#same goes with the jorts

[intotheelliwoods]

Hey so I guess we’re on the same team now lol 👋👋

Bean gang bean gang bean gang!!!!

[mead-iocre]

yall have heard of (and love!) leah's spoilt!reader

now let me introduce you to alexia's brat!reader:

alexia's controversially young gf

this girl carries a bag with hundreds of random keychains and trinkets and ribbons and strings dangling from it

people hear the click clacking of her bag before they even see her

is a biter (affectionately). will bite alexia's arms (!!!), fingers for absolutely no reason. alexia could be minding her business and then all of a sudden someone is chomping on her left bicep

brings her old sony digital camera everywhere with her. her bag rule is that if a bag can't fit her camera, she's not buying it.

she takes the best pictures of other people. helping them pose, making sure the flash is on(!!!!). would lie on the dirty pavement if it meant she could get the best angle for other people's photos.

the same way she's very particular about the way other people take her pictures. you can bet she's instructing alexia like a military general about how she wants her photos taken. "okay angle it upwards slightly so my legs look long, but make sure you can't see the bin next to me. and make sure you're taking multiple shots. like quickly"

curates her ig feed to her personal vibe. like if you're going to perceive her, at least you're going to see the best pictures of her

always comes to alexia's games with the coolest fits-- sheer lace tops, washed denim jorts, mini leather skirts etc. she's known to be one of the best dressed wags

just like alexia, she loves her arm tattoos. she has a few on her arm

annoying alexia is her favorite past time. she'd do that thing where if alexia drops something and goes to pick it up, best believe this girl is air humping her from behind for shits and giggles. "¿Qué putas?" "nada. nothin nothin'" and then you're running away from her

she's grabbing your jaw to scold you. trying to get you to see that she's serious but you can see the corner of her lips twitching.

"you are so fucking weird d'you know that?" "blah blah. gimme a kiss "

"that was not very demure of you alexia. not very mindful, not very cutesy" "I don't know what any of those words mean. Is this another one of your English slang shit?"

!!!!! new reader alert !!!!

alexia needs a gf that is the complete opposite of her personality aka she needs a brat!gf.

cannot wait to write about her <3333

-- kisses, butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[sometimesanalice]

Sun Stroke

Summary: It’s been a few months since you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and moved to San Diego. And when Rooster and his teammates introduce you to Dogfight football, you know you’ll never be the same again. Hard pressed and out of sorts, you take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw/Female Reader

Length: 8k

Warnings: smut, mentions of masturbation, an ode to the jorts.

(author's note: this is a prequel to the 'Like I Can' series, however it can be read on it's own!)

Bradley Bradshaw was a dead man.

The hangover you’d woken up with was 100% his fault for pressing that final Blue Moon into your hand last night at the Hard Deck.

It had been a couple years since the last time the two of you had seen each other in person and even longer since you’d both lived in the same city, but he knew you. And he without a doubt knew better than to order you another drink when you were already fighting back the giggles.

But what were you going to do, not drink a free beer paid for by your longtime best friend? Not to mention the way he’d teasingly called you a lightweight in a way that sounded a little too much like a dare.

You’d only moved to San Diego a little over a month and a half ago, and maybe if you were going to own up to the role you played in earning this headache, you probably should have known better than to try and keep up with the group of aviators. But since he’d been the one to drive and you were having a good time, you’d thrown caution into the wind and cheers-ed his glass with your own with a grin.

Bad choices shouldn’t taste so good.

It was a citrus-kissed mistake you were paying for now with your head pounding as you rushed around your apartment in a frenzy trying to throw your things together to get out the door to meet everyone at the beach. It’s a feat that would have been so much more manageable if you hadn’t been surrounded by a sea of cardboard boxes, all in various stages of unpacked disarray. It’s an inconvenient maze made by your own procrastination.

Those pain relievers you’d popped not too long ago couldn’t kick in quick enough.

You were running late. You hate being late.

And the way your phone keeps pinging is stressing you out even further. You know it’s Bradley and you’ve been ignoring it in favor of trying to get your act together. It goes off again, barely a minute since the last text had come through, but this time you pause your rummaging to check it.

🔴 Rooster, 11:10 AM: where are you??

🔴 Rooster, 11:17 AM: on a scale from 1-10 how bad is your hangover?

🔴 Rooster, 11:22 AM: tick tock, kid.

🔴 Rooster, 11:23 AM: bring me a coffee?

You roll your eyes at the nerve of that last one. He was going to have to beg Jimmy to make him a tar-like pot from the Hard Deck’s ancient coffee maker if he wanted any. If you were suffering through a hangover, he could suffer through being undercaffeinated.

It didn’t help that you were feeling more high strung than usual. Your vibrator had died before you could finish last night and you’d meant to buffer in time for a quick orgasm this morning, but then you’d slept through your alarm.

You hadn’t had sex since you’d broken up with your ex almost three months ago. While you were doing just fine on your own, you were getting tired of the feel of your own hands and fingers.

When your boss had mentioned the promotion that he wanted to put you forward for, you were elated until he mentioned it would involve relocating to the West Coast office. You’d been on the fence, it was the next step towards your dream job, but you were content with your life in Boston. That night when you had casually mentioned the possibility of it to your boyfriend at the time, it seemed clear to you that it would be an either-or situation.

Either you’d stay in Boston with him or you’d move to San Diego on your own.

Not wanting to rock the boat, you didn’t mention it again. Even though you were still weighing the choice in your mind. It wasn’t until a phone call with Bradley, that you’d finally settled on the right choice for you. After breaking it off with your ex, the two of you had essentially lived like roommates until you’d left without a look back.

At the time, you thought it had been a brilliant idea to use some of your less worn clothes as packing protection for your things. But now as you desperately dig through your third box labeled Bedroom looking for the sporty black and white one piece with the zipper that you know you have but can’t seem to find, you’re starting to think you might be the biggest idiot on the West Coast.

The only beach appropriate thing you’d been able to find in your frantic searching was the bright red scalloped bikini you’d bought a few years ago for a bachelorette party in Tulum wrapped around a set of pretty glass candle holders. And while it made your boobs look great, it was much sexier and revealing than what you were going for to meet up with the Daggers on their home turf.

When your phone dings yet again, you finally admit defeat and give up on your search. In a huff, you put on the bikini, giving the bow behind your neck a good tug before pulling up your denim shorts with a couple jumps, trying to speed things along.

Earlier, you’d found the sticky note that said “FRIDGE!!!” underlined a few times by a heavy hand on top of the beach bag you vaguely remember packing for yourself the night before. The soft cooler bag covered with cheerful palm leaves had been haphazardly shoved onto the top shelf and was now sitting by the front door with the rest of your things, including the low sitting pink and white striped beach chair that Bradley had given to you as a ‘Welcome to San Diego’ gift.

You take one more passing glance around your apartment you look for any stray item that might have been missed- not that you’d be able to spot anything anyways through the cardboard battleground that is your apartment- and then you’re shoving your feet into your sandals and flying out the door in a flurry.

Pulling into the private lot of the Hard Deck, you park in the open spot next to your best friend’s blue Bronco. The bar wouldn’t be open until later, but Penny had given the group of aviators’ carte blanche parking perks. It was something you were especially thankful for as you slung the heavy bags over your shoulder.

The warm coastal breeze and briny salt air were clearing the cobwebs from your head.

Even though the feel of it drifting over your bare skin reminded you of just how exposed you were in just your skimpy bikini top and frayed denim shorts, you’d only realized when you were halfway to the beach that you’d forgotten to put a shirt on in your haste to get out the door. But you were sure you’d packed an oversized linen shirt to cover up with if the sun got to be too hot.

As you pass by the well maintained, but sun-bleached patio, you see Penny sitting at one of the picnic tables with her laptop. She waves when she sees you and you raise the iced latte you’d stopped for up to her in greeting, as much as you can without having the beach chair slip off your shoulder.

Further down the beach, you see the group of energetic aviators. Nat looked a bit like an orchestral conductor the way she is directing the finishing touches on the set up. You weren’t too late, just fashionably so, but you were already planning to buy them all a round of drinks later anyways. Even though it’s just a casual hang out, you still want to make a good impression with Bradley’s friends.

It was been one of the things you’d been most worried about moving here. Rooster had opened the door for you to get to know his friends, but you didn’t want to be just an extension of your best friend in the way it felt like you had been in high school. You really liked these people and wanted to make your own friendships with them too.

You’re more than regretting the choice to try and bring everything in one go, with the way the sand is shifting under your feet and how your beach bag and chair keep bumping against each other with every step you take. And just as you’re contemplating ditching them for the moment to circle back for after you get rid of the cooler bag that’s weighing you down, you see Fritz nudge Bradley, pulling his attention away from his phone and pointing in your direction.

The wide grin that appears on his face is immediate and you feel the corners of your own mouth pulling up. California looked good on him. He seemed happier and lighter here, more like the boy you knew from back home. The one he’d been before he lost his mom and the man who’d helped raise him. You hope that one day it’ll look just as good on you. He gives the other man a quick pat on the back before he’s setting off towards you in an easy jog.

“Hey, where’s mine, kid?” Bradley asks, nodding to your drink with its ice cubes now more than half melted before effortlessly taking the heavy bag from you.

You’re so grateful for his help- now that you can feel your arm again- that you almost forget that you’re supposed to be annoyed at him.

“You know what you did, Br-adshaw,” you retort, catching on his name and hoping he could feel your attempt at a glare from behind your dark sunglasses.

It was a change you were still getting used to. You’ve known him since you were eight, he’s always been Bradley to you. But you’d caught on very quickly that everyone else here only ever seemed to call him ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’. And he’d grinned so widely the first time you’d called him by his callsign that it seemed like a confirmation to the question you’d been too apprehensive to ask.

The man didn’t even have the courtesy to look guilty, the all too knowing smirk on his face confirmed everything you already knew, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Mhmm, sure,” you say, flatly pressing your lips together in an unamused line. You’re tempted to flip him off now that you have a free hand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He tugs his sunglasses down his nose with a finger to look at you from over the top of them, more serious now, “But you had fun, right?”

And it’s too hard to keep up with the façade of being mad at him when he is looking at you so earnestly. When you were younger you had a higher tolerance against those big brown eyes, his ‘cow eyes’ as Carole had called them. Now that you lived here maybe you’d have a fighting chance against them again, but you felt yourself giving into them.

You were still getting use to the fact that you got to be around him all the time again, and sometimes it felt like you were relearning him as an adult. Your friendship with him felt just as familiar as it always had, but you could admit it was also different now.

“A little too much,” you say with a light laugh at your own expense, “But yes, I had fun, Rooster. I really like your friends.”

He smiles, pleased. “Ok, good.”

Bradley slings an arm over your shoulder and the two of you start walking towards the rest of the group. You hold your drink up for him to take a sip as a sign of truce.

He grimaces at the taste, “Why does it taste like I just licked some of that potpourri shit my Grandma Rose used to keep in her house?”

“Maybe because it’s a lavender latte,” you say, taking a smug sip of your own now that the two of you were even. The coffee shop you’d stopped at has become your favorite in the area. It was a little thing, but you liked having a go-to spot when so much still felt so new to you.

“You’ve only been here a few weeks and they’ve already got you drinking the California Kool-Aid? Coffee should taste like coffee, not a damn flower,” he gripes.

“You sound like you’re seventy. Next, you’ll be yelling at kids to get off your grass,” you tease, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “And I’ll have you know I liked these before I moved here. It was just an extra selling point getting one this morning because I know you aren’t going to drink it all when my back is turned.”

He barks a laugh, “Now that I know there were ulterior motives involved, I might just have to help you finish it.”

You stop and push your sunglasses onto the top of your head, giving him a firm look, “You’re still on friendship probation, tread carefully where my coffee is involved.”

Bradley playfully reaches out for your coffee, “You don’t scare me, kid.”  You attempt to push him away, but he doesn’t budge an inch.

The two of you had basically reached the rest of the group. The gentle crash of the waves was mingling with the sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing from a speaker and the bursts of easy laughter of his friends. Jake is a few feet from the two of you at the edge of the set up as he works to cover himself with sunscreen, the mist sparkling on the fine hairs on his forearms before he rubs it in. 

“You might have those curls figured out now, but I bet my mom still has photos of you with that terrible middle part from when you were thirteen. Don’t mess with me, Bradshaw.”

His head snaps towards you, “Your potpourri coffee is safe, I promise.” You can’t help but laugh at the panic in his voice and the way he warily eyes Jake, clearly not wanting the other man to get his hands on any potential blackmail material.

The sound of a low, exaggerated whistle pulls your attention over to Hangman. “Lookin’ good, kid,” Jake drawls, a pair of dimples punctuating his lazy grin on either cheek, “Red is definitely your color.” His pecs and abs are gleaming in the sun. He’s not your usual type, but it’s working for you more than it should.

God, you really needed to get laid. Or at least get a more reliable vibrator.

“Nah, I’m not having any of that,” Bradley warns, pointing a finger at him, “You cut that shit out right now, Seresin.”

Jake puts his hands up in surrender, but that sharp smile gets even wider, “Just givin’ the lady a compliment, Rooster, don’t get your feathers in a ruffle.” He sends you a wink and you think you hear Bradley grumble something under his breath.

The blonde with all his pretty boy looks was absolutely a shark when it came to finding ways to get under Rooster’s skin. You’d heard your best friend complain about him for years. And even after learning about their truce, you hadn’t been too sure about meeting him in person. But ultimately his easy charm had won you over pretty quickly. You could admit that now you had a lot of fun teaming up with Jake and riling Bradley up.

“Thank you, Jacob,” you sing, tugging on Rooster’s arm towards the spot that had been left open for you in between his things and what you recognized as Natasha’s oversized beach towel.

You gingerly balance your coffee on the arm of his deep green beach chair before dropping the rest of your things into the sand and take in the carefully curated beach arrangement.

Fritz and Harvard are off to the side casually tossing a frisbee back and forth between them. Callie and Nat were facing off against Coyote and Payback in a game of cornhole laughing as they shit talk. Yale looks like he is napping, but you spot the AirPods in his ears, probably trying to listen to the audiobook he’d recommend to you last night in peace. Next to him is Fanboy, who looks pretty engrossed in the comic book he’s reading. And Bob was making his way back up the beach towards the group from where he’d been down by the water.

“I’m going to go offload that and say ‘hi’ to people,” you tell Rooster. Taking the heavy cooler bag back from him, you set off towards the designated grazing area in the middle of the ocean-facing semicircle Nat had corralled people into, greeting his friends as you pass by.

You were more than a little curious about tipsy you had packed for the day. Unzipping the bag, the first thing you spot is the last thing you ever would have expected to find for a day at the beach.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, hesitating for a moment, unsure whether or not to add it to the rest of the things in the cooler.

“Are those pickles?” You turn to see Mickey standing behind you.

You hold the jar up for his inspection, “I can’t tell you what I was thinking by bringing them. Do you think I should put them in?”

He surprises you when he whoops and takes the jar from you, holding it above his head like a championship belt, “Yo, Payback! Look! The kid brought pickles!”

“Which kind?” Reuben calls back, taking a pause from the game with a beanbag still clutched in his hand.

“Claussen! The whole kind!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” he hoots, sending you a thumbs up. “Grab me one too, Fanboy.”

Mickey twists open the lid with a satisfying pop and fishes one out. “These are the best, thanks!” he says before excitedly hustling off towards Reuben to share, the cornhole game now on an indefinite pause.

You hadn’t been too sure what tipsy you had been thinking, but apparently the beach pickles were destined to be a hit. Either that or you weren’t the only one trying to shake off the tail end of a hangover this morning.

Bob swings by to grab a soda, but stops to help you unload the rest of the things from your bag. As the two of you work together, he tells you about the crab he’d found near the patio of the Hard Deck that he’d just released back into the ocean. 

Both of the large coolers were pretty packed, so no one would be going hungry or thirsty today. You make a note to shop around for one of your own and maybe a beach umbrella since no one else seems to have one. You were more of a sand, sea, shade type of girl.

Once everything is all put away, you grab a couple bottles of water and make your way back to your friend. You catch him taking another curious sip of your coffee, this time he nods like the taste might be growing on him. You let it slide because you see that while you’ve been away he’s set up your chair for you.

“Are you feeling peckish, Rooster?” you ask, plopping the water in his cup holder, eyeing the pilfered bag of trail mix he must have pulled out of your tote bag in his hands.

“What?” Bradley shrugs, unapologetically. You roll your eyes at him affectionately as he helps himself to another handful. “God, I’ve missed this. Japan has so much good food, but one of the perks of being back stateside after a year and a half is all the snacks. I’ve been going to Trader Joe’s like twice a week since I’ve been back.”

You still didn’t know anything about the mission that had brought him back to Top Gun. That phone call you’d had with him the night before he’d shipped off had played in your mind on repeat until he’d texted you that he was back safely in San Diego. The only thing you had been able to glean is that not everything went according to plan, based on his newest additions to his collection of scars. They were the first thing you’d noticed when he’d picked you up at the airport. Still shiny, pink, and fresh.

“Well, with that Hawaiian shirt collection of yours, you’d certainly fit in.”

He chuckles at that as he takes a moment to sort through the collection of various nuts and fruit and chocolate bits, he plucks out the raisins and drops them back in the bag. You bite back a smile because some things never change. He’s always pulled out the raisins, usually to replace them with more chocolate chips. Back when you were teens, his infamous ‘Bradshaw Mix’ was basically a 3-1 ratio of chocolate chips to anything else.

“Wait a second. Hold up, ‘peckish’?” His hand pauses halfway to his mouth, “Was that a joke at the expense of my callsign, kid?”

You point at yourself like who me? blinking innocently at him, “I would never.” Then grabbing a few of the nuts from his open hand you pop them into your mouth, shooting him a sunny grin.

Now that everything was all situated you felt like you could finally relax. You were like this when you traveled too, never at ease until you were through security with your bag stowed above your head. That tightness in your chest only releases after you’re buckled into your seat with all your in-flight necessities tucked away in the seat pocket in front of you.

Maybe that’s why it took you so long to notice the shirt that he was wearing. Well, mostly wearing. The sleeves had been cut off with an overenthusiastic hand and neared nip slip territory with the amount of Rooster’s golden skin that was on display.

“The Hooters shirt, really? Of all the things you could have held onto from your glory days, you chose that? How gauche.” You slide your sunglasses back on your face with your pinky exaggeratedly pointed up to the sky for dramatic flair.

He clutches his chest, “She’s got that fancy degree and been living in a big city and now she thinks she’s too good for Hooters? My, my how times have changed.” Bradley whips his tank off and tosses at you the same way he had done hundreds of times when the two of you were growing up.  Except the overpowering smell of teen spirit and axe body spray was replaced with a subtle, rich woodsy smell.

Rooster laughs when you succumb to the urge and throw him your middle finger. 

“Your motley crew of teenaged horndogs only went there because you all had a crush on Danielle Batula’s older sister,” you shoot back, folding up his shirt and putting it on top of your things.

“Hey now, we also went for the Lots-a-Tots. I’ve always been a feminist, kid, if a woman feels empowered wearing those spandex shorts then I’m going to support her,” he says with a wink, “Far be it from me to tell a woman what to wear.” You reach up to flick his nose and he bats at your hand, grinning even wider.

“And what’s the excuse for the reason you’re wearing jorts at the beach?”

Not that any man should be able to pull them off, but he wore them well. You were pretty sure he could pull off most anything with the body he’d worked for over the years, but the fact of the matter was that denim had no place mixing with sand.

“These are my beach jeans,” he says like it’s the most logical thing in the world, as he strikes a pose with his hip cocked out.

“I can see that, Rooster. But why?”

“It’s because they get him laid,” Javy cuts in with a booming laugh, slapping Bradley on the back as he passes by on his way towards the coolers, “Isn’t that right, Bradshaw? How many numbers did you score the last time we all did this? Like five?”

He runs his against the back of his neck, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever known him to be, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. She doesn’t need to hear about all that.”

“Oh.” It sounds just as stupid coming out of your mouth as you feel, not entirely sure how to respond or what to do with yourself.

Objectively speaking, you know your best friend is attractive. Tall, broad, and tan. You’d seen him get hit on more than a few times at the Hard Deck in the short time you’ve been here. But Rooster’s sex life wasn’t something you really wanted to hear about- or think about- especially when yours is nonexistent at the moment. 

However, it was one thing to generally know Bradley had no problem finding someone to take home and a different thing to hear just how easy it was for him. 

But you couldn’t say it surprised you though. During your first night out with everyone, you’d overheard a girl in the bathroom talking to her friend about him in more detail than you ever wanted to know, right down to confirming there had been more to the story he’d told you about how he’d earned his callsign.

You pointedly ignore the turn in conversation in favor of digging through your woven beach bag. You hadn’t had the time to apply sunscreen with all your rushing around to get here, and knowing Rooster he most likely hadn’t put any on either. His shoulders aren’t pink yet, but they undoubtedly will be by the end of the day. Even with the SPF 65 you’d purchased with him in mind.

Grabbing the bottle, you smoothly lob it to him, “Here, put that on. ‘Lobster’ isn’t nearly as cool of a callsign, Rooster.” You have to turn away from the chaotically haphazard way he rubs it all over his face. 

Leaving him to his own devices, you pull out a battered paperback book and toss it into your chair, only slightly mortified to see that tipsy you had been in a grocery store bodice ripper mood. If only you had noticed it earlier, you would have swapped it out for something less incriminating.

How you’d taken the time to unpack your books, and not all your clothes was beyond you.

You’re about to step around to the front of your pink and white striped chair when you feel a firm tug on the belt loop of your shorts, making you stop to turn back towards your best friend.

“Woah, get back here. We can’t have you frying, kid.” He squeezes some sunscreen into his hand, “Turn around and I’ll get your back for you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you say, adamantly shaking your head, “I trust you with a lot of things, but I am not trusting you to put the SPF on me. You haven’t even rubbed it all the way in on your face yet.” You thumb at the smear of white on his cheek to further emphasize the point.

“Hey, these hands handle a multimillion-dollar fighter jet, I’m more than capable of covering your back with sunscreen,” Rooster huffs, “Now, c’mere.”

Natasha laughs beside you as you dart out of his reach and around your chair to stand by her instead. She must have just walked up, because the last time you’d seen her she had been over on the other side of the group talking to Callie. But you had every confidence she would back you up with this since her friendship with Bradley was one that spanned years, and she’s undoubtedly seen him fried to a crisp before too.

“She makes a good point,” she says with a smirk, pinning him with a sharp raise of her eyebrow, “The last time I asked one of you guys, I ended up with the worst tan lines.”

The look of betrayal on his face is comical, “And here I thought we were friends.”

“I’ve decided to upgrade,” she says pointing to you. You beam in victory towards him and he just shakes his head at you before looking down at the large blob so sunscreen in the center of his large palm like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

You take Natasha up on her offer to help you cover the spots you can’t reach. All the while, you can hear him grumbling to himself as he works on rubbing in the dollop that had been meant for you over his shoulders and chest. After she’s done with your back, you shimmy out of your shorts and work on getting your arms and legs covered.

As Nat pulls up her thick, shiny hair onto the top of her head- the reason she must have come over here in the first place- and reminds Rooster about the plan to play ‘Dogfight’ football a little later before setting off again. You’d heard of flag football, but that name was new for you. You’d seen enough football with your ex and you were suddenly very grateful you’d brought a book to keep yourself occupied, even if it was a bodice ripper. 

You double check your set up, ready to hunker down, when you feel Rooster’s eyes trained on you, “What?”

“Just looking for evidence of this tattoo you allegedly have,” he says, doubtfully, “Considering that I only found out about last night. Since when do we keep secrets?”

“I told you it’s not for the viewing public, so it’s none of your business. Now, stop hovering and go play with your friends. You’re annoying me,” you say without heat, shooing him away.

“Are you bossing me around, kid?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yep,” you say breezily, getting comfortable in your chair and opening your book, “You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

“You’d think,” Rooster agrees with a laugh. He squeezes your shoulder before strutting off to go join where Coyote, Harvard, and Fanboy are already tossing a football back and forth not too far away.

Now that you’re on your own, you lose yourself in the words printed on the cheap paper of your smutty bargain book. You’re too engrossed in the tension and build-up of the story you’re reading to pay attention to anything else. And you’re reminded why this particular book has never made it into a donation box when you do your spring cleaning, it’s got the best combination of all your favorite tropes. By the fourth chapter you’re completely immersed in the story, and all the chatter happening around you becomes white noise.

The only signal of time passing is marked by the melted ice in your empty coffee cup, by the crinkle of swiftly turning of pages, and by the sun as it rises higher and higher in the sky.

What minimal marine layer there had been when you’d first arrived is long gone. You’re probably due for another layer of sunscreen by now, but you can’t be bothered when you’re in the middle of possibly one of the hottest sex scenes you’ve ever read.

It’s so well written, so incredibly vivid that you can almost feel greedy hands and wandering mouths along every inch of you. The blood thrumming in your ears has drowned out the sound of crashing waves. You’re so hyperaware of your body. It’s as if you can feel every individual grain of sand on your skin. Tucked between your fingers, on your shin, in the nook of your ankle bone. The high heat of the day has your hair sticking to the back of your neck and sweat collecting in the hollow of your collarbone. You’re too keenly aware of the prickling sensation on your shoulders and the tops of your thighs.

You thought living vicariously through the main character might help take the edge off. Instead, all it’s done is given fresh life to the ruined orgasm from the night before, like an echo of need reverberating throughout your whole body. A reminder of how untouched you’ve been over the last few months. You can’t help the way you’re shifting in your chair, trying to relieve the way your clit is throbbing in time with your heartbeat. The moment your cunt clenches around nothing, you close your book with a sharp snap. Not even bothering to mark the page you left off at.

You feel fidgety and keyed up. 

Needing something to do, you grab your tote looking for the lightweight linen coverup you assumed was packed. But digging around all you can find is Rooster’s Hooters shirt from earlier.

You’re more than a little irritated at yourself for not double-checking you had everything before you left for the day, and because your tipsy self had clearly fucked you over. You don’t know anyone else as well as you know Bradley to rummage through their things to look for some other form of sun protection, so with a huff you pull it on over your head. The cotton is soft and warm to the touch. You’re grateful for the way it covers your shoulders, but you’re already mentally preparing yourself for how smug he’ll be when he sees you in it, especially after all the shit you gave him earlier.

Still needing to keep yourself occupied from wanting to crawl out of your skin, you crack open the water bottle you’d grabbed earlier and swallow down a few large gulps. You’d heard when Natasha had rallied the group for their game, but you hadn’t taken a moment to find out what ‘Dogfight’ Football actually was.

You’re not even the slightest bit prepared for what you see playing out in front of you down by the water. You’d figured watching some of their football game would help your act together, but now you feel even more spun out of control than before at the sight of so much skin.

Fuck.

The sun is bouncing off of their hard, athletic bodies. Under the shiny sheen of sunscreen and sweat, their muscles look bigger and the divots and ridges more pronounced. You knew these were some of the best and brightest the Navy had to offer, but seeing them in action was something else entirely. The power of their legs was impressive as they ran and spun around their opponents. The precision of their aim as they threw the football to a teammate. Every single one of them was in peak shape. Those weren’t vanity muscles, those were earned and honed by hard work.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from any of it.

The lithe line of Natasha’s toned thighs. The full, defined pecs on Jake’s massive chest. The way Bob’s large hands easily wrapped around most of the curved football he’d just caught. The skin over the wide expanse of Javy’s back was pulled taut, his muscles flexing as he twists and bends. The way Mickey was breathing hard made his chiseled abs stand out even more than they already did.

It was a lot. Especially for someone who couldn’t remember the last time they’d been good and truly fucked.

And then there was Rooster.

There had been a few moments since moving here where you’d been struck by this version of him. It was almost like your brain couldn’t connect the tall, broad man in front of you racing across the beach with the long-limbed, gangly boy you’d known with the red and black braces. Or the one in the teal shirt who’d scooped ice cream for his first job. Or the one who’d helped you pass Algebra 2 when the math teacher cared more about coaching the basketball team than he did trying to make sure his students understood the material.

Seeing him now, like this? This version of him was new to you.

Rooster’s chest and face were flushed pink, those curls of his are an absolute riot. The sweat he’d worked up made it look like his golden skin was gleaming in the bright afternoon sun, even with the patches of gritty sand that were sticking to him. Power and control radiated off every inch of him, the embodiment of physical strength and agility. Every movement he made was purposeful and precise, like he knew exactly what he was capable of.

You knew he was built, but the casual perfection of his body still takes you by surprise.

The broadness of his shoulders, the definition of his biceps and arms, the jutting v-shaped muscle that ran diagonally from his hipbones towards the trail of fine hair below his belly button. The long tendon that ran along the side of his neck was on full display as he throws his head back to laugh at something one of his teammates says. It was impossible to miss the unapologetic confidence in his swagger or the way those ridiculous jorts were clinging to his thick thighs. They were absolutely soaked through, the light wash darkened by the Pacific, and the denim was molded to him in a way that left nothing to the imagination. 

When did Bradley get an ass like that?

The startling intrusive thought about your best friend has you shooting up from your chair in a flash, your book tumbling off your lap and into the warm sand.

Jesus Christ, you needed to get a grip.

Shade. You needed shade and to get out of the heat. And you definitely needed to get away from the overwhelming display of sunkissed sweaty skin and peak physical prowess playing out before you.

And then you’re off like a shot towards the Hard Deck.

The burst of cool air you’re hit with as soon as you’re pushing through the patio door that Penny left unlocked for the group is more than welcomed against your overheated skin, even as it makes goosebumps erupt along your body.

You sigh in relief once you flip the lock to the worn wooden door of the bathroom closed. Leaning against the cool surface that’s littered with faded stickers from all around the world, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your racing heartbeat to slow down. You’re breathing hard like you’ve run a marathon, your lungs uncooperative to the point where you don’t feel like you can take a full breath. You’ve never felt this antsy before, it’s like there’s a live wire under your skin.

In the mirror, you catch a glimpse of yourself. You’re more than a little windblown, but it’s the wild gleam in your eyes that surprises you the most, it’s a look on yourself that you’ve never seen before. Your thighs rub together as you shift your weight on your feet and it makes the pulsing of your clit impossible to ignore.

You weren’t. You shouldn’t.

But you have no idea how you’re going to make it through the rest of the afternoon and evening if you didn’t with how on edge you are.

Bringing your hand up to your chest, you press it there and let your thumb soothingly skim the side of your neck, trying to use whatever techniques you’d learned in those overpriced yoga classes you’d started taking before you’d left Boston to calm yourself down. But your fluttery pulse won’t be pacified.

Every part of you feels hypersensitive, you can feel every thread of Rooster’s shirt against your too tight skin. The desire to be touched is overwhelming. Your breasts feel heavy and you’re all too aware of your peaked nipples against the cups of your swimsuit. You’re craving hands other than your own.

It’s been so long since someone else has made you come. Even longer since you’ve had a back-arching, toe-curling, steal-your-breath kind of orgasm. You want to be pressed into the door, you want a firm, solid body fitted against yours. You want to be kissed and touched and fucked.

You keep telling yourself that you aren’t going to, even as your hand trails down the soft cotton between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach down even further. Your fingers sneak easily beneath the top of your bikini bottoms since you’d left without pulling your denim shorts back on. There are no thoughts left in your head, only the ringing in your ears. You need, you need.

There’s a small whimper that escapes you at the first touch of your fingertips against your slippery clit. The sensation has your hips jerking forward on their own, seeing out more. You’re so wet already.

There’s no finesse or slow build up. No gentle teasing or trying to draw this out. Your fingers are making quick, tight circles on that pulsing part of you. In the quiet of the bathroom, the rhythmic slick sounds you’re creating feel almost too loud.

You already know it’s not going to take you long to get there, but you still can’t help but let your mind wander. You think of big hands with thick fingers, ones that are calloused and rougher than your own touching you in just the way you like. The thought of a thick thigh pressed in between your own, on you could rock and grind against, has you rolling your hips harder against your fingertips. You can almost feel the ghosting of hot lips, a wet mouth, and a teasing tongue along your neck. All you want is a raspy voice in your ear whispering filthy words and murmuring pretty praise.

Couldn’t even wait until you got home. C’mon then, dirty girl, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone and no one’s watching.

Go on, give that needy clit the attention it deserves. Spread your thighs open further- yes, just like that- I want to see how wet you are for me.

Jesus, look how hard you’re working for it. You’re going to make yourself come, and then I’m going to fuck you so hard that everyone will know what we did in here. They’ll all know how desperate you were for this cock.

A soft whine makes its way out of you, and with your free hand you pull up the collar of the shirt you’re wearing over your mouth to try and muffle your sounds as you tremble all over.

You’re hit with the scent of clean laundry and the warm, woodsy scent of expensive cologne. It’s rich and cozy, it reminds you of the trees that grow everywhere in your hometown. And underneath that, there’s a smell that you’d know anywhere, one you’ve always been familiar with. It smells like Br--

You come open-mouthed with stars blooming behind your eyelids, the force of it hitting you so hard that your knees nearly give out beneath you. The hand that had been covering your mouth slaps against the door for support. Your hips writhe against your fingertips as you chase those last shimmery moments of your release.

In your post-orgasm satisfaction, you feel like you can finally breathe again, now that all your antsy, unsettled energy has been freed from your body.

When you can feel your legs again, you go wash your hands once and then again for good measure. Like somehow it’ll erase the last few minutes from the Hard Deck’s history books, even though you’re sure it’s seen much worse. You chance a peek at yourself in the mirror, you look more relaxed than you did when you’d arrived.

Unlocking the door, you leave the sanctuary of the quiet bathroom. The only thing on your mind is the glass of ice water that’s calling your name. You’re about to round the corner out of the hallway when you collide into someone’s chest. A firm, sweaty, shirtless chest.

“Oh hey, there you are,” Rooster says, his big hand steadying you at the waist. “You ok? You look overheated, kid.”

Your face heats up immediately. You’re too flustered by what just occurred barely five minutes ago to look him in the eye. You feel embarrassment trying to bubble its way to the surface, but you push it back down in the name of self-care. Plus, you could always blame it on sunstroke if you had to, not that you were ever planning on telling anyone about it.

“Probably just dehydrated,” you ramble, trying to sound unaffected. Your eyes are trained on a spot just under his ear. “But you’re one to talk. You’re fried, Rooster.” With a finger you press lightly on his bright pink shoulder. His hisses and knocks your hand away.

“Nah, I’m just working on my base tan.” You don’t see as much as you feel the moment he notices what you’re wearing. Smugness rolling off of him in waves, “Not too good for Hooters now, are you?”

“Shut up,” you mumble.

“C’mon, let’s get you some water.” Tucking you under his arm as he steers you back towards the bar. “So what did you think of Dogfight football? Did you catch any of it or did your highbrow literary choice have your full, undivided attention?”

Your mind starts to whirl, unable to think of a reply. Thankfully you’re spared giving him an answer as the rest of the clamorous team spills in through the open patio door. The commotion is a godsend, because it’s almost like he forgot he even asked the question in the first place in the all the activity. The real answer will forever be a secret between you and the Hard Deck.

The late afternoon melts into evening like hand-churned ice cream, smooth and silky.

Eventually, the beach set up is packed away into trunks of cars as the party moves inside the bar. You end up back in your denim shorts, the Hooters shirt is the crowning glory to your ensemble for the rest of the night. You don’t even feel guilty getting people to call Rooster ‘Flamingo’ after the third time someone asks you about being out of uniform regulation. But he isn’t faring much better in the too-tight shirt he was borrowing, since it turns out that out of everyone in the group only Bob had been the one with enough common sense to pack a spare one.

As predicted, the pink hue of Rooster’s skin deepens with every passing hour until he’s bribing you into leaving early with the promise of burgers and milkshakes in exchange for putting on aloe for him back at his place.

He’s sprawled face down on his couch in a pair of loose sweatpants with his eyes closed, contentedly humming as you work on applying a second coat of the cool, soothing gel to his hot-to-the-touch skin. One of the movies the two of you use to watch all the time plays on in the background, the crumpled wrappers and empty cups of your dinner sitting out still on his coffee table. Every time you come here you can’t help but seek out any little touches that look like him, but much like yours, his condo seems to be a work in progress.

“It’s nice having you around, kid,” Rooster says with a sigh. “I’ve missed you.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, Bradshaw, I’ll put one more layer on for you before I leave,” you tease, as your hand follows the freckles along his back.

He squeezes your knee, “No, seriously. I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m really happy you’re here.” And you know that if you were to look in his brown eyes, you’d see nothing but fondness reflected in them.

You give him a soft smile, “I’m happy I’m here too.”

It’s late by the time you get back to your place.

It seems pointless with the cardboard boxes still scattered around your apartment, but you still go through the motion of putting all your things away. Like wiping out your cooler bag and throwing your clothes in the washing machine, including the well-worn Hooters shirt. You’ve already decided to spend the rest of your weekend trying to unpack your things, you’re ready to make your space feel more like your home.

It’s a slow sinking feeling that settles over you as you wash the sand and sea salt from your skin in the shower. Your day has been so filled with chatter and laughter, that it feels uncomfortably quiet. It was different from the peaceful quiet you’d had at Rooster’s place, this was the empty kind of quiet. 

You turn the tv on in your room and crawl into bed, savoring the way the cool cotton of your sheets feels against your legs. Checking your phone, you see that Nat has sent you some pictures that she must have taken during the day. Scrolling through them you like the windblown, carefree girl you see in them.

For as good as the day you’ve had, you can’t quite shake off how lonely you’re feeling now. You can’t help but think about how nice it would be to come home and have someone here to laugh and relax with. Someone just to be with.

You pull your lower lip in between your teeth as you click into the app store feature on your phone. Taking a few moments to skim the options, you download the dating app with the highest rating and best reviews, deciding that it can’t hurt to try.

Not everyone got to have a fresh start in a new city, and you wanted to make the most of it. A new city with new places to go and new people to meet.

And you are ready to embrace every bit of it with open arms and a hopeful heart.

California was going to look good on you.

Bradley Bradshaw, you liked that lavender latte and you're not fooling any of us!

Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @callsignspark for being the best babes to swoon over pretty pilots with!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[countjortula]

'I have so many headcanons about Matt' ok drop em

here's a few. I'm projecting but it's okay because I am matt jeevas and I make the damn rules here.

- has a vitamin D deficiency from hell

- used cheap hair products until mello came along and saw the absolutely disgusting, crunchy, dye/bleach damaged mop that was his hair. from that day forward, mello basically forced him to use more expensive shit.

- can and will go days on end without sleeping, either helping mello out or getting waaaaay too engrossed in games

- his diet consists of energy drinks and instant noodles (I'm projecting, I'm literally the same). even though he can cook. I like to believe that Wammy's taught these kids at least something about cooking and healthy diets and whatnot. be a bit stupid if they didn't

- prefers savoury to sweet, but likes to take small bites out of mello's chocolate sometimes

- most of his shirts are stripy, but he has some that say shit like "eat, sleep, game, repeat" or "murder is okay if you're sexy" or some absolute cringe like that

- likes salt and vinegar crisps!

- HE DOES LIKE MOUNTAIN DEW! STOP SAYING HE DOESN'T, IT UPSETS ME!

- loves jorts. totally the type or guy to wear jorts in december. he'd probably wear jorts to expensive, fancy restaurants. he would wear jorts to a job interview. this man would wear jorts at a funeral, a wedding, even a fucking baptism.

- he's a 'whatever happens, happens', guy. totally chill, just goes with the flow and doesn't let anything bother him. to be fair, he's probably too high to give a shit

- has crooked teeth and a gap in his front teeth. back at wammy's, they tried to make him get braces, but he refused because he thought hid crooked teeth were 'cool'

- he snores, and he sounds like a lawnmower when he does. it genuinely sounds like at least 10 planes taking off at the same time, it is so damn loud

- the dude ever. actually super hot under the goggles.

- CAT PERSON. HE IS A CAT PERSON.

-dropkicks or violently throws all his trash in the bin, cause it's fun as fuck.

and that's all I have for tonight because it is midnight and I'm so tired I could die. goodnight.

[bluecatwriter]

There's a long history of Dracula adaptations clearly made by people who have never read the book.

I think in this fine tradition you specifically should adapt the Beetle without reading it

You are SO right, anon. I am going to direct the movie version of The Beetle upon which all other adaptations will be based! It will full of iconic quotes that are not in the book and I will butcher all the themes and characters!

Initial thoughts:

-Robert Holt will be played by some no-name actor who is putting his entire heart, soul and mind into the performance. The Brick Guy is also played by this guy. The first part of the movie is filmed in a very straightforward period-drama style, with the exception of a Carpet Scene, which is filmed in soft focus like a "flashback to dead wife" scene.

-Robert will also of course be referred to as "Bobert" and wear jorts. Alas, he does not get a GAP sweatshirt or a slushie in this version because there are no Ordinary Solicitors to save him.

-The Beetle will be portrayed as just a beetle of varying sizes, and they will be CGI. Specifically the really low-budget bad CGI of the early 2000s. This is very important for my artistic vision.

-Paul Lessingham will also be CGI.

-The cat will be a real cat, and will be voiced by the guy who voiced Garfield from the 1990s Garfield and Friends cartoon.

-I am open to casting suggestions for Sydney Atherton, although again, I suspect that it would be best to forgo celebrities and cast a guy who has played the comic-relief guy in Oklahoma at community theater one too many times. I will change nothing about Sydney Atherton's atrocities, and will in fact probably add a few more, but all the other characters will say how manly and wonderful he is while he's like beating someone to death with a cricket bat in the background. The movie critics will read a lot into this directing choice.

-I will make Marjorie and Dora both girlbosses™ by giving each of them a sword and a multi-level marketing business. They will contribute nothing to the plot and I will be offended if people think they are bland characters.

-I don't really know the other characters, so they will be played by a gender-inclusive rotating cast, and everyone will keep mixing up their names. The goal is for it to be impossible to keep track of who's doing what at all times.

-The cat still dies but goes to Cat Heaven and there's a whole musical dream sequence (inspired by 1930s cartoons and musical numbers from Gene Kelly movies) about the cat having a really great time in Cat Heaven.

-During some mundane scene with this rotating cast of characters and CGI Paul Lessingham, Bobert will dramatically die of starvation in the background. Nobody notices.

-The train crash will be on-screen instead of off, and there will be a very long monologue from the train themself as they dramatically fall off a broken bridge (this will be a practical effect with a full-sized train). This monologue will be delivered by the same guy who plays the cat, and if the actor isn't crying real tears by the end, we will redo the take until we get it. There will be a lot of montaging and soft focus. We will give the train a tragic backstory, but the train is also kind of accepting of their fate, you know? The book of Ecclesiastes will probably be mentioned somewhere in here.

-I will be diverging from canon by having Sydney Atherton die in the train crash. Not from the train, though, he chokes on a shrimp cocktail moments before the train hits the ground.

-Credits roll

-Epilogue scene: Sydney Atherton ends up in Cat Heaven and all the cats jump on him like the hyenas at the end of Lion King and there's just a giant wriggling ball of cats. Bobert is there too, drinking a slushie in the background. Hard cut to black.

[carbon-dated-gal]

My personal HCs of Jeaneil bestfriendism

Tws: mentions of human trafficking, sh, injuries, parent death (Mary).

(Also set in Raven!Neil AU)

•Nathaniel willingly participates in human trafficking after Mary's death, b'cuz fuck you. Living without any real destination had killed Mary's humanity and identity and he's not going to end up like her.

•Belonging to someone, meant having their brand on your back (literally) and that was going to be his saving.

•But for better for worse, ichirou was the one to pay millions of dollars for someone something like him

•ofc, this meant Nathan couldn't touch him but it also meant he would end up in the exact same place that his mum had died for

•but that was when she doubted his capabilities in exy but now that variable was taken out, no?

•By the time abram arrives at Evermore, Jean already had been living there for an year

•anyway, jean and Nathaniel meet when they were both 15 yrs old. And due them both being in hard rebellious phase, they take swings and jabs at each other cuz well...

•they were about the only ones who saw each other as equal instead being something either above or below them

•he Goes by his middle name w both Jean and kev

•Jean picks out all the bell peppers from his meal and Neil sneaks them onto Kev's plate who begrudgingly eats them

•Codependency, man. So much codependency. You'll never see one w/o the other

•sometimes when Nathaniel/abram (ur pick) sneaks them out, it starts raining and jean immediately hates it. But his partner catches a couple droplets into his hand and he flicks them onto jean, smiling like he had no demons waiting for him back home

•and jean thinks the rain might not be so bad.

•post-game interview and reporters are onto jean asking him one intrusive question after and jean just glares at them. Flat eyes and all.

•'Ram jumps in, and asks the reporter why their mum doesn't love them and maybe that's the reason they turned out like this in life— Kev pulls him away by his collar, apologising to the reporter

•they get into trouble for that ofc

•when Kevin begs jean to help him after riko breaks his hand, abram tries to stop him. He knows they'll have to pay the price but the look jean gives him is absolutely heartbreaking, "it's Kevin, abram. We have to help him."

•Nathaniel doesn't help. But hours later, when riko asks about Kev's whereabouts, he steals himself and refuses to answer.

•stitching each other while trying to make the other one keep their head down. With, Nathaniel's presence in the nest, jean finds keeping his opinion to himself... A bit harder than in canon.

•"why the actual fuck is that man wearing fucking jorts here?"

"I dunno, jean. They look kinda cool"

"I'm sorry, cool?"

•abram: "yk, that one time when you took a step towards the right with riko, you'd have reached him faster if you skipped on ahead to him—"

Jean, dead tired and barely even listening: "jfc, it's 2.30 in the morning go tf to sleep."

•abram was the one to snatch away the blades from jean. He hides them and cradles Jean's face in his hands, avoiding the bruises. That was the first time Nathaniel had seen a man that vulnerable and comfortable around him

•after kev leaves, Nathaniel tries to take over his job by swallowing the vegetables from Jean's plate. He promptly spat out that piece of broccoli.

I have more ofc, but I feel this post is becoming a bit too long so.

[astro-ellie]

what style do you think modern abby dina and ellie would have? ♡♡♡♡

i honestly think ellie would have the same style that she has in tlou2. flannels and a little bit of a grandpa style (thinking about her rocking joel’s jacket) kind off… sunky core y’know. always uses converse no matter the season, has a pair of black headphones she takes with her everywhere with a bunch of stickers on. she wears a lot of rings and bracelets, and she has a signature necklace with joel’s old guitar pick. i think she’d like green a lot, and her room would be be filled with plants and those plastic plant vines you can hang on your wall/from your roof. nerdy posters all over her walls, with planets and dinosaurs and nerd stuff. starts getting patchwork tattoos as she gets older, many of them designed by herself, a few professional and a few stick’n’pokes.

as for dina i headcanon her as someone who would be enrolled in a billion different dance classes so she uses clothes that she can dance in, and that looks good dancing in. i think dina wears a lot of darker shades of red, and that she likes to wear long flowy skirts. i also see dina with a lot of piercings in her ears. she can keep earrings in while dancing, and they’re more comfortable to dance with than the most necklaces and bracelets. also think she’d like floral patterns and stuff on her clothes. also think dina would keep her hair down more often, and every once in a while she’d show up with some crazy coloured highlights in her hair. hot pink, blue, hell she even tried green once. in general she likes colours and don’t like dressing too plain.

abby is a total gym rat. mostly wears vintage/plain t-shirts that show of her biceps, likes to wear cargo pants or sweatpants. when it’s warm abby wears knee length gym shorts or jorts. abby always has her airpods in wherever she goes. mostly wear her hair in a braid or ponytail cause it’s easier when playing sports or working out. has a varsity jacket (obviously she plays whatever sport the university she goes to is the best at, volleyball, basketball, american football, football.) abby is a nike girl everyday of the week, and strictly wears airforce ones when she isn’t in the gym or on the (insert sport here)’s field. rarely wears jewellery because she would have to take them out all the time for her sport, but does have one earring on each ear . i can see her with very simple gold studs that her dad got her years ago. will walk around with her girlfriends scrunchie on the wrist at all times

[sparxaf]

The Inscrutability of Alex

So I might be working on an S7 Alex fic. I mean, I'm probably not working that. But I could be. Maybe. Anyway, for mysterious reasons, I decided to replay the current episodes because I found myself confused by a couple things with Alex. And a second playthrough left me even more confused. I sent @mrsbsmooth a nearly three minute, babbling voice note, asking her if I was missing something, because I cannot figure out how to write him.

This character is described by multiple others as having "golden retriever" energy. Something he absolutely does not have. I'd say he's not even that playful. It's just bizarre for anyone to say that. Nothing about him is overly energetic. Both Raf and Bryson are much better described like that. Alex has the most whistle-whilst-mowing-the-lawn-in jorts-dad energy ever. Golden retriever he is not.

So okay, his energy doesn't match the description. That's not a huge issue on its own. But like...who is he? He says he's not cocky, just confident.

Hmmm. Never is a strong word, innit?

Now, a less cynical person might say that Fusebox is just writing a realistic depiction of someone who is unaware of his own cockiness, but since I am a cynical asshole, I'm saying that Fusebox is not in the business of nuance. They make the same amount of money whether they spend the extra energy to give it depth or not. So they're never gonna bother with that. This is just inconsistent writing. Now, we all know that Alex's most overtly acknowledged trait is his desire to "Take things slow." He says he's looking for the one, and he's not gonna rush that. He knows things move fast there, but he still wants to take his time. He didn't kiss Estelle on the first night. He was uncomfortable with Summer being so forward before he knew anything about her. So how does a guy who takes things slow answer a question from a virtual stranger about what he does for a living?

A dirty joke. Yes, very much setting the tone for his lack of cockiness and his desire to take things slow 🙄 Though I do enjoy MC responding with "Very presumptive, but good to know." 😆😆😆 Not to mention, when he finds out you can snog during the icebreaker, he's not like, "Um too soon." Instead his eyes light up like he can't wait. It's so baffling. So let's say maybe he's just a slow mover who is also really flirty by nature. That feels like he's sending mixed signals at best and manipulating you at the worst. Now this one really threw me for a loop. There's a gem scene where you can ask the boys to tell you something cute about themselves. Alex tells a story about having a crush on a gym bunny and how it led him to weightlifting in order to ask her out. But he kept putting it off and by the time he finally got the nerve, she was already dating someone. So he learned not to hesitate. He learned to just go for it.

Um... what? That's a strange perspective to have for someone whose entire ethos is "Take it slow." Now, I'm aware that he is very straight forward with MC about where his head is at, so perhaps he just meant that he doesn't waste time letting someone know he's interested, but he still wants to take the relationship slow? I don't know. Last, but not least, on night one, you couldn't even kiss Alex (unless I'm misremembering). You could only snuggle. But on night two, Alex says he still wants to take it slow, but he wants to a little something. So the game gives us some options. And the first choice was to do bits. Now, this might be my fault, but I assumed that "bits" in this case would be some kissing and making out. Heavy petting. Maybe some under the clothes touching. But, to my utter shock, no it's not just a heavy make out sesh. Nope. He finger blasts you. He straight up bypasses the face lips and tiddies, and goes straight to rubbing the bean and shoving a digit inside of your person. It's an awfully intimate act for someone like him who's only been alone with you three times, and beyond challenge smooches (if you chose to even take those), has still never really made out with, nor kissed you privately. I would like to clarify that I'm not judging how fast or slow anyone goes in their personal lives. But I am I'm judging this character's pace in relation to the things he's been saying about his pace.

I wrote most of this before the last batch of episodes so I'll only lightly touch on the fact that Alex seems nearly ready to ask you to marry him the day after bringing you to the villa. So "taking it slow" really went out the window altogether.

Long story long, there are aspects to Alex I like. I mean, I'm writing him right now (OR AM I?) so it's not all bad. But it's really hard to attempt any canon reinterpretation, when I can't even sort out what canon is.

It just doesn't make sense. Is he cocky or not? Is he a slow mover or does he believe in not wasting time? Is he an inner city gym rat bro, or is he a home-on-the-range papa who wants to build you a cottage, and make babies? Is his whole "slow burn" thing some kind of manipulation to hide that he's a fuckboy (which would be hilarious) or he's just very badly written?

I love a good, lively conversation, so go ahead and let me know your thoughts. But for those who are rather... overly invested in Alex, feel free to yell at me about his perfection and how wrong and dumb I am. I look forward to deleting your vitriol.

[packet-of-staples]

What do ya think papyrus’s wardrobe would look like outside of his battle body?

(Ps your art is great!)

Ohoho I've actually thought about this because I have realised that his style is not even close to what my clothing style is (As much as that saddens me).

So, in my head he probably also goes for clothes on the tighter fitting side. OR on the flipside looser clothes so he can fit his battle body underneath it, undecided.

But anyway, going off of his Cool Dude and Jog Boy outfits I see him wearing pretty much exclusively crop tops and shorts, maybe the odd tank top here and there. Mfs midriff is always on show (If, you know, he had one). Something sporty ya know?

He also canonically alters his clothing (See, his cool dude shirt originally only saying 'Dude' on it apparently) so I see him probably embroidering or painting his clothing to make it 'cooler'. He probably has a denim jacket he painted flames on the back of like those pintrest jackets. He probably also embroideres his name onto the tags of his clothes.

I also see him as the type to wear like merchandise, specifically Mettaton merch or a shirt from some human sports team he found at the dump and he liked it because it had a basketball that was on fire printed on it. Oh also he definately has like, a skull and crossbones shirt, like his flag. Just cool dude stuff.

I cant decide if he would own Jorts, or if that is more a Sans thing. I think he'd wear a slim fit pair of jorts... he probably made them himself. Except Papyrus would wear them because he actually likes how they look, while I think Sans would wear them for the funnies.

He probably owns like, 5 different pairs of gloves too. They're all the same red ones.

I also found these bedazzled skeleton jeans on pinterest once and immediately thought he should wear them, but specifically human au Papyrus would wear them.

Alright those are my personal thoughts. Of course, now that he has his battle body he 'doesnt need' half of his clothes anymore. He can just paint his battle body to whatever he needs!!!

(Also thank you I'm glad you enjoy my work :]]])

[callsigncrash]

Various Characters with an S/O Who Likes to Draw on Them

Thank you @leleouwu again for your request! You really keep my page going and I really appreciate it! I split your request into 2 parts, I really hope that’s alright. Enjoy!

________________________________________________

Tokyo Ghoul

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Yamori

He’s a bit annoyed at first since he likes to keep a clean look going but if you really feel that you “have” to draw on him, then he’ll let you.

He prefers if you doodle on his forearms or upper arms. Hands are a no go for work reasons.

One of the times that he was getting ready to “take care of someone” in his torture room he had a bit of an awkward situation because of it. Essentially, the person in question went from looking mortified to confused as he saw the little doodle on his upper arm from underneath his button up. Obviously this is quickly forgotten when some fingers were taken off but it got him thinking.

He’s used to your doodles that he doesn’t even notice them all too much. That is until one day when he notices a specific one.

He feels oddly proud and happy when he sees it. So, he decides to get it professionally tattooed to surprise you.

He’ll start walking around with his sleeves rolled up and let you draw more. Might even let you draw on his knuckles.

Naki

He’s kind of confused at first but once he sees that you’re just doodling cute designs on him, he wholeheartedly encourages it!

He’ll start carrying pens around when you’re together so that you can draw on him. As this goes on he’ll go ahead and get you those tattoo pens so that your designs will last longer.

He knows that the tattoo pens are better to have on your skin but he loves gel pens. He’s got a drawer full of glitter and rainbow gel pens. There’s an endless supply.

After a while he’d ask to start doing the same to you. His drawings are a little crude but the little smiling figures, flowers, hearts, and swirls are just too cute.

Like Yamori, he’d probably ask you to design him a tattoo. I can see Naki getting a sleeve done with your art no matter what it is. It’s your art and he loves it just as much as he loves you.

He’d also ask if y’all could doodle something meaningful on each other and then get matching tattoos that way.

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Ice Cream Man/Art Brut

I will be posting this to my side blog @lactoseandsuffering .

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It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia

I love Ben and after rewatching the series for the millionth time, have decided to write for him.

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Ben (The Solider)

He’s a silly guy, he likes silly things, he wants to see your silly drawings. Better yet, draw on him. That way, he can see them all the time!

He really likes ones with little animals like dogs. If you doodle a simple lizard on his hand or leg, he rocks his jorts and your drawings, he will absolutely love it.

He puts smiley faces on your arm sometimes, he’ll be happy if you do the same.

You might even catch him doodling on himself after a while. Heck, you might’ve kick started a whole hobby!

He loves when y’all can draw on each other or even paint on each other.

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The Boys

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Homelander

He scoffs. Just straight up. Does he love you? Yes. Does he want ink all over his “perfect body”? No.

He thinks it’s pointless but he’ll begrudgingly let you when he’s out of his suit. Even then, it’s not very often.

He wants things like eagles, stars, etc. He’d feel a lot of pride if you went ahead and put his name on yourself though.

He’ll start carrying around a small notepad and pen for you when you ask to draw on him. It feels a little hurtful at first but when you open it you see some very reassuring words.

“Draw on this in the meantime, silly goose.”

Black Noir

He doesn’t exactly take off his uniform, plus he also doodles frequently! Y’all will probably go back and forth drawing on random slips of paper, note pads, etc.

After you notice him drawing some specific characters, you start drawing ones of your own along with his!

This makes him absolutely elated!

He got an invisible marker for you to draw stuff on his uniform with. He’s got a beaver on his gauntlet now, nobody has to know about that of course.

His friends told him to draw you a picture after he found out that he was going to be gone for a lot longer than he thought he would.

You woke up to a handmade card of the both of you that said “I’ll miss you!” In cursive. He even made sure to draw a little heart with the both of y’all’s initials on your hand.

[foolishfoolsgold]

SONA REVEAL FOR LIKE. THE LAST TIME I HOPE idk why I take this so seriously but hopefully my internet identity crisis is OVER!! 💥😃💥

Straight up. Learns a new art style just for this character bc I had to get the vibe right but she’s so ugly I love it sm. ID under the cut

[Start ID: the first image shows an unshaded colored ref sheet for an anthro Gardevoir character named Pyrite, who’s 19 and uses they/she pronouns, and asexual and genderfae flags are scribbled next to it. She is shown wearing a gray tee shirt with yellow words that say “NERD” on it, blue jorts, and black shoes with gray socks. She’s drawn in an exaggerated cartoonish style, along with a note that says “MY BLOOD IS FULL OF WESTERN 2000S CARTOONS.” She has messy hair with a long pink part in the back that goes down to her ankles, with a note indicating that she hasn’t cut it in like 8 years, and has a stray zig-zaggy hair on the top of her head. Of the white frills on her face, the largest one is an ear, and the other two aren’t. She also has a black ring on her right middle finger. Four headshots across the sheet show various expressions, along with a color palette, an example of the orange black holes that she can make, an example of her teal-colored telekinesis used on a thick Cells at Work manga, indicated on the cover as “NERD MANGA,” as well as another note that says “pretty much only likes science and fall out boy. And homework, for some reason.” Where “Fall out boy” is overlayed with the cover of Infinity on High. The background is white with pale teal stripes, and a watermark that says Fe2S: FOOLISHFOOLSGOLD is overlayed with a little 2024 written inside the F. The second image shows a few different outfits with the same background and watermark: one of Pyrite cosplaying as a red blood cell from Cells at Work, one of her in a black suit and teal tie, and one more casual outfit with black sneakers, jeans and a teal flannel over a black shirt. End ID.]

[tubbypeddle]

hii, I'd like a matchup for percy jackson and one piece please! (I'm using the previous person's request as a template sorry)

I’m a 5’9 girl, have brown skin, dark brown eyes, and curly/coily, brown hair. I have an athletic/rectangle-type body. I usually wear jorts/cargos and graphic tees when I feel masc. I love to wear crop tops and shorts when I feel more feminine.

im bisexual with a preference for men

im usually an extrovert on most days, especially with people I know, but sometimes I'm more introverted. i like to push myself to be a better version of me. i love adventuring, but I also enjoy relaxing a lot. i have a creative and active mind and I talk a lot. i love listening and debating on topics I enjoy.

i dislike people who are rude just to be rude/rude because they think its cool. people who give backhanded comments or gossip. i hate feeling overwhelmed or overstimulated, or just feeling tired in general.

irrational fear of heights lol. but really, im scared of not having a good future, and everything going wrong after college.

my hobbies are, reading, traveling, sports, writing, games, and baking

i love hugs and quality time with people I love, whether that be going out or just chilling at home.

what i prefer in a partner is someone who will be there for me when I struggle and feel overwhelmed. someone willing to be there for comfort, but also someone who isn't afraid of communicating their own feelings.

i think that's it, thank you!

okay so. ignore that this took even longer than it normally would.

because.

if you mention it, I might genuinely crash out

anyway.

(author's note: credits to gif owners, I do not own them. again, I literally cannot apologize enough, I am so sorry these are taking so long.)

It's shocking news. To hear that you're a demigod. The child, of a Greek myth.

Yeah right.

But, you suppose it would explain all the strange things that happened to you in your childhood. Apparently all of those myths that Mr. Brunner told you in school were real.

Because your best friend has goat hooves for feet???

He takes you to Camp Half-Blood, which your (apparently) satyr friend says is the only place safe for demigods like you. Almost everyone is shocked to meet you, especially because you're much older

He takes you to the Hermes cabin, where you'll stay until your Godly parent claims you.

And there, you meet

Travis Stoll

Now it may not be obvious at first, but let me explain.

He's one of the two head counselors for the cabin. Him and his brother personally get you situated into Camp life.

Connor finds you fun and polite enough, but it's Travis who has a crush on you.

It's like at first sight with you.

Connor and Travis have rather different types in women they like, which is why I personally see you with Travis more than Connor.

Connor likes girls who are softer. Maybe a little more "delicate". Girls who giggle at his every joke.

Travis likes his girls a little more athletic, of which there is no shortage of in Camp Half-Blood. He likes girls who are strong. Girl where he doesn't have to worry about them being hurt when he isn't around.

At first though, he doesn't even think his crush will go anywhere. He just likes to admire you from afar.

He's much too busy as a year-round Head counselor. Let alone, the replacement head counselor of a camper gone rogue.

The day his crush on you goes somewhere is when he finds you breaking down in a corner of the Hermes cabin. Your godly parent is just taking forever to claim you. You feel unwanted. Abandoned. Alone.

Now, this is nothing new to Travis. It's like a demigod's rite of passage into Camp Half-Blood.

Doesn't make it any easier to see someone else feeling the same way he did once upon a time.

He comforts you as best he can. He lets you scream and cry, or he lets you throw things around, if that's how you handle things.

And when you're done with your crying, he offers ways to get your mind off of it. Sparring, or drawing with you. Reading whatever textbooks the Big House has.

He even tells you about his own experiences with the gods. His own quests he's been on, big or small. He tells you about how his father claimed him. He isn't afraid of being vulnerable with you, even though all of his instincts are yelling at him to be paranoid.

From there, your friendship becomes something more. You find yourself looking for him whenever either of you have free time.

Since you enjoy active activities just as much as quieter ones, it's rather lucky Travis is the one who likes you. He's the same way.

He doesn't read as much, because even though all the books in Camp Half-Blood are written in Greek, he just doesn't like reading. But he'll listen to you read. He likes listening to you read aloud. Or even if you don't want to do that, he'll probably whittle away at a piece of wood while you draw.

His main love languages are quality time and acts of service after all. This is how he shows you he likes you.

It's very lucky that neither of you enjoy gossip. Travis hates rumors and all that what have you. It's a big reason why he doesn't get along with a lot of the Aphrodite kids.

His favorite dates with you are when you two go out and do something active. Preferably when you two can leave the camp. Not far, probably not even out of Manhattan.

He just wants to take you out to do something fun, that will leave memories that the two of you can cherish for a lifetime.

Honorable mentions!

Frank Zhang

You're actually pretty close to his canon romantic interest type. At least, what I'm imagining, based on your description. He also likes quieter activities, while still enjoying more physical things, too. You two would spend a lot of your time together since you enjoy many similar things. I just felt he'd be too obvious of a choice. (and also, he's from Heroes of Olympus, technically, and I didn't know if that's what you were also looking for.)

What a lovely dive into the world of Percy Jackson!

Now, it's time to move on from the world of gods and demigods, and into the world of pirates and giants.

You're sailing the Big Blue. Whether as a pirate or military, doesn't matter.

Either way, it's

Koby

He meets you by chance. Most likely while he's infiltrating a pirate's ship.

He finds you, probably being held hostage. And he rescues you.

He's enamored by you when you two first meet. He finds himself wanting to keep in touch with you after he's rescued you from the pirates, whether or not you are a pirate yourself.

He's proved before that he doesn't care about where you stand on that front. He just wants to hold your hand.

At first, he tries to get your attention by leaving you gifts. Anonymously, of course.

Training under Garp may have given him confidence in himself, but not confidence in his courting skills.

He leaves you little things like seashells he found along the beaches he came across that reminded him of you. Little flowers he came across while patrolling a town. Chocolates, if you're into those.

(He's getting all of his ideas from romance novels)

It takes him a long time to muster the courage to tell you who's leaving you those gifts.

Should you decide to accept him, I promise you that he's a great boyfriend.

He's attentive, and kind, and gives you everything that you want whenever he's able to. (His love languages are gift giving and quality time)

He makes time in his schedule for you. All of his vacation days are used up just for your dates.

He also enjoys just listening to you talk. He enjoys debating with you, just because he likes hearing your opinions and thoughts, even if sometimes he doesn't agree.

Also, he adores your style. Honestly, what someone wears isn't the first thing that catches his attention about people he's attracted to. It's their determination and their willpower that draws him in.

But he thinks you look cute in everything you choose to wear. Whether it be your crop tops and shorts, or your tanks and cargo jeans.

Really, he's just completely enamored by you.

Out of everyone, Koby is probably the most emotionally competent. At least, in the navy, he is. It's not often that you two have arguments. You understand that he does his best to make time for you, and he's very amenable to understanding you and how you work.

So when you two do get into arguments, Koby makes it a point to never raise his voice, no matter how frustrated he gets. He listens to what you have to say and is careful to change his behavior should he find you correct in what you're saying.

Relationships are a lot of work, but it's nothing he's not willing to do.

Honorable mentions!

Luffy

It's not that I thought he was obvious, although it was an obvious choice to me. It's that I think he might not be able to sit down for too long to have those long kinds of conversations that you seem to love. He's too hyper, he has to be doing something always. (and also he'd eat all your food)

I hope you enjoyed it 🥺

[fillsta]

Les Amis & Co: Beach Day Edition

Because it's summer and I had to

Enjolras:

My guy, he's so pale he needs an entire bottle of sunscreen to not get sunburnt. And he really doesn't care, everyone is after his ass holding the sunscreen, trying to 'at least cover his back because he'll be looking like a blonde strawberry by the end of the day'. Brings only a towel and his wallet or sth. Wears his swimsuit, flip flops and a t-shirt.

Combeferre

The dad of the group. Makes sure everyone has sunscreen on amd everything they need and you can hear him yelling "DON'T FORGET YOUR HATS" every hour or so. With every opportunity he gets, he's dropping random facts about the sand, the sea, the random crab grantaire just found etc etc. 80% of the time he's reading a book in his lil beach recliner chair. Brings an entire backpack filled with everything anyone could possibly need at the beach. Same kinda outfit w enj's, just with sneakers (bc he's driving everyone there) + a nice hat

Courfeyrac

He cannot put his ass down. Homeboy is always hyping someone up to play games. Beach rackets, volleyball, whatever. He and Gavroche sre having a BLAST. Nags to Combeferre about having to wear his hat the entire time. Brings a small bag w his stuff + another one filled with beach balls, rackets etc. Swimsuit + unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and a funky bucket hat

Grantaire

Vibes around drinking beer. The type of friend to splash water on everyone while they're trying to get into the water (particularly Enjolras). Goes looking for random shit on the rocks. Brings a fanny pack for his phone and cigarettes. Towel?? Don't know her. Shows up only in a swimsuit and at some points, he takes it off for shits and giggles

Bahorel

Have you ever been to the beach near a cliff side and there's this one mf who climbs on top of the cliff to perform an epic 11 meter backflip into the water? Yeah that's Bahorel. Bitch just goes around looking for ways to possibly get hurt. He doesn't. Deffo has a paddle board. Gets a crazy ass tan. Brings only the bag for the board and puts the rest of his stuff in there. Wears one of these shitty low armpit shirts. And a 'women want me fish fear me' baseball cap

Feuilly

He be taking beach day seriously. Brings snacks for everyone, randomly pulls out a sketchbook at some point. Gets excited over cool rocks and spends more time than necessary on making a sandcastle. Cannot go into the water on his own, at least one of his friends have to be swimming as well. His back is red asf at the end of the day. Hawaiian shirt but buttoned up. Carries an extra tiny bag for his book and sketchbook.

Bossuet

Somehow, he'll find a way to get stung by a jellyfish (and grantaire will almost immediately offer to pee on him). If not, he steps on a sea urchin. Or gets his leg scratched on a rock. But still he manages to have fun. In charge of the aux chord. Is extremely annoyed by grantaire and his splashes. A standard bag, has a t-shirt on but it obviously falls into the water by accident so he has to be shirtless on the way home (Musichetta and Joly don't mind at all). Lost his hat :(

Joly

Speaking of joly, mf's crazy over sunscreen. At least 3 times a day, they apply a new coat, hydrate every 10 minutes and will not let ANYONE go into the water if they've eaten anything, not after at least 2 hours pass by. Pull up wearing a speedo, jorts and a short sleeved button up. Amd a big ass hat. Huge af beach bag.

Jehan

It's their time to shine. They spend most of the time posing for pics but at the same time they're kinda shy abt it. Went into the water like once. One of these 'beach please bags'. They're wearing a flowy summer dress and like swimming shorts and a bikini top kinda thing. Staw hat person

Marius

He's dying inside. Bro's under the umbrella, watching everything, hoping time will eventually come for them to go home. Courf tries to get him into the water and he succeeds. Unfortunately, les amis do not let him go, they force him to be a part of the summer fun and at some point, he starts enjoying himself. Gets sunburnt. Bro shows up in jorts snd a polo t-shirt and changes into his swimsuit there (also he's definitely one of those guys who keep their underwear underneath). Unironically wears a fedora hat. Carries 26383 bags + Cosette's bc he's a gentleman above everything.

Cosette

Photographer of the group. Takes pictures of everything and everyone. Also takes videos of the stupid shit grantaire does and makes sure they o over to the gc immediately. Provides everyone with data, she's the hotspot friend. Jehan is her main model. Tries getting a tan, fails. Short flower dress over her black bikini and sandals. Matching straw hats w jehan.

Eponine

Omg sis has 2 siblings to take care of. Runs after Gavroche and Azelma all the time to keep them from doing stupid shit. She and bahorel do swimming competitions. Has like a big ass water bottle (joly approved) because she always gets dehydrated. And Gab and Azelma never drink water, ever. Doesn't go for a tan, still gets a great one. Old crusty bikini and just jean shorts over it. She'd like to go topless but isn't all for it yet. Has to carry her siblings stuff as well.

Musichetta

Ok sis is a great swimmer. She's in the water 24/7 vibin, swimming, playing games. No-one can get her out of there. She doesn't really eat much but if. There's any juice, she is drinking it all up. She loves her beach juice time okay? One piece swimsuit and a see-through coverup tied around her waist. Just a small beach bag is okay for her

Gavroche

As soon as they arrive, lil bro's in the water playing already. Then he pulls out water guns and declares war on everyone. Annoying little shit, but they all love him so much. Courf keeps him occupied by playing with him all the time. No one complains. Eats all of Feuilly's snacks. Begs Eponine to let him do stupid shit with bahorel. She does NOT give in, so he just finds a small rock to jump off of into the water nearby. Creeper swimsuit.

Azelma

Quieter than her brother but she follows along. Hellps Feuilly w his castle. Keeps Marius company when she's not in the water. Cosette asked her if she wanted her pics taken and she was ECSTATIC. Flowy dress and a flower pattern one piece underneath.

Bonus Montparnasse:

Floatie guy. Bro has like an inflatable donut and once it's in the water, he's off. Falls asleep on it and someone was to swim like a mile away to bring him back. Brings very few stuff with him. Like grantaire, just a swimsuit is fine

[blubushie]

ABOUT ME

READ THIS BEFORE YOU SEND ASKS/INTERACT. ASK BLU ANYTHING DAY (ABAD) is on the first full weekend of every month!

MINORS: Block the "#blu lewd" tag OR I WILL BLOCK YOU and do not DM me unless it's to ask to join Blucord. This goes ESPECIALLY if you're 16 or under. Adults on the internet are not your friends, and I am not comfortable speaking with you privately without a third party present.

G'day fellas! You can call me Blu, and I can be invoked like some Lovecraftian horror by mentioning Sniper in the TF2 tags. King of Sniper Lore (and Australia), Messiah of Bludaism, also known as the "Sheepshagging Roorooting Horsehumping Mountainfucking Melonpiping 13x-Divorced Breastmaster Hitman Inenrt Dingoboy Piss Cheese Jorts Bludysseus Blu'nt Bushgod Sniper Blog" despite not being a Sniper blog (and not actually shagging a sheep or rooting a roo or being married to start with or caring all that much for cannabis, I'm a psychedelics bloke). I'm just Like This.

Been told I'm the "Sniper kin of all Sniper kins." Not sure what a kin is these days but from what I've heard I'm content with not knowing.

This is my only blog. I have three sideblogs. One is @blu-doods, where I post my shitty stick figure art for laughs, and the other two are @art-reblugs, where I reblog art on (I reblog art here too, but the pickings are far more slim) and @post-reblugs (same as art but for text posts).

Again, not a Sniper roleplay blog. That said feel free to call me Sniper as a joke because I do very much enjoy it. Just keep in mind that I am my own person and not a fictional character. There's a real person behind the screen.

Sometimes I go on tangents and start infodumping. You can find the masterlist here. Also please read my DNI list and check out my pronouns page (I spent so much time on it).

My ask box is always open to whatever you want to say. Questions, comments, infodumping, or whatever else comes to mind. I particularly enjoy things relating to TF2, astronomy, nature, classic cars, and weapons. :]

If you find a weird animal or plant and want to know what it is, send me a picture with the location and there's a fair chance I can ID it! ("Location" doesn't need to be city, just state or general region!)

If you're looking to do art or something of me, please see this post for a guide to what I look like and this post for my rules on what is and isn't acceptable!

We now have a Discord server! If you want to join just DM me, but please ask only you and I are mutuals or we interact often :]

My avatar was done by the incredibly talented @grumpygrumblet!

SOME INFO ABOUT ME

I have autism, selective mutism, and some other issues that aren't really important. Point is that sometimes it can be hard for me to talk or properly put my thoughts into words. This makes me come across as cold sometimes. I'm not good at communicating with words and I'm better at expressing it in person where I can rely more on touch. I apologise if I seem rude because I'm not trying to be. Let me know and I'll try to articulate what I mean to say in a gentler way.

I'm 23.

Bushstraight. AMAB transmasc. Weird bloke.

I grew up in Alice Springs and spend most of my time in the NT. On the first Friday of the month there's a good chance you can find me at the Daly Waters Pub. CU in the NT! (Not now though because I'm stuck in America for the foreseeable future. Oops. Try me again in 2025!)

I hunt professionally for pest control. Usually it's invasive animals like pigs, cats, or feral dogs. I'm also licenced to occasionally deal with nuisance native wildlife like crocodiles, but aside from assisting in relocation efforts I've yet to be called out for a crocodile. I'm alright with this—I really don't want to shoot a crocodile.

I also hunt to feed myself and my dog. Her name is Misty and she's an Australian Shepherd/Golden Retriever mix. You can see her here or by checking out my "mistyposting" tag.

I used to participate in kangaroo culls and by law I have to shoot them in the head so if you ever want to know what it's like to pop skulls, reckon you can ask me. Also on the kangaroo thing: if you're Australian and from 2020-2021 ate kangaroo or bought kangaroo dog food or leather, there's a chance I'm the one what got it to you.

I'm a bushie. This means I'm a survivalist who lives out in the bush. I technically live in a van (ute + camper in the tray) but if there's good weather I'm usually sleeping outside unless it's an area with a lot of dingos (they don't usually bother people but I'm not going to take risks with my dog). I have no permanent residence and I move from place to place for work. Occasionally I have to go into cities for work (I'm looking at you, M*lbourne) but these are thankfully rare occasions and only when I'm strapped for cash.

Sometimes while clearing a squatter's land I'll find Psilocybe mushrooms and take them back home and get high when I'm done working. It makes for an interesting experience and my favourite thing to do is lay on the top of my van and watch the stars for a while.

I have a mullet and I am awful proud of it. It's easy upkeep since I can cut it using the mirror of my van.

I've drank my own piss on more than one occasion. The first time was because I was dying of dehydration out in the bush and it kept me alive for 2 days until I found water. The second time was for science. Certified Piss Kink Guy. (Editor's note: I do not in fact have a piss kink.)

I have infinitely large balls.

I am a bogan. I am proud of that too. Viva la boganism.

I am Ameristralian. I was born in the US and came to Australia when I was 2 years old—both of my parents are American but my parents lived in Australia for work. I grew up in Australia but when my parents split Dad went back home to California to buy back my grandfather's station and I spent most of my high school years in California (years 10-12) and lost my accent. I now live in Australia with a very thick American accent so I get the "lost tourist" spiel a lot and I reckon I'm never going to stop having to prove I'm Australian. It's gotten me into pub fights before and will continue to do so. I had a stroke in 2023 and now have my Aussie accent back LMAO

I've been told I'm "Sniper IRL." (Cheers, bloke I met in a Sydney pub, for getting me into TF2 by telling me this.)

I fucking love crocodiles to a possibly dangerous degree. Technically I love everything nature and especially animals, but crocodiles are just something special to me. I blame Steve Irwin and the fact my favourite thing to do as a nipper was go up to Darwin with Mum during the dry season and go croc spotting.

I like TF2, nature (particularly plants and animals), astronomy, and history. My special interest is sniping. I also love science and medicine. PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT THESE THINGS BECAUSE I LOVE TO TALK ABOUT THEM.

I swear a lot. I will not apologise for it. Fight me, cunt.

Please ask me about the shit I've seen out in the bush. I have so many stories. Actually, just ask me anything. Just talk to me in general, please. I need it.

I like knives (penchant for Bowie knives and machetes), firearms (penchant for antique bolt-actions), and old cars. I think pre-1970 Land Rovers are pretty spiffy. I can alternatively be invoked by incorrectly stating what model of Land Rover Sniper drives. It's a bloody 1965 Series IIA!

DO NOT ATTEMPT ANY OF THE SHIT YOU SEE ME DO ON THIS BLOG. I AM A PROFESSIONAL AT WHAT I DO—ATTEMPTING TO REPLICATE IT IS LIKELY TO RESULT IN SERIOUS HARM AND/OR DEATH. DO NOT GO INTO THE OUTBACK UNLESS YOU ARE WITH A GROUP AND HAVE AN EXPERIENCED GUIDE WITH YOU.

If you wanna learn the rest of the lore, you'd best delve the blog. ;]

I can also be found on AO3 also under Blubushie.

A GUIDE TO MY TAGS

IMPORTANT BLOCK TAGS

blu lewd: Horny asks and reblogs of suggestive art. I'm making a tag for this since I've been getting so many asks from thirsty anons (I love you, thirsty anons). MINORS: BLOCK THIS TAG OR I WILL BLOCK YOU.

haemocyanin: Usually reblogged gore art (blood is not included in gore, I'm talking viscera). Also includes discussion of gory topics. THIS TAG IS STRICTLY GORE. Please block this tag if that makes you uncomfortable.

blu slew: Discussion of hunting. May contains photos from hunting. This includes animal death/animal gore, so anyone who is uncomfortable with seeing this PLEASE BLOCK THIS TAG.

blu a fuse: Angryposting. Will include venting—if that bothers you, block this tag.

blus blues: Venting/sad hours/personal, generally depressive, journals. Basically me screaming into the void about how shit sandwich my life is. May include discussions of trauma so if that bothers you, block this tag.

blu jarate: Anything that mentions piss in referral to urine because it's brought up a lot on this blog (not in a kink way, just in general). Block this tag if piss makes you uncomfortable.

blu boos: A personal medical journal of sorts. Block this tag if talk of injuries disturbs you.

Postbin: Hate asks. Will probably include transphobia or homophobia or intersexism because people pick on the easiest things ay? Block if you don't want to see people clowning on me.

GENERAL TAGS

💙: Random thoughts or stuff from me. No worries, I don't ramble often. Also contains reblogs of things I just Vibe With that don't fit any of my other tags. Formerly #bluposting

💬: IRL quotes. Usually things between me and my father, but sometimes includes other people.

blu news: Updates on my life. This may include failsafes.

blu whos: Answered asks. Please send me asks or talk to me in literally any way as I often spend weeks without even seeing another human out in the bush and let me tell you it is NOT good for one's state of mind. I may not like people but humans are social animals and it's a terrible Catch-22. Ask me about my work or life or my fic or about TF2 lore or Sniper or literally anything please.

abad: Discussions or asks from Ask Blu Anything Day, a monthly... Event? Where some of my ask rules are suspended. ABAD is your licence to go nuts in my ask box, and the rule of ABAD is that I have to answer everything honestly.

mercposting: Catch-all TF2 tag. As I get asks about TF2 often, this is the tag used so I don't clutter the main tag.

blu drew: My sketches. I don't do digital art so all of it is traditional and usually of varying quality. It's typically animals or plants I see out in the bush.

blu bushie: My adventures in the wilderness.

🍄🍄🍄: Contains discussions of drugs.

🍄: Triposting! These are trip reports from the times I get high on various different drugs, but usually mushrooms. Also contains any posts I reblog or make while under the influence of drugs. (Formerly #blu flew)

🍺🍺🍺: Contains discussions of alcohol.

🍺: Drunkposting! Contains any posts I make while under the influence of alcohol.

learnin the blus: Random thoughts/rambles regarding my fic.

blu hoohs: NOT MY ART. Just stuff I've REALLY liked and reblogged. My own art is never tagged with this.

blus clues: Me speculating on headcanons and lore, usually about TF2. I love lore speculation.

sniperposting: Shit specifically about Sniper since I seem to talk about him so much. Also things from my life that Sniper would also probably do.

bushman: Reblogs relating to survivalism, bushcraft, camping shit, and general bushman activities. Also includes reblogs of things related to these.

blu planet: Reblogs relating to nature and the natural world.

blu zoo: Discussions of animals and plants. May contain pictures of things I see on my adventures!

stockman: Discussing my former job as a stockman.

blu pew: Weapons, mostly firearms and knives.

true blu: Things specifically relating to Australia. Usually cultural things.

code blu: Things relating to medicine. This especially applies to bushmedicine.

blursed: Reblogged shit that I think is cursed. Usually text posts, sometimes images.

blusome: Just uplifting things I see and reblog. Everybody needs some added light every now and then.

blu spew: Funny things. Titled for me spewing out my coffee in the morning when I see them.

blu polls: My polls.

blu views: The VERY rare occasions I discuss politics. Most of this is either about firearms or rarely nature conservation.

mistyposting: Posts relating strictly to Misty.

moonyposting: Anything relating to Mundy, my emu. On this blog he's referred to as "Moony" so as not to have him confused with Mundy from my fic (or canon Mundy).

blu tunes: Anything relating to music.

blu chew: Anything relating to food.

recipe: My recipes and recipes I've come across. :]

ford blu: Anything relating to cars.

blu id: Posts where people ask me to identify animals and plants.

blu marbled jack: Anything relating to Jack. This is because I once saw him eat an entire block of cheese.

ask game: Ask games I find.

answered asks: Answers to things I've asked.

blubook: Posts relating to literature. It's a pun about the Australian boobook, a type of owl. Get it? Because owls are smart? And it's reading? Nevermind.

fanart: Art specifically of me because I get a lot of it (and adore it when I do)!

blucord: Discussing things that go down in the Discord server.

blu muse: Poetry I write (because apparently I'm doing that again).

blu misc: Anything that doesn't fit into the rest of these tags.

blu queue: Queued posts.

blu reviews: Submitted posts.

bluroarer: Things I'm tagged in.

smoke signals: Back-and-forth discussions in reblogs.

dozposting: Posts about my lovely lady, @eyes-like-iron-fangs-of-rust

horseposting: Me talking about horses. I fucking love horses.

dream journal: Where I log my dreams.

eminence: Me infodumping about DND/my DND character Redd (cuz Redd + Blu = eminence purple).

PMP: Info relating to my job as a pest management professional.

matildaposting: Me discussing my late 70s Dreamer camper or other campers.

🌌: Wereshitposting—late-night blogging I get up to when the world is quiet and I can't sleep.

Also I'm writing a Speedingbullet fic on AO3 because it's boring out here and I have brainrot so go read that I guess, cheers. Chapter 10 is my magnum opus.

Here's the link to the original F/M version of the fic, and here's the link to the M/M edited version of the fic. The M/M version isn't as good and there may be pronoun errors here and there because the F/M is my primary focus and how the fic is originally written. The M/M version is also discontinued at Chapter 7 as I couldn't work Jesse's backstory properly into Jake. Sorry, folks.

If you're looking to do fanart or something I have a reference for Jesse and Suki. I also have an appearance detail for the rest of BLU team. (If you do fanart of Jesse and Mundy together I will love you forever and ever.)

[gooopy]

i WANNA HEAR UR OC THOUGHTS TOO NOW ^_^ ^_^

WAWAUGHHHH TYYY!!!!!!! mostly i am thinkiing about teddy... hes a tf2 oc i made and hes jsut Some Guy. he moves to teufort for work reasons and through the power of lead poisoning begins to slowly deteriorate!! he used to work at binski logging (blu associated i think) and got moved to binski paper (red associated) and at first he was pretty sure they were the same company, but at some point he realizes theyre two different companies. it leads him into a little rabbithole spiral about red and blu, and mannco, and everything. so over the course of a few months he goes from normal guy to jittery conspiracy theorist with a corkboard covered in red and blue yarn

hes awesome hes still like a Normal Guy so he sucks at sneaking around trying to get information. he takes bad pictures of the red and blu bases on a little Polaroid camera and he talks through his theories with his cat, walter (awesome cat, girl cat with a boy name, old, always looks sad regardless of mood, missing a leg) and he also looks Not Scary or Threatening on purpose because hes funny. AND! hes a fat tboy. theres a lot in my beautiful mind but ohhh im thinking of him hiding in a bush taking a picture and then riding away on his bike to develop it and pin it to his corkboard and think and theorize.

i think it is fun to think about the comedy inherent in a silly dude, as well as the horror of feeling stupid for not realizing things sooner and the effects of horrible chemical runoff and capitalism and the metaphors of capitalism and large corporations as the same unknowable vastness as an eldritch monster, breaking your mind and turning a normal guy into a man who could hurt someone to get answers. BUT! he has a cute kitty so hes allowed to.

[image id: two drawings of teddy, a fat trans man. the first shows a drawing of him looking tired, hes standing and holding a mop in his hand and resting his other hand on his hip. he has his hair in a ponytail and is wearing a tank top that does not fit fully over his stomach, where you can see his belly button and some stretch marks. hes also wearing jorts and a pair of slippers. theres a dripping bucket beside him and a small doodle of him happily mopping to the side

the second image is a screenshot from a whiteboard. hes drawn in green from behind, speaking to a tired looking cat missing an arm. hes saying "walter keep an eye on my hostage okay?? love you kitty mwah <3" and beside that is a drawing of the same cat making a gross face, with a caption reading "pov your kidnappers cat is abt to throw up on you" end id]

[valena-nedela]

Someone shared this AI generated yearbook in a Discord and ever since it's lived in my head and I started coming up with lore for the weird AI children.

Aiden in the dark green is the true Aiden. Aiden in the light green is his flawed clone, which came out too symmetrical. Although everyone who meets False Aiden experiences feelings of revulsion at his subtle inhumanity, all agree he's still a more pleasant child than True Aiden.

There were at one point many more Bortses in the class, but Grey Shirt Borts has been gradually consuming all the others. Red Shirt Borts is the last one standing but he knows his time will come.

Hunby knows.

Jort is Red Shirt Borts's brother. He looks like he's on the verge of tears because he noticed Grey Shirt Borts did not pack a lunch today, and he knows that means this is the day he goes home alone.

Chunus and Jorch are both actually too young to grow their own beards. The striking similarity in their facial hair is because both are hosts to the same species of hirsute symbiotes.

As Hobem grows, his neck is gradually being replaced by even more chin. No one knows what he is becoming, but he seems happy about it so they try not to worry.

Furus has seen where this all leads. Her smile is false. More false than any of the other students. She knows what they should all fear, but also knows there is no hope of escape. There is no light in her eyes anymore.

Hogby is not her real name. She adopted it to blend in. She doesn't know how she got here, or what the others will do if they realize she doesn't belong.