buy after all, rendering this whole ordeal meaningless, right? Like any tragic hero you endured the terrible trials only to discover that the treasure you sought was a hollow fantasy of your own creation, and this all could have been avoided if you had not fallen prey to the follies of man?"

No. The problem was-- I did find several comics in that box that I wanted to buy. I even found one with the Reverse Flash on the cover. But now that I had found my prize, I faced a new, even greater challenge, which was somewhat an extension of the old challenge, but to the extreme.

I now had to get Employee-Bro to ring me up so I could leave this cursed place, but here's the kicker: I had to do this while he was still utterly engaged in discussion with Unaware Man and thus blind to the outside world. I had come out of the frying pan and into the fire, because now it wasn't like I could just go home and take only a feeling of defeat with me. My precious comic book finds were on the line, and what was I going to do? Just put them back in the box and leave?

Unfortunately, I was committed. I would have to stand reasonably out of the way of Unaware Man's personal space yet close enough to indicate that I was, yes, in line to check out my purchases. And goddamnit, I was going to do this until all of us died of old age or the world ended.

I kind of lost all sense of time at that point. It could have been only a few minutes. It could have been five hours. All I know is that it was long enough that I wished for the sweet release of death, because then at least I'd be able to lie down. How it eventually went down was that Employee-Bro rung up Unaware Man (because really, processing a credit card transaction and signing the receipt only can take so long), and the two continued to talk as Employee-Bro gradually gained awareness that I Was There Too, and multitasked to check out my items while remaining totally focused on his other conversation and not speaking a word to me.

And that was it. I was free, from the physical prison of the comic book store at least. But again, like a Shyamalan film, this was in reality only the end of the second act. Because as I walked through the streets of Center City Philadelphia and rested my head against the smudged window of the SEPTA train on the way home, I started to descend into the mental turmoil of the question, "wait, who was that guy? Was he like...famous, or something?"

If you've ever been to a comic con or spent enough time in a hobby shop, you know that sometimes Nerd Bros can get really deep into conversation about these sorts of things. Many of them even have lots of opinions on films, and will be happy to share them in detail unprompted. So it wasn't entirely unreasonable for me not to realize in the moment that what was happening wasn't just "Nerd Bros Being Dudes."

But the more I thought about it, the one-sided adoring dynamic between Employee Bro and Unaware Man did seem unusual. And in the bits of their conversation that I had been forced to endure, hadn't one of them mentioned something about...filming locations? What was that about? Nobody in their right mind films stuff in Philly unless they're making the 86th Rocky film or the like.

It was a Google search of "movies filming in Philadelphia" that returned several results of articles talking about how location scouting was going on in the area as part of the production of a long-awaited sequel to the 2000 film Unbreakable, a undercover superhero sleeper hit. Unbreakable, a film set in Philadelphia, written and directed by famous filmmaker M Night Shyamalan.

Shyamalan. SHYAMALAN. the man responsible for 2010's The Last Airbender. it was HIM. he was not only the man who originated the (still unbroken!) curse on the Avatar franchise, but also the man who had ruined my day. Thoughtlessly. Carelessly. Not by massacring a beloved children's television franchise, but by being unaware. Inconceivable.

This was horrific. It wasn't even like I was the Reverse Flash or any other famous superhero nemesis, who had a compelling backstory causing their undying hatred of the hero. Instead, I now had a narrative foil who barely even fit that description, because chances are he hadn't even taken notice of my existence the whole time! This was my supervillain origin story, and it was his normal day!

It was at this moment I swore an oath. I would not forget this terrible day of inconvenience that was partially caused by my own social failings. I would dedicate my life from this point forward to slightly narrowing my eyes and shaking my head disapprovingly when I saw mentions of Shyamalan or his works online. I would color any opinions I had of his films with the thought, "but remember that one time he was kind of a dick to you without even meaning it? what was up with that?"

and that is the tale of my tragic encounter with M Night Shyamalan. To this day, my only solace is that my epic origin story turned out more narratively coherent and with deeper substance than any other film made in the Unbreakable saga, including the one he was location scouting for at the time this happened. Shyamalan can write twists all he wants, but no one is better at that game than karma itself.

-END-

[babybluebex]

my latest dom “fantasy,” whatever you wanna call it, has been ur the actor who plays niece elise in the holdovers and you two like each other when filming but since your part is small you don’t see each other till a streaming of the movie when you reconnect. 🤗

oh my god stop the presses this is CUTE

you're kinda joking together and laughing inbetween takes, but you're both nervous because you have to kiss and neither of you have ever done that before (kissed other people, yes, but on screen, for the whole world to see, never) but dom's a sweetheart and you do the scene and it goes off without a hitch, and you're maybe a little disappointed when alexander payne says they got the shot they needed and that you don't need to do it again

and like yeah, you're only on set for like 1 day, and you managed to follow dom on instagram but like sorta forgot about him inbetween filming and release time?? like you both got busy and just, whatever, but then the movie comes out and at first seems like it's just gonna be any other movie, you still post pictures from set on your instagram and celebrate it, and, for the first time since meeting him, dom comments on your post "so much fun, if you're ever around my way, text me" and you're like ⁉️

and you shoot off a dm at him, sorta like "hey i was finally able to watch the whole movie and you did really good" and he texts back like "aw thanks, that's really sweet" and you ask "back then, you lived in massachusetts, where are you now?" and he says "i'm in philly right now for school, but i'm taking spring semester off, so i'll probably go back to jersey with my mom"

and you start talking like every day then, now that the door is open you can't stop, he's always sending you memes and telling stories, and you send him memes about HIM as you watch him become the new it boy (and maybe you're a little jealous bc he was YOUR boy first, he was YOUR little secret, but not so much anymore), and THEN the movie starts to get acclaim?? and it looks like it might be something more than some movie you made a few years ago for a single day?? it's turning into something bigger than that?? all your friends at uni knew that you were in the movie and had gone and seen it and teased you about the kiss, but now you're getting stopped by strangers on the way to lecture and asked about the movie?? like wtf!!

and you and dom are steady texting every day like "DUDE" "DUDE I KNOW", and it starts getting awards buzz, all the best actor and best supporting actress and breakthrough actor and everything is WILD, and you're always texting him to congratulate him winning this award or that award, and you slowly start to realize. oh shit i have a crush on him. oh fuck i'm whipped for this guy.

and the day the oscars nominees are announced, you're in lecture, and your phone starts ringing and yelling at you, and your lecturer is like "do you need to take that?" and you sorta laugh "no, whatever it is, it can wait..." and you finally dig your phone out of your bag and see it's dom wanting to video call?? which doesn't happen often, for as famous of an actor as he is now, he hates seeing himself on camera and even if you do video call, his camera is off most the time, so for HIM to initiate a video call is VERY bizarre "... actually, sir, i do need to take this, i'm sorry"

and you go in the hall and answer the call, and dom is yknow DOM, messy frizzy hair and his shirt on backwards and he's frantic, and you're like "did you just wake up, what's going on??" and he says "have you seen yet?!" "seen what??" "jesus christ, i can't fucking believe this—" "dominic, what's going on?" "holdovers has been nominated for best picture at the oscars"

and you black out for a second and snap back in and you're like "we're WHAT"

and dom says "what're you doing on march 10th?? can you come to the oscars?? do you even want to??" "yeah i'd love to, but i-i need to get to LA, and i need a dress, and i need a date—" "how about me? i'll take you"

and when you reunite in los angeles for the oscars, it's the first time you've seen him in the flesh in like nearly 2 years, but you run to him and hug him, and he hugs you back, and it's such a happy moment and you can't believe that this is your life

and all night, people are complimenting your dress and your hair and makeup, and dom won't stop trying to get people to pay attention to you, he's in a little interview on the carpet and he's asked who his date is, and he grabs you by the hips "my wonderful costar, she played elise in the movie" and everybody has the same reaction, they hear your character's name and then stare at you for a second until it clicks "oh! you did so good in the movie!!"

and dom is so nervous and anxious all night, he sorta joked "i know we won't win, there's no shot in hell, oppenheimer's gonna win, so why am i nervous??" and you hold his shaking hands in yours and try to calm him as much as possible, but cameras catch you holding hands and the way he whispers in your ear to talk to you, and like HALFWAY through the show, your friends sends you a link to a variety article that mentions the best dressed at the awards, and dom is on there, and the little text blurb under his picture says "sessa is attending the show with his girlfriend and costar" and your friend is like "GIRLFRIEND??" and you're like "wait" and apparently everybody online has mistaken your physical closeness for a relationship, and you show dom during a commercial break just to be like "oh haha look at this, they think we're dating"

and he hits you with the "are we not?" "what do you mean 'are we not'?" "i mean, i thought... i thought we've been dating for a while. i've been telling people all night that you're my girl" and you shiver with delight at how casually he says his girl, but like "you thought... well, when would we have started dating?" "you remember a few months ago, the conversation we had about how, like, i'm bad at relationships and you don't like commitment, and i said i'd try to be better and you said you'd try to commit to someone? i thought that was us agreeing to start dating"

and like shit yeah you DO remember that conversation, it was like 3am and you were on facetime for HOURS that night and you're like "oh! well... yeah, that can be it." and dom's like "sooo.... does that mean i can kiss you?" and it's a gentle, soft kiss, just like your first one so long ago

and that night, you reunite with paul and da'vine (who you had met in passing on set), and towards the end of the night, da'vine sends you a photo she took on her phone of you and dom, holding each other, foreheads touching, giggling together, and you hard launch your shit on instagram with that picture "we may not have won best picture, but i won best boyfriend <3"

[morgana-larkin]

a cute prompt [i hope] reader's been teaching at abbott for over a year now, usually commute or in rare occasions, drive in her car, but now, goes to the school riding bicycle saying it reduces carbon footprint, saves her from expenses and as an exercise. But she just really love bikes, Jacob joined with this, next day he arrived at school riding a bike, then Janine and Gregory. Barb, tho was always dropped off by Ger with their car, rode it the bike during break for fun. Abbott staff decided to have a biking get together next weekend, Melissa initially declined but later on agreed because of Jacob's teasing that she's a schemmenti and doesn't know how to ride a bike [unfortunately, it's true] also, she secretly enjoy seeing you biking. They meet up in the park, with their bikes and decided it's time to go around the area. Melissa, embarrassed, said maybe she wouldn't go that far and maybe wait for them. So the crew didn't argue and left, r stayed. When the staff is out of the earshot and sight of the she beamed and said she'll teach Mel how to ride a bike. Melissa, being flustered and a stuttering mess still acted offensive about the *assumption* of her not knowing how to ride. R gave her a look and agreed to teach her. This is long, but I don't know. I feel like I'm always rambling lololol

Anon, ramble all you want. I don’t mind detailed prompts. And honestly when my ADHD meds wear off, I’m like Spotify, where I do the whole playlist and then recommended. Like I literally don’t shut up lol. Tbh they wore off 3 hours ago lol. So I went a little off just a bit, I didn’t make Melissa flustered until she was being taught instead of flustered before. And it was cute, it really was! Anyway, a little smut at the end but it’s really cute and funny. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I’m accepting Melissa Schemmenti, Chessy and Marilyn Thornhill prompts. So send them! I do currently have 9 that I still need to do but I’ll get to all of them!

Side note: for the gif I was literally watching her eat a tomato for 5 minutes…ok I’ll shut up now.

Teaching You

Warnings: 😏, fluff, sweet praise(non sexual praise), small injury part for Mel

Words: 4.3k

It’s spring time and the weather is finally warm enough for you to bike to work again. You get your helmet on, sling your backpack on and put your coffee mug in the water bottle holder. You unlock your bike from the lock wrapped around your bike and the bike rack in your apartment building and bring your bike outside. You kick up the kickstand and get on your bike, you check your helmet one more time and the little bell on your bike, then you take off.

You have a smile on your face as you’re happily biking to work on the busy Philly streets. You’ve always loved biking, your family are all big on biking and so are you, just something about it that you enjoy. You stop at a red light about a block away from the school and Melissa ends up pulling up to the light as well. You both end up seeing each other and you wave at her with a big smile then the light turns green. Melissa drives off with a smile and a shake of her head.

Once you pull up, you see Melissa parked and leaning on the brick wall of the school next to the bike rack. You pull up near the rack on your bike and get off and lock your bike.

“Hey hon.” She tells you with a smile and you look up at her after locking your bike.

“Hey Mel.” You tell her and then the trio is walking up to the school.

“Y/n did you ride a bike to school?” Jacob asks and you nod. You don’t really want to tell them how much you enjoy riding a bike, afraid they’ll make fun of you. This is your second year at Abbott but no one has seen you ride a bike before.

“Ya I did, it’s great exercise and helps saves the planet a bit.” You tell them and they all smile.

“Great idea.” Jacob tells you and you all walk in together. You and Melissa walk together with the trio trailing along behind you two.

Melissa tells you a joke and you laugh and playfully shove her gently with your shoulder and she does it back to you. The trio behind you smiling at the scene in front of them. You all enter the break and see Barb there on her phone, with Mr Johnson mopping the floor across the room.

“You guys all got here at the same time?” Barb asks all of you.

“More or less.” Melissa says.

“Y/n rode here on a bike this morning.” Janine says and Barb looks at you and smiles.

“Did you, dear?” She says and you nod. “How lovely.” She tells you and you smile.

After school you lock up your classroom, holding your helmet and start to walk out. Melissa ends up locking her classroom when you walk by and she joins you.

“Hey hon.” She tells you as she’s putting her phone in her purse and walking beside you.

“Hey Mel.” You tell her casually.

“So any plans for the weekend?” She asks you and mentally facepalms. It’s Monday, the weekend just happened.

“I don’t know, maybe some plans will come up but at the moment I’m free. You?” You ask her and she’s thankful you didn’t question why she asked you about weekend plans on a Monday.

“Nah, nothing yet.” She says to you and you end up at the bike rack. You put your helmet on and unlock your bike and put the lock in your bag.

“I can’t believe we didn’t know you rode a bike to school and it’s been over a year and a half.” She tells you and you look up at her and smile.

“Well I don’t do it in the winter, you guys just never saw me bike and I don’t really talk about it since it’s normal for me.” You tell her and kick up the kickstand and get on.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then?” She asks you and you nod.

“Yep, see ya tomorrow.” You tell her and you pedal off. Melissa watches you bike off and she smiles, she already thinks you’re cute, but seeing you happy on a bike warms her heart. She walks to her car with a smile.

The next day it seemed that Jacob decided to also ride a bike to school and you smile as you see him pull up to the rack as you’re locking yours.

“Hey hon, and Jacob.” Melissa says, confused when seeing Jacob as well.

“Hey Mel.” You tell her. “It seems Jacob also decided to bike to school.” You tell her excitedly.

“Well like you said, good exercise and good for the environment.” Jacob says with a shrug.

You all walk in the school, you and Melissa chatting and joking around. When you walk in the break room, Jacob joins Janine and Gregory and Melissa joins Barb. You on the other hand just drop your lunch off and get a coffee then you start to walk off when Melissa stops you.

“Hey hon, why don’t you ever stay?” She asks you and you look at her and realise that they’re all looking at you.

“Oh um, well I guess because you already have your groups of people to hang out with and I don’t want to intrude on that.” You tell her and they all look at you sadly. “It’s alright, I’ll find my own group of people.” You tell them and then walk out before anyone can say anything. Unknown to you, Melissa looks at where you were standing with a shocked and a bit upset face.

You don’t run into anyone after school as one of the parents was late to pick up their kid, apologies flowing out of their mouth and you wave them off saying it’s alright.

The next day it seemed you started a trend as Janine and Gregory also decided to bike to work.

“It’s so much fun to bike!” Janine says excitedly after getting off her bike. You all lock up your bikes and head into the school. You arrive at the break room and you go to put your lunch in the fridge and make your coffee. You go to walk out but Melissa stops you again.

“Hey hon, come sit down here.” She tells you and points to the empty chair at their table. You look at her a bit shocked. Your crush just invited you to sit with her and you blush. You then mentally facepalm as you realise you sound like a high school girl with a crush. You do end up sitting down with her and Barb and you have a nice morning.

At lunch, Barb asks if she can try out one of the bikes for fun. To which you accept and she has a lot of fun biking around the parking lot. All of you are sitting outside having lunch watching Barb bike around.

“Maybe we should get together this weekend and do a little bike ride together.” Janine suggests and you look surprised.

“Really?” You ask her and she nods.

“I’m down.” Jacob says immediately.

“Ya me too.” Gregory says.

“Ya I would love too.” You tell them.

“I wouldn’t mind joining as well.” Barb says and then you all turn to Melissa who’s sitting beside you.

“What?” She asks.

“Do you want to join us on a bike ride together this weekend?” Janine says to her.

“Nah I’m good.” She tells you all.

“Why not?” Jacob asks and she shrugs.

“Cause I don’t wanna.” She tells him.

“Is it because you’re such a tough Schemmenti and you don’t know how?” Jacob says a bit to tease her playfully and doesn’t know that he’s actually right.

“I know how to ride a bike!” She tells him defensively.

“Ok then prove it. Join us this weekend.” He challenges her.

“Fine, what’s the time and place?” She asks and you all settle on Saturday at noon at the park since there’s a lot of bike paths there. You give her a bit of a weird look as she was pretty defensive but you don’t ask her about it.

Melissa keeps watching you bike away after school with a smile on her face.

Saturday at noon, you all show up with your bikes at the park. Melissa is the last to show up.

“Hey hon.” She tells you once she sees you and you turn around to face her with a smile.

“Hey Mel!” You tell her and beam.

“Alright so we should decide on a path and the distance.” Barb says and you all nod and settle on one after a few minutes.

Mel looks a bit worried when you turn to look at her. “You ok?” You ask her and she looks at you, everyone looks over at Melissa as well.

“Ya I’m fine, just I probably shouldn’t go that far. Don’t want to sprain something and then can’t walk for a few days.” She tells them all. “I think I’ll sit this one out.” She tells them and when they go to question her, she gives a glare and they all shut up.

They decide to just bike off without Melissa, except you. You hang back and Melissa looks at you with a quirked eyebrow. You look and see that everyone is just about out of sight and you look back towards Melissa.

“Shouldn’t you be biking alongside them?” She asks while still holding on to the bike.

“Maybe, but I’d rather stay here and help you learn how to ride it.” You tell her with a friendly smile. She looks at you confused.

“I already told all of youse that I know how to ride a bike, I just don’t wanna.” She says defensively again.

“Ok then prove it, use the kickstand.” You tell her and she looks at you confused.

“Kickstand?” She asks and you look at her with a knowing glance and you nod. Melissa looks at her bike, searching for what you could possibly mean.

“Mel…” you tell her and she looks at you as you get off your bike and you kick out the kickstand and let go of your bike. Melissa sees what you do and does the same thing then looks at you with a proud smile. It falls when she sees your face, you’re looking at her a bit sad.

“Did no one teach you how to ride a bike?” You ask her and she looks down at the ground, embarrassed.

“No, they didn’t.” She admits and you walk over to her.

“It’s ok to admit you know, I’m not going to judge you.” You tell her and she looks up at you. “If you want to learn then I can teach you.” You offer again and this time she smiles and accepts. You lock your bike up nearby and then you go back to Melissa. You show her how to sit on it properly and show her how to be when not in motion. Then you tell her how to ride. “It’s mostly about balance, like skating or balancing on one leg.” You tell her. “There’s a reason that the expression ‘just like riding a bike’ is so commonly used for stuff that you know how to do but it’s been awhile. It’s pretty straightforward.” You tell her and then you get off and tell her to try it.

You held on the bike with part of a handle and the seat the whole time so it wouldn’t fall over. Melissa got on just like you showed her and had one foot on the ground while still on the bike when she won’t be in motion just like you showed her and she looked at you for praise with a smile. You gave her a proud smile and a thumbs up and she beamed.

“Now here comes the tricky part, balancing yourself while pedalling. Now I’ll hold on the bike like I’ve been doing and you’re going to pedal ok?” You tell her and she nods. She then blushes when she realises that your hand keeps accidentally touching her butt and missed when you told her to pedal.

“Sorry what?” She asked when she sees you looking at her weirdly.

“I said you can start pedalling.” You tell her and she looks embarrassed then goes to try and start pedalling. She pedals slowly and crookedly and you manage to keep up with her to keep the bike up. “You’re doing it Mel, you’re biking!” You tell her and she has a huge smile. “Do you want me to let go and try and bike by yourself?” You ask and she widens her eyes.

“Uh no, I’m still trying to focus on pedalling and not balance.” She tells you and you smile.

“It’s alright, it’s at your pace.” You tell her without judgement.

You guys take a short break, mostly so you don’t tire yourself out.

“You’re learning it Mel, I bet by the end of today, you’ll be biking circles around all of us.” You tell her and she blushes and looks at the ground with a smile.

Turns out the first time you let go, she noticed how your hand touched hers on the handle and your other hand touched her butt and she lost focus and fell.

You ran to her and luckily she fell on grass. “You ok Mel?” You asked her and she looked embarrassed and had a pout. “Hey it’s ok. Most people fall the first person they try to pedal on their own.” You tell her. “I did.” You say and she looks at you.

“You did?”

“Ya, and I mastered pedalling by then. They took the training wheels off, I go to pedal, and fell right over.” You say with a laugh and she giggles. You then help her up and she blushes at the fact that you’re touching her. You on the other hand think her pink cheeks are embarrassment from falling. “Want to try again?” You ask her and she thinks, your hands still on her.

“I um, I don’t know.” She says, she can’t think properly with your hands on her.

“It’s ok if you don’t want to continue but I don’t want you to get discouraged because you fell on your first attempt.” You tell her genuinely. She decides to give it another try, and on the fifth attempt she was doing it. You were so proud of her. You ran after her and yelling “MELISSA LOOK YOU’RE DOING IT! OMG I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” You yell as she’s going faster than you’re running. Melissa got flustered that you said you were proud of her and lost focus and fell.

You caught up to her and she fell on the pavement this time and scraped her hands. You kneeled down as soon as you caught up to her and took her hands in yours to inspect them.

“Oh they don’t look too too bad. But I think you should clean it to avoid infections.” You told her and she was looking at you with flushed cheeks. “What?” You asked her and you gently dropped her hands.

“N-nothing.” She said.

“Um ok.” You say confused. “But Melissa you did it! You rode a bike!” You excitedly told her and hugged her and Melissa froze. You pulled away and saw she looked tense. “Oh sorry, I should have asked to hug you. I’m just very proud of you.” You tell her.

“It’s alright, the hug was actually nice. I’m just not used to physical touch.” She says and looks down.

“I’m sorry.” You tell her and she looks up and gives a smile and whispers to you.

“I rode a bike.” She whispers excitedly and you smile.

“Ya you did. How about we go to my place and I can take a look at your hands and clean them. Unless you want to go back to your place and do it.” You said.

“Um, we could, um go back to yours.” She says, stuttering a bit and you nod.

You manage to get both your bikes in her car, somehow. You biked to the park since it’s only 15 minutes of bike riding away from your house. And you get back to your place and bring Melissa to your apartment. You get her to sit on the couch while you get cloths, a bowl of warm water, disinfectant and some bandaids. You bring them all to your coffee table and get her to hold your hands out. Looks like they were bleeding a bit.

You take one of the cloths and dip it in the water and then you wipe the scrapes on her hands. Once the bleeding stopped and the scrapes looked clean, you grabbed the disinfectant. “This might sting a bit.” You tell her and she nods. You put some on a clothe and wiped her hands. She did flinch a bit but other than that she seemed to be alright. You put a couple bandaids on her scrapes, where it was bleeding, and it looked alright. “Alright did you get hurt anywhere else and Melissa looked at you.

“Um nope.” She told you she avoided eye contact.

“Melissa…” You said and gave her a pointed look.

“I’m fine.” She said. You sat up a bit and adjusted your position on the couch so you’re on one knee.

“Melissa, where else does it hurt?” You asked and she crossed her arms and pouted. “Ok, if you’re gonna act like a child then I’ll treat you like one.” You told her and she looked at you and gasped in disbelief. “Either show me where it hurts or I’ll treat you like a child.”

“It’s one of my knees but I can’t roll up my pants to show you.” She tells you and you look at her with a “oh”.

“Well here.” You say and take the blanket on the end of the couch and cover her top part of the legs. You can take your pants off and still keep your modesty.” You tell her and she chuckles, she still takes her pants off and you see blood dripping down her right leg. “We should have made you wear elbow and knee pads.” You tell her and you get on your knees on the floor and get to cleaning her knee. Melissa sees you get on your knees in front of her and some fantasies make their way to her mind and she blushes. You look up and see her flushed face. “You ok?” You ask and she nods.

“Yep.” She says, voice a bit high pitched but you ignore it. You finish up with a bandaid on her knee. Just when she thinks it’s over, it isn’t.

“Oh I almost forgot!” You exclaim and hold your hair where it is, then bend down and give her a kiss on the knee next to where the bandaid is. She felt your lips on her knee and she blushed even more. “A kiss to make it better! Want me to do the same with your hands?” You asked her and she held out her hands. You kissed both of them better and her cheeks have turned from a pink to a red. You look up at her again and see her red cheeks. “Are you sure you’re ok? Are you running a fever?” You ask and feel her forehead with your palm. Oh if only you knew what you do to her. “You feel fine. I hope you’re not embarrassed, cause you don’t have to be.” You tell her and rest your forearms on her legs.

“Ya I’m…fine.” She said and give her a questioning look. “What?” She asked.

“Melissa? Are you hiding something from me?” You ask her and she avoids eye contact. “What are you hiding from me?” You ask her and you get up and bend over to rest your hands on her legs. And Melissa has a perfect view of down your shirt. She really has to focus on where her eyes look right now.” You notice how she stared at you, well more specifically down your shirt and her cheeks got even redder and avoided eye contact even more. You see how she keeps glancing at your hands near her thighs and she doesn’t know what to do. You decide to test a theory and move your hands subtly up her legs, near to that spot in between her legs and her breath hitches and her face feels like it could be on fire. You lean into her more and look at her eyes. “Melissa, something you’re not telling me?” You ask her with a slightly lower pitch voice and she’s breathing deeply right now. Just when you’re about to pull away, she grabs the back of your head and pulls you forward and gives you a kiss.

You’re stunned for a second but then kiss her back and Melissa is stunned. You’re kissing her back? She pulls back and looks at you and you’re smiling at her with soft heart eyes. “Do you like me back?” She asks you and you nod.

“Wait, does that mean you like me?” You ask her and she nods. And before you know it, both of you are surging forward and kissing each other. You end up straddling her lap and she deepens the kiss by slipping her tongue in when you grant access. Her hands roam all over from your chest to your knees. She feels so much of you and yet can’t feel enough of you. She tests the waters and puts her hands under your shirt and feels the skin on the side of your stomach and you don’t stop her. She roams her hands up and you two take a second to breathe before making out again. She continues to move her hands up and feels you smile. So you realise she’s moving her hands up and you’re happy about it. Does that mean she has your approval to unclip your bra? Just as she finishes that thought you unclip your own bra and she smiles. Just as she was about to go and touch your breasts, her phone rings loudly and it startles both of you.

“Hello?” Melissa answers and forgot to see who it was. She’s breathing a bit fast and you can see she’s trying to control it. So of course you decide to be a little shit and dive to her neck. “Oh Barb hi-i” she squeaks the last part out a bit as you decide to suck on her neck.

“Are you ok?” Barb says on the other line.

“Ya I’m fine, why?” Melissa says and tries to get you to stop but ends up holding your hair and letting you continue as it feels good.

“You sound breathless and like something surprised you.” Barb says gently and Melissa can’t think for a second as you removed your shirt and bra at the same time and she just stares. All she can think about is wanting to suck them. You begin grinding her leg and you nod your head to the phone and she suddenly remembered Barb asked her a question.

“Ya I’m fine just ya catching my breath, I ended up biking with y- y/n to her place since it’s like 20 minutes… instead of the-the 2 hour one you wanted to do. We just got back and I’m… catching mmmy breathe.” She stutters throughout the entire sentence as she just feels and sees you grinding her leg and you ended up leaning towards her so your breasts are almost in her face. You were torturing her and she knew it.

“You need to catch your breath after a 20 minute bike ride?” Barb asks and Melissa is really cursing in her head.

You decide to end her torture and grab the phone from her. “Hey Barb it’s y/n.” You say and Melissa decides to grab your breasts with her mouth and you pull the phone away from your mouth enough so that Barb doesn’t hear it.

“Oh hi y/n, is Melissa ok?” Barb asks.

“Mmhhmm.” You say since Melissa is teasing you now. “She’s alright, just she did 20 minutes to my place then 20 minutes back to her ca! Car.” You say as Melissa decides to rub your clit through your underwear and pants. “Ya so she’s fine.” You blurt out and hand the phone back to Melissa.

“Hey Barb, I caught my breath.” And Melissa is still rubbing your clit so you can’t tease her right now. You don’t pay attention to what Barb says and then hear Melissa talk again. “Ok, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Melissa says then hangs up. “You.

Little. Minx.” She says to you and you smile. She rolls her eyes at you then pulls her hand away from your clit and you whine. She sits up with you still on her, your legs wrapped around her waist and her hand grabbing your ass. She brings you to your bed with you sucking her neck and then drops you on the bed.

“Ah.” You say as she actually dropped you on purpose. She crawls on top of you and leans in to your ear.

“You were a great teacher with me for biking. Now let me show you how I pleasure a woman.” She tells you and you shiver and rub your thighs together. She notices how you react and she smirks, she pulls back and looks at you. “And when I teach, I like for the person to tell me how well I’m doing.” She tells you and then takes her shirt and bra off and then makes you breathless all night.

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[owl127]

What do you know about boxing? There’s something real sexy about the thought of Lexa training, fighting, and being mended by Clarke. Potential for a one-shot or perhaps a multi part fic?

Sweat, gloves, punching, some footwork? That covers a good part of my boxing knowledge, but yay for the creative license to ✨️bullshit ✨️

Maybe something like sweaty Lexa being constantly patched up by am exasperated Clarke...?

"I wonder if there will ever be a time we meet where I don't have to stitch you up," Clarke said with a dry chuckle that didn't land.

Lexa's bloody lips pulled in a half smirk nonetheless, and there was a sparkle in her eyes, even in the swelling shut one.

"Are you asking me out, Miss Griffin?" the fighter asked, not wincing as the needle threaded through scared, bruised skin. Clarke blushed, but focused on making sure Lexa would have an eyebrow to tell the tale of her latest victory.

"Seems rather inappropriate," Clarke said, leaning back to inspec her work. Fingers clad in black gloves tilted Lexa's chin here and there, and Clarke nodded in satisfaction.

"I can make it more inappropriate," Lexa said with a confidence she usually didn't show, and she winced at a failed attempt to wiggle her newly stitched eyebrow.

"You're concussed," Clarke argued, but she couldn't fight a smile.

"Your number, then," Lexa reasoned, and the bright LED light of the med room hidden in the underbelly of the arena was suddenly warmer. Clarke picked up her instruments and busied herself with the first aid kit.

"Ask me that when you're not bleeding all over my trousers," Clarke argued, finally looking at the starry-eyed victor of the night.

Someone called Lexa's name down the hallway, and their little bubble of intimacy and gauze popped. Lexa was once again a rising boxing star, and Clarke was the lucky EMT who got paid to touch her.

Before Lexa stood, she held Clarke's hand in calloused fingers, brushing a light kiss where the skin still smelled like fresh latex.

"Believe me," Lexa said, "I will."

OR, idk, enemy to lovers vibe???

Anya slapped Lexa in the face, the sharp sound echoing in the small green room.

"Tell me again what you are not going to do out there?" her coach yelled, and Lexa welcomed the stinging pain.

"I will not--"

"You will not make a fucking fool of yourself! Now get outta here!" Anya yelled in her annoying philly accent. She positioned herself behind Lexa, while Gustus and Niko took positions to her right and left, their towering forms elevating her emerald robe as she bounced down the corridor in the packed arena. She couldn’t discern a single word of the announcer as the camera crew traced her steps. By the time she made it to the ring, her robe had fallen off somewhere, and the tight braids around her head were free to the shouting fans and blinking flashlights.

Lexa was ready for this.

She was a champion, a warrior, a--

"Wanheda!"

She snapped her head to the opposite side of the ring where her opponent had just been announced. And there she was, in all her golden glory, with shorts tighter than Lexa's underwear and braids carefully following her scalp. Clarke Griffin, the Wanheda, the rising star who dared to challenge Lexa's reign. The girl with the easy smile and soft, soft whimpers when she orgasmed, as Lexa had found out less than 24 hours ago.

Lexa thought she was ready for this.

She was a fool.

[ragnarozzys]

tumblr user ragnarozzy you have to answer me seriously. what are the classpects of the gang from always sunny in philadelphia, in your opinion

oh boy. WE'VE BEEN DISCUSSING THIS AS WELL so ok. you can get my thoughts on classpects and as a bonus, also the blood colors i think each of the gang would be if they were trolls.

charlie (bronze): bard of space mac (jade): maid of heart dennis (indigo): prince of mind dee (indigo): knight of doom frank (purple): heir of rage

charlie is the lowblood of the gang and that's why the rest of them would feel like he's automatically assigned to "charlie work". he's a bronze so he can commune and handle animals like rats, cats, and birds. bards are known to be the WILD CARD in a session which charlie firmly is!! he can make or break a session like the way he handles the bar. he keeps the space around him small (being difficult to get out of philly or shrinking the space of his apartment into a studio by blocking off rooms) and while generally laidback, he has shown a routine and a resistance to change. bonus, he’s also creatively inclined (various songs, the musical, sewing, etc).

mac is a jade since a lot of their character arcs can revolve around repression (which mac has Plenty of). purple was also considered for his religious fanaticism but mac wouldn't be that high on the hemospectrum imo. mac is pretty solidly a heart player to me. he is obsessed with his own identity and sense of self. as a maid, he lets others dictate that for him whether its his dad, dennis, the gang, etc. is he the religious guy, the big guy, the gay guy, the ireland episodes also touch a lot on this. he feels every emotion strongly. very heart player.

dennis and dee had a privileged upbringing and think themselves better than others bc of it, considering themselves part of the noble elite (despite having little to no real influence). they're indigo for sure and as twins, should be the same caste.

dennis immediately is a prince of mind to me. he ghosts heart because his decisions to manipulate people and mess with their heads is powered by his own emotional motivations and self (largely for his ego). he insists on standing out, strongly believes that his sense of logic and reason is above all others, and is not afraid to cut down other people in calculating ways to believe he's right.

dee is kind of a hard one to pin down but we settled around on knight of doom. knights tend to be insecure with themselves and hide it with confidence and an obsessive effort to make themself more useful. dee is not a stranger to doom and negativity and moreso, has weaponized it for her benefit, even introducing doom to others like cricket or the guy who called her his "rock bottom".

frank, as the one with the most power and pull in the group using his business status and money while also being insanely unpredictable, is a purpleblood. dude is all rage aspect to me, he embodies anger and fear. he's stubborn, skeptical, quick tempered, easily paranoid at the drop of a hat and manipulates others with his own fearmongering and falsities.

I HOPE THIS WAS A SERIOUS ENOUGH ANSWER this is something that i've been pondering about with my friends since like 2022

[coyoteprince]

I am really, really going Through It right now, but... in the best way possible? Like, really good things? It's just a lot to juggle at once so I'm absolutely wore out from a massive growth spurt

I deserve to be joyous about this so:

-New house! All our own! We're even moving during October (date was pushed back due to philly market), very spiritually important time for me

-Getting married next Fall once things calm down, finally, after being engaged for a few years

-Came to terms with Widderwood being an important purpose in my life, an art that feeds my soul- even if the result remains small, all this work isn't a waste, because the process enriches my life and brings me joy. The many years of dedication I've had for it is a sign that it's the right choice for me to continue following, and am super looking forward to the years of doing the actual page layouts. I've been setting realistic expectations to maintain my happiness with production, am working it into my new schedule, and I get to ink the pages at my antique writing desk in the sunroom as I look out at our back garden once we move... waow

-Learning a ton of important things about myself- my fears, roots of problems and behaviors thanks to trauma and ego that I didn't notice. I'm being kinder to myself, less judgemental of others, and letting go of other's projections rather than continuing to internalize them. I know what I am, how to be empathetic and accept my missteps, but also what isn't worth my time and energy.

-Learning how to adjust my desire for perfection in myself to much more healthy & reasonable level, and being more willing to delegate

-Rebuilding my business internally from the ground up for success, seeking continuous education for business & science, and after years of struggling and testing, FINALLY figuring out a work-life method that works for my messed up desires-varience autism brain. Balance!

-Similarly, figuring out how to balance cooking for two autistic people who have greatly different cravings & stims

-Realizing what a hard working, loyal, and loving person I am with an unrivaled, firey dedication to change and self improvement. Capricorn to an eerie degree.

Overall I feel like I'm in the transitional period between continuing to be poisoned by the aftermath of prolonged abuse and illness, and finding peace while blossoming far beyond what happened to me. Something I've strived for, but wasn't sure I'd ever have. In a way, it's obtaining independence and finding out who I really am as a person, unclouded by other's words and fearful what-ifs.

20 something years of being locked away. About 8 more years of new experiences, perspectives, professional help, love, and grueling work to dismantle things in myself. I guess this is what real healing and responsibility looks like- at least in my case. I'll never stop growing, but I am at a pivotal point of change.

What I've experience is important to me because it set the projectile for my life. I want to be somewhat open because I want others to be aware of what autistic children often experience and how it affects them long term... but I also know I have more to me and don't have to be haunted anymore. Turning an unpleasant experience into a tool I can control is a lovely reward and I can now whole heartedly say: I love being alive.

[chloeadrianne]

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[venus-haze]

Why Don't You Do Right (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: You’d known him as Ben, the asshole rich boy whose family employed your parents on their estate just outside of Philadelphia, the mean streets that you grew up on, not him. When he returns from Europe to adulation and ticker tape parades in response to his heroic exploits during the war, he’s not happy when you echo his father’s sentiments about his praise being unearned. As time goes on, you find your own professional exploits make you begrudgingly more sympathetic to him, especially when you unexpectedly run into him again before the 24th Academy Awards.

Note: Reader is a woman, but no other descriptors are used. I don’t know how I feel about this fic, I guess I kind of left it open to another part. Soldier Boy’s background is so interesting even though we get so little of it in the show, I wanted to go ahead and explore it more from the perspective of someone who knew him back then. I decided to go with the last name Conway since as far as I know, the show doesn’t give Soldier Boy a canon last name. Feel free to picture any DILF of your choice as Ben’s briefly appearing father. Do not interact if you post thinspo/ED content or are under 18.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Period typical (and Soldier Boy typical) misogyny. Morally gray reader. Dacryphilia, slapping, spitting. Some dubcon elements. Complicated and toxic relationships. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Over two decades’ worth of catharsis rushed through your veins as you eavesdropped on the heated conversation taking place in Cliff Conway’s office, his son’s voice steadily rising while his own remained cool and nonplussed. The steel magnate wasn’t your favorite person, but he kept your parents employed during the depression when so many of your classmates’ families were out of work. Your father worked as one of half a dozen chauffeurs on staff, your mother a cook, though you didn’t see much of either of them growing up, as they spent most of the week living in the servant’s quarters on the estate while you lived with your grandparents in their small South Philly apartment. 

It never failed to make your blood boil that Ben saw more of your parents than you did. You could remember taking a swing at him when he called your mother “mom” not long after he got kicked out of boarding school. You had made the trek to the Conways’ estate after a long day of your apprenticeship with a local seamstress, enraged to see Ben sitting in the kitchen, joking with your mom who you got to see twice a week if you were lucky. Though it was years ago, the betrayal when she angrily shooed you out of the kitchen still felt fresh.

When you were older, you discovered that Ben clung to your parents since his own were unimpressed and disinterested in him. In contrast, Cliff lauded your ingenuity in working hard at your apprenticeship, building up clientele, and opening your own shop. Of course, it helped that he would drum up business for you among his wealthy friends, having you custom-make his suits and his estranged wife’s evening gowns for the high society events they masqueraded as a happy couple at.

In fact, you’d been in the man’s office for a fitting when he received a call that Ben had shown up unannounced, wishing to speak to him. He had shaken his head as he dismissed you with a wave, instructing you to stick around the mansion until his conversation with his son was over. ‘It won’t be long. I don’t have anything to say to him,’ he had assured you.

So you stood with your ear pressed against the door, the men’s muffled voices traveling through the expensive wood grain, a thick, dark mahogany that turned visitors into vampires seeking permission to enter, impossible to sneak in or out of without concerted effort. Being his father’s only child didn’t make Ben exempt this unspoken social ritual that Cliff enforced. Perhaps he thought things would be different for Soldier Boy.

“What do you want me to do? Congratulate you for taking a shortcut?” Cliff said, his tone even. “A real man doesn’t take shortcuts.”

“Compound V isn’t a shortcut—“

“I tried with you, Ben. I really did, and somehow you ended up with no work ethic, no sense of purpose. Instead, you think you can cheat your way to greatness.”

“I signed up to fight, and I did,” Ben retorted, his voice wavering, “in Normandy, in Belgium—“

“On Hollywood sets where you fool around with movie stars and play pretend. Believe me, I’ve had my fair share of starlets, but I didn’t get ticker tape parades or national holidays for it.”

Ben scoffed. “President Truman said I’m a hero—“

“No, the boys who came back and haven’t had a good night’s sleep since, the ones who didn’t come back at all, they’re heroes,” he said. “You, Ben? You’re a disappointment. I’m ashamed to even call you a Conway.”

Your hand flew to your mouth. In your dealings with Cliff, you had an idea about his feelings on his son’s fabricated exploits, noticing the newspaper pages with photographs or even mere mentions of ‘Soldier Boy’ crumpled in his wastebin. You knew none of the stories were true, anyway, not when Ben’s anecdotes about growing up in Philly were almost carbon copies of yours, from the fights to the laughter. It was all a lie, and no one would back you up even if you went public with it. No one but Cliff, anyway.

The whole situation had been odd from the moment you saw Soldier Boy in a newsreel before a Gary Cooper movie. Despite the helmet and mask that obscured his features, you’d recognize Ben anywhere. As much resentment as you harbored toward him, you’d have to be blind to ignore how attractive he was, thinking it was a shame that his striking green eyes and pouty pink lips were imprisoned in black and white. He spoke to the camera, proud and confident, the hot-blooded, all-American hero with the strength of a hundred men. The living, breathing embodiment of the American spirit was nothing if not an excellent liar, willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted. 

What really threw you for a loop, however, was the lie whose tendrils arrested the minds of your fellow countrymen. Soldier Boy was born great, blessed by god with these superhuman abilities that he used in the fight against evil and anything that threatened the American way of life. His very existence proof of divine intervention in the land of the free. No, you’d wanted to argue, he’s just Ben, and he cheated.

As you heard shuffling in the office, you slipped away from the door and into one of the nearby parlors. Despite spending so much time in the Conways’ mansion in your youth and then in a professional capacity as an adult, it never ceased to amaze you how many rooms were in the place. Some of which, like the one you decided to lay low in, served no other purpose than to display the family’s ornate possessions—Persian rugs, imported chaise lounges, commissioned artwork, vases and statues from places you weren’t even sure you could point out on a map. It was almost sick how the objects in that room alone were worth more than what you’d ever make in your life.

You couldn’t privately lament your financial woes for long, as despite your efforts, Ben noticed you ambling around the room as he stormed out of his father’s office. He stopped in his tracks, rerouting his direction to join you. The costume he wore certainly wasn’t awful, and from a quick glance you could admire the effort that went into putting together such a vital aspect of his persona. Still, it wasn’t him, no matter how hard he tried. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he mused, his voice low as he took you in.

You gave him a curt nod. “Ben.”

“You and my old man are the only ones who call me that anymore.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the only thing about you that’s real.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, I understand the ‘scrappy young fighter from the rough streets of Philly’ is a lot more sympathetic than ‘spoiled rich boy who wants to feel special.’ It’s the part where you stole my life that really gets me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the bullshit, Ben,” you said. “You’re a fraud, even your father says so.”

“I’m a fucking hero, sweetheart. You’re a washed up old maid who’s lucky I’m even looking in her direction,” he said, shooting his insult back at you.

It stung every time you were reminded of how many people thought there was something wrong with you for choosing your career over marriage. You’d have been offended by his words if it weren’t for the cheek twitch that gave away just how bothered he was by your statement. His tells were few, but they were distinctly his, and in the years you’d spent orbiting the spoiled brat turned man-child, you’d learned to recognize all of them. He was fundamentally insecure, always trying to prove himself to his unimpressed father and failing every single time. It seemed Soldier Boy was no exception.

Before you could respond, he grabbed your face, backing you into a wall. You knew whatever he’d been shot up with had made him strong, but you weren’t expecting the steel grip that encased your jaw, one squeeze away from turning it to dust. He could do it, and probably would if you pushed him enough. 

“What’re you doing here anyway? Don’t think I didn’t see you slinking out of my father’s office like a fucking whore,” he asked, releasing your jaw to drag his fingers across your lips, smearing your lipstick onto your cheek.

“I was in the middle of fitting Cliff for a new suit before you showed up,” you said, your voice quivering as you tried to compose yourself.

“Cliff? My mother hasn’t even called him Cliff in years,” he scoffed. “Jesus, the old man gets on me for taking a shortcut, but you’re just fucking your way up to the top, aren’t you?”

Impulse overtook your reasoning as you spat in his face, an acidic combination of satisfaction and terror wrestling in your gut as he stood frozen in shock, your saliva dribbling from just below his eye down to his chin. It wasn’t like you’d justify his insinuation with an answer, regardless of its validity. 

Suddenly, you felt stupid for taking the bait. Ben’s bite was always worse than his bark, practically trained by his father’s neglect to be desperate and snarling so that it was impossible to be near him without his foaming mouth claiming his pound of flesh. He had been jilted by his father yet again, becoming the world’s first superhero only to be told he was a failure for it. You, on the other hand, received his father’s praise and approval in kind, the street dog treated as pedigree. 

He wiped away the spit with an open hand, and in the same instance landed a harsh slap across your face, leaving your cheek stinging with the force he used. Fat tears clouded your vision and rolled down your cheeks as you trembled under his unrelenting gaze.

“I fucked every USO broad I could get my hands on, and none of ‘em could cry as pretty as you can,” he whispered, the barbs of his taunt cushioned by the cruelest lilt of nostalgia.

You’d seen how you looked when you cried before, having locked yourself in your fair share of bathrooms after being brought to tears by his words growing up. Your face always contorted, pained and puffy as tears fell from your red eyes, snot dripping from your nose. You never cried neatly, it was always raw and painful, your grief clawing its way out from deep within you. He liked that, though, the mess, the tangible evidence of how sensitive and vulnerable you were compared to him. 

How greedy, to have the adoration of the American public and it still not be enough, to trek to Philadelphia just to get affirmation from his father and now, you–as if you mattered, as if Vought and the military gave a shit what you thought of Soldier Boy. He cared, though, enough to take out his anger twofold on you for having the audacity to be favored by his father. 

“No one can make me cry like you can,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite your tears.

You had fucked him once, or more like he fucked you, a few days after he got drafted and his parents unexpectedly threw him a farewell party. People are creatures of habit, and the circumstances, even the room were almost identical to that night you stumbled back into the party–mascara absolutely ruined, your legs too weak to dance, and the taste of his cum spoiling the expensive wine that was being served. You didn’t have illusions of any sentimentality behind the encounter. There was a decent chance he wasn’t going to make it back home, so you both seemed to figure ‘why not.’ With the self-loathing that had crept up on you as the night went on, you almost hoped he wouldn’t.

That didn’t stop you this time from letting yourself kiss him back when he pressed his lips to yours. His lips were soft, his hands too as he cradled the cheek he smacked, the contact causing you to gasp in pain. His other hand was on your waist, holding you steady in place. You were sure you couldn’t move if you tried, but you didn’t bother, allowing his tongue in your mouth. Part of you wanted to bite him, for spite and to see what would happen, if he could even feel something like that, but you decided against it when he brushed his thumb against your sore cheek again. He’d use any excuse to pull more tears from you.

You put your hands on his, hoping he could at least feel you trying to push them away. “He’s waiting for me.”

“‘Course he is,” he sneered, gripping your waist a bit tighter before releasing you.

The room was silent for a few moments before you said, “See you around.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t bet on it, sweetheart.”

As soon as he stormed out of the room, you could feel yourself breathe better. You hurriedly ran into a nearby bathroom to straighten out your appearance before returning to his father’s office, giving a courteous knock before hearing a muffled ‘Come in!’

The ashtray was considerably more full than when you’d left, and the cigarette between Cliff’s fingers was steadily smoldering down to a nub. You figured it best not to ask him about it.

“What took you so long?” Cliff asked.

“Ben and I were just catching up.”

His eyes landed on your bruised cheek, and his tongue darted out from between his lips. “Alright. I suppose we should get back to it, then.”

Nodding, you went over to your bag in the corner of the room, searching for the measuring tape you’d been using while trying to ignore your patron’s burning gaze you felt on your back. The irony wasn’t lost on you that like your parents, your livelihood depended on him. You wondered why Ben so desperately wanted that same fate.

By 1952 you’d gotten married and promptly divorced after less than a year and a half of marriage, moving to Los Angeles and setting up shop there not long after the deaths of your father and mother in quick succession. Both decisions took you out of Cliff Conway’s good graces, though your reputation and talent preceded you. Within a few months of opening your new shop, your clientele had expanded to Hollywood stars, and you had to hire a handful of employees to help run the front end of things while you toiled away at your sewing machine most days. As awards season rolled around, you found yourself turning away customers as you simply didn’t have the time or resources to handle them all.

Plenty of people you’d never expected to see in person came into your shop, but you were particularly taken aback a week before the Oscars when a no-name starlet bleached hair and what you could assume was equally bleached teeth came ambling in with Ben–no, Soldier Boy, right behind her in the same costume he had been wearing the last time you saw him in 1945. The two of you made eye contact, and though he gave you the slightest smile, he made no other effort to indicate he knew you. Discretion, she was the jealous type.

You’d found the starlet’s dress, pointing out the customizations you’d done based on her request. She beamed at you before disappearing into one of the dressing rooms with it.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said.

“Me either, ‘til Darlene mentioned the shop name, same one as back in Philly.”

You shrugged. “Things aren’t so bad out here. Fresh start after the divorce, ya know?”

“You seeing anyone?”

“No, but you are.”

He scoffed. “She’s an easy fuck, besides MGM is paying me out the ass to bring her as my date to the Oscars.”

“Congratulations on the Best Picture nomination, by the way,” you said.

You had seen the movie, his fabricated life story, but the rage you felt upon seeing him seven years prior was no longer existent. He’d cemented his place in American history on lies, and there was nothing you could do about it. Besides, you felt too old and far too busy to let yourself get mad about things like that the way you used to.

“I think we got a pretty good shot of winning,” he said. “It’s all about who you schmooze, and I doubt Gene Kelly’s got a company like Vought sending blank checks and gift baskets to the Academy.”

“You never know.”

His response was interrupted by a squeal, though you couldn’t tell until the girl shuffled out of the dressing room whether it was in horror or delight. To your relief, it was the latter, an almost painful looking smile plastered across her face as she posed in her dress for Ben.

“So? Isn’t it perfect?” she asked, nearly glaring at Ben for not complimenting her quickly enough for her liking.

“Goddamn honey, you look like a million bucks. They’ll start casting you instead of that Marilyn Monroe girl.”

You nearly snorted. Marilyn wasn’t all that well known, but she had the makings of a star, and the kindness that made her one of your favorite customers as opposed to the more demanding clients that would come in and expect you to drop everything for them. It was almost painful watching the starlet fawn over herself while trying to pull as many compliments from Ben as she could. What a floozy. Then again, you hadn’t done much different when you were first starting out in your own career.

Finally, when it seemed like she had enough of herself, she retreated back into the dressing room to change.

“You know, I’m staying at the Roosevelt.”

“That’s nice. They have a great bar.”

“Why don’t you let me buy you a drink later, then?”

You nodded your head toward the dressing room. “She won’t have a fit?”

“She’s got a place with half a dozen other MGM broads,” he said. “She can cry on cue, but it’s still not as pretty as when you do it.”

You narrowed your eyes a bit, considering the implications of his proposal. The judgment you’d made on him years ago came back to you, he’s just Ben, and he cheated. Though not on the same scale, you supposed you had too. Besides, Los Angeles wasn’t Philadelphia, both of you could get away with a lot more here than under the watchful eye of his father. 

Grabbing the nearby receipt book, you handed him a pencil and pointed to a blank receipt, his conspiratorial tone rubbing off on you. It was odd, him speaking to you as if you were old friends or partners in crime, even. You’d never considered him like that, the differences in status made apparent to you from an early age. Even still, you certainly weren’t America’s hero.

He scribbled the room number and reservation onto the paper. “It’s under a fake name.”

“Alright, maybe I can get there before midnight. No promises,” you said, flipping to a new page just as his date emerged from the dressing room, her Oscar-night gown back in the protective bag you’d provided.

The dress had already been billed to MGM, though you knew by now it came out of whatever stipend the production company gave her, a move meant to make up-and-coming stars seem more important than they were in hopes of catching the attention of the right people. She had to know her chances were slim to none on her own, it was for everyone. For a moment you felt a bit bad for being so quick to judge earlier, even if you didn’t particularly like her attitude, she wasn’t the only one trying to claw her way to top billing in a uniquely cannibalistic city. In the nearly two years since you’d opened the shop, it stopped surprising you when certain clients wouldn’t come in anymore or would come in months after whatever event you’d styled them for to sell their dresses back to you to make rent. 

Ben glanced at you one more time before the starlet eagerly dragged him out of the shop, onto the next pre-Oscars errand. Funny, him putting up with a day of bullshit just to see if you’d be here. Maybe he’d find an excuse to blow her off now that he did what he’d set out to do. You looked at the clock on the wall and then to the unfinished orders laying on your sewing machine or draped over mannequins. There was no way you’d make it to the Roosevelt before midnight, and you weren’t sentimental enough to feel particularly bad about it.

[1waveshortofashipwreck]

Should've Been Born Later, Nix - Chapter 2: The Hospital

Easy Company x Fem!OCs

Chap. Synopsis: What will happen when Easy Company has to navigate the emergency room to help Malarkey?

Words: 3,732

Find the fic's navigation page here !!

Have a question/want to be on the taglist? Let me know !!

Author's Note: Hi y'all! Thank you all so much for reading Chap 1, I truly did not expect the fic to get the reception that it did 🥺💕 y'all are absolutely amazing and I can't wait to share more of the story with you!! (Link to picrew in collage)

The walk to the hospital was uneventful, unless you count the stares of passersby and Nixon struggling to understand how to cross the street. When it came time to cross the busy street to arrive at the hospital, the men were halted by a red hand shining across from them on a small, strange screen. When Nixon looked at the pole to his right, he noticed a button with the words "push to cross" written above it. Naturally, the man pressed the button. A deep, assertive voice sounded from the button, instructing the men to "WAIT." "Why is it telling us to wait?" Luz questioned indignantly, still rubbing the spot where Malarkey kicked him.

"So we don't get run over?" Guarnere posed to the group in his South Philly accent. Before anyone could affirm this, the red hand disappeared from the screen and was replaced by what appeared to be a person walking. Traffic was stopped, and the men were free to cross. As quickly as they could, the men made their journey across the street. Toye was the last one to complete the crossing, still being on the asphalt when the intimidating red hand reappeared. This earned the man a jarring "honk" from the driver closest to them. Toye whipped around in shock, instinctively reaching for his weapon before remembering where they were - or rather, where they were not.

Finally, the men made it to the entrance of the hospital. While Winters and Nixon tried to look for a handle to open the glass doors in front of them, they were astonished to see the doors slide open on their own as someone was walking past them, out of the hospital. Nixon shot Winters a look - one of bewilderment, wonder, and most visibly, exasperation. Winters simply replied with an amused smile before leading his men into the hospital lobby.

Dick and Easy Company didn't get far before a stocky man wearing a polo saying "Hospital Security" put his hand on Winters' chest, stopping the men from going further and making Dick rather uncomfortable. "Woah there buddy, you can't bring those in here, sick world war 2 replicas though," the man stated, more at Dick rather than to him. The man punctuated his sentence with a gesture towards the rifles carried by Toye, Guarnere, and Speirs. Each word the man said was more confusing than the last - you can't bring your weapons in? What is World War 2? And why was it "sick?"

"Um…what do we do with them?" Dick replied. It was not the best thing he could have said, but he was still trying to wrap his head around how a gun can have an illness.

"I don't care what you do with them, they just can't come in here," the man replied bluntly. Winters nodded and led his men back outside. They were alone again. 

"Sir, can we hide them behind these bushes?" Malarkey asked, pointing over Roe's shoulder to a line of thick, opaque bushes next to the hospital entrance. Checking to make sure no one was around, Winters nodded his head and started putting all his gear behind the bush.

"Nix, help me take their gear. Helmets and all weapons come off, men," Dick instructed the soldiers, Nixon assisting Malarkey and his supporters before getting rid of his own gear. The men felt naked without their supplies, but they needed to help Malarkey.

The men returned to the hospital lobby, the security guard from earlier giving them an approving nod before stepping aside. He outstretched his hand in the direction of the hospital front desk, quickly receiving a nod of thanks from each of the men as they walked past him.

"How can I help you?" The lady sitting behind the desk asked, continuing to stare at the papers littering her desk.

"My friend has a broken rib that needs to be tended to," Winters explained hesitantly, gesturing for Roe and Speirs to bring Malarkey up to the front.

"Name?" The receptionist asked, turning to a set of buttons that seemed to resemble a typewriter - next to the buttons seemed to be some kind of television, the boys deduced, even though the screen seemed extraordinarily flat.

"Donald Malarkey, ma'am," the redhead replied, wincing as Speirs adjusted his shoulder.

"Date of birth?"

"7/21/1921."

The receptionist gave him a look that could only convey the most intense form of irritation known to man. "Very funny, how old are you?" She continued, her tone indicating she was not the least bit amused.

Poor Malarkey, unsure of how he had said something wrong, simply winced in pain and replied, "I'm 23 ma'am." Making no indication that she heard Don answer her question, the receptionist clicked away on her buttons before a strand of glossy paper printed from a device connected to her television.

"Your wrist please," she instructed, holding out the paper like a bracelet. Looking at Winters for approval, Malarkey hesitantly unwrapped his arm from Speirs' shoulder and held out his wrist - the receptionist promptly wrapped the paper around him, sealing it with what seemed to be a sticky piece at the end. "Have a seat, they'll call you when they're ready," she told none of the men in particular as she went back to staring at the papers on her desk. Looking down at the paper band, Malarkey saw that it had his name and birthday beside a barcode. However, Don noticed a mistake - his birthday. Instead of 1921, the year read 2000. This just confirmed the thought all of the men were praying not to be true.

The injured redhead whispered a quiet "fuck" under his breath before being led to the waiting area by Roe and Speirs. With several seats around the large waiting room already occupied, the men agreed to have Roe and Malarkey take a seat while the rest stood next to them. Taking in his surroundings, Winters' eyes landed on a lady talking to the woman behind the desk. Her hair seemed to be…blue? As Dick unintentionally stared at the girl, trying to understand why she would have blue hair, the lady looked up, and their eyes met. The color of her eyes matched that of her hair - a deep, ultramarine blue. Dick only realized he was staring when he saw the shock and bewilderment in the girl's eyes - she quickly returned the way she came as Winters pondered how eyes could be so blue.

"Smooth," Nixon commented, leaning against the wall next to Winters. A choked chuckle came from the floor next to Eugene's seat, where Liebgott and Luz were trying everything not to laugh at their Captain's comment. Winters simply rolled his eyes at his men, of course they would think he was infatuated with the girl.

"I'm gonna go look around," Speirs said before wandering off on his own, not even giving Winters a second to approve the decision.

"Don't go far!" Nixon called out after the officer, sarcasm subtle but clear in his voice. Ron looked back with a nod of his head before disappearing around a corner. Ron Speirs was always one to do his own thing, and heaven help the person who stood in his way. The nine men tried their best to relax in the crowded waiting room, listening to the television in the far corner spout out words like "Google" and "wifi" before showing an advertisement for gadgets that felt entirely fake. The most impactful item was decidedly something called Bluetooth earbuds.

"I think it's real guys… I think we're really in 2023," Guarnere muttered helplessly - Nothing ever seemed to rattle the Italian American, but for the first time, the soldiers saw Guarnere be just that. Sitting on the floor, Guarnere’s back was back against the wall facing Roe and Malarkey. Luz and Liebgott were sitting next to the medic and redhead on the floor, George resting his head on the side of Roe’s seat. Toye could be found pacing in the corner next to the vending machines, Nixon needing to shift his position in order to avoid being run over. Bull was sitting next to Winters, his mountainous figure somehow becoming comfortable on the narrow window sill framing the glass displaying the vast parking lot.

"How could that have happened though? It doesn't make any fucking sense!" Liebgott spat out in frustration. This earned him several glares from his group, their eyes telling him to keep it down. Liebgott rolled his own eyes before continuing in a quieter tone, "One minute, we were dropping into a foxhole for cover, and the next, were 79 years into the fucking future? Tell me how that fucking works." The rifleman's tone became more irritated the more he realized how unreal this all was.

"Better yet, how the fuck do we get back to the rest of Easy?" Toye's tone matched the rifleman's in irritation, but the spitfire in Toye's tone caused the question to come across as venomous. Bull appeared to be the only enlisted man not about to lose his mind, once again chewing on his Emotional Support Cigar.

"Bull, how the fuck are you so calm?" Luz asked the mountain of a man, his nickname making sense without any verbal explanation.

"Just following orders, I know the captains will take care of us," Bull replied casually, nodding towards Captain Winters and Captain Nixon. The two officers smiled while Winters nodded in gratitude.

"I appreciate the trust, Bull," Dick replied, praying that he could live up to that trust and get his boys home safe.

"Malarkey!" A booming voice called at the front of the room, causing the named man to twirl around in his seat. He and the rest of the soldiers turned to see a man holding a clipboard, signaling for Malarkey to follow him. Eugene helped Don to his feet and all nine of them started walking over. "Woah woah, only one of y'all can go back with him," the man said, holding his hands up in protest. The men all exchanged glances of confusion and worry - their constant state since arriving here - before Winters instructed Roe to accompany his injured soldier. As the captain watched his two men disappear behind a door, a small voice in the back of his head prayed he would see them again.

While the men waited for Malarkey in the waiting room, Speirs had been wandering around the cavernous halls of the hospital. Unfortunately, his solo mission has proven to provide more questions than answers. All around himself, Ron was confronted with inventions, words, and people that seemed to be out of a moving picture. From men and women wearing strange clothes, to machines beeping as if to speak their own language, Speirs felt as if he were on another planet. The officer was snapped from his thoughts when he heard a hushed voice say names that he recognized - Winters, Nixon, Liebgott, Toye.

"I'm telling you Chrys, they look exactly like Easy Company! It has to be them!" The voice spoke emphatically. Speirs cautiously searched around the hallways, coming across a small alcove where a lady with bright blue hair was talking into what appeared to be a small rectangle. She was using it as a phone, Speirs assumed, but it looked nothing like any phone he had ever seen. Speirs ducked behind the wall, not daring to venture too close to the edge, lest he be caught by the woman. "Dude you need to get down here, I promise it's the guys," the lady said a bit louder, assuming she was alone. A brief pause occurred before Speirs heard her say, "Sweet! Text me when you get here! Love you!"

He suddenly heard footsteps coming in his direction, causing the man to glue himself to the wall, praying that she passed his hallway without a glance. His prayers were answered as he saw the mop of blue hair walk past him and turn down one of the labyrinthian hallways, paying the officer no mind. Speirs proceeded to dart back the way he came, bumping into doctors and patients alike before descending a familiar flight of stairs and returning to the waiting room. The officer drew every pair of eyes to him as he ran across to where his men were waiting on Malarkey and Roe.

"I think we have a problem sir," Ron said to Dick, his voice remained monotone, but the captain could see urgency in his eyes. Speirs recounted his experience in a hushed tone to his commanding officer.

"So she knows we're here sir?" Toye interjected after hearing the officer's story. His tone imitated the facial expressions of all the men - they were unsure whether to be relieved or terrified.

“Looks like it, I have no clue how, I highly doubt she’s from … our time,” Speirs replied, hesitant to say something that sounded like it could be from a fantasy story. “What do you want us to do, sir?” Ron asked, looking at the redheaded captain. Dick paused and thought for several moments, his men awaiting his response with bated breath.

“We need to find out what she knows. Best case scenario she can help us… worst case, she’s the reason we’re here,” Winters explained. “Speirs, Liebgott, go find her and figure out what she knows. If you can do it without arousing suspicion, try and bring her back here,” he instructed the two. The men nodded in understanding before the man with the clipboard reappeared.

“Malarkey family? He’s been admitted to a bed, you can come back now,” the man said, gesturing for Easy Company to follow him. Winters quickly leaned in to whisper to Speirs.

“Try and have her lead you to where we are, she probably works here and knows her way around,” the captain explained quickly before following his men back behind a mysterious door, the same one that Malarkey and Roe walked through earlier. As the door slowly swung shut, Speirs led Liebgott to where he overheard the conversation. The walls were decorated with bright colors and strange cartoon characters - maybe undersea animals? Except for one that looked like what the two could only describe as a squirrel in a spacesuit.

“What happened to the good cartoons?” Liebgott mused, processing all of the decorations - it was clear to the two that they were in the children’s wing of the hospital.

“Beats the hell out of me,” Ron replied to Joe, trying his best to be casual as he made his way around the corner. There was a big desk area in the center of the floor, with hallways splaying out like spokes on a wheel. Behind the desk were men and women wearing similar clothes with name badges attached at collars, pockets, and sleeves. On the wall behind the desk was a white message board appearing to have been written on with a marker. The board read:

Welcome to East Raleigh Hospital

Pediatrics Wing!

Date: Wednesday, August 23, 2023

Doctor: Damien Livingston, MD Ped.

Nurses: Dakota Brandt, RN

Reagan Morgan, RN

Azalea “Zay” Bennett, RN

“Zay! Room 303 needs you!” the man sitting behind the desk called behind him, typing away on what Liebgott and Speirs assumed was another weird typewriter.

“Coming!” Joe and Ron’s heads whipped around to see their target speed walking into a patient room with a sign on the wall reading “303.” Her azure hair was tied into a short but bouncy ponytail, black glasses framing her eyes that matched her hair in color. Her clothes were similar to the rest of the employees in the hospital - a shirt with a multitude of pockets and cuffed pants with cargo pockets. The girl’s look was finished with a stethoscope laying around her neck and a pair of scissors hanging off a loop on her pants. The pastel pink of her uniform was a prominent but pleasing contrast to the saturated color of her hair.

“There’s our girl,” Joe Liebgott mused, leaning against the wall, unable to stop a smile from growing on his face. “What do you wanna do, sir?” he asked Captain Speirs, turning his head to look at the superior officer. Speirs continued looking thoughtfully at the room, and Liebgott could see the wheels turning as he figured out what to do.

“Sublest thing to do would be to wait until she takes a break, but I’ve never known Doc, or any medic for that matter, to take a break of his own volition,” Speirs mused. Sure, Zay may not have been a doctor, but Speirs could still not remember a time where he saw anyone at an aid station choose to leave their patients.

“Would there be any other reason she’d leave the floor?” Joe responded, keeping an eye on room 303. Just then, a voice came over the hospital speakers calling “code blue, room 350.” In the blink of an eye, medical staff could be seen speeding down the hall past the boys, Zay along with them.

Speirs gave Liebgott a knowing look before both of them speedily followed the group. The pair passed a door with a small window, showing the room to be empty, save for a table with a couple of chairs. Testing the doorknob as they passed it, the door slowly creaked open. In a flurry of surprisingly silent motion, Speirs grabbed Zay around the waist, using his other hand to cover her mouth before whirling into the room. Liebgott quickly shut the door behind them and kept an eye out the window as Speirs shoved the nurse against the wall, his hand still covering her mouth.

Speirs’ eyes pierced into hers, shock and fright evident on the girl’s face. “No more hiding, blue,” Speirs whispered threateningly to Zay, her fear only intensifying. “I’m going to remove my hand, and when I do, you’re going to tell us what you know about Easy Company and how you know it. And don’t pretend you don’t know anything, we heard you say our names earlier. If you scream, try to fight, or try to run, this is going to end very badly for you, understand?” Zay nodded as best she could, Speirs’ hand limiting her head’s range of motion. Slowly, Ron took his hand off of her mouth, staring expectantly, and scarily, at the nurse.

Speirs and Liebgott were unsure what they expected Zay to say, but her answer to Speirs’ command was definitely not it. “You’re on TV,” she spoke in a low, shaky voice. “T-the show, there’s a show, it features Easy Company,” While the words themselves were difficult to believe, Ron saw honesty in her eyes.

“So you’re telling me that there’s a TV show about us, and it tells everyone everything about us,” he replied, once again hating how fantastical everything happening around him was. The nurse nodded her head, slowly becoming more confident.

“Why do you want to know?” She asked, confusion joining the fright still evident in her expression. Speirs scoffed at the question.

“You telling me us going through the foxhole isn’t on the show?” he challenged the nurse. The muscles in Zay’s face scrunched as she listened to the officer.

“What do you mean going through the foxhole?”

The officer thought for a moment, debating whether or not to share more information with the stranger. Grumbling in frustration, Ron decided it was worth the risk, “In Bastogne, a bunch of us jumped into a foxhole after we saw Doc Roe drop in and not come out.” Zay’s eyes grew wide as she listened to Speirs. After a moment, her expression changed to one of irritation. The adrenaline had subsided, and Zay’s common sense kicked in - there was no way the characters from Band of Brothers were here, holding her hostage in the patient-conference room.

“Look, your costumes are great, but I need to get back to my patients,” she said as she attempted to walk past Speirs. As Zay started to move, the officer forcibly shoved her shoulders back against the wall, effectively pinning her. His tall figure towered over her, and Zay could feel her fear rising once again.

“Why the fuck would we be lying about this?” he asked with agitation.

“Alright, prove to me you’re from the 1940s,” Zay instructed with as much courage as she could muster. Speirs thought for a moment before Liebgott spoke up.

“I think I got something that can prove it,” he explained before patting his pockets, searching for something. Zay and Speirs watched the soldier as he pulled out a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes and a dollar bill. Both, while appearing relatively new, showed the date. On the bottom of the Lucky Strikes, the year next to the copyright symbol read 1944. Likewise, the dollar bill displayed a print date of 1944. Zay gulped as she stared at the evidence - her favorite TV show has come to life right before her.

“Alright, I believe y’all,” she responded with a shaky voice. “H-how many of y’all are here?” Zay asked as Speirs’ grip on her shoulders relaxed.

“There’s ten of us - Winters, Nixon, Guarnere, Toye, Bull, Luz, Roe, Malarkey, Speirs, and me,” Liebgott explained, Zay nodding in understanding. Liebgott continued to explain how they fell into an alley, and how they made the trek to the hospital after Luz landed on Malarkey. Speirs wanted to reprimand Liebgott for giving away so much information, but the air of kindness and honesty around the blue-haired girl put the officer at ease.

“So y’all really have no clue where you are or how you got here…” Zay thought aloud after Joe explained everything to her. Ron and Joe shook their heads, indicating their lack of knowledge. “Would y’all be willing to take me to captain Winters? If it’s okay, I’d be happy to help you guys if I can,” Zay offered shyly, still rather intimidated by Speirs.

Speirs nodded before replying, “We’re not really sure where he is, the guy with the clipboard just said that Malarkey was admitted to a bed and then led the rest of the guys behind a door.” The nurse gave the soldiers a warmhearted smile as she responded.

“I know where he is, just follow me,” the blue-haired girl said, Speirs finally allowing her to slide past him. Liebgott politely opened the door for her as the two soldiers followed the nurse out and down the hall.

~~~~~

Chapter One | Chapter 3

Taglist: @b00ks1ut , @blueberry-ovaries , @bucky32557038ww2 , @claudycod , @dontirrigateme , @emilee1421 , @executethyself35 , @hanniewinnix , @ithinkabouttzu , @jump-wings , @love--persevering , @panzershrike-pretz , @stolen94 , @xxluckystrike

Thank you again for reading! Be on the lookout for Chapter 3 coming next week! ✨