#the fuckin. the motel fuckin got me bro

[rig-a-rendal]

OUGH. american gods season 3 episode 8.......

[bibleofficial]

TAKE THE HINT 😭😭

it’s bc that was the WORST ‘date,’ u took 3 hrs SHOWERING while i WAITED, & then gave me CHLAMYDIA 😭😭😭

[spitblaze]

Hey Your blog fucking slaps can you elaborate on why horrible boat (hazmat motel) is a shitty thing in general, i need another person to rant about this with

Okay so. Let’s start by throwing everything else out the window. No context. Vizie’s past, erased. We could go on about that but frankly I don’t feel like delving into it, and you can look for yourself and decide if her apologies made up for what she did. I’m not going there just bc of how messy it gets.

Where I WILL, go, is frankly the first and most important thing to know: This show is heavily inspired by South Park. Vizie has gone on the record to say as much. It’s not hard to see, considering the ‘offensive for the sake of offensive’ humor thats just played off bc ‘oh they’re assholes and bad people’ nvm the fact that like...so many people still copied Cartman and got their ideas of Judaism FROM him when they didn’t know any Jews themselves, just bc the character is ‘bad’ doesn’t mean that people won’t still see them and relate to them and think the things they say are Smart And Cool, especially if they’re presented as more of an antihero. Also see Rick Sanchez and Bojack Horseman, both of whom had entire episodes to call out the people who saw these two and were like ‘haha thats me, this character i like acting this way is justification for my own bad behavior’.

 Anyway.

I’ll have some legit ‘bro this sucks’ in here and the rest is gonna be subjective crit/dunkage, if you want nuanced and detailed critique you aint gonna find it here.

So, looking at the plot summary from the wiki: “ The series focuses on Charlie, the princess of Hell, and her quest to open a hotel for rehabilitating demons. Hell suffers from overpopulation and Heaven solves the problem by routinely exterminating demons yearly. Charlie, who has grown up in Hell, wants to find an alternate solution to the mass slaughter. She opens the Happy Hotel which aims at teaching demons and sinners to become better people. There is substantial resistance though, and Charlie and her friends must work together to keep the hotel running.”

Not necessarily a bad plot on it’s face, with a thesis that’s perfectly reasonable, ‘everyone is capable of changing for the better’. Fine, great. The problem comes in with who is considered a ‘sinner’. Most notably, fan favorite Ang*l D*st, is gay, a sex worker, and a drug addict who died of overdose. So that’s already ‘sex workers go to hell and so do drug addicts’, and piling on his personality and the brunt of the jokes about his character, which is ‘haha predatory sex-obsessed gay man’ and that’s already...a good amount of ‘oh this sucks’ in ONE CHARACTER. Let us also not forget the lesbian who is named Vaggie. Great. Awesome. Love it. “But Vizie Is Bi-” she’s also cis, that may give her some right to make wlw jokes (provided they were. any good) but it certainly doesn’t give her the right to make ones at the expense of MLM.

But maybe none of this matters to you. Maybe you’re a cautious optimist who’s holding out for these problems to be addressed in the show or before airing. Or maybe none of this matters to you at all, and you never got past your 8th-grade Hot Topic Edgelord phase. Fine. Whatever. Everything past that paragraph above is just gonna be subjective on my part, anyway. This isn’t a hill I care to die on.

That being said CHARACTER DESIGN IS MY PASSION, holy shit Vizie clearly got one good look at The Onceler and decided that was all she ever wanted to draw for the rest of her life, like just LOOK at that asshole, you can pin down the span of YEARS that style would get half of tumblr posting *OVARIES EXPLODING* gifs right next to fuckin Cumberpatch, and where are you supposed to LOOK?? God these character designs are SO busy, there’s no focal point, it’s just a bunch of pom-poms slapped onto popsicle sticks in arts and crafts. Like, christ, even the humor feels like it’s stuck in the late aughts, Vizie might as well live in a hot topic. Angel Dust?? oh real clever. Haha. great. love it. Vaggie, what a hi-larious name for a character. Are we just shouting ‘PENIS’ as our jokes now? Is that the level of writing Miss Vizie has for us? That’s the best she’s got? Jesus.

Anyway god this sucks, they could’ve picked up ANY show for syndication and they chose that...especially in the middle of a whole movement about uplifting black and trans voices, they went with TGP For South Park Fans. God. You love to see it. and by love i mean hate. And oh god, the fandom is gonna get even more unbearable after this. like they’re already refugees from the Onceler Fandom and Humanstuck Bill Cipher, these people’s brains are stuck in like, 2013, at best.

Anyway that’s all I gotta say, I’m positive people are gonna come jump on my ass bc of this and like i said, this is not a hill i care to die on, so unless they’re about to like...pull up 10-year-old reciepts on me or w/e if ur only gonna argue u get a block. peace

[you-a-southpaw-doll]

Deaf ~ A Max (The Resident) One-Shot

Summary: Max gets a new tenant...and maybe a new family? With all the silence, will Leigh be able to draw Max outta the walls and into her life? 

Warning(s): Angst. Happy ending. Single mother OFC. Mentions of cheating. Bisexual OFC. Hearing issues. Deaf infant. Implied PTSD. Implied childhood trauma. Panic attack. Self-harm. First aid. Non-canon. OOC Max. Slight voyeuristic tendencies. OFC’s P.O.V. Soft Max. Hurt Max. Scared Max. Touch-starved Max. Max just needs some love.

Author’s Note(s): So, I watched The Resident (2011) a couple nights ago, and got this idea. I don’t do rape, so I changed Max’s character so he never goes that far. I also decided to do this from the OFC’s P.O.V. and show a different side of Max, one that would hopefully, kinda sorta, explain why Max seeks the refuge the walls give him. For people that suffer from PTSD, and other mental illnesses, everyone finds their own way of coping with their struggles. I’m not in any way condoning what Canon Max did. I just wanted to try and a different, less creepy, softer side. Also, in this story, Max is not a rapist, nor is he a murderer. And...I wanted a happy ending for Max, so that’s what I gave him.

Word Count: 7,982 words.

Relationship(s): Max x Leigh Sullivan (OFC) [romantic]. 

Characters: Max. Leigh Sullivan (OFC). Maxwell Dean Sullivan (OMC). Chris Sullivan (OMC). 

Taglist: @negans-network @prettyboynegan @mychemicalimagines @spnnnxangelsx @rockinkel21 @misskittycat02 @band--psycho @ofxallxwexlost @iron-halt @thamberlinawrites @ravenwings73 @lettherebepink @stoneyggirl @sebs-padawan

_______________________________________________________________________

Story Time:

Leigh’s P.O.V. ~

It’s been two weeks since I moved to New York City to start my new job at the museum and try to get on with one of the numerous publishing houses for my next books. Two weeks of sleeping in a cheap hotel room. Two nights of frantically searching for a somewhat cheap apartment that would be big ‘nough.

Two weeks of missing having his little body snuggled up next to me. Two weeks worth of triple FaceTime calls to my brother back in San Deigo just to see his cute little face. Two weeks of missing my baby boy. Two weeks of missing my adopted, six-month-old son, Maxwell. Two weeks of being completely alone in a new place for the first time in years.

It’s been two days since I saw that flyer pinned up on the hospital bulletin board after passing out from dehydration. Two days since I went to that old building that’s close to the huge bridge stretching out over the river. Two days since I saw the fancy apartment still being renovated that was clearly well outta my price range.

Two days since I met him and saw that beautiful dimpled smile hiding under the construction mask. Two days since I felt my heart flutter for the time in nearly half a year. Two days since that deep, slower than molasses but sweeter than honey voice told me it was mine for only $3,800 a month, minus utilities. 

It’s been two hours since he, my new landlord left my apartment after sitting down to enjoy a dinner of takeout from the nearby Chinese restaurant once we’d finished moving my meager belongings in. Two hours since he and I opened up a little bit to each other, getting to know the other person. 

It’s been two hours and I still haven’t stopped smiling. 

Leaning back in my chair, I slide my iPhone outta the pocket of my men’s holey, Skinny Flex American Eagle dark blue jeans. Holding my thumb down on the button so it recognizes my thumbprint, I wait for it to unlock before I click on the FaceTime app and call my brother. I take a deep breath, relaxing, as I wait for him to answer. 

Only...he doesn’t. Instead of my slightly younger brother answering, I get the best thing that’s ever happened in my life. The moment I see my son’s face fill the screen, I tear up and smile. 

“Hey, baby boy! You playing with Uncle Chris’s phone?” I coo in a soft voice.

I don’t get an actual response, but that’s ok. My son Max is deaf. He was born that way and the doctors said it’d be a few more months before we could even try to get him fitted for hearing aids. The said it was a side effect from where his birth mother had been using hard drugs for 99% of the pregnancy, even though I tried to get her help.

Max makes a bunch of soft, cooing noises as he holds the phone close. I realize that he hasn’t noticed that I’m the phone yet. Especially once I see his gums get closer to the camera. I laugh, knowing he’s trying to gnaw on the rounded corner of my brother’s iPhone. Hearing movement on the other end, I watch as the phone jostles, and a loud thunk echos to my end. 

A moment later, two small, chubby hands grasp the phone and my son’s face fills the screen once more. I watch as his eyes widen and he lets out a high pitch squeal, giggling, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Max has finally noticed that I’m on the phone. Smiling, I wave to him and blow him kisses.

It just makes him squeal more, louder, and happier. I giggle and happily listens to his giggles, squeals, and babbles. After nearly 15 minutes of listening to him, and slouching in my chair, the phone jostles once more and I hear Max let out a whine and hear him sniffling, knowing his ‘bout to start crying. 

A second later, my brother’s face fills my phone’s screen and his eyes widen too, making him chuckle.

“Hey, sis. Sorry. Didn’t realize you were on the phone. I guess Max got ahold of mine when I went to fix him a bottle and a small jar of that mushy baby food you picked up for him before you left.” He says.

I smile. “Nah. Max didn’t call me. I called. He answered. Took him a hot minute to realize I was on the phone. Then he started telling me ‘bout the stuff y’all did today. Sounds like a productive day.”

Chris laughs and I watch as he gets settled on the couch in his apartment, holding my son in his lap, keeping him to where he can still see me on the phone.

“Oh yeah.” He chuckles. “Real productive. 3 naps, 6 poopy diapers, and a few bottles.” 

I giggle. “Sounds like it.”

He chuckles more and shakes his head. “Anyway. How’s the city? D’you switch motel rooms? That don’t look like the one you’ve been staying in.”

I grin from ear to ear. “That’s actually why I called you. I found a place. By the river and train tracks.”

“Yea? That’s great! You all moved in?”

“For the most part. All that’s missing is little man. Oh. And the actual furniture. I was thinking...think you and Max could be out here tomorrow?”

“Uh...yea. I still got 3 more weeks’ worth of vacation time saved up at work. Give me a sec to pull up flights and shit.”

I smile and nod, waiting as Chris sets his phone down. After listening to some shuffling and the protests of my son, my brother and my son’s faces are visible once more. I help guide my brother through the process of looking for, booking, and getting two cheap plane tickets. I tell him my card info so he can type it in.

“Alright, sis. It looks like we’ll be flying out ‘round noon our time. And, after a 5 and a half flight, we should be to the city by dinnertime. How’s that?” Chris double checks.

“Sounds fuckin’ good to me! I can’t wait. I’ll meet y’all there!” I grin and cover my mouth as I yawn.

Chris chuckles. “Good. Looks like you need to get to bed. It’s what, 11 there?”

I nod. “Yea...I think so. It’s been a long day.”

“I can tell. Well, get some sleep. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait to see y’all. It’s been a long two weeks.”

“I bet. I honestly don’t see how you’ve been a single mom for the last 6 months. I’ve been watching this little monster for 2 weeks and I swear, I’m never having my own kids.”

I laugh. “Shut up! He’s not that bad. He just misses his mommy. And, you never wanted your own kids. You’ve always been too scared. Couldn’t even sit down if there was a kid in the room.”

“Hey! I just didn’t want to risk accidentally sitting on them and squishing them!” 

I giggle as my brother grins. “I know, bro. I’m just giving you shit.”

“Yea. Just like your son’s been doing all day.”

I laugh, yawning again. “Shouldn’t have given him the sweet potato mush. I warned you.”

He rolls his eyes, chuckling. “Whatever.”

“I am proud of you, bro. You’ve done so well with him, and I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me. I know it’s been a long couple of months, not just the two weeks I’ve been out here.”

“I just wanna see you happy again, sis, and I’m always here for you. That’s why I’m more than willing to help you.”

“I know. And it means the world. Give him kisses for me and tap his little tummy twice to tell him I love him?”

Chris smiles. “I will. Be careful, yeah? We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll try. Love you.”

“Yea. Ok. I know.”

He grins and waves, getting Max to copy him as he hangs up the call. I smile to myself. My brother’s never been one to say “I love you” to someone. He’s been like that since we were little when he was 5 and I was 6. So, I don’t take it personally when he just responds as he does. I know he still loves me. 

He’s been there for me, just like I’ve always been there for him. After my last relationship hit the fan and I caught my fiancé cheating on me with a man and said she no longer felt like being a mom in a same-sex relationship, just a few weeks before Max was born and we were supposed to gain custody of him, Chris offered to let me move in with him once Max was born. 

So, that’s what we did. Max and I left Kentucky where I’d been living all through and well after college and moved to San Diego to live with my brother. The 5.5 months we were there, I looked ‘round for a job that I could use my history degree in, while also working on my last novel. After getting an offer from a museum in New York, I broke the news to Chris that Max and I would be moving to the city.

He’d been shocked at first since we were both from a small town in the mountains of Western North Carolina, and I’d sworn I’d never live in a big city. ‘Specially one in the North since it got too cold in the winter and I’d always been made fun of for my strong Southern accent. I’d explained to him that I had to do what was best for Max, that I had a son to think ‘bout now.

He’d understood after that and was willing to watch Max while I traveled back across the country to a new place, to look for a good living arrangement, and get settled in for my new job. He told me that once I got settled, he’d bring Max out and then help me get all moved in and everything. Which is what led us to tonight. 

After hanging up with my brother and my son, I plug my phone up, set a few alarms, and curl up in the chair to try and get some sleep, knowing that tomorrow’s gonna be an even bigger day. All while never knowing that I was being watched by landlord peeking through a strategically placed and well-hidden hole in the wall.

When I wake up the morning, well early afternoon really, groaning and blindly reaching out for my phone to shut up the annoying alarms, I stretch and rub my eyes. I’m definitely not a morning person, and usually, get my best work done between the hours of 1 and 7 am. It’s been great since Max still hasn’t picked up on the whole sleeping through the night thing.

I finally push myself up outta the chair, my joints protesting the clearly uncomfortable position I just spent the last six hours in while curled up. Making my way to the kitchen, I get a pot of coffee going before padding back across the apartment to the bedroom and bathroom. I shoot my brother a text, letting him know that I’ll still pick him and Max up from the airport. 

After my shower, and downing the entire pot of coffee, I put some music on as I start to plan how I want the apartment set up and start looking up furniture stores on my phone, even ordering a few things online to be delivered in a couple of days.. I get lost in my search, that it takes me several long minutes to notice someone’s knocking on my door. 

Clicking my phone off, I tuck it in my pocket and make way to the door, opening it to find my landlord.

 He and I talk for a few minutes until I suddenly realize the time.

“Oh shit! I gotta go!” 

Max, my landlord, raises a brow. “Hot date tonight?”

I smile. “You could say that. I gotta go pick the love of my life up from the airport.”

I watch as Max’s face falls and he gets a sad look in his eye. 

“I thought you were single?” He asks. 

Scrambling to put my boots on, I reply to him. “I am. But, I still gotta pick him up.”

“Oh. Well, alright then.”

I look at him as I grab my drawstring bag that I use instead of a purse and put it on my back. 

“I’ll be back soon. If you wanna come over, I’d love to introduce you. You’ll see him ‘round a lot.” I say, grabbing my key.

“Um. Maybe. I know I’ll be busy with the renovations in the other apartments. I just thought I’d stop by and check on you, see how you settling in.”

I smile and gently place my hand on his shoulder, trying my best to ignore the rush of excitement that courses through my body at the touch. My landlord is not only smoking hot, but he’s also well built and I can feel his muscles under my hand.

“Thank you, Max. I greatly appreciate it.” I say.

He just nods and stares at my hand for a moment. 

“Oh...sorry.” I apologize, dropping my hand, quickly remembering how shy he is. “I’ll...uh...see you later, maybe? I’d really love for you to meet him. He’s a sweetheart.”

He shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “We’ll see how the renovations go.”

“Sounds good! Don’t work too hard!”

“I am working too hard!”

I giggle, playfully smacking his shoulder. 

“Don’t do it.” I giggle.

I quickly leave after locking my door and hurry downstairs, hailing a cab and head to the airport. Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be too much traffic, which surprises me since the first I noticed when I got to the city was all the traffic. When I get there, I realize I’m still a few minutes early, so I make my way over to the gates to wait. 

Nearly half an hour later, I spot my brother, holding my son, carrying only the diaper bag and a small book bag, and rush over. As soon as I reach them, I happily take my little boy in my arms, peppering his chubby little cheeks with kisses, which has him squealing happily and patting my head. I giggle and tilt my head back to look at him, despite the happy tears rolling down my cheeks.

Tapping my finger against his belly twice like I’ve done since the moment I first held him and the moment the docs told me he was deaf, I let my son know I love him. He giggles and curls his fingers ‘round mine, holding it tight. I lift my shoulder, turning my head in an attempt to wipe my tears away. Once I’ve done that, I look up at my 6’2” tall brother, grinning from ear to ear.

He just smiles and pulls me in for a hug. I lean against him since my arms are full from where I’m holding Max. Laying my head against Chris’ chest, I smile. He just hugs me a little tighter, but not too much ‘cause of Max.

“Missed you, sis.” He says.

“I fuckin’ missed you too, bro.” I reply. 

He laughs and lets go of me, looking at me. “You look happy.”

“I am now! I’ve got my little boy in my arms, and you’re here. But, I’m sure you’re hungry?”

“Always am!”

I laugh. “C’mon. Let’s go get some food and head to my place. You’re really gonna love it!”

He chuckles and follows as I carry a giggling and snuggly Max outta the airport. I look up Chris. 

“You’re taller. Hail a cab.” I say.

He raises a brow. “How?”

I giggle and tell him since it’s the time he’s ever had to do it. Growing up in our small town, we didn’t have taxis, and then when he moved to San Diego during my senior year of college, he already had his own car, so he didn’t have to worry ‘bout taxis out there. It doesn’t take long before one comes to a stop in front of us.

Piling in, I give the driver my new address, and we set off towards home. Well, my home. Chris and I spend the time talking while I just hold Max close, patting his butt. Right as the driver makes it to the apartment building, the air suddenly smells shitty. I know Max has pooped himself, and I soothe him before he can start crying and apologizing to the driver, giving him a decent tip.

Ushering Chris out the cab, so I can get out with Max, I shift my son in my arms. 

“Don’t worry, baby boy. Mama’s gonna get you upstairs, and get you all cleaned up!” I coo, softly, my lips near his ear so that he can feel the vibrations of my voice as I talk.

Max settles down a little as he sniffles, clinging to my shirt. I kiss his head and led the way inside and up to my apartment. Shifting him once more, I dig my key out, unlock the door, and step in with Chris right behind me. 

“Let me get him changed. Feel free to look around. There’s not much, but we’ll fix that tomorrow.” I say.

Chris nods and drapes the strap of the diaper bag over my shoulder. I carry Max into the bathroom and set him on the tiled floor. I keep him distracted while I change his diaper, and tap his tummy twice after buttoning his onesie and slipping his little shorts back on. He lets out a giggle, holding his hands up.

Giggling myself, I scoop him back up in my arms, tossing the dirty diaper in the small trash can as I walk out. 

***

Over the next couple of weeks, Chris helps me move furniture in, get the apartment set up, takes turns with caring for Max, and even teaching me some of the new recipes he’s picked up. He’s come along way, considering that the kid used to burn cereal when he tried to make himself some when we were kids.

We take a few days, once the apartment’s set up, to explore the city. I haven’t done much sight-seeing myself since I arrived. It was mainly ‘cause I was too busy trying to find a place and everything. A few times, I spot my landlord while we’re out and about, and I try to wave him over so he can meet my son and my brother.

Especially since he never showed up the night Chris arrived. I’d been really excited to introduce them. I couldn’t explain why, other than the fact that I wanted Max to meet my son and my brother. Yet, Max never comes over. He always pulls his phone out when our eyes meet and presumably takes a call, walking in the opposite direction.

Two and a half weeks after Chris arrives in New York, Max and I take him to the airport to catch his flight back to San Diego. We stay with him till it’s time for his plane to be boarded. As he hands his ticket over, he assures him he’ll text me when he lands in California and when he gets home. I give him one last hug and lift Max’s hand in a wave.

***

After Chris leaves, Max and I settled into our normal routine. I wake up shortly after he does, get him changed and dressed for the day, and then lay him down on the living room floor for tummy time while I get to work. The position I have at the museum allows me to work from home, occasionally going in once or twice a week, with Max, to take care of some things there.

When I’m not working for the museum, I’m attempting to work on my novel. After I get done with work, I feed Max and me, before we settle on the couch with a Disney movie or one of the three Despicable Me movies playing for naptime. Even if Max can’t hear, he still loves watching the screen, giggling. 

He absolutely loves the minions and squeals every time he sees them on the screen. After naptime, he and I lay on the floor for more tummy time while I try to teach him the sign language I’ve been learning. My baby brother, Eli, was also born with hearing issues, so thankfully I knew some when he was growing up, but I’ve also been teaching myself more since I found out Max was deaf.

At the end of the day, and getting some more work done, along with dinner, I give Max his bath. He’s always loved bath time, except for the few times water lands in his ears. Since it’s his favorite, I give him one every day, which doesn’t put too much strain on the water bill ‘cause Max’s baby bath is small and doesn’t take a lot of water.

When bedtime rolls ‘round, I curl up on my new bed with Max cuddled to my chest with my shirt tightly gripped in one hand and his shark blankie in the other. I rub his back and hum softly so he can feel the vibrations from it as he drifts off to sleep. We keep the routine up for the next month a half. During this time, I never talk to my landlord, not even when I go to give him the rent.

I mean, yeah, I’ll see him occasionally ‘round the building, but he doesn’t say a word. He just looks at me for a moment, before dropping his head and walking away. It breaks my heart ‘cause I want to talk to him. We had so much fun talking and goofing off the night he helped me move in. But, since that day I had to rush off to the airport, we haven’t spoken.

I just resigned myself to knowing that he obviously thinks we’re nothing more than landlord and tenant. Which, honestly, make me sad ‘cause I thought we’d have become friends. He was the first person that was actually nice to me after I moved to the city. I also tuck down the feelings of the crush on him I have.

He reminds me a lot of Papa Winchester from my favorite tv show, Supernatural, and I’ve always had the hots for the oldest Winchester. Even my ex-fiancé knew that, and she agreed. See, we’re both bisexual, but I’d always thought she was the one. Until I caught her in bed, our bed, with a man, and she’d told me what she did.

The six months after we broke up were the hardest, ‘cause I’d been ready to marry her. But it didn’t work out. And after I’d moved to New York, met my landlord Max, and realized I’d had a crush on him, I was starting to come to terms with maybe moving on. Getting back out there. I mean, I knew there’d probably be nothing more than a friendship with my landlord, but I was ok with that.

But, I don’t even have that anymore. I sigh to myself, urging my thoughts to go down a different road, as I pull the clothes out the dryer. Just as I finish pulling the last few clothes outta the dryer, I hear whimpering. I listen for a moment to try and figure out where the sound’s coming from so I can go get my son.

After a moment, and the realization that the sound of whimpers is coming from the falls, I try to tone down the feeling of panic that’s quickly spreading through my body. Max started crawling shortly after we moved here, and I know he’s been exploring the apartment. I just hope he hasn’t gotten himself stuck somewhere. 

I quickly leave the clothes on the dryer and walk further into the apartment, closer to the sound of the whimpers.

“Max? Honey? Don’t worry, ok? Mama’s coming to get you.”

I call out, without thinking ‘bout the fact that my son’s deaf. I call the words out based on instinct and the need to assure my son that he’s gonna be ok. I follow the noise, getting closer to the kitchen and my eyes widen. Did I forget to put the baby gate up so he couldn’t get in there? When I reach the kitchen and realize that I did indeed forget to put the baby gate, my heart drops to my stomach.

“Fuck!”

I step into the pantry where the sounds of the whimpers are louder and look ‘round. I don’t see my son anywhere. Then I hear the whimpers again and realize that they’re coming from the other side of the wall. I gently push against the right wall, to give myself leverage, as I keep looking, thinking there’s no way that the whimpers are coming from the walls.

My eyes widen as the wall shifts a little with my touch, and they nearly pop outta their sockets when I realize the wall isn’t just a wall. It’s a door that’s already slightly open. My heart starts beating faster as I realize that there’s a slight chance that Max could’ve crawled in here, and through the small opening.

I take in a shaky breath as I push the door open enough for my small frame to fit through. Once I’m through, I notice two things from the get-go. One, the whimpers get louder. Two, the door leads to what looks like an old set of maintenance hallways. I know older buildings used to have them, so it makes sense that this building would have ‘em too.

I just never really put the thought into asking or caring if the building had them. I make my way deeper into the hidden hallways, being careful not to trip or hit my head on anything. Keeping my eyes peeled for my son, I get closer to the sound of the whimpers until I finally reach the source. My eyes widen when I see who’s making the sounds.

“Max?” I ask, softly, getting closer.

My landlord doesn’t even look up as he flinches at the sound of my voice. He just whimpers and bites harder into his wrist. 

My heart breaks and I crouch down next to him, gently taking his hand and pulling his wrist from the tight grip his teeth have on it.

“Max? Honey, it’s ok. You’re safe.” I murmur.

He whimpers a little more and hides his face. I immediately realize what’s going on. He’s having a panic attack, and it looks to be a bad one. Rubbing my thumb across his knuckles, I lean closer to him, gently wrapping my arms ‘round the slightly older man, and pull him close to me. I reach a hand up and run my fingers through his hair, softly and silently convincing him to lay his head on my chest.

I soothe him, calm him, and help him relax ‘nough that he slowly eases outta the panic attack. Not stopping my fingers as they continue to run through his hair, I start humming softly. I know panic attacks are one of the worst things to go through. Especially all alone. It takes several minutes, but I eventually feel Max relax, sagging against me as the panic attack leaves him.

Even though he’s outta it, I continue to run my fingers through his dark curls. 

“Better?” I ask softly.

He nods, just a quick, subtle little jerk of his head against my chest, but it’s still a nod. 

“Will you come back to my apartment with me? I wanna take a look at your arm. You bit down on it pretty hard.” I explain after he looks at me with uncertainty swirling in his muddy water brown eyes.

He takes a deep breath but nods again. I smile.

“That’s a good boy. C’mon. We’ll get you all fixed up.” I say, not sounding patronizing, but rather motherly.

I smile to myself as a light blush covers his cheeks at my words. I gently pat his shoulder before we stand up. As I lead him back through the maintenance hallways to the door that leads into my pantry, I notice other little holes in the wall, discreetly checking them out. When I realize they show off different points of my apartment, I raise a brow but don’t say a word.

After peeking through one of the holes, I see Max, my son, sleeping peacefully in his little playpen and let out a soft breath of relief, remembering that I’d laid him in there when I went to do laundry. I hold my landlord’s hand the entire time we walk through the hallways if nothing more than to keep him calm.

When Max and I get to the door leading to the pantry, he suddenly stops, jerking me to a stop too since I wasn’t expecting it and had been leading him by the hand. I turn ‘round and look at him.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, confused.

“The love of your life? Where’s he at?” He asks after, nervously, after a moment.

I smile. “He’s sleeping, in the other room. It’s ok.”

I watch as more hesitation and uncertainty fill Max’s eyes. I give his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Hey. It’s ok. He won’t mind you being in there. He gets a bit protective over me, but I just know he’s gonna love you.” I assure him.

“I...I don’t think so...guys typically don’t like me. Neither do girls. I’m a loner.” He mumbles, looking at his feet while flicking his thumb against his finger on his other hand.

“Max?”

He lifts his head, looking at me. “Hmm?”

“Trust me. He’s gonna love you.”

He shrugs. “Nah. He won’t. ‘Specially not since he has you.”

“Hey. Stop doubting yourself, ok? He’s gonna love you ‘cause I like you.”

“You...you like me?”

I smile and nod. “I do. And you’d know that if you hadn’t been avoiding me since I had to leave so quickly to get to the airport.”

A small smile tugs on his lips. “You’ve been busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you, Max. Now, c’mon. Let’s get your wrist all cleaned up, then you meet the person who stole my heart with just one look. And, he’s gonna steal yours too.”

I giggle and gently squeeze his hand as he looks nervous. I lead him into my apartment from the pantry, and into the living room. 

“Have a seat on the couch, ok? I’m just gonna go grab the first aid kit. Don’t try and leave. I’ll follow you and kick your door down if you do.” I playfully threaten. “I don’t mess around with first aid.”

Thankfully, it gets a chuckle outta him and he takes a seat on the couch, holding his hands up in surrender. I grin and head to my bathroom to grab the first aid kit. Walking back through my bathroom, I stop by the playpen, lean down and kiss my son’s head, covering him up more with his shark blankie.

Watching him for a moment, I smile to myself and head back to the living room. Max is still in the same spot he was when I left him a moment ago, but this time, he has his hands on his lap as he picks at the bite mark on his wrist. I gently slap his hand away. 

“Stop that, mister. You’ll do more damage than what you’ve already done.” I say, kneeling on the floor in front of him, between his knees. 

He raises a brow and mutters a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“Good boy. Now hold your hand out so I can look at it.”

He blushes a little but does as I ask. Gently taking his arm in my grasp, I inspect the self-inflicted bite mark on his wrist. After cleaning it with some alcohol wipes and putting Neosporin on it, I gently wrap some gauze ‘round his wrist and tape it so it stays in place. Without thinking ‘bout it, I place a gentle kiss on over the wrapped wound.

It’s outta habit that I do it since I do it whenever my son gets a boo-boo. I hear Max suck in a deep breath and my eyes jerk up to meet his. His bottom lip is captured between his impossibly white teeth and his cheeks are a shade pinker than they were before.

“I...I’m sorry. It’s outta habit that I do that.” I mutter, trying to explain as quickly as I can.

“I...it’s fine. I’ve just never had anyone do that before.” He mumbles.

I raise a brow. “Your mama never kissed your boo-boos?”

His eyes get that sad, lost look in his eyes. He pulls his arm outta my grasp and, not answering, he walks over to the window. I sit back on my ankles, packing the first aid kid up. 

“Max...I’m sorry. I didn’t...you don’t have to talk ‘bout it.” I say quietly.

He just sighs and stares out the window, not saying a word. 

“My…” He starts, still staring out the window. “My parents died when I was 10. My grandfather, August, he’s the one who raised me.”

I stand and gently pad over to him. “I’m so sorry, Max. I didn’t know. I didn’t think before I asked that.”

He glances at me then looks back out the window. Without thinking, and just doing it, I wrap my arms ‘round his waist and lay my head against his chest. He tenses up immediately at my touch.

“What...what are you doing?” He asks.

I tilt my head back to look up at him. “It’s called a hug. It’s supposed to be comforting. I can stop if it makes you too uncomfortable.”

I watch as his facial expression changes with several different emotions before a smile finally settles on his lips.

“Nah. It’s not too uncomfortable. I’m just not used to this.” He says after a few moments. 

“This?” I ask.

He nods. “Hugs. I can’t even remember the last time I had one.”

I tighten my arms ‘round him and lay my head back on his chest. I feel his arms slowly make their way ‘round me, loosely holding me close, and I smile. 

“Whenever you want one, just come to me and I’ll happily give you one.” I say. “I’m not really much of a hugger, but with you, it just feels right, so you can have a hug whenever.”

“Really?” He asks.

I nod against his chest. “Mmhhmm.”

“Thanks...but...what ‘bout...the love of your life? Is he ok with you giving random men hugs?”

I giggle and look up at him. “You’re not a random man, but yes. He’d be ok with me giving you hugs. He loves them, so he’ll probably try and give you one too.”

“Um…” He hesitates, slowly dropping his arms. “I dunno how I feel ‘bout your man giving me hugs.”

I giggle. “You’ll change your mind when you meet him.”

“I dunno.”

“I do! Stay here. I’ll bring him out to you.”

“Ummm…”

I giggle and lean up to kiss his cheek. “Just wait here.”

He swallows deeply, making his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Ok.”

“Good boy.”

I giggle and leave him in the living as I walk into the other room where I know my son is. Reaching into the playpen, I scoop him up, making him giggle. I heard him cooing to himself a few moments ago, so that’s how I knew he was awake. I kiss his cheeks and gently tap his tummy twice. He makes a happy noise and snuggles to me.

I smile and hold him close as I walk back out to the living room. Max is looking out the window again, this time, though, he’s got his arms wrapped ‘round his torso, almost like he’s giving himself a hug. I giggle softly and make my way over to him.

“Max?”

He lifts his head and turns his gaze from the river to me. His eyes widen as he sees my son in my arms. Shock, confusion, and another emotion flash across his face. 

“Who? Who’s that?” He asks.

“Max, this is the love of my life. My son.” I say, grinning from ear to ear.

“Your son? Love of your life?”

I giggle and nod. “Mmhhmm. I adopted him when he was born. I can’t have kids myself, and my ex-fiancé and I had talked ‘bout adopting. So, we decided to do it. Found out that this little guy’s mama was putting him up for adoption before he was even born. Then, just before he was born, my ex-fiancé and I split. I still adopted this little monkey and it’s just been he and I against the world since.”

“But...that man...who was here...was that your former fiancé?”

I giggle and shake my head. “No! That was my oldest younger brother, Chris. He’d been watching Max for me while I got settled in the city. After I moved in here, I called him, and he brought my son out here and helped me get furniture and whatnot. I really wanted you to meet him while he was here...but you kept getting phone calls…”

“Your brother?” 

I smile and nod. “He’s the oldest of my two brothers, and I’m the oldest of all the kids.”

“Oh…”

I giggle. “Yea.”

“Those phone calls...they weren’t actually phone calls.”

I raise a brow. “You mean to tell me you faked ‘em just so you wouldn’t have to come over?”

He looks down, nodding. “You just seemed so happy with him. I thought y’all were together and that the kid was y’all’s. It…” He shakes his head, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

“Max, I wasn’t lying when I told you I was single the first night I spent here. But I also didn’t tell you that there is a guy I like.”

“Oh...well...I don’t wanna meet him…”

I giggle. “Too late. You already have.”

He frowns. “I have?”

Nodding, I grin and take his hand. “C’mon. I’ll show you who he is.”

“I don’t wanna…”

“Tooooo bad, mister.” 

I giggle and lead him to the bathroom, standing him in front of the mirror as I stand next to him, holding my son.

“I thought you were showing me someone I don’t wanna see.” He says, his voice quiet.

“I am. Tell me who you see.” I say, grinning.

“Me. I see me, you, and your son.” 

“Exactly. So, you see the guy I have a crush on.”

“Isn’t that a little weird to have a crush on your son?”

I giggle. “Yea. So, it’s a good thing he’s not who I have crush on.”

His brows furrow in confusion and I giggle and gently turn him to face me.

“You’re adorable.” I say.

“How?” He asks, confused even more. 

“You’re just not getting it, are you?”

He shakes his head. “No?”

“Max, you’re the guy I like.”

“Me?”

Nodding, I smile. “You.”

I watch as he gets the cutest, dimpled smile on his face, making me giggle more. He blushes and ducks his head down for a moment before looking at me.

“You really like me?” He asks, softly.

“Mmhhmm. I do. I just thought you didn’t like me since you kept ignoring me.” I say.

“I was just trying to distance myself...I thought you were with that guy, who’s actually your brother...I thought he was your ex-fiancé that you’d mentioned that first night...that you’d taken him back.”

I giggle. “Oh, Max. My ex-fiancé was a woman. Who cheated on me with a man. In our own bed.”

His eyes widen. “You were with a girl? But...you like me?”

“I’m what you’d call bisexual. I play for both teams. I like guys and girls.”

“Oh!” He lets out a soft chuckle. “So...what’s this mean? For us?”

I giggle. “It means, that I’d like to date you. If you want that.”

He grins, making his dimples show more. “I’d...I’d like that.”

“Me too! We just have to get someone’s permission first.”

“Permission? From?”

I smile and turn my son ‘round to face him. “Max here has to approve first. I have to think of him now, especially when it comes to relationships.”

Max nods and looks at my son, then back at me. “Wait. His name’s Max?”

I smile. “Maxwell Dean Sullivan. Sometimes, though, I’ll call him Deaf.” (Deef.)

“Why?”

“Oh. He’s deaf.”

“Oh!”

I smile and nod then look down at my son as he wiggles in my arms, reaching out for Max. I giggle and gently hold him out, waiting for him to take him. Max gently, and somewhat nervously, takes my little boy, and cradles him.

“Awww! You’re like a pro!” I grin.

“I’m not gonna lie. I’m scared shitless. He’s so small.” He whispers.

I giggle. “You’re also really big. Max and I are both small compared to you. And you help me close and gently.”

This gets a soft chuckle from my landlord and he visibly relaxes, shifting Max so he’s a little more comfortable. My son giggles and reaches up, patting Max’s cheeks, squealing at the feeling of the short beard tickling his tiny palms. I smile and lean against the mirror, watching them. 

“I think Deaf likes you.” I say.

“Yea? You really think so?” Max looks up and he visibly tenses as he soon as he sees me leaning against the mirror. “Don’t lean against that. Please.”

I raise a brow, but step away from the mirror. “Why not?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t, Max. It seems like a sturdy mirror. Plus, the wall behind it keeps it up.”

He lowers his gaze and hands my son back to me, much to my son’s protests and my own confusion. 

“I...I should go...just please don’t lean against the mirror.” Max says quietly and turns to leave.

I reach a hand out and curl my fingers ‘round his upper arm. 

“Hey. Stop. You don’t have to go.” I say.

He nods. “I do. There’s stuff you don’t know ‘bout me...I’m not a good man…”

I raise a brow. “Max. Aside from ignoring me for the last several weeks, we’ve still been good to me. You are a good man. I know you are.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but can’t help.”

A thought hits me and I look up at him. “You mean the holes in the walls? That allows someone to peep through into my apartment?”

His face pales and I get my answer. I reach up and cup his cheek. 

“Max. It’s ok. I saw him when I was leading you back to my place to fix your wrist. The walls...they’re your safe place, aren’t they?” I ask, softly.

“It’s quiet in there. I like the silence.” He mumbles, closing his eyes. “I can watch...and it calms me.”

“Have you watched me?”

He swallows deeply. “I tried not to...but I…”

“Shhh. It’s ok, Max. I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I’m not. Some might think it’s creepy, but in a way, it’s like you’re watching over, protecting me. Me and Deaf.”

“I...I didn’t think of that.”

I smile and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. “It helps you stay calm, watching me?”

He nods. “I can’t hear the voices…”

“What voices?”

“The ones telling me…” He shudders.

“Breathe, Max. It’s ok. What do they tell you?”

“That I’m a coward. A pervert. A creep.” 

His reply is so quiet I almost don’t hear it. But I do. I place my palm back against his cheek.

“Is that why you bit your wrist earlier?” I ask softly.

He nods. “To make them shut up.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it alone anymore, ok? I’ll tell those voices to shut up too.”

He opens his eyes and looks at me, unsure. 

“I will.” I assure him.

“But...why?” His child-like voice breaks my heart.

“Because, they’re lying to you, Max. The things they tell you, they’re not true. You’re not a creep. Not a pervert. And you are definitely not a coward.”

“But...I am.”

“No, Max. You’re not. You’re not any of those. You’re just a man who needs someone to show him what it’s like to be loved. You didn’t have a good childhood. Losing your parents, and having your grandfather raise you. But you survived. You grew up. You coped with everything thrown your way in the ways that you knew how. You’re a survivor, Max. And, that alone makes you the furthest thing from being a creep and a coward. As for being a pervert, I don’t think you’re that either.”

He doesn’t say a word, but he leans into my touch more.

“How do you know?” He asks after a few minutes.

“I know, because I can tell you’re not. Believe me, I grew up ‘round ‘nough perverts to know that’s not you. You’re nothing like them. That’s how I know.” I whisper.

“You still like me?” He lifts his eyes to meet mine.

“I do, Max. And, I’m gonna show you what it’s like to be loved. We’ll get there. And Deaf here, this little boy in my arms, he’ll show you too. I told you he’d love you when he met you.”

“He does?”

I smile and nod. “He doesn’t reach out to just anyone. It took him months just to go to my brother. But it took him maybe 5 minutes to go to you. And, kids are usually really good judges of character. Just like dogs. So, I can assure you he doesn’t think you’re anything like what the voices tell you.”

He nods slowly and looks down at the little boy in my arms. 

“He is cute.” He mumbles.

I giggle. “Damn right he is! He’s my son.”

Max chuckles softly. “That’s true. But...you’re not cute.”

I raise a brow and look at him. “That’s not exactly the best thing to say to your new girlfriend.”

He grins. “Girlfriend? I like the sound of that...but you’re not cute. You’re beautiful.”

I blush. “So are you. Ain’t you can’t argue with me. The girlfriend’s always right.”

He laughs softly. “Is that so?”

“Mmhhmm! Now. I believe there’s a little boy who wants to be held by you.”

He smiles and kisses my palm before standing up straight and gently taking Max from my arms, holding him close. 

“As for the mirror, Max. We’ll just board up the other side.” I say, getting the picture, from his reaction, that it’s one of those mirrors like police station interrogation rooms have. “And, you won’t have to go back into the tunnels anymore. You have me and Max now. We’ll be here for you.”

He swallows deeply and nods. “Promise?”

“I promise promise, Max. But, know that if you ever cheat on me, I’ll cut your dick and balls off.”

His eyes widen as he nods. “I...I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

I smile. “Good. And I wouldn’t do it to you either.”

He lets out a breath of relief. “So...does this mean...that I have a family?”

I smile. “Yes, Max. It does. We’re your family now, and you’re our family.”

[rileybraxton]

Name: Riley Braxton Nickname: Brax Age: 34 FC: Paul Wesley Occupation: Tattooist at Scorpion Studios Side: Wicked Wolves Length of stay in Charming: approx. 14 years Positive traits:  + loyal, + crafty, + brave  Negative traits: - damaged, - suspicious, - hotheaded

triggers: parental adultery. drug abuse. addiction. crime. needles. 

✚ middle child ✚ due to his mother having an affair ( for years ) he and his elder brother share different fathers. however, he and his younger brother share the same father ( the guy mamma cheated with )  ✚ he was always a reckless child. it only worsened when he hit his teens and fell in with bad crowds ✚ staying out, doing disappearing acts or coming home drunk, if not drugged up too ✚ to be honest, his entire attitude stunk. he showed little to no respect for his parents, or older brother who he considered a bit of an uptight snoot ✚ if he’s honest, the only person he wasn’t a total asshole to was his younger brother ✚ he was 16 when he came home and caught his mother in bed with another man. not just any man, but his fathers best friend. the truth was exposed, it turned out that the affair had been going on for years  ✚ his mother begged him not to tell and promised to end it and he agreed. asshole so he was, he didn’t want to be the reason his father crumbled and his brother ended up with a broken home ✚ his motive may have started out purely but over the months, his bitterness? it only festered. his behaviour worsened, the disrespect began to have an impact on his parents relationship. the father just couldn’t seem to understand why his wife was seemingly letting him get away with everything he was doing ✚ he’d ask her for money which he only went out and spend on drugs. small things at first, a pill here, a spliff there. somewhere along the way he managed to get hooked on heroin, though amazingly he did manage to hide his needle poked arms ✚ it was amidst a drugged up haze that he felt some kind of penny drop. he was sat on the rooftop, watching his parents, his brother and his fathers best friend when he noticed something he hadn’t before ✚ the similarities between his man and his brother, between this man and him. the more he sat and stared, the more he couldn’t see a trace of his “father” in his own features, nor his younger brothers ✚ all it took was one out-loud thought and his mother confirmed everything with the simple look on her face. it was a lot to process, too much in-fact. which is what lead to an explosive dinner that same evening ✚ his “father” was laying into him, which wasn’t unusual. shaming him for being such a fuck up. usually he’d sit silently and take it, but this time? the words came flying out his mouth before he could think to stop them “who the fuck are you to talk to me like that? you’re not even my father. ain’t that right, mom?”  ✚ the truth came out in a hateful splurge. everything from how the affair had been going on at least 17 years, straight to “oh, and the guy? sitting right next to you” aka, the best friend ✚ so, his not so biological father ended up focusing that betrayal back onto riley, which resulted in the pair of them going toe to toe, breaking everything in sight as they threw their punches ✚ being a little shit, he was fully egging him on, “come on. that’s right. hit me. your wife’s a whore and you’re laying into me? makes perfect fucking sense” ✚ it wasn’t until he managed to get him on the floor that he noticed his little brother on the staircase, pausing the punch he was about to land on his fathers face. a simple “shit” under his breath ✚ he got up instantly, all that rage on his face disappeared and replaced with a soft warmth that he reserved only for his brother. he left to take him back up to bed, leaving his parents and the not so decent best friend to fight it out between themselves ✚ in the end it turns out they decided to stay together and try and work through it, but it only served to create a toxic environment ( more so ) ✚ riley was 20 and fully hooked on drugs when he got himself arrested for grand theft auto and it was the icing on the cake for both parents ✚ they didn’t exactly kick him out, but they made it clear he wasn’t welcome unless he cleaned his act up  ✚ surprisingly, he did try, but only after he packed up and moved in with a friend. he went cold turkey and yes, that shit fucking sucked. it was basic agony for at least three weeks before he began to feel like he was getting better ✚ rather than return home, he did perhaps one of the shittiest things a person could do & he stole his mothers jewellery that were basically family air-looms, pawned them for a few grand, bought a car and hit the road ( not before saying goodbye to his little bro and promising him he would call and visit all the time. )  ✚ in truth, he wanted to take him, but he knew it was selfish, especially when he didn’t even have a secure home ✚ he ended up in charming, fresh faced and sober. he stayed in a motel for a few months, saving money from odd jobs and focusing his energy on building a life for himself ✚ he’d always been creative, drawing & sketching came so naturally to him that he decided to train up and become a qualified tattoo artist ✚ at 22, he finally got his own place to rent and things were looking up. he’d passed his courses with flying colours, made a couple friends and even met a girl who he fell head over heels for  ✚ the only trouble was, this girl was just as reckless as he was and their entire relationship was something like a beautiful tragedy. they’d party most nights and for the first few months, everything was fine. he managed to say no every time she’d offer him a pill, every time her friends offered something stronger. truth be told, he’s not sure exactly when he slipped up, or even why. but he did, and there he was once again sticking needles in his arms and wasting away. ✚ he ended up breaking up with his girlfriend and she hit the road with a couple pals not long after - he’s never seen her since ✚ he did a good job at hiding his problem, still managing to hold down his bar jobs to pay his rent, at least for a few months. everything changed when his 14 year old brother showed up on his doorstep with all his bags ✚ once again, he forced himself to go cold turkey. if his brother insisted on living with him, riley didn’t want him to watch him destroy himself. so really, he’s quite thankful that his brother showed up when he did, who knows, it probably saved his life ✚ back on track and finally in a good place, he fell in with the wolves and quickly realised that’s exactly where he needed to be ✚ some may say it’s tempting fate, running drugs considering he’s an addict, but he vowed the day they accepted him into their fold that he’d never make them regret it ✚ fyi, he hasn’t. whilst he has fell off the wagon twice since, he never did the wolves dirty. anything he took, he paid for, any job they gave him, he completed ✚ he probably drinks more than he should and he still enjoys a spliff, but he’s never touched any other drug in 3 years and to be honest, he’s very proud of himself ✚ he got a secure job at scorpion tattoo studios 2 years ago & he really enjoys it ✚ sooo, he’s clean, he has a job, a home, a family in the form of wicked wolves and a good set of friends. life is pretty sweet ✚ that’s not to say he’s not still very hot headed & impulsive. probably quite fuckin’ damaged too, but hey, all the best people are ✚ thanks for reading my novel 

wanted connections:

✚ younger brother - CLOSED ✚ oldest brother(who’s probably a cop or smth straight shooting) - OPEN ✚ friends - OPEN ✚ old/new enemies - OPEN ✚ friends with benefits - OPEN ✚ the original ex girlfriend mentioned above - OPEN ✚ maybe a repeat client who lets him tattoo him/her with his own designs? - OPEN ✚ someone who knows he’s a recovering addict maybe? since i imagine he doesn’t typically share that info, it could be someone who’s seen him attend a meeting, or is even a recovering addict themselves - OPEN ✚ literally anything! 

[sagiow]

We run a very tight ship - Chapter 4

kickass awesome moodboard courtesy of @jomiddlemarch​

Read the first three chapters here or on AO3

“Welcome aboard, Miss Green. Ready to set sail for the grandest of voyages?”

Emma smiled tightly, forcing her eyes to follow her lips, and knowing they failed. Instead, she averted them, hiding their escape behind a wholly unnecessary adjustment of her glasses. She stood between the First Mate and the chaplain in the haie d’honneur greeting her family aboard the most luxurious ship of their fleet, in the most breathtaking of atriums, by the grandest of staircases - so the heavy-handed brochure said. Captain Summers bowed low to the young lady, and lower to her mother beside her.

“Captain Summers,” she offered her hand daintily, never more the great lady then among her grossly underpaid staff. “I trust everything has been arranged as instructed?”

“To the letter, Mrs. Green. Your guests have been given all the best cabins, the most prestigious reserved, of course, for the bridal party. I must say, your daughter has truly outdone herself with the decoration and planning. Alexandria Line’s future is bright indeed,” he enthused, to Emma’s inner cringing. Dial it down, dude.

“Well she better has!” snapped the bride-to-be. “My wedding is the event of the year in this town and probably all of Virginia: it has to be absolutely perfect in every way. A question of Green family pride, which I’m sure she has very close to heart,” she added sweetly, as a cat offering a cleanly killed prey to its owner, and Emma braced for her to start eating the head. “After all, it’s probably the only Green wedding she’ll ever have the chance of organizing.” Crunch, there it is.

Ignoring her gift, Emma distributed programs to the guests, the embossed letters popping elegantly from the cotton cardstock. “We will let y’all settle in and hope you join the Captain tonight at eight for a welcome dinner,” she explained, her voice pleasant and professional, just greeting regular guests onboard as she did twice a month, every month of the year, year after year since her very first summer job as a stewardess; despite her mother's protests, Papa Green knew the value of learning the ropes from the very first rung up. “Do spend tomorrow getting acquainted with our wonderful Empress Queen and her numerous amenities; I personally recommend our luxurious spa and state-of-the-art virtual golf course. The rehearsal will be held on Tuesday, giving us Wednesday for any and all last-minute adjustments, and we’ll have the ceremony on Thursday. Reverend Hopkins is our onboard chaplain, and will be performing the service.”

On cue, the tall man next to her stepped forward, his hands clasped piously before him, visibly not as comfortable with discomfort as she was. “It’s a great honor to be marrying you, Miss Green,” he said, but cut himself short. Oh no, you beautiful doofus.

“You'll be what now, Reverend?” exclaimed the groom-to-be, his arm wrapping around Alice’s waist possessively. “Maybe buy me a drink or two before you marry my fiancée?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stringfellow,” the chaplain stammered. “I misspoke. I meant-”

“Oh, lighten up, buddy. I’m just fuc- sorry, screwing with ya. Just don’t misspeak – or stutter, ugh-  during the actual wedding, will ya?” 

God, please do, she prayed intently, while Frank turned his devilish dark eyes to her.“Hey, Soon-to-be-Sis, you better have stocked up on that premium bourbon I asked for, and left a case in the Honeymoon Suite. Which, as I also specifically requested, now better have mirrors on the ceiling and a heart-shaped hot tub."

"Oh Frank, no!” gasped Alice, shoving him away forcefully. “I insisted on 1896 Paris Art Nouveau, not 1986 Niagara Falls By-the-Hour Motel!”  

“Just fucking with you, babe,” he replied with a slap to her ass. Always the gentleman, Frank. “No, seriously though, Em, one major problem with that that fancy schedule of yours: when the hell’s the bachelor party?”

“The bachelor party’s anytime we’re not in her fancy schedule, Bro!” shouted a man descending the stairs. He was not clad in the cruise line’s signature green and white uniform, but in the most garish Hawaiian shirt and ostentatious sunglasses Emma had ever seen, as did the rest of the group of young men behind him. This time, she did not bother to hold her irritated sigh.

“Jimmy my boy! I knew there’d be no better best man for me! Finally, some good fuckin’ plannin’!” The two men embraced, slapping each other vigorously on the back. “You,” Frank then pointed to a helpless steward. “Take my stuff to my room, she’ll tell you which. And you,” he added with another clap to Jimmy’s chest. “Take me to the booze.” And without as much as a goodbye to their families, they stormed off across the atrium, a frat boy riot of jeers, shouts and high fives.

Slowly, Emma returned her attention to her overly merry mother, her smug sister, the clueless captain and the confused churchman. “Well, boys will be boys,” dismissed the matriarch, to relieved chuckles all around. “But they are right. There is so much to celebrate! Young love, and such a brilliant match! Alexandria Line and Stringfellow Sails coming together, what a dream! Come, dear, let’s get you settled in.”

With a gracious gesture, she motioned for the remainder of the bridal party to follow them and she closed the parade with a touch to Emma’s arm. “Do come by shortly, darling, I want to review the menu for tonight,” she said. “I do hope you’ve given our family’s famous desert its rightful place of honor.” That ancient apple nightmare? Yeah, rightfully in the trash, Mother, but she only agreed meekly. 

The families gone, the crew followed suit with visible relief, until Emma was left with the silent reverend, who shuffled his feet, perhaps regretting not having managed to vanish along with the rest.

“Uh... my congratulations.” He somehow made it sound like both a question and an apology. “They seem... swell.”

She could only do what she was taught best to do in such cases: smile and nod. And scream internally so loudly that each and every one of her cells shook.

“I can hear that,” he said, startling her. How the fuck- “The hamsters spinning, in your head. Something’s bothering you. Anything I can do to help?”

She looked at him, at the kind concern she’d seen so many times offered to the crew members on their long voyages away from friends and family, now focused solely upon her, and it was both wonderful and terrifying at once. She tucked an imaginary loose wisp of hair back into her bun and shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just the pressure of planning this event. It’s different when it’s... personal." Like your harpy of a baby sister marrying your jackass of a high school sweetheart.  

“I can imagine. Tall order you’ve got there. What was it, 1896 Art Deco?”

“Art Nouveau,” she corrected. “She’d have decapitated you for that mistake. Actually, no, that’s too swift and painless. Eviscerated’s more like it. With a blunt butter knife. Or her bare hands, if she hadn't just gotten her nails done.”

“Lovely. I see why the hamsters scamper thus; you’ve let the viper into their cage. You need a mongoose to chase it off: I might have just the thing.”  

Curious, she let him continue, cradling the leftover programs against her chest to muffle the embarrassingly loud drumming that emanated from it. “I have to cover for José at the jazz bar tonight, you should come by. I’ll make you the special drink I concocted for the occasion: the Blushing Bride. Now I see the name’s totally wrong. And the formula, too; I think it’ll need less subtlety and a lot more bitterness. Will you please help me?” he asked, leaning closer, with that somewhat shy smile of his that just begged to be kissed.

Instead, she pushed her glasses up her nose from the half-millimeter they had slid down, and felt in horror her body do that weird half-shrug, half-nod shuffle that it thought conveyed casual nonchalance. Real smooth, nerd. “If I’m released on time from that sure-to-be-extensive menu review... sure.”

“I’ll have you paged urgently at ten, something about the swan that’s being fattened for the wedding dinner,” he winked. “Or the peacocks they probably requested to act as ringbearers or footrests. Ha, Peacocks... that should be our safeword – uh, shit, no, uh... I meant code word. Code!” Oh no. He’s even more beautiful when he blushes.  

Oh shit. He said safeword... as in sex. Kinky sex. With him.  

Oh fuck. Now I’m blushing too. And my palms are sweaty. That’s gonna stain the paper. And leave marks. That he can probably see. Nooooo.

“I’ll... let you get to it, then,” he stammered again, backing away before waving awkwardly and turning to sprint. Don’t look at his ass, don’t look at.... oh fuck me, I'm staring at a pastor’s ass. I’m going to Hell. I’m getting brutally murdered by my family first and going straight to Hell afterwards.

I just have to find a way to stop the world’s worst wedding first, and have less than five days to do so, and a beautiful chaplain-cum-bartender that’s familiar with safewords to not fuck along the way.  

I'm so unbelievably screwed.

[valentinesparda]

mad sweeney or adam jensen for all the odd numbers 💜💜

@ectozombie​ IM GONNA DO BOTH AND IT’S GONNA BE A LOT

meme is here!!

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

1. Who’s usually the first to fall asleep: you or your F/O?

MAD SWEENEY: sweeney says he doesn’t have a need to sleep but he’s always out before i am. 

ADAM JENSEN: adam is ALWAYS the first one asleep. NO exceptions. i will run myself RAGGED before i fall asleep before him.

3. What are some of your F/O’s sleeping habits?

SWEENEY: can sleep anywhere, any way. has fallen asleep in a bar before. actually has passed out in a bar bathroom in canon. doesn’t mind sleeping alone but prefers sleeping with a warm body next to him so he’ll find my body heat while he’s asleep. starts out sleeping on his back and ends up sleeping on his side. tends to mumble in his sleep!!

ADAM: sleeps on his back or side. doesn’t move at all while he’s asleep unless he’s dreaming. tends to also run rather hot so he’ll kick off the sheets and sleep without clothes. sometimes he likes to cuddle. doesn’t make any noise in his sleep but he’s been known to talk during nightmares. 

5. Are you and your F/O light sleepers or heavy sleepers?

SWEENEY: both of us sleep through everything. i’d say he’s a heavier sleeper than i am.

ADAM: he’s a light sleeper!!

7. Do either of you steal the sheets in your sleep?

SWEENEY: i don’t really but because sweeney is so fucking big he’ll roll over and take the blankets with him.

ADAM: prefers that i take the sheets anyways because he hates being swaddled in them.

9. How do you and your F/O fit on the bed? Is there a lot of space? Little space? What’s the bed size?

SWEENEY: well the good news is that since im so small compared to him i can just sleep on him. the bad news is that we don’t ever have an actual fuckin bed to sleep in

ADAM: BRO ADAM’S BED IN BOTH HIS APARTMENT IN DETROIT AND HIS APARTMENT IN PRAGUE ARE SO BIG THAT WE FEEL LONELY LAYING THERE!!!! THEY’RE BOTH LIKE 8 FEET WIDE

11. How does your F/O say good night to you?

SWEENEY: never says goodnight because he’s awkward as fuck. ends up passing out before he knows it anyways.

ADAM: has been known to tell me goodnight and sometimes gives a goodnight kiss..

13. What do the bedsheets smell like?

SWEENEY: cheap motel bedsheets and whiskey and denim. honestly there’s something so simple about it that it makes me kind of feel warm and fuzzy. once again i smell like persephone and must leave my mark

ADAM: leather, something like honey, whiskey and the ever-present smell of metal. his shampoo is deeply masculine and everything is offset by the simple ocean breeze, lavender, and cotton that surrounds me in this universe

15. How long did it take for you and your F/O to feel comfortable sharing a bed?

SWEENEY: not immediately, but rather quickly. i would say like a week or so, mainly because i don’t have boundaries and sweeney started to love not having to sleep alone every night

ADAM: half a year maybe?? a year?? in this verse adam was more comfortable first before i was

17. How does your F/O react when you’re away and unable to sleep with them? How about vice versa?

SWEENEY: gets pouty about it, resorts to cuddling a pillow and stuffs his face in his own jacket to see if it still smells like him. i’ll look through my phone for pictures or videos of him and curl in on myself to placate the empty feeling

ADAM: got used to not sleeping next to someone initially, but there’s still a slightly empty feeling that he gets when im not next to him. he’ll sleep with a feeling of unease. i’ll be the one who is pouty and clings onto whatever i can find

19. How early/ late do you and your F/O head off to bed?

SWEENEY: we are awake forever it seems like. we both head to bed late-late, or whenever we can

ADAM: we both go to bed at a normal time but dont actually go to sleep for a while

21. What are mornings like, waking up to your F/O?

SWEENEY: waking up and immediately wanting to go back to sleep. normally it’s mid-late afternoon when either of us wake up so we’ll sit up in silence for a bit 

ADAM: we wake up around the same time / get stirred awake by the other person. we lay around and cuddle for a while before one of us gets out of bed and continue with the loose routine we have

23. How does your F/O greet you a good morning?

SWEENEY: never wants a good morning kiss and will only acknowledge me with a grumble or a ‘hello’

ADAM: will grant me One (1) small kiss to the forehead and say ‘good morning’

25. Do you and your F/O spend some time lying in bed after waking up, or do you get up from bed pretty quickly?

SWEENEY: lounges around for a while. i Will trap him with cuddles

ADAM: spend time in bed but then get up

[cureuba]

dash got me thinking about modern sandor so

it’s my feeling that the cleganes have a decent amount of money, the kind of family that isn’t RICH but comfortable in a big house- except it’s rotting on the inside. clegane sr. is strict, and has unfortunately put all his hopes and dreams onto gregor, who he intends to take over the family business (a private security firm employed by the lannisters). gregor has a rare form of gigantism and gets nasty headaches, leading him to abuse painkillers and alcohol at an early age. he’s a naturally surly man, but a cocktail of having a penchant for violence on top of his drug abuse and short temper make him what he becomes.

i think with Modern Medicine and a variety of other factors, sandor’s mother and sister likely survived longer than they did in-canon, but that didn’t stop the toxic nature of the clegane household. gregor nearly kills the younger sister one day, and not much later, maims sandor in the family fireplace. their mother, finally snapping, attempts to leave with sandor and the sister. but clegane sr. has Powerful Friends and gets custody of the kids.

it is, true to canon, a childhood wrapped in fear and abuse. 

sandor does end up working for his father when he’s a teenager, but under the condition that his sister be allowed to go live with their mom. so sandor works security for high powered people and celebrities, he’s not as big as gregor but he’s still sandor fuckin clegane. when his father dies, everybody knows it’s no accident, and gregor inherits everything.

eventually something equivalent to the BoBW causes him to quit and leave. (he leaves a leather jacket with sansa because it’s Cool and gotta replace the cloak somehow) he’s a train wreck for a while, cage fighting and drinking a Lot. him and arya are very much a dynamic duo for a while, until she steals a bunch of his winnings and his car and leaves him at a motel somewhere. which is where he meets the elder brother, who in i think owns a campground/religious retreat and lets sandor stay for a while where they have lots of conversations over a campfire. sandor works for his keep and befriends a stray cat he takes in and names stranger. elder bro convinces sandor to call his mom and sister and there are a lot of teary phonecalls. confronting your childhood trauma and the nasty things you’ve done working for not great people is hard. but he has more of a support system once he allows himself to reach out to them. so when he’s eventually ready to get back out there and see what’s what, he’s not a self-destructive mess.

[erratic-erotica]

Hard Night: The Penising

‘Kay, so.

I don’t, historically, do the tamblr thing. But I’mma try it out anyway, because why the fuck not, right? Also because my friend, Fry, literally made a tumblr for me because I am a luddite and also a tiny frightened baby bird. But Fry shoved me out of the nest with a loving, “FLY, BITCH” and so here I am.

You don’t care about me, and that’s fine. But let me tell you a quick story before I kick things off here.

So my boyfriend (hereafter referred to as Boyfrienddicks) came home the other day from his work at a hotel. He brought with him a large sack, and dropped it on the bed, and said, “You like to read, right?”

BOY HOWDY, DO I EVER.

Boyfrienddicks continued, “So there’s this ladies’ readers group that meets at my hotel every so often, and tonight they dropped off a couple of sacks of books at the front desk. So I grabbed a sack and brought it home for you.”

As you might imagine, I was rubbing my little hands together in absolute glee, because it was shaping up to be the best day of my life. FREE BOOKS?! HELL THE FUCK YEAH, SIGN ME UP. THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS ARE EXPENSIVE.

So I did my gimme-gimme hands and he kindly passed me the sack, at which point I simply shoved my hands into it, the better to fondle my new treasures. With no small amount of glee, I lifted the first one from the confines of the sack and held it up into the light like Simba on Pride Rock.

And then I faltered.

“This is smut,” I said aloud, somewhat feebly.

“What?” asked Boyfrienddicks.

“Smut,” I said, flipping the book around to show him the nearly-naked dude on the cover. “Sssssmut. Ladyboner material. Trashy romance novels.”

“Oh,” he said. “Is…is that one called Hard Night?”

“It sure is,” I replied.

He cackled for a solid minute and then insisted I read it and tell him about it.

So I did.

Anyway, Fry (and others) were amused by the prospect of reading Random Smut That Totally Didn’t Fall Off the Back of a Truck or Anything, so Fry helpfully created this…I don’t know what you call it, tumblr group? For the reading and reviewing of – not carefully selected and deliberately chosen romance novels, but literally whatever random romances we can find.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say about that. Take from it what you will. Or don’t. It’s no skin off my nose.

Here’s my review of Hard Night, by Jackie Ashenden. I want to preface this by saying that it took me two whole days to finish this book because I did not want to finish this book. And not in the “I wish this would never end” sense, but rather in the “I wish I had never started this” sense.

JUST LOOK AT THIS. DISCRETION. SKILLS. SECRETS.

Hard Night starts off with our (ostensible) hero, Jacob Night, looming over our ill-fated heroine, Faith Beasley (aka Joanna Lynn), as she lies in her hospital bed, unconscious and emaciated.

She’s the only key to reuniting with his long-lost brother, because of course she is. And she’s also probably his brother’s lover. Or something. But he found her too late, and now she’s clearly been roughed up, and, as a result, has developed amnesia. Because of course she has.

What’s a fella to do with that, except to claim he’s her cousin and take her home to live with him, which, miraculously, absolutely no one questions. Did I mention he’s the one who told everyone her name is Faith Beasley? Because he did, and it’s not her name. Sergeant Doucheyacht literally took it upon himself to name this poor lady.

Anyway, not even “Faith” questions this miraculous turn of events, which is good for the plot, but bad for anyone in real life. DO NOT GO HOME WITH STRANGERS WHO DEFINITELY CANNOT PROVE THEY KNOW YOU OR THAT YOU ARE IN ANY WAY RELATED. That’s just some solid life advice from your friendly Vodka Aunt Dragondicks.

Captain Dudebro also helpfully gives her a job doing things and they rub along relatively smoothly together, despite both being tightasses of the highest caliber. Also despite the roiling sexual tension, since Jacob is constantly thinking of how awesome “Faith’s” ass looks in her tight pencil-skirts.

But he would never act on those impulses, of course.

Until one day, for no reason in particular that I have been able to ascertain, someone starts shooting at them. So off they run from sunny San Diego, all the way up the Pacific North West, where they hide out for a bit in Major Dickhead’s convenient bunker.

They spend about a day there before Jacob startles Faith in her sleep, and she just fuckin’ flips him and lays him out. Which, you know, cool. I like strong heroines as much as the next person.

So Genius McSmartypants deduces she’s probably Special Ops, just like he was before his mercenary days, and he’s like, ‘Hey. I like strong women.’ But also he’s a douche about it because he’s also like HEY BITCH YOUR REAL NAME’S JOANNA AND YOU HAVE TO REMEMBER THAT NOW TO SUIT MY PURPOSES. BECAUSE I NEED THAT INFORMATION IN YOUR HEAD.

Dick. But I digress.

So now it’s combat training time, because maybe that’ll jog loose some memories (that Joanna/Faith clearly doesn’t want to remember). And of course, Dickheads gonna Dickhead. Somehow, fighting mysteriously turns into fucking. Fightfucking. Fuckfighting? I don’t fucking know, but there’s a lot of it in this book. Like, we took a fifty-goddamn-page fuck-break on page 86.

Eventually, however, it appears that our Noble Author realized, “Oh, shit, wait, this was actually supposed to have a plot, too.”

And the story continues. Faith remembers she’s really Joanna. And that she sort of also shot General ConstantBoner’s long-lost brother, Josh. And that she’s a Secret Badass. Also that she was never romantically involved with Josh, which is good news for Rear Admiral Knobjockey, who probably does not want to become Eskimo bros with his actual bro. Probably.

But that’s not important because we have more penising to get to.

Of course, Jacob confesses to a Tragic Past: a parade of foster homes that he was subjected to because he stabbed his pseudo-stepfather for molesting his younger twin brother, whom he really, really wants to reunite with.

Anyway, eventually Faith/Joanna realizes that telling Lieutenant Arsebarge that she totes shot his brother is probs gonna go down like a lead balloon, so she fucks off back to San Diego, because it totally makes a fuckload of sense to head right back to the same city where you got fucking shot at just a couple of days ago.

Of course, Corporal Fuckwad catches up with her in a motel, because he’s somehow GPS tagged her clothing. How? Don’t ask me. I don’t fucking know. It’s explained as “new technology.”

Anyway, more fuckfighting (fightfucking?) ensues. This time, with spanking! Scandalous! Faith also confesses to shooting his brother, because bro was part of her Special Ops team and he betrayed them for money, or whatever. To which Jacob replies something like, “Meh.”

Commandant Thundercunt realizes that they’ve been found out – there’s a car stationed right outside their motel, and this is clearly bad news. But Faith is just like, “Hey, you know what? I bet I could offer myself up as bait to those guys who have already tried to kill me. They might have info on your brother who might not actually be dead, idk.”

Of course, Colonel Fucknuts is having none of that. But she cold-cocks him and goes anyway, so it’s whatever.

But surprise surprise! Jacob’s little bro was actually the Evil Twin all along! Because he’s there with the real bad guy, whose name I disremember because I was pretty checked out by this point, not gonna lie. Started with an F. Pretty sure.

Anyway, of course Warrant Officer Fucktrumpet Supreme turns up to rescue his lady, and for reasons, Evil Twin helps them escape. Go team!

But Brigadier General Fuckface has just enough time left in the book to have a Crisis of Conscience! He is just no good for Faith! He’s a Bad Man! He has done Bad Things! He doesn’t deserve the Love of a Good Woman!

Faith, of course, drowns her sorrows in whiskey for a couple of hours before one of Chief Petty Officer First Class Bumblefuck’s friends (yes, incredibly, this man has friends) shows up to be like, “Hey. He is actually a Good Guy. I know because I know many things. You should totally just hop right back up on his dick.”

And Faith is like, “Time to get my man back,” or some shit. So off she goes, to confront Ensign Twatwaffle in his natural habitat. He’s taken aback, of course, but powerless to resist her charms (and vagina, presumably). There is more fuckfighting, and probably spanking, and then there’s THE END.

Did I mention this book was dedicated to Darth Vader, because of the author’s love of “dark heroes”? I don’t think that means what she thinks it means.

I AM NOT EVEN SHITTING YOU.

Remember, kids. I read it – so you don’t have to.

Love,

DD

[sevens-evan]

Fuffy for the ship scenario?

this got long so it’s under the cut! send me ships here :)

Fake dating:

i have nothing good rn but they go to a gay club to track a demon because Plot. and make out because Plot™.

Bodyswap:

i mean. it has Technically canonically occurred but in my head they get cursed or some shit in season 3 and there’s of course the inevitable awkwardness of the trope but also??? buffy is freaked out because faith is literally on edge all the time? like she can’t even fucking sleep in faith’s body because it’s so programmed into her muscle memory to be ready to fight for her life at all fucking times. and even though their friends all know what’s going on, faith can’t help but notice that everyone looks at her differently in buffy’s body, they all look at her like she belongs instead of like she’s some kind of intruder or curiosity or what-have-you, and she doesn’t want to but she ends up kind of enjoying it because even though the scoobies are all trying to let her into the group, faith is still the newcomer, the outsider, and for a day or two she isn’t, and she realizes that that acceptance is all she really wants. and then they understand each other and support each other and fall in love and nothing is sad ever

Sexpollen/fuck or die/aliens made them do it:

i do not like this trope! it is a Bad Trope™ and i think fandom would be better off if we left it behind! (however the one scenario i would accept it in: do yall remember that one episode in s4 where the ghosts of abused kids take over a frat house and buffy and riley just fuck the whole time which somehow powers the possession? yeah it was a weird ep, and riley was there so i’ve mostly repressed it. however, in a different and far superior version of season 4 where buffy is already dating the love of her life instead of the human embodiment of an empty, slightly damp corn husk, i would accept faith and buffy being the sex battery in that episode. but kill this trope. please.

Dark!fic:

i can’t think of anything good rn but here’s a shitty idea: buffy agrees to hide finch’s death in s3, and from there it spirals downward as faith gets wilder and wilder to hide her guilt, and buffy follows her down because it’s faith and she’ll be able to reach her, eventually, she’s sure of it. only she can’t, and they both end up working for the mayor. at first buffy excuses it as going undercover, gathering information, and faith feeds that illusion. then suddenly they’re being sent on worse and worse assignments—torturing people, dragging them back to the mayor, getting rid of bodies—until he sends them out to kill someone. faith does it, and buffy helps, and then buffy runs, because no matter how much she loves faith, this is not what she wanted. and she tries to help, tries to get faith out, but it’s too late; faith is too far gone.

Secret kinks:

faith has a praise kink and i Will Die On That Hill

Their first kiss:

they both expect it to be some big dramatic thing (since obviously they both think about it a Lot) and then faith is over for dinner one night and joyce is off doing something and buffy and faith have a moment on the couch where they kinda look at each other and it isn’t important or dramatic or life-or-death or any of that, but buffy kisses faith and it’s right, which is way better than all the other shit anyway

Meeting the parents:

joyce meets faith obvi very early on, and in my version she’s like ah, yes. A Child™. and decides that faith is Hers now thank you very much, and so when joyce finally figures out what’s going on with faith and buffy, she’s temporarily disoriented and a little weirded out, but she gets over that pretty quickly because it just feels so wrong trying to be mad at them for hiding their relationship or weirded out that they’re gay (because, honestly. they were basically dating for months before they were actually dating; even joyce, denial and repression extraordinaire, picked up on that.) and then they’re all just one big family with a lot of issues but way more love

Moving in together:

they don’t really like. Decide to? faith shows up at buffy’s halfway through s3 needing a place to stay because the motel kicked her out, and joyce of course lets her stay, and then (after faith doesn’t go evil because fuck you) buffy graduates and goes off to college and faith gets a job and her own place and buffy moves in with faith instead of on campus because why not, she’ll have more space, and then they start dating and just. never move Out and away from each other?

A crossover of my choice:

i once saw a carmilla/btvs crossover on ao3 and i didn’t read it but i think about it a lot, partially because lil baby freshman me who was fucking Obsessed with carmilla would live for it and partially because i just think all the characters would be amazing around each other. faith and carmilla as best friends who as far as anyone knows have never had an actual conversation, and willow gets laura into witchcraft and becomes best friends with laf because Science, and xander and kirsch are bros, and wow i’m getting way too excited about this. anyways carmilla convinces faith to stop beating herself up about a past that she can’t change, and then faith and buffy make out and then they all beat up demons together

An au of my choice:

this is the Nichest fuckin shit but i play steel drums and i have this incredibly niche idea where they all just. play steel drums. in their high school steel drum band. listen it sounds so dumb but listen to me i already know what drums they all play. anyways in this au angel is on drum set until he graduates and then faith replaces him and buffy is like oh. oh hot drummer girl okay. and then they’re gay and play bad covers of pop songs with their steel drum band. it’s a beautiful idea.

[bastardtravel]

August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire.

After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as “Michael Jackson’s favorite grinder”, we were in dire need of respite.

Establishing a forward operating base was our first priority. For my part, I can sleep anywhere. My bonfire days in the Frozen North frequently necessitated pitching a $10 K-Mart tent over gravel, then drinking bottom-shelf whiskey until you didn’t realize you were sleeping in a puddle of rainwater and broken glass. That’s not a knack you lose. It’s like riding a bike. The Girl was always more discerning, and became doubly so after our experience in Phoenix with the inept criminal front halfway house hotel. We agreed that she can veto any of the lodgings I book. Sometimes, late at night, I’ll hold a flashlight under my chin and tell her spoOoOoky stories about hostels in Ireland.

She insisted on the airport Super 8. I was hoping to stay in a quaint deep woods motel called “Unsmiling Jed’s Sleepaway”, attached to sister business “Unsmiling Jed’s Discount Plastic Surgery Silo and Chili Kitchen”.

If I can’t protect it, I don’t deserve to have it. That goes double for life.

A friendly foreign woman checked us in at the Super 8, then proceeded into utter bafflement when I asked for a first aid kid. I chewed myself up pretty good climbing Bancroft’s Castle, and I’d spent the last half hour bleeding into an oily dog blanket to avoid ruining my upholstery. I’m pretty sure that’s how plagues start.

There were no band-aids here, or antiseptics, or possibly medicine as a concept. There was a three gallon tub of hand sanitizer. I thanked her for the offer but gently declined.

We went up to the third floor. The hallways were lined with people sitting on the carpet outside their rooms, shouting and smoking cigarettes. The room itself was clean and the air conditioning worked. All my boxes were checked. The bathroom reeked of weed, which some would interpret as a bonus. I scrubbed my wounds raw in the sink, tucked away the precious cargo of wine and peaches, and set out to investigate downtown Manchester.

Streetlight technology has not yet made its way to Manchester, so we spent twenty minutes missing exits in ocean-floor darkness. It looked worryingly like Wilkes-Barre, which is not where one would choose to vacation, were one sane.

Downtown erupted from nowhere like graphic pop-in on a video game running at its lowest resolution. One second you’re in leatherface country, with nothing breaking the abyssal darkness but the occasional half-broken Jiffy Lube sign. The next, you’re on vibrant neon market strip, replete with hipsters and the homeless.

We knew we had hit downtown proper when we passed by the “craft grilled cheese bistro”.

only programmers will understand!!!! like and reblog if u get it

Since I am an adult man, grilled cheese cannot be dinner. Both “gastropubs” we tried, despite their bitchin Greek mythology names, offered generic terrible burgers and a draft list that consisted of Coors Light.

“I’m so hungry,” the Girl told me. “I’m gonna die.”

“We all will,” I assured her. “Soon.”

Yelp claimed there was a brewery five blocks away. We walked off the only lit street, into absolute, encompassing blackness. It would’ve been spooky if I didn’t always kind of hope some Putty Patrol mook would lunge at me from the dark while I’m far away from home, having told no one where I’m going and left no paper trail.

There were no incidents. No one was murdered in self-defense. No one knows what we did last summer. The Stark Brewing Company was in the basement of a grim looking office complex, and it was vacant save for two other wanderers.

We sat at the bar and ordered a flight and an imperial stout. I was pushing for finding an actual restaurant, but the Girl ordered “Penne with vodka sauce”, which was not the right color, flavor, or texture to be anything but penne bolognese. The Girl didn’t seem to mind. I ate a pulled pork sandwich.

The beers were warm, but I didn’t care. It didn’t matter what the beers were, so long as they were beers. And not Coors Light. The brewery themed all of their beers off of dogs, for some reason, which I believe to be the ideal business model. According to the bartenders, the brewery had been open for 25 years, but hadn’t yet received their big boom. I was outraged. The beers were excellent, and would probably be even better if they weren’t room temperature, and the taps were not only named for specific dogs, but also provided pictures.

To say nothing of the bathroom, which was covered in sharpie beer lore.

The bartender and waitresses swore a lot more than you would normally expect in this context. The Girl maintains they were swearing at us. I disagreed.

“They were swearing <i>with</i> us,” I mansplained.

“We weren’t swearing,” she countered.

“But if we HAD been.”

As I’ve grown larger and more sinuous, I’ve tried to cut back on how often I cuss at strangers. Cultural relativism is the understanding that not everyone grew up among the coalcrackers, and good-natured oaths like “how the hell are you” or using the fuck-word as a conversational placeholder, while subjectively soothing, can set off fight-or-flight in the small, soft, and bourgeoisie.

I try to maintain direct proportionality between my barbarism and my well-heeledness. Neither the wait staff nor the other two customers shared my bond, and the middle-aged guy on my right proceeded to tell me how his hometown of Denver, Colorado is the greatest fuckin’ city in America, next to maybe Southern California. Which is not a city.

We talked about our homes and travels for a while, then I got my pulled pork sandwich and they left. The sandwich was slightly warmer than the beer, which beat the alternative.

An armada of children came into the bar.

“Oh, shit,” the woman tending bar said. They were visibly teenagers, and on the wrong side of it. They had that gangly awkwardness you get around fourteen or fifteen, and if they were trying to play it off, they were woefully bad at it. There were also nearly twenty of them. It looked like a field trip.

People in their twenties don’t travel in packs of more than six. It’s hard to transport a throng, unless you have a party bus, and why do you have a party bus when you’re twenty-eight? You’re twenty-eight and party buses have always been sad. Get a job. Also, it’s hard to get that many adults to agree on something.

It can be done. You can say, “Hey, adults, you want to do some drugs?” And in a sufficiently sized crowd, you’ll manage to pull twenty or so who will follow you to your house or whatever. This is called an “afterparty”. It doesn’t go to bars at 9pm.

Have you felt out the social zeitgeist recently? Look at a random handful of current memes and it’ll be pretty clear that most adults consider socialization to be a required burden, like paying emotional taxes. “Going out” is the price of living in a civilized society. You’re not going to scare up twenty people, then put them in a party bus, then take them to an abandoned bar half a mile outside of where the actual nightlife is.

“Hey, we’re just about to close,” the bartender said.

A reedy blonde in a top that seemed to consist mostly of straps screeched, “But your WEBSITE said you were open til ONE!”

Screeched.

The bar fell silent. Well, more silent. The Girl and I traded looks, her horror for my delight.

“Uhhhhhh,” the bartender said, but with excellent elocution, as though that were the word she had deliberately chosen. “Okay.”

They sat the itinerant mall food court in an enormous corner table, whereupon they requested shots.

The waitress who had sworn at/with us the least came back to the bar and said, “You guys said you were from Pennsylvania, right?”

We nodded.

“Can I see one of your licenses quick?”

She compared mine against the obviously fake ID one of the tweens had given her. After a moment she said, “Yeah, you can see, the font is different. And the picture looks like it’s photoshopped.”

“Yeah, no one’s license picture ever looks this good,” the Girl said, studying the fake ID.

“Except mine,” I added. They ignored me. I didn’t take it personally.

The waitresses disappeared into the back. Five minutes later, the only dude working at the place was gendered into being the bad cop. He sulked over to the teens.

“You guys gotta leave,” he said. “We know your ID’s fake. We’re not trying to get fined. You gotta go.”

For maximum accuracy, imagine this said in Toby’s voice from the Office. Shamefaced, the flash mob of children dispersed.

We paid for our room temperature beers and left the poor, foul-mouthed brewery to close at 9:30 on a Friday. The Girl and I accidentally stalked the battalion of teens through the street, but only because we were all moving back toward the only lights in the city, not unlike moths. They turned a corner and vanished, presumably to find an arcade or laser tag or some sort of large carousel.

The Girl and I followed the sounds of some obnoxious bros announcing, “It’s like a fahkin sketchy ally, dewd”.

It was, in fact, the least sketchy alley I’d ever been in. Cat Alley was the best lit venue in all of New Hampshire. It was clean and well-maintained, and it was covered less in graffiti and more in an outdoor art gallery dedicated to cats.

There were more, but they didn’t all warrant a picture.

Portland Pie Co loomed from the endless darkness like a beacon in the night, hearkening back to those days lost in Maine during the Great Lobster Drought of 2017. We split a bourbon barrel ale which did me in. It was bedtime.

On the way back, toward the end of the main drag, a man made of pure light rode by blasting EZ-Listenin from his Tron bicycle, also made of pure light.

I can’t prove he wasn’t Jesus.

Heartened, we returned to the hotel, where no one was smoking or yelling in the hallway anymore. Excellent.

Next stop, Portsmouth.

Love,

The Bastard

Into the Abyss August 11, 2018. Manchester, New Hampshire. After seven hours on the road, pausing only to explore an Old Ones cult site, storm a terrible castle, and eat distressingly dry corned beef at a Greek diner that still advertised one of their menu items as "Michael Jackson's favorite grinder", we were in dire need of respite.

[bokhoottoo]

BUZZFEED UNSOLVED AU

So basically,,, Lance is loosely based off Shane and Keith is loosely based off Ryan

Tbh Shiro and Lance being in Shane’s role is interchangeable, sometimes Shiro will do an ep and sometimes Lance will do an ep (it’s mostly Lance tho)

Shiro will usually fill in if Lance has like, a project or big test and can’t do an episode

[Shiro voice] hey there, demons, its me ya boy

Pidge handles the camera/techie stuff and Hunk helps out with editing and such

Keith and Pidge are Big Conspiracy Theorists and they start a YouTube channel called “Voltron Unsolved”

Lance: What the fucks a Voltron

Keith: do you want in or not?

Lance: of fucking course I do

At first it was mostly them just fucking around in a forest or allegedly haunted hotel trying to find demons and stuff but it got really popular after, like, a year

people loved the dynamic between Lance, Keith, Pidge, and Hunk and Shiro and Matt, when they joined in sometimes 

there’s 5 different Mothman episodes bc Keith is this close to catching him

Lance, in a panicked voice: something just grabbed my ass

One time they couldn’t find Shiro so theres just like 20 hours of footage of Pidge, Hunk, Keith, and Lance going around town looking for him and speculating on where he could be

Lance: thE COCO GOT HIM 

Keith: mothman is real and he abducted my brother behind a Denny’s

Pidge: what’s up gamers Shiro was fuckin possesed by a ghost

Hunk: oh my god Shiro died and we have to learn necromancy to resurrect him

turns out he was just hanging out with Matt lol

Matt: and I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling kids!

Pidge: Matthew you are twenty eight, stop acting like a child

Keith: so apparently the spirits in this hotel are excessively violent and aggressive

Lance, from the shadows, lobbing a vase at Keith: YEET, BITCH

Pidge’s running gag in the show is that she says some variation of “I’m gonna call a fucking exorcist” whenever Lance fucks around in a haunted building or something

the funny thing is though she never actually does until they’re reviewing footage from when they visited the Lizzie Boren house and as Keith is talking to the picture of Lizze, they hear Keith’s name repeated many times in a voice not belonging to any of their’s

Pidge deadass calls an exorcist

Keith, turning around when a chair falls over: what was that?

Pidge: dunno. some bullshit

[Lance voice] Hey ghouls! The boys are here!

Hunk gets scared easily but he’s also really curious so tbh he’s probably the first to go poking around at some spooky shit

Pidge: what’s that red stain on the dresser huNK NO-

Lance: If you slit my throat tonight I’m gonna have a hard time forgiving you for that 

Keith, wheezing: okay are you going to haunt me in the afterlife then?

Lance: what? No ghosts aren’t real 

Pidge, zooming in on Lance’s distressed face: Local man very anxious, tune in at 11 for more

Shiro tries, really, really hard not to get any of them killed

not by like, the ghosts or demons or whatever. He lets Pidge, Lance, Hunk and Keith deal with that spooky stuff. He just doesn’t want the landlady of the haunted motel to murder Lance for banging on the walls and yelling “hey demons come out come out wherever the fuck you are!”

Lance: where the hell are we gonna get a Bigfoot costume in the middle of June?

Hunk: Target is having a five for one sale on brown rugs and I have a bunch of duct tape left over from band night?

Lance: Hunk you are a GENIUS

Keith loves investigating the paranormal and all but he gets freaked out when Lance starts fucking around with the demons or ghosts

Lance: ayyyy I’m getting a selfie with this ghost, this is going on the snap

Lance: there could be a ghost aggressively breakdancing behind you and you wouldn’t even know it

Lance: hey Keith the demons want you to blaze it lol

Lance likes to tease about Keith believing in ghosts but he will never let anyone know that something brushed up against his foot while it was hanging off the bed when he was lying down and now he keeps a bag of salt in his pocket at all times

Hunk: oh my god we don’t have any salt to make a salt circle we’re all going to die a painful and excruciating

Keith: Hunk calm down-

Lance, screaming and grabbing handfuls of salt from his pockets: NOT TODAY GHOSTS NOT T O D A Y

[while on the Queen Mary] Lance: Keith what if we’re in the same spot one of the scenes in titanic was filmed?! What if I’m standing where Kate Winslet stood?!

Lance: those lucky ghost bastards, getting to hang out when Titanic was being filmed here

Keith: … the people who died here did so in a horrific and unimaginable way

Lance: yeah but they probably got to stare at Leonardo DiCaprio when he was soaking wet so who’s the real winner here?

Pidge, zooming in on Keith and Lance sitting in the tub: two bros sittin in a hot tub… five feet apart cause they’re not gay

Pidge: ya aint shit ghost!

Lance, banging on the windows: ya aint SHIT

Pidge: ya just. like. ya FATHER.

[etherecls]

ya girl is back with another intro and another shitty character what’s up ?? if u wanna plot with me, that’s cool, hmu. if not, that’s cool too. u wanna assume a connection ?? that’s dope. this bitch is kind of newer to town and also kind of a shitbag so do with that info what u will. there’s more under the cut !!

( camila morrone )? no that’s ( frankie d’angelo ) the ( twenty ) year old ( waitress ). who has been in town ( three months ) and reminds everyone of ( endless drives with no destination, worn tarot cards and champagne taste on a beer budget ). maybe it has something to do with the fact the ( cisfemale ) is always ( irresponsible & deceitful ) or ( clever & resourceful ). either way ( she/her ) is apart of the town.

francesca who?????????????? she’s frankie bitch!!!

she ran away from home when she was 17 and has basically been on her own ever since, just traveling the country and barely skating by.

there was nothing wrong with her home life or anything tho???? her parents were nice enough, they had decent money, her older sister was a cool gal, she was just like this is BORING i need excitement BYEEEE

and also she discovered that the guy she was seeing and the love of her life had a WIFE which was enough of a reason for her to Flee and to never be heard from again

she’s from maine originally and her final destination is l.a. where she hopes 2 follow her childhood dreams of becoming an actress but she keeps taking detours and getting distracted and spending all of her money along the way so it’ll still be a while before she gets there

its just her, her vw bus, and her beagle winnie takin on the world and living one day at time (maybe a friend also???? might be a wc idk yeT)

she never stays in one place for too long so she doesn’t rly keep in contact with too many of the people she’s met over the years ?? all of her friends are v short term and then she’s like POOF gone in the middle of the night. she’s been in tallow for 3 months now and is prob planning on leaving soon once she saves up enough cash, but she’s been living in a motel the entire time

she works as a waitress (mostly at night) and also she is just generally like....a grifter?? a scammer. a swindler. a conwoman, whatever u want to call it. a bitch gotta make money & doesn’t rly care if it’s fair!!!!

tbh she would consider herself an amateur magician of sorts?? like....she is incredible at sleight of hand tricks and will distract u with a fun lil illusion while she pockets ur wallet or ur watch. she also claims to be a psychic and will give u fake reading for some quick $$$$. in reality she is just p good at reading people and finding the gullible ones 

buT !!! she rly does believe in her tarot card readings tbh she takes it v seriously

she’s very poor y’all and lowkey a kleptomaniac bc she really struggled with impulse control and will just....snatch things that she doesn’t even need or WANT because she can’t stop herself its Bad

just generally she is awful at managing money as well. since she p much almost exclusively lives on cash instead of saving up money for a place in l.a. or gas to get there or whatever she spends her money on useless shit or junk food or clothes she likes or fancy little things because she’s dumb and again, has no impulse control 

which also leads her to be v accident prone?? she’s broken just about every bone in her body at this point and it’s p common for her to be injured in some way. just fuckin clumsy as shit bro

but oddly enough she’s v into yoga and shit and honestly is that one bitch who posts 15 videos a day on her insta story of her just doing different handstands and shit

she is also a compulsive liar for no real reason. just bc she knows most of the people she’s met, she’ll never see again so who gives a fuck if she fabricates a story or not u know???

highkey kind of nuts. she never really knows what she’s talking about but she can’t shut the fuck up anyway

she can play the theremin

also played junior roller derby most of her life and misses it so much and can’t WAIT to finally have a permanent residency to she can join a fuckin team again bro

she’s kind of a hoe but not rly a hoe??? like she’s not out here trying to live that hoe life just whatever happens, happens man. her sexuality is quite fluid and she isn’t much of a label gal & identifies as queer. 

but yeaH basically she just kind of sucks and u prob can’t trust anything she says and she’s a lil nuts and probably wants to die but hey!!!! she’s here for a good time not a long time, pal

her pinterest is here :))))))

that’s it, that’s all i got. my wcs are p open because she’s relatively new so !!!!! anything would b lit

[roccoroks]

Dag 3 THE DAG FILES! *que X Files music* The following events took place at the Spring Grand Rod Run, names have been changed to protect the stupid and liable. time:.......dark....ish im working a double, 2nd & 3rd shift pryor to the take over of the motel there for i was still a employee at the time and had to answer the a boss (the sorry motherfucker that he is) but thats another story/rant. its hot outside, people are pissing and shitting all over my lobby bathrooms and im trying to deal with 100+ geusts and god only knows how many classic cars... this is more of what its like to deal with multipul shitty guests and problems while working a rod run in pigeon forge tn. the grand rod run takes place twice a year and has more that 1000-2500 show cars through out the city of pigeon forge. we find our hero sitting on his ass watching youtube videos and eating potato chips and trying to download bootleged My Little Pony:Friendship Is Magic episodes when the internet suddenly explodes and stops working due to me trying to download 30 episodes at once! this is more of what its like to deal with multipul shitty guests and problems while working a rod run in pigeon forge tn me: *prior to net crash* ^.^ *om nom nom nom* *internet crashes* me: O.O........shit....not good me: hey chris (we work in pairs on rod runs) chirs: whats up man me:.....um i think were fucked chris:what did you break? me: the internet....all of it chris: I FUCKING TOLD YOU NOT TO DOWNLOAD THAT MUCH PONY SHIT AT ONCE! me:.....sorry?...you fix?...please chris: *sigh* leave, NOW! me: *me runs out from behind the counter just as the phone rings* ~when the wifi goes down at the motel, you might as well have set the place on fire, eeeeveryone calls to tell you!~ me: front desk poc 1: (pissed of coustomer) yeah uh hi, the inter net is not working, how do i log on? me: (i know its not working, i broke it! ^.^) im sorry we are having technical difficulties and are trying to restore it as we speak! poc1: oh ok ill try later! bye me: that wasnt so.... *ring* me: front de..... rpoc: (realy pissed of coustomer) HEY THE INTRANETS NOT WORKING me: im sorry we ar....(did you just say "INTRANET"?) rpoc: WHEN I MADE MY RESERVATION I WAS TOLD THERE WAS WEEFI AND I DONT HAVE WEEFI WHAT DO YOU PLAN TO DO ABOUT THAT! me: sir im trying to get it back on line and i should have it working with in.....( WAIT...WTF IS WEEFI?) rpoc: I DONT WANT EXCUSES I WANT THE INTRANET FIXED me: sir? sir are you there? rpoc: *yells louder* I SAID IIIIII WWWWWWWWAAAANT TTTTHEEEEEEEE INTERNET FIIIIIXXXXXXEEDD NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOWWWWWWW CAN YO.... me: SIR YOUR GOING TO HAVE TO SPEAK UP BECAUSE I CANT HEEEEEEEEEEAAAARRRRRRRRR YYYYYYOUUUU! (fucking yell at me dick head) rpoc: *SOME HOW YELLS EVEN LOUDERER* III SAID FIX THE GOD DAMED INTRA......... me: idk chris i cant hear the guy, he sounds like a broken record. (lmao i soooooo can hear the vein in your head thumpin!) rpoc: you have got to be kidding me, now the fucking teller phone doesnt work *hangs up* chris: what was that all about? me: thats how you deal with a bad guest chris: great! now hes going to come down here and bitch to me me: yup, see ya later! me: *leaves to check parking lot for cars to tow,leaves chris to clean up mess* me: *looks out the window* (if there were any more cars in my parking lot it, this place would look like a poory orginized scrap yard) me: *walks outside for 3 hours* *3 hours, 2 beers and one smokey burn out from a dodge challenger later* *sitting at the desk, chris leaves for the night* chris: im turning my phone off, dont....fucking.....call...me! me:k me: (back to down loading ponies! and cruse CL for car parts) poc: AHEM! me: /).- (I will not respond to a clearing of the throat, what the fuck bitch, this aint high school) poc: AAAAHHEEEEMMM! ME: (NOPE! FUCK YOU) poc : EXCUSE ME! me: (was that so hard?....bitch) yes mam! may i help you? ^.^ poc: uuuhh you need to do something about that drunk guy in the pool.... me: drunk guy? poc: yes hes in the pool and hes drunk and i dont want to see that! me: ...*blank stare* poc: well.... me: (do i get any more info than that? ITS THE ROD RUN! EEEVVERRRRRYYYBODIES FUCKING DRUNK!) yes mam what does he look like? poc: HE IS THE DRUNK ONE! me: (com'on! take the hint!) mam this is the rod run and everyone in the pool is drunk, is he bothering you in anyway? poc: well..huh..he just shit in the pool.... me:........ me:....your shitting me....(i haha i made a funny) poc: she for your self! me: *goes to pool, see only 3 people in the pool, all of them drunk* me: soooo he just? poc: yup, he just dropped his swim suite and shit right in the pool, then he jumped it , then he told his friends that it was a candy bar and dared them to eat it! me: .......*speachless*.... me: ok mam, who dun shit in my pool *i sooooooo wish i was making this up* poc: him! *points at all 3 drunk people* me: (really? not the middle one, not the one on the right just that one?)ok witch one of them? poc: the fat one me: (THERE ALL FUCKING FAT!) ok witch fat one poc: I FUCKING GIVE UP! *STORMS OUT* me: (damn, she lasted longer than most, shee needs a discount!) me: *walks out into the pool* ok, who shit in my pool (this situation warents cussing) *all the drunk people* "HE DID" *AND POINTED AT EACH OTHER!* me: /).- WHERE IS IT! *again all three of them * THERE! *all three point in different directions!* me: soooo its everywhere.... *blank stares all around and akward silence* me: where....is..... the.... TUUUUUURRRRD *more blank stares* drunk guy 1: ummmmmm me: all of you, GET OUT! drunk guy 2: but what if we.... me: NOW! *all three exit pool* drunk guy: um when can we get back in the pool? me: tomorrow dunk guy 2: why so long? me: look im the only guy here and i have better things to do then go on a wild goose chase for a lone turd in the pool! drunk guy 1: well whos going to clean it up? me: NOT FUCKING ME! YOU WANA SWIM? GO NEXT DOOR AND LAY A LOG IN THEIR POOL! *they all think this is wildly funny and walk off to deuce one out in the smokey mountain lodge's pool* 30 mins and a few pissed off would be pool goers later ME:* just sat down to pizza* *ring, ring, ring,ring,ring* me: FOR FUCK SAKE! I HATE YOU PHONE *get up and walks to phone* me: *bangs knee on desk drawer* FUCKING OOOOOWWWWWWEEEEEEEEE ! FUCK YOU TOO BROKEN DESK DRAWER! AHEM! front deak *in sweet voice* dag: (room 403)" THE GAW DAMN INTRANET AINT FUCKIN WERKIN!"(i a heavy drunk southern accent) me: e.e...(you sound familar) its not? one second let me check. *puts customer on hold* me: *goes to bathroom to take a dump* 5 mins later me: (fuck ! hes still there!) *takes dag off hold* sir? dag: BOUT TIME! me: try it agian dag: I DONT FUCKIN KNOW HOW TO GET ON THE GAW DAMNEDED THING ME.......O.o (then how do you know its not working.....WAIT, HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU....DO YOU EVEN COMPUTER BRO?) me: sir? dag: *YELLS TO WIFE* HEY! GET THA FUCK OVER HERE AND MAKE THE FUCKER WORK ME:  .....(oh my god this is like jerry springer) *long pause* dags wife in background: THERE! IT FUCKING WORKING...WAIT NO, YES...NO ITS NOT ME:.......sir? DAG: HANG ON DAMNED IT! ME:......*SUCKING BACK LAUGHING.....BECAUSE I JUST FLIPED THE BREAKER TO THE ROUTER KILLIN ALLLLL THE INTERNETS* dag: IT JUST WAS FUCKIN WERKIN THEN THE SHIT BROKE ME: HANG ON A SEC.....*puts dag back on hold, sit down and eats a slice of pizza* 4 slices of pizza later... me: *flips breaker back on, takes dag off hold* sir, HOW BOUT NOW? dag: HAY, HE SAYS ITS WERKIN........WELL.....GET THA FUCK OVER HUR AND MAKE THE TING GO! ~pernounce it just like i wrote~ long pause...... dag: aigh the fuckers workin now ME: go deal yall, yall has a goooooooood nigh nowww...... dag: hangs up me: (THAT WAS FUN! now for foods!) *almost sits down* *ring, ring,ring,ring,ring* me: FUCKING REALLY?!? ahem: front desk? dag: HAY ME: (oh gawd not you again) yes sir dag: what room are we in me: O.o..(really.....you dont even know what room....) 403 sir dag: im in 403? me: yes sir dag: TELL THEM FUCKERS ABOVE ME TO SUCK THE FUCK UP OR IMA GONA BEAT 7 SHADE OF SHIT OUT OF THEM! ME: (i would pay soooooo much money, you dont even know) sir its 930pm and during the rod run thing tend to go on until 12 am or so, im sorry but there nothing i can do dag: I GONA KICK THEIR ASSES! ME: SIR! PLEASE DONT GO......*CLICK* ME: *RUNS OUT THE DOOR TO THE 5TH FLOOR* FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! *arives at 5th floor.....its empty* me: ......(aint no one up here) *walks down to 4th floor, sees drunk guy outside 403, in whity tighties, passed out in the chairs* me: (im sooooo not dealing with that) *goes back to office* me: * sits down at the desk and see something out of the corner of my eye* *looks at security moitor* me: DAFUQ IS THAT? *switches to pool cam, see UFO (unidentified floating object)* me: nooooo, it cant be.... *zoooms in, sees large turd* ITS BACK! THE TURD! ME : *runs around the counter to the pool, trips on carpet and knocks over entire brocher rack* me: (deal with that later, I HAVE SOME SHIT TO TAKE CARE OF!) *at the pool* me: damn.....thats quite the deuce....atleast a 2 pounder *starts talking to myself in a steve irwin accent* me: wear hear in the confines of the pool room, in search of a veronious beast! SHHHHH *GRABS SCOOPER* aahw yea thar she is, just look at hur thear, she a absolute beauty! and shes a floata too! me: *lowers scooper, turd slide off the edge* awhh shes a fisty one she is! ima grab her tail! me: * trys to come from below and scoop it up, turd veirs away* shes a quick won! HUHO QUICK! THE SHELA IS MAKIN A BREAK FOR IT! me: *finaly scoops turd* HE SCOOPS HE SCORES!!!!!! * turns around see's hot girls laughing at me* me: *looks at turd on the scooper* (theres not a hole deep enough for me to craw off in right now) *drops turd in trash* * relocks pool goes to desk to commit suicide* 20 min later me: *watching youtube, probably supercharger videos around that time* dag: HAY, YOU BACK THUR? ME: (maybe if i sit reeeeeeeal still he will not see me) dag: HAY! *leans around counter* me; (FUCK! IT SAW ME) me: yes sir how ma.... dag: LISTIN THE INTRANET DONT WERK, YOU GOT US UNDER THESE LOUD FUCKING PEOPLE , YOUR POOL IS CLOSED AND IT AINT EVEN TIME TO CLOSE IT AND TO TOP IT OFF NOW MY TV DONT WORK me:im sorry sir (no im not) but i cant move you to another roome because we are full. dag: WELL WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT THIS! I WANT A GWAD DAMND DISCOUNT! ME: (no you need to put a shirt on, no one needs to see your "DD" man titties!) im sorry sir theres nothing i can do, you will need to talk to the manager in the..... dag: I DONT WANT TO HAVE TO WAKE UP EARLY AND COME THE FUCK DOWN HERE TO TALK TO A MANAGER I WANT THIS SHIT FIXED NOW! me: (and i want a decent blow job from my wife, but that shit aint going to happen either) im sorry bud but i cant do anything until morni...... dag: YOU CAN ATLEAST OPEN UP THE FUCKING POOL! me: sir i cant op.....SURE THING! TELL YA WHAT IF IT WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY I WILL OPEN THE POOL JUST FOR YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS BUT NO ONE ELSE, IS THAT OK? dag: now thats more like it *walks out the door* me: (BAWAHAHAHAHHAHAHHA!) 15 MINS LATER. DAG AND HIS WIFE ARE SWIMIN IN THE POO WATER LAGOON *chis walks in with beer* chris: *stops, looks at the two fuckers swiming in the pool* you know its past 11 right? you not suppost to let people swim past 11 me; i know chris: oooookkkk why do they get to swim? me: because i hate them chris:sooo you hate them and they get to swim.....is that the motherfucker that yelled at me for the inter net not working? me: yup, and some one shit in there earlier to day too chris: *snots beer out his nose* HAHAHHA WHAT THE FUCK? me: yup, fuck them chris: thats sooooo wrong me: yup chris: your going to hell for this but it sooooo worth it /rant

[xphanuel]

I hate cops

That post reminded me of all the times I was searched for no good reason and had my rights thrown in the garbage, lol. I dead ass was only found with weed once, and they let me fucking keep it after trying to see if I knew where they could find coke, to which I genuinely laughed bc I'm afraid of cocaine and I've never tried it LMFAO

Last time I got pulled over, it was this past January and I was driving home from work, which could range from 1 am to 3 am if I work the evening/night shift. I wasnt even speeding, but the cops like to park in dark parking lots and pull out after you for some reason by me? Not sure if that's everywhere or not. I saw the dude pull out after me, and I was like here we fuckin go lmao I'm going to jail or dying for hitting and screaming at a cop. I make the right I'm supposed to make to get to my house, and I make the next left, which is when he pulled me over. So he comes up to my car and I give him my license and registration and ask why he pulled me over and he said that my turn was wide??? "yeah, you sure about that buddy? You sure it was the turn? Not that you saw me on Hempstead turnpike, parked in that dark abandoned parking lot next to the motel, and pulled out after me to make a random stop for no good reason at 2 in the morning on my way home from work, during a pandemic?" He told me to sit tight and then he immediately brought all my shit back, as if he realized theres fucking cameras in the parking lot he was sitting in, or that I wasnt fucking stupid.

Bro, fr, the only cop that's been a god send to me was the one state trooper who ticketed me for speeding but brought down how fast I was actually going. My ass was going 110, I would have went to jail in Pennsylvania with my friend in the car jfc.

The dude was super nice though and appreciated that I pulled over on the "wrong" side bc the parkway was small and didnt have a lot of room to pull over on the "right" side, so I just wanted to make sure the dude wouldnt get smashed by a trailer or some shit. He brought the speed down to 75 and just gave me a ticket and sent me on my way. And ngl I deserved the ticket, I shouldnt have been speeding like that, especially in a fucking rental. That day I was just so pissed off and already had to call the cops bc we were leaving a convention and the valet literally outright refused to give us our car back because "we were rude" when all I did was say hi and gave my name for the valet??? Like lmfao, the cops ripped him a fucking new asshole when they showed up, especially when he tried to double down and say he was "just trying to teach us a lesson not to be rude" and the cop just snapped and was like "that's not part of your job, you're not one of their parents, and it's illegal to hold their own car because you wouldnt listen to them and interpreted their tone as rude." Bc dead ass all I said was "uhhh, hi, Elliot _________?" Which is how I requested my car the entire time we were at this fucking convention??? Like bruh what is the world even

[prompt-master]

Hot Damn