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attapullman · 8 months ago

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Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons

A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!

If you liked this, you may also enjoy on our syllabus Bob From Pi Kapp.

“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”

Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”

“So you admit I’m funny!”

The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.

The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.

“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.

As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.

That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?

As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head.

Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action.

Just when you think you’ve seen it all.

The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.

"Is that Bob from Stats?"

It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester.

“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"

You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?

He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.

“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.

He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”

The wink makes your mouth dry.

Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed.

“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”

With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg.

You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.

“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse.

He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”

You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily.

“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.

Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.

By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.

“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.

Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester.

She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!”

As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”

Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.

“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.

Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch.

“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.

But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.

Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house.

“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.

At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.

Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare?

Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.

Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face.

“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”

Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats.

Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.

He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”

“And the hobby horse?”

He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”

There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest.

The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”

In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe.

His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?”

It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.

An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.

His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.

Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.

The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.

Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.

The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them.

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself.

His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.

You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”

His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.

The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.

Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”

Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.

His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.

“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”

You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”

He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”

Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”

“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher.

You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.

Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”

Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.

“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”

His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.

You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder.

Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.”

The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.

“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you.

In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.

That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent.

An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.

Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good.

Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.

Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”

He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind.

His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.

“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.

One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right.

“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands.

He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses.

“O-oh!”

It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out.

The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light.

Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.

It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.

With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.

You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.

“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”

The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.

Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.

Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”

From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”

You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.

You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”

“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.

Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.

“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”

Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.

Want more Frat Cowboy Bob? Hang out with Bob From Pi Kapp!

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somethinginthewayiam · 3 months ago

Text

The girl behind the bar (Part 4.2)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: banter, bad pick-up lines

words: 3.6k

Summary: After Penny allowed you to open the bar for the few navy pilots, you hang with your group at the pool table since you weren't actually working and you challenge Hangman to a game of pool...

a/n: I hope you have as much fun reading this chapter as I had writing it. It's probably one of my favorites. All the pick-up lines used in this chapter are courtesy of the instagram page of jimmyandnath. Check them out, they're really funny.

Link to my masterlist

“Who’s ready for the first round?”, you called out and everybody basically ran towards the counter. By now, you were used to those kinds of rushes, they didn’t scare you anymore. You collected their credit cards and opened the tabs before you placed a few bottles of beer on the counter and opened them in a row. Then you filled the glasses with the beer from the tap and handed out a few tumblers with Whiskey, Bourbon or Jack Daniels. Everybody spread out across the bar, someone put some money in the jukebox and filled the room with music. Counting yourself, there were 13 people in the bar but they managed to make it sound like thrice the amount.

Since you weren’t actually working tonight, you grabbed a beer and walked over to the pool table where your typical group of people had settled for now. It was nice to get the chance to sit down with them for a change. Normally you were working and didn’t have time for a real chat, only some small talk or, in Hangman’s case, a little back and forth of jokes and banter.

“Hey Y/N, up for a round of pool? We’re playing two against two”, Fanboy asked you. You found Hangman and Coyote on the other side of the table, revealing who your opponents were going to be. You always wanted to play against Hangman and this was your chance. “Sure”, you simply said and hopped off the bar stool at the wall. Bob handed you his cue as he walked past you and took your seat.

“I always see you play every time you’re in here. Let’s see how good you really are”, you challenged Hangman when you stepped up to the table. “Oh, I am good, I’m very good”, Hangman assured you.

You put the end of the cue down on the floor and it slipped from your hand. “Whoops”, you said in surprise and picked it back up. When you stood straight again, you caught Hangman and Coyote exchanging a look like it would be the easiest thing in the world to beat you at this game.

“How we’re gonna do this, Fanboy?”, you asked and tried again to lean on your cue. “Uhm, okay, we’re playing team against team, meaning every time it’s our turn we take turns playing the ball”, he explained to you and didn’t look so excited about forming a team with you anymore.

“And do we play with the fully colored ones or do we play all and just see who’s quicker?”, you asked and had trouble holding down your giggle. Even to your own ears you sounded stupid. “That is determined by the break”, he answered. “Who’s taking a break?”, you asked bluntly. “I mean when we shoot the first shot, we’ll see which we sink first and we play the rest of that color”, he explained and almost looked pained.

“Okay, then let’s go”, you said enthusiastically. Hangman had a wide smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to start playing and wipe the floor with you.

“Wanna make it interesting? How about a little bet?”, Payback stepped forward. You looked at Hangman and he looked at you, challenging you with his eyes. “I don’t think we need to put a bet on it”, Fanboy chimed in, sounding nervous. “Alright. What do you suggest?”, you asked but looked at Hangman.

“When I win, you have to serve me every drink with a bow and a ‘here’s your drink, my master’ for a week”, Hangman suggested, his look dead on you. The fact that he used when and not if didn’t go unnoticed by you. You let your tongue run along the inside of your bottom lip as you contemplated.

“Okay. And if I win you have to work a shift at the Hard Deck, call me boss all night and literally do anything I tell you to. You’ll be pretty much my bitch”, you countered his bet.

You saw how his jaw stiffened, his teeth grinding and you had to bite down on the inside corners of your mouth to keep them from curling upwards.

He extended his hand and you took it. “The bet is on”, he almost grunted. His grip tightened around your hand. “Nervous?”, he asked, not letting go just yet. “Only about the many glasses you’re gonna drop during your shift”, you threw back at him with an equally low voice.

Coyote and Fanboy stood off to the side, exchanging looks and already regretting being your team mates.

“Alright, let’s do this”, you said, walked back to where you were first sitting, pushed your cue into Bob’s hands and took a sip of your beer. You used the hairband you had on your wrist to tie your hair back up into a ponytail. Meanwhile, Coyote set up the balls in the triangle on the other side of the table and after doing so, placed the plastic triangle on the little table behind him.

You took your cue back from Bob’s hands and walked back to the table. “Who’s starting us off?”, you asked in the round, looking at Fanboy, Coyote and then Hangman, who was smiling, confident of victory. “Ladies first”, he said and placed the cue ball on the marked spot on the table.

“I can take the first shot”, Fanboy came a step closer, whispering, looking as concerned as can be. “I got this, don’t worry”, you whispered back and winked at him.

“Gentlemen”, you announced with a loud voice, focusing everybody’s attention on you and you took the two steps to stand directly in front of the cue ball. “We’re playing 8-ball on a 9-foot-regulation table. I will start us off with the break”, you said, bent forward, aligned your cue with the cue ball and took the first shot.

You watched as the balls spread out on the table, a solid and a striped one disappeared in the pockets. “Table is open”, you announced and walked around the table to where the cue ball had landed and aimed your next shot. “Solids, number 2, right side pocket”, you announced your shot and after a second of aiming, you sank your next ball.

“Fanboy, you’re up”, you told him and looked up from the table. You found everybody looking at you with dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Your face lit up with a confident smile.

“Wait, what?”, Fanboy called out and said what everybody was thinking. “What the hell just happened?”, Payback asked. “I played a lot of pool in my twenties”, you simply said and shrugged your shoulders.

“Why did you act like you haven’t seen a pool table from up close before?”, Coyote asked. “And miss out on the stupid looks on your faces? No way!”, you told him and shot a big smile at Hangman, who was suspiciously silent.

“Come on, Fanboy”, you called him again, nodding at the table to take his shot. He walked to where the cue ball had landed and started to aim at the number 5. “Take the 7, over the head rail”, you advised him and motioned the way the cue ball had to travel with your finger in the air. He breathed out loudly, indicating that that wasn’t an easy shot for him. “You got this”, you patted his back.

Fanboy took a beat to think about the shot. “Number 7, left side pocket”, he announced, aligned his cue and took the shot over the head rail like you had told him. The ball came a bit slow but he managed to sink it. “Yes!”, he called out and you high-fived.

It was your turn again. You grabbed the chalk and gently wiped it over the tip of your cue, holding the eye contact with Hangman, a sugary sweet smile on your face. You blew the dust off the cue tip, still looking at him. Only after that, you took a look at the table and decided on your next shot.

“Number 1, bottom right corner, over the long rail”, you announced the shot and executed it perfectly which earned you a few Ohs and Ahs from your little audience.

Fanboy was up again and despite his best efforts, he didn’t manage to sink the ball and now it was, finally, Hangman’s turn. “Okay, let’s get this over with”, he said, rolled his shoulders back and bent his neck to either side as he stepped towards the table.

“12, upper left”, he said and quickly sank the ball. You took a sip from your beer, not getting nervous. His cockiness will ultimately be his downfall, you could only hope that the time has come tonight. You did everything in your power to make that happen.

Hangman went on to immediately align his cue with the cue ball again. “Hey, it’s Coyote’s turn”, Rooster called out Hangman’s little cheat. Jake presented Rooster with a death-glare before he rose up again and took a step back. You and Fanboy exchanged a little smirk as Hangman seemed a bit nervous.

Coyote, sadly, couldn’t handle the pressure and missed his shot. “Come on, man”, Hangman called out in frustration. “Oh, is it me again?”, you asked with playful innocence and walked towards the table. You heard Rooster chuckling behind you.

The cue ball had landed on the opposite side of the table and you had to walk around to where Hangman was standing. “Excuse me”, you said and looked up at him from under your lashes. If you weren’t mistaking, you heard him growling at you before he reluctantly took a step to the side.

You scanned the table. For the solids, the numbers 4, 5 and 6 were left before you had to sink the 8-ball and would, ultimately, win the game and the bet with Hangman. But with how your balls were set on the table at the moment, every shot was tricky.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you went through the possible shots in your head, visualizing them. “Okay, number 6, left side pocket”, you announced and bent forward to place the cue on the edge of the table. “How?”, Phoenix asked confused as the cue ball was nowhere near placed for that shot to be possible in her eyes. You extended your arm and let the cue shoot forward, hitting the cue ball, which bounced off the opposite long rail from where you were standing, hitting the short rail and coming straight for the number 6, not only sinking the ball but also stopping in a perfect place for Fanboy’s next shot.

“Like this”, you said to her and stood up straight again. You turned to look at Hangman and said, “Geometry, baby!”, and shot him a sly grin. When playing pool, your cockiness could match his and you weren’t the slightest way sorry about that because you knew you were good at it. Hella good!

Fanboy sank the number 5 with ease and now only the number 4 was left. But it was an impossible shot and everybody saw it. And if you weren’t sure already, you only needed to take a look at Hangman’s face which lit up like a child’s face on Christmas morning.

“Okay, we all see it, I’m gonna say it. There’s no way I’ll sink that ball, but here goes”, you said. Since you knew it was about to be Hangman’s turn, you at least tried to place the cue ball as shitty as possible. He still had a lot of balls on the table though, so it wasn’t impossible to hit something.

“Oh, is it my turn again?”, he asked cheerful and came up to the table after taking a sip of his drink. “13, upper left”, he announced and sank it. “10, right side pocket”; Coyote stepped up and sank his ball too. Now they had finally found their flow and sank ball after ball. Your hopes of beating Hangman at something died little by little with every ball he and Coyote sank.

Hangman was about to sink his last ball before the 8-ball. “It was nice wiping the floor with you two”, he said with a slimy voice and bent forward to take his second to last shot.

He indeed sank the last ball but he also sank the cue ball and therefore immediately forfeited his turn to you.

Everybody gasped including you. The expression on Hangman’s face was a picture for the gods. “Oh my!”, you called out and hopped off your chair with big eyes. Fanboy still had to sink the number 4. It was a hard shot but not impossible. Like a real fighter pilot, he withstood the pressure and sank the ball.

Now, only the 8-ball was left on the table. They only thing you had to do was sink it and you could call sweet victory our own. You emptied your bottle of beer and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

You stepped forward towards the table and stood next to Fanboy. Everybody’s eyes were glued to the table while you studied the placement of the ball and whispered to your team partner about the ways to sink it, all while swiping the chalk over the tip of your queue.

“Okay, how about you shoot the cue ball here, not too hard, have it hit the second diamond. Then it should go into the bottom right”, Fanboy suggested as he walked halfway around the table and placed his finger on the spot where he suggested for you to aim.

“Stop helping her”, Hangman called out, looking increasingly more nervous. “They’re on the same team, Bagman”, Phoenix said before she took a sip of her beer.

“Everybody shut up”, you said in a loud voice and bent over to take your shot. You aligned your cue and took a deep breath, focusing on the spot where Fanboy still had his finger placed.

You took another deep breath and when you exhaled, you pushed your cue forward and took your shot. It got really silent as everybody watched the white ball hit the spot at Fanboy’s finger than rolling back into your direction, hitting the 8-ball just enough to have it roll towards bottom right pocket. It moved slowly but consistently and your grip on your cue got tighter as you watched it for every long second until it finally fell into the pocket.

Hangman looked at the pocket in disbelief with big eyes and let his head hang in defeat.

“AHHHH!”, you screamed out in surprise that it actually worked just like the people around you. You threw the cue onto the table and ran towards Fanboy, who was coming at you equally excited and threw yourself into his arms. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we won”, you told him with big eyes as you pulled back at an arms-length. “It was all you, Y/N. That was amazing”, Fanboy congratulated you.

You felt hands on your shoulders that were squeezing and shaking you. When you looked over your shoulder you found Rooster looking like a kid on Christmas morning. He was just so happy that Hangman just got it handed to him. “That was awesome”, he congratulated you. “Thanks”, you said with a bright smile that you just couldn’t wipe off your face.

Your eyes fell on Hangman who was coming towards you. He extended his hand. “Congrats! I didn’t think you’re gonna make that shot”, he said as he shook your hand. “Are you gonna be a sore loser?”, you asked. “I don’t know, I haven’t lost until now so we’ll see”, he said and the cocky tone in his voice was back. That didn’t last long. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Well, then I’ll make sure you don’t forget this moment so you get a LOT of practice”, you said and it sounded like a promise.

“Let’s raise our drinks to Y/N, the defeater of Bagman”, Phoenix called out and everybody raised their bottles and glasses to toast to you. Even Jake managed to grab his beer and give you a little toast while you smiled in the round and bathed in your victory.

A little later, everybody was sitting in little groups at the tables, the jukebox was playing in the background. You were sitting together with Fanboy, Payback, Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, Hangman and Coyote after handing out more drinks and somehow you had arrived on the topic of stupid pick-up lines.

“Are you my pinky toe? ‘Cause I bang you on the table seven times a day”, Fanboy said and some of the guys nodded, other’s laughed, you and Phoenix rolled your eyes.

“Is that a phone in your back pocket? ‘Cause that ass is calling me”, Coyote said. “I like that. That would work on me ‘cause my ass is great”, you said and clinked the neck of your bottle against Coyote’s. You must really be a bit drunk to just say stuff like that to everybody.

“Okay, I got one. Are you a shark? ‘Cause I’ve got some swimmers for you to swallow”, it was Paybacks turn to be gross. “Come on”, you called out, pulled a face but laughed anyway.

“My dick is so polite, it stands up so you can sit down”, Bob suddenly spoke up. The table got quiet and everybody looked at him with big eyes, seriously surprised that those words had just come out of his mouth. “Ma man”, Coyote leaned forward and patted Bob’s shoulder. The whole table erupted in laughter “Dude, you’re making me blush”, you said and in return made him blush. “That’s a good one, I gotta write that down”, Fanboy said and jokingly pulled over a napkin like he was actually taking notes. “Yeah? Let me know how that works out for ya”, Rooster commented with a chuckle and took a swig of his drink.

“Are you a washing machine? Because I have a load for you”, Hangman said and everybody groaned. “Hangman, don’t make me ring that bell. You know the rules”, you warned him and pointed at the sign hanging in the middle of the bar circle. “What did I do?”, he asked surprised. “You’re bordering on disrespecting women”, you told him. “Your whole existence is a disrespect to women”, Phoenix chimed in. “I just said what everybody else said. Why is it gross when I say it?”, he asked honestly offended. “Because everything sounds gross when you say it”, Phoenix lectured him. “Whatever”, he said and threw some empty peanut shells at her which made her laugh.

“Why is it always about banging and swallowing your stuff? What happened to ‘Hello, my name is…Can I buy you a drink?’ or ‘You look beautiful, I would like to get to know you’”, you asked into the round, honestly irritated. Phoenix nodded agreeingly while she took a sip from her drink. “Those phrases have been worn out, they don’t work anymore”, Payback waved it off. “Works when you haven’t heard it that much”, you mumbled at the rim of your beer bottle before you took a sip. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hangman looking over at you.

“You have to be clever, creative or those chicks won’t give you any attention”, Fanboy chimed in and pulled everybody’s attention on him. “And you wanna tell me that a cheesy pick-up line talking about your jizz will earn you more numbers than an honest ‘Hello, how are you’?”, Phoenix asked and shook her head. “Works on the right girls. I like ‘em freaky”, Fanboy answered her and wiggled his eyebrows.

“No wonder, you never get laid”, Rooster commented and made everybody laugh.

“You guys need a new round?”, you asked to change the topic. “I think we’re good for the night”, Rooster said and finished his beer. “We’ve got an early call tomorrow”, he added and got up from his chair.

“Hey, everybody! Pack it up”, Phoenix shouted and earned a few groans. It was already past 10 PM.

Not only did everybody collect their things, ready to go, but to your surprise, they all brought their bottles and glasses to the bar, placing them on the counter.

“Wow, thanks guys. Why don’t you do this every time?”, you jokingly asked as you closed the tabs and started handing back all the credit cards.

“Do you know how you get home? You shouldn’t drive”, Rooster asked as you handed him his card. “A bunch of you shouldn’t drive home anymore”, you countered. “We all Uber home and get our cars tomorrow”, he replied. “Oh okay, sounds reasonable”, you nodded and collected the glasses off the bar. “You should come with us, we get an Uber pool anyways”, Phoenix leaned on the counter, resting her head in her hands.

“I still have to clean up, you don’t have to wait for me”, you shook your head and smiled at her begging face. “Just come in earlier tomorrow”, Fanboy suggested. “It hurts my heart leaving you here”, Phoenix added and it made you chuckle.

“Alright, just let me put all the glasses in the baskets and wipe down the counter real quick”, you yielded your protest. “Yay”, Phoenix said and came around the bar. “I’m helping you. Come on, guys”, she waved over her colleagues.

“I’ll get us the Uber”, Payback said and got out his phone. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Coyote and Hangman leaving through the front door.

With the help of the others, it only took you a few minutes to clean up most of the bar before the Uber arrived. The six of you got in the van and got dropped off one by one at your houses and apartments. You were the last one in the car and it was 11 PM when you finally walked through your front door.

Next chapter: Part 5.1

#jake hangman seresin #the girl behind the bar #jake hangman seresin x plus-size reader #topgun maverick #glen powell #glen powell imagine #jake hangman seresin imagine #topgun maverick fanfiction #glen powell fanfiction #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman

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scimagic · 17 days ago

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SMG4: WOTFI 2024 Thoughts and Analysis Masterpost

WOTFI 2024 is finally here and I had so much fun watching it! I've even watched it a few times already!! I'm so glad this was my first ever live WOTFI, it makes me wish I knew of SMG4 earlier but alas! I'm still so happy I found SMG4 and it's wonderful community the way I did!

This is one large compilation of all my reactions, opinions and deeper analysis... -es on WOTFI 2024! I will go over the entirety of the video almost scene-to-scene with my OWN OPINIONS! (And yes, it gets hella long) I divided it into sections of the video and even included pictures for viewing convenience!

Hope you enjoy reading essays <33

Warning: Spoilers (duh).

✧ Before The Show

As said before this was my first live WOTFI, since the episodes release at 9AM for me I had to put on my alarm one hour before but I shut it off fhjkdsa

So you can imagine my panic when I had to make my breakfast 10 minutes before it started

Not my greatest planning but I managed to (somewhat) make it on time!

✧ Let's Jump Right In!!

WHUH HAPPEN

Loved the spin off of Mr Puzzles' jingle, I knew I was going to get it stuck in my head the moment the lyrics switched

I was amused when Puzzles re-enacted his life, thought he'd give a little more meat to work with but I'm glad he just explained what we already knew. Some of his charm lies in the mystery that is his life

"So I did what any ambitious, misunderstood young soul would do... I locked myself in my room and watched TV all day!" So real tho-

I'm surprised I didn't see many people react to Puzzles cursing so loud hfdskja maybe we're all busy with the rest of WOTFI but I SCREAMED when he went "-WERE VIOLENTLY FUCKING CRUSHED BY YOU LOT!!"

LET THAT MAN CUSS FREELY!!!!

"... yyyou!" <3

LOVE EVERYONE'S COSTUMES TOO!! They all look great!!

Maybe it's because of the teasers they gave but I thought the crew was going to go against Puzzles himself with the challenges, but pitting them against Mario and SMG4 made me pleasantly surprised (I will be a lot throughout all this!)

I ADORE THIS INTRO SO MUCH!! It's so fun and vibrant and the way it was animated was so cool!! I WANT THE POSTER SO BAD!!!

Haeheh big Puzzles from the website!!

Love how Saiko is just screaming at Puzzles too fhdskja

✧ Fun Carnival Torture Metho- Games!!

I didn't say what my challenge was but it was called Chuck N' Dunk: Who can dunk the other first in shark-infested waters?

It didn't make it but I do see shark-infested waters, so either I gave a bit of inspo or I'm just delusional hfdsjka

"I have to deal with internet comments all day! This is nothing!" HAH!!! THAT'S MY FUCKING YOUTUBER RIGHT THERE!!! (He still lost)

Love to see SMG3 and Puzzles appreciate the beauty of destruction together, gotta love two villains vibin over causing chaos, it'd make for a fun dynamic if SMG4 ever considers it

On that note, when SMG3 tries to shake Four's tight rope I knew that was Three straight up

Even under Puzzles' control, the cast still retains a bit of their personality, as shown here and in the Puzzlevision episodes

Bob has like- the coolest costume ever holy shit- I really wanna draw it some time

I KNOW IT'S JUST A MASK AND SOME RECOLORING ALRIGHT IT JUST FITS HIM AND HE LOOKS COOL

I LOVE HIM SO. FUCKING. MUCH. HE'S SO SMUG THE BASTARD

This is a really funny joke actually

PIE GUN GO BRRRRRRRRRRRR

I liked seeing Karen included in this WOTFI, she was a main character in a few episodes and her dynamic works well with the others! Just a tired mom wanting to work but pulled along silly adventures, grounding in a badass caring way

CHANGE THE WORLD. MY FINAL MESSAGE. GOODBYE!! God I haven't heard that meme in so long

Plus [Italian vc] YOU SONSOFFA BITCHES

"Hope you two have your running shoes on!" said in the gayest villain voice ever, I love him your honor

Bob going for the clown girl instead of the exit is the Bob-iest thing ever and it just drives my point of the crew retaining their personalities even under control, so people shouldn't be surprised when it happens fhdjksa (cus I've seen it!)

FOUR ONLY WINNING BECAUSE HE'S A CLOWN IS SO FUNNY YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND

So... Ben (SMG4's Thumbnail Artist) posted a lot of Gokus when someone mentioned Metallica's For Whom The Bell Tolls

That's why I thought there'd be some kind of reference to it in WOTFI which... now that I say it out loud sounds kinda dumb hfsjdka

But the moment Mario appeared as Goku I immediately thought of Ben and it had me gigglin fhdsjka

You'd think Tari would be in the ducky mini-game but you'd be wrong! <3

Final thoughts of the games, this year's WOTFI challenges were delightful!! They were all very clever from the audience and well chosen from the crew! Congratulations to the folks that got their prompt in!

✧ WHACK-A-LEGGY (aka forgive me father for this next part)

You........ CANNOT tell me he wouldn't treat you right- God- DAMN.

LISTEN. HEAR ME OUT. YES I'M GONNA BE SIMPY IN THIS REACTION POST FUCK YOU.

Puzzles is the type of guy to give you the best of the best simply because you say so and deserve it, doesn't matter if it's as tame as a big bouquet of flowers OR as extreme as absolutely destroying your enemies through the most painful torture you have ever witnessed

He would treat you RIGHT!!!!

THAT IS THE MOST PERFECT MAN RIGHT THERE

Oh yes and I love his interactions with Leggy, they're adorable, yes FHDSKJA

THEY MAKE A CUTE DUO

Speaking of Puzzles treating you right: I am on the FUCKING FLOOR. THAT MAN IS PROTECTIVE TOO.

It's just so endearing to me how protective he is of Leggy (yes yes I know I know he's done evil shit to Meggy I know) BUT LISTEN.

In an actual redemption arc, I can see Puzzles as the most loyal motherfucker that you've ever befriended, that man is going to go to the edge of the earth and fight for you if needed BECAUSE you're his friend and that is so lovely to me

It's cute how he's trying to tell Leggy where to go, where to hide and just how worried he is of her

Mind you, the contrast between Puzzles being worried and SMG4 and Mario wanting to curve-stomp that goomba to death is hilarious fhdsjka

So forgive me if I giggle like a schoolgirl over that man

✧ I'm Gonna Get Real With You For A Moment

MR STINKY

Oh this scene now- lots to unpack

First: Adore how this scene plays out, I love the portrayal of Puzzles' meltdown, induced by grief, sadness, anger and frustration over how things are playing out. It's a big "I'm supposed to win! Why don't you let me win!" moment, I simply adore when those happen.

The pitiful cries when you don't get your way when you've meticulously planned everything and done Everything to get it, and do everything did Puzzles indeed try

Second: The colors, the dramatic red light, the destruction of the park out of anger and overcharging it seems

It's basically a tantrum

Third: The voice acting is phenomenal, and that's been said all throughout the Puzzlevision arc, Brendan (Mr Puzzles' voice actor) is so good at his job- he's perfect in those high pitch inflictions of emotion and the lower threatening tones, that scream is chilling and painful

Fourth: I can try and decipher that blue screen

FATAL ERROR A problem has been detected and Mr. Puzzles has been shut down to prevent damage to himself. PUZZLEVISION.EXE Check to make sure any new show or movie is properly installed. If this is a new installation :It's not: ask your hardware or software manufacturer for any PUZZLEVISION updates you might need. :I don't need any: If problems continue, disable or remove any newly installed hardware or software. Disable CPU(?) memory options such as Unused Shows or Movies. If you need to use safe mode :I don't: to remove or disable components, restart yourself, press :nuhuh: to select Advanced Startup Options, and then select Safe Mode. :NO: Technical Information: *** STOP: 2xREADING (... xACTUALLY)

That last line is ineligible to me but I tried my best for y'all <3

Lots to unpack just in this tiny little message

In his system, Puzzles is programmed to shut down if damaged. Which is CRAZY TO THINK ABOUT. His OWN SYSTEM shuts down to prevent damage to himself.

Also he's SPEAKING THROUGH THE BLUESCREEN, he's actively saying No to "Safe Mode" and REFUSING any repairs his system suggests

THIS MAN DOES NOT CARE FOR HIS BODY (if you couldn't tell by the TV head part)

AND HE'S SO UNSERIOUS HE STRAIGHT UP TELLS HIS SYSTEM NUH UH!!!!

A little easter egg that someone else on Twitter found :)

Puzzles has become a rage horror monster and I'm here for it, the horror elements do go hard when they're played

URGH. AND THIS MOMENT. Many have pointed it out by now BUT THE TRAUMA OF THE CASTLE!! I AM SO WEAK

Puzzles REALLY plays into those psychological torture methods, it is so RUTHLESS of him, intentionally or not!!

✧ STEP RIGHT UP, MY FRIENDS, TO PUZZLEPARK!

He looks horrible in armor despite being everyone's pathetic knight in shining armor FHJDSKA

"You're MINE" I SURE AM SIR!!!

THAT GROWL THO- BRENDAN STRIKING AGAIN WITH THEM VOCALS!!!

AND THIS!! IS THE MOMENT WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR OH BOY!!

The transition into the actual song is SO GOOD, instead of going higher like the actual Disney intro it goes LOWER and it's PERFECT for the intro!! It makes Puzzles sound INSANE (RIGHTFULLY SO!) It also tricks you because you know the melody so well until UH OH!! WE'RE IN DEEP SHIT!! LET'S GET THE FUCK IN!

IMMEDIATELY threateningly playful I LOVE IT!!

It sounds so much like the songs in Nightmare Before Christmas, Kidnap Sandy Claws, Oogie Boogie's song, it has their same vibes! The same devilishly playful with their victims kind of vibes and it's RIGHT UP MY ALLEY BABY

It has SUCH an energizing beat too!! It makes you wanna jump in your seat to the beat!

The set up is so fun too, purple is an interesting choice to go with.

I cannot stress enough how GOOD THE VOCALS ARE TOO I WAS ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT

AND THIS PART. GOES EXTREMELY HARD. THEY ALL LOOK GREAT

They cooked with the choir of minions fr!! They sound great together!!

The chorus of the song is just as catchy as Creative Control, I had worries that I wasn't going to like this one as much as CC but I was SO wrong!! It's right up it's alley! They both have their strengths and their unique way of presenting Mr Puzzles, I wouldn't be able to decide which one is "better" since they both have different points to send across

Creative Control is jazzier, it taunts the crew and introduces Puzzles as the master villain with a bit of backstory, it's used to show the control on the crew both visually and lyrically with Puzzles putting them in different scenarios while singing how they can't leave

Meanwhile Puzzlepark, while similar in the controlling part, has more going on. It's not just Puzzles trying to control/stop Meggy, SMG4 and Mario, it's also them fighting back when they couldn't in CC. It also has the rest of the group trying to detain them, mind-controlled by Puzzles. It's crazier than just putting them in shows and popular culture references, it's throwing things at them, attacking them and messing with the world, trying to enact revenge yknow!

I particularly like when Meggy and Puzzles sing together, their voices contrast well

"But it's time for you to die now." Haehah! Hello!! This is the part where I kill you!!

AND A LAWSUIT ARC REFERENCE TOO!? OH I'M IN HEAVEN!!!

The lyrics scratch at a very nice part of my brain, I think SMG4 has always had a knack for rhyming, they've perfected it over the years and it's paid off well

And combined with the change in beat it goes for extra points, mwah!! Chef's kiss!!

"That child is gone... Six feet under right WHERE YOU AND YOUR STUPID FRIENDS BELONG!!"

MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE PART FUCKING EVER!!!! THEY ABSOLUTELY COOKED

IT'S ABOUT HOW THREATENING PUZZLES IS IT'S ABOUT MEGGY STILL TRYING TO HELP HIM DESPITE IT ALL IT'S ABOUT HIM ABSOLUTELY REFUSING THE HELP BECAUSE THAT'S. JUST. HIM. PUZZLES. REFUSES. HELP. THINGS go his way or they don't go at all!!!

AND THAT ENDING NOTE MYYYY GODDDD GIVE THIS MAN AN EMMY RIGHT ABOUT FUCKING NOW!!!!

That was such a clean note, Brendan has an amazing singing voice and I'll be listening to this on repeat for A WEEK

SMG4 RELEASE PUZZLEPARK ON SPOTIFY NOW AND MY LIFE!!! IS YOURS!!!!

✧ In The End... It's For The Better...

They like using the trope of going inside a character's brain/heart/whatever to talk to them huh...

I'm not saying it as a bad thing! It's just a pattern I'm sure we've all noticed! I think it's cute!

SMG4 wouldn't be SMG4 if they at least didn't Try to save their villains, sure there's distasteful ones like that lizard that absolutely deserved it, but all the other villains had redemption arcs, heart to hearts, sympathy before dying... SMG4 is about chances, finding your people and having a heart even towards those who wronged you, even if in the end the worst happens to them

And I think that's beautiful

Regardless of having a heart, however, Meggy has the absolute right to be angry at Puzzles, maybe it wasn't right but I don't blame her for snapping at a kid, that kid Is Puzzles after all

I see two possible interpretations of Meggy becoming Leggy one more time: either- Truly to get close to Puzzles and become a true friend, or simple manipulation to get him to stop. Either are possible in my book, maybe with a little more thought I'd be able to know which one but for now I remain satisfied with being skeptical on this one, I don't care to find what the real intentions were since I know the ending.

Plus nothing is in black and white, there's a lot of layers to Puzzles' and Meggy's relationship........

And speaking of that ending-

HAH!!!!

I THOUGHT THAT SHIT WAS HILARIOUS!!

IN TRUE SMG4 FASHION YOU (SORTA) REDEEM A VILLAIN AND CELEBRATE SAVING THE DAY WITH A STUPID MEME

WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO FOLKS IT'S SMG4 IT'S THE FUNNY HAHA MEME SHOW!!

STOP TAKING IT SO FUCKING SERIOUSLY THE WHOLE TIME!!

IT CAN BE SERIOUS AND STUPID!!!!

Mr Puzzles SHOULD go to the psych ward, HE'S FUCKING INSANE

YOU DON'T GET REDEEMED IMMEDIATELY AFTER ALL THAT!!

I'm glad they didn't redeem him completely! I didn't believe him at all when he said he learned a valuable lesson! I was like No The Fuck You Didn't!

You can have a redemption later! That's okay! I trust the writers with handling the arcs and making them good! And you heard Luke, they might bring him back later! (Which is a definite yes!)

I would love for them to take it slow with Puzzles, not immediately of course, let him breathe and write another arc right now, settle things with everything and everyone and THEN you can break him out, the universe is full of possibilities, and I'm SURE I will enjoy whatever the SMG4 crew writes

Haeheh she looks like a nerd with those goggles

Someone's Artist Puzzles AU just came true btw-

"And Didney shut down..!" :D

The Showgrounds is gonna start looking more like an actual carnival too!! Wahoo!!

I WANT THAT FUCKING HOODIE-

That Puzzle plushie looks so ugly I LOVE HIMMMM

I WANT THAT FUCKING POSTER AND KEYCHAIN

SOMEONE PLEASE FUCKING COMMISSION ME SO I CAN BUY THEMMMMMM AEUGHHHHHH

Thank YOU LUKE AND SMG4 CREW FOR GIVING US THIS WOTFI!!! I LOVED IT WITH ALL MY HEART <33

I would love to hang out and go get some pizza with Mr Puzzles :(

And finally... that lil jingle to end with the rolling credits

✧ Final Thoughts

Believe me when I say I think this is the best possible ending for Puzzles, he doesn't die, he doesn't get completely redeemed, but he does face consequences and he gets a chance for the future, best of both worlds me thinks

I loved this rollercoaster that was Puzzlevision, I might've hopped on the train sorta late but I stayed for all the duration of the ride and I had a blast <3

Mr Puzzles was great and maliciously loveable, learning about all these characters and growing to care about them was amazing, I'm really happy I have a new series I can watch and analyze and enjoy!! I'll be remaining in my seat with my one ticket until I get off the SMG4 train, not sure when!! But until then you can expect me to still love this show, draw for it and analyze it much more than any reasonably normal person should.

If you've read this far, I love you soso much and hope you enjoyed this hell of a scroll, because I spent so many hours on this shit YOU WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND-

K BYEEEE <333

#wotfi 2024 #smg4 wotfi #smg4 #mario smg4 #meggy spletzer #mr puzzles #smg3 #bob bobowski #fishy boopkins #smg4 tari #smg4 saiko #karen smg4 #luigi smg4 #smg4 melony #puzzlevision #smg4 puzzlevision #smg4 puzzle park #sci screams #sci ships

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teewritessmth · 1 year ago

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~~Fragmented Affection Part 02~~

Kenny x f! reader

Summary : After splitting with your shitty ex, you seek comfort in your best friend Kenny. But are you two just friends?

Warnings : smut, breastplay, blowjobs, cum, safe sex

You ring his doorbell and within seconds he opens his door wide with the biggest smile on his face.

"Hey Kenny".

You greet him and wrap your arms around his neck. He wraps his arms around your torso and breathes in your scent.

"Hey beautiful, thank you for coming."

Your face flushes as you remember the nickname he used to call you all the time. It's been a while he said that, so it made you feel a little giddy inside.

Kenny holds you by your wrist and gently leads to you to his table.

"Did you bring your TV in the kitchen, Ken?"

"Uh yeah...I thought maybe we could watch your favorite show while we ate so we don't have awkward pauses during dinner."

Your heart burst at his gesture, he was such a sweetheart.

"Are you the cutest?".

"I'm afraid I might be."

He pinches your cheeks and pulls your chair for you.

The rest of the dinner goes by in a flash. Kenny either making small jokes about the characters or adding his own character to the show. You stomach hurt from laughter as you lay in his couch, watching him bring his TV back to the correct place. You smile at him and give him a backhug.

Kenny stiffens a little bit but reciprocates your hug and gently kisses your forehead. You nuzzle into his chest and hold him tight.

"I love you Kenny" "I love you Y/n"

Both of you immediately let go of the hug and look at each other, eyes wide. No way you said that the same time he did.

"Y/n?"

"You're explaining first"

"Fine, sit down."

He let's out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"Y/n, you've been a great friend to me all these years. But recently, I've felt so much more for you. Everytime I call you, you're there. You're laughter is like music to me. My jokes are effortlessly funny when I say them to you. I've never felt anything this deep for anyone I have ever met."

Your eyes water. The man in front of you had bared his heart out to you and you couldn't even form coherent words for him.

"K-Ken".

That's all you say before you get into his lap and kiss him.

He returns your kiss with the same urgency, combing his fingers through your hair. You held his face and kissed him deeper, your tongue gently caressing his.

No words were exchanged as you slid his shirt off him and traced his abs. He took off your top and helped you out of your pants, leaving you in your undergarments.

You dropped to you knees as you palmed him through his shorts, feeling his hard member through his shorts.

He helps you take off his pants followed with his boxers as you push him back to the couch. He lets out a small laugh and caresses your cheek as you kneel infront of him.

"You're so pretty".

You blush and slowly stroke his dick, licking gently at the head. He lets out a gasp and makes a ponytail with your hair in his hand. You give him a long lick from his base and envelope your mouth around him, loving the way his head falls back at the sensation.

You bob your head faster, trying to fit all of him inside your mouth and pull back with a 'pop' sound.

You hear him suck in a breath and look at you confused.

You climb up to his lap and whisper in his ear-

"Finish in me first, then finish in my mouth whenever you want".

He groans and attacks your neck with kisses and unclasps your bra. You toss it aside as his big hands cup your boobs and leave kisses on them. He takes a nipple in his mouth and gently sucks on it, fondling the other one with his free hand. You feel goosebumps across your body as he switches to the other boob, giving it the same treatment.

You line the tip of his dick to your entrance as you slowly sink down on him, gasping and moaning by how well he stretched you out.

"K-Kenny, please fuck me".

That being said, he holds you steady by your hips and thrusts upwards into you.

You lean towards him, pulling him closer to you as you ride him reaching closer to your orgasm.

He spills inside you with a groan the same time you cum around his dick. Your thighs shake due to the intensity of your orgasm and Kenny picks you up, carrying you into his bedroom.

After a quick clean up session, you two hold each other and talk about all the times you've felt strongly for each other. Kenny keeps on kissing your face like a million times but hey, you didn't mind.

Throughout the course of the night, that man fucked you on his couch, on his bed and in his shower when you woke up the next day.

Truly the most affectionate man you'll ever come across against.

Requested by @sexybarkbark

#kenny x reader #kenny smut #betasquad x reader #betasquad smut #betasquad imagines #king kenny x reader #king kenny smut #Niko Omilana #Sharky #Chunkz #aj shabeel #harry pinero #yung filly #johnny carey #darkest man #uk youtubers #ukyt #mcyt

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jina1028 · 3 months ago

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Captured

Jeongseob x fem!reader

Genres: fluff, romance, everyday life, coworkers, chubby reader, older reader, requested

A.N. sorry if this took so long and if it's kinda short, I'm not really used writing fluff but I think this turned out nice, let me know what you think! This was requested by 🐼 anon.

~♡~

You had just ended your shift at the convenience store you worked at and as usual, Jongseob, your coworker walked by your side in the setting sun light, the buildings setting long shadows on your way along the narrow streets of the area.

You both lived pretty close, just a 15 minutes walk, and since the first time you noticed he looked like he was following you home (a funny memory you bring up once in a while as a joke with him), you picked up the habit of walking together after work and grew closer to each other, sharing those 15 minutes alone every day, and sharing a little bit of yourselves to eachother every now and then.

On one of those walks a few weeks ago you learned that he liked photography and that he always brought a camera with him because 'you never know what could catch your attention, so better be prepared' he explained.

And this evening, a calico cat caught both your attention. She had a bob tail and meowed at you, walking in your direction and stroking her head on your legs. You crouched down to pet her and opened your purse, looking for a little bag of cat food you carried around.

"I know this cat" you explained, smiling, "I know she's a stray but I can't take her home with me, so when I meet her on the street I usually feed her.

Jongseob took his camera without you noticing, occupied petting the cat who was now laying down with her tummy on display. The golden light shining on your soft features and your sweet smile made his heart throb while he adjusted the focus and clicked the shutter, capturing the moment.

Hearing the sound of the camera you turned to face him, a questioning look on your features, and Jongseob felt like a kid caught with his hands in the cookie jar. You stood up and approached him "Are you taking pics of the cat? Let me see".

He showed you the pic on the display. In the pic you could see yourself petting the cat, but you could tell the focus was on you. You were surprised, you didn't feel comfortable taking pics of yourself because of your insecurities, you're what people would define 'chubby', and you admit you don't have the best relationship with your body and image even if you really try.

But this picture left you speechless. You could see your round cheeks shining in the golden light, and your pretty smile while petting the cat, and your soft curves hugged by your blouse and cute flowery midi skirt. The way Jongseob captured your image made you look sweet, soft and pretty. You asked yourself if this was the way people saw you every day and maybe you were being too hard on yourself and your appeareance.

"This is me...?" you thought out loud, observing the pic with wide eyes.

"You're so pretty, noona..." Jongseob couldn't stop the words before they left his mouth and froze as soon as he realized.

You blushed and smiled at him "Thank you, Seobie, I really like it".

Jongseob smiled and blushed as well, releasing the breth he didn't know he was keeping. His eyes met yours, the way you looked deep in his eyes, with warm cheeks and a little smile on your lips, all this made him feel butterflies in his stomach and he felt his cheeks burning some more.

He felt like he was staring at you for too long so he diverted his eyes from yours, looking at your lips instead, and started panicking and stuttering as soon as he realized, pushing away the blooming thought of a kiss.

"W-we should get going" he finally managed to say, turning around and resuming your walk towards your homes.

You lightly ran to join his side and taking courage you reached for his hand with the tips of your fingers. He hesitated when he felt your fingers grazing his own, but eventually he hooked your pinkies, lightly swinging your arms while walking down the street, a shy smile adorning his features.

When it was time to go your separate ways Jongseob let go of your hand and called your name. You hummed, turning to face him.

The sun now completely disappeared behind the buildings and horizon, and the street lamps illuminated the scenery.

Jongseob took a step towards you and in the blink of an eye his soft lips lightly and briefly pressed on yours. "Goodnight!" he said and was already turning and rushing away.

You were stunned for a second, the kiss was so quick and unexpected he didn't even give you the time to react. A bright smile bloomed on your lips while you raised your hand and your voice to reach his burning ears "See you tomorrow, Seobie!"

A big smile formed on Jongseob's face hearing you say bye to him and using his usual nickname, letting him know and hope that what just happened could be a step into something new for the two of you.

#fanfic #p1harmony fluff #jongseob x reader #chubby reader #fluff #🐼 anon #older reader

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messenger-of-stupidity · 3 months ago

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So I went hiking yesterday and climbed on some old lime factory ruins and saw some graffiti. (Lots of it actually.)

So here's what I think the redacted characters would graffiti (if anything):

David: No. He wouldn't graffiti. Man prolly believes in the sanctity of nature and leaving things either as or better than he found it

Angel: Cock and balls.

Asher: Jigglypuff. He wants everyone to behold the splendor.

Baabe: honestly, despite the fact I hc them as an art nerd, I don't think they would graffiti. Maybe with chalk so that way it's temporary. But idk what they would say.

Milo: either "Milo was here" or "Shut up Asher"

Sweetheart: doesn't matter. It's a mess. Because "Art is abstract, Milo. Besides, it kind of looks like that time Aggro spooked you and you shifted and made a mess in our old apartment"

Sam: he wouldn't. He's on the same wavelength as David.

Darlin: some kind of inside joke so that way everyone in the pack (and clan) knows they were there.

Vincent: a purposefully cheesy inspirational quote in the shittiest lettering you've ever seen.

Lovely: a smiley face because they just want their life to calm down so they can enjoy immortality with their stupid boyfriend.

Porter: he wouldn't, but not because he cares about sanctity or whatever. He just doesn't see the point.

Treasure: nah. They don't see the point either. They also don't have a marker or spray paint or anything with them. Porter just kinda zipped them into the middle of fucking nowhere all of the sudden. Somehow they lost a shoe on the way.

Elliot: yes. Boy is making a whole landscape because it's in his DNA and his inner Bob Ross is screaming at him that there's no mistakes, only happy little accidents

Sunshine: they put a sun and a little river for Brachium since he can't deface property with them :(

Blake: he's bringing a powerwasher to destroy all the graffiti

Bestie: they weren't aware it was an option because Blake is sheltering them from the existence of graffiti to keep them pure.

Aaron: no. He doesn't have the time

Smartass: they're busy too.

Ollie: no. He'd rather be inside playing board games

Baby: no, they're inside watching Ollie explain a board game for three hours

Ivan: yeah. Idk what, but he is

(I'm not doing Ivan's listeners)

Guy: it's just memes. There pepe the frog. There's rainbows and telling people that "they're putting chemicals in the water to turn all the frogs gay"

Honey: they put Guy's phone number so he gets spammed because his graffiti tastes are as good as his humor. Make of that what you will.

Geordi: no. He's too anxious about getting in trouble to even think about it.

Cutie: yes. They're putting passing people's thoughts on the wall.

Camelopardalis: no.

(He has too many listeners and I isn't remember them and they dint have enough personality for me to be able to tell)

Vega: no. It's too human.

Warden: once. They felt bad and tried to get rid of it afterwards. It was just a stick figure with horns.

Hush: yes. He saw it once and wanted to try it. Now he's wanted in twelve states for defacing government property. He just copies what he's seen.

Doc: nope. They never understood the draw.

Damien: nope. He's a rule follower

Lasko: no. He's too anxious

Dear: yes. But it's just dad jokes.

Huxley: once. He felt bad about it but it was certainly an experience. It was a tree and a stick dude.

Gavin: absolutely. It's hilarious. It ranges from just crude jokes to just random circles. No one knows the meeting, but it's becoming like a mini legend in Dahlia. If you find the holy circle (because it's a perfect circle. He has good wrist control) you have to leave an offering. He's making a cult by accident but he still finds it funny

Freelancer: yes, but only because Caelum saw Gavin doing it and thought it looked like fun and he wanted Freelancer's help.

Caelum: he drew a bunch of shaky smiley faces to "brighten peoples day. Because when they see all these smiles, they'll want to smile too, and that will make them feel good. Which makes me feel good. Which helps me make others feel good. Which makes me feel goo-"

Morgan: no.

Seer obscura: no. But they were tempted to give vague warnings to people to try to help them

#messy rambles #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted audio #redacted vega #redacted david #redacted angel #redacted warden #redacted shaw pack #redacted asher #redacted baabe #redacted cutie #redacted geordi #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #redacted vincent #redacted lovely #redacted the balance #im too lazy to put the rest of the tags

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alanshee-keeper-of-realms · 4 months ago

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wow you really love disney metafiction

Well yes Who Framed Roger Rabbit always fascinated me as a kid, what adaptions would our world have what would change if our characters really existed and lived beside us would Disney be as greedy as it is if Mickey Mouse was actually owner over it it instead of Bob Iger being CEO nd Investors having their claws in it? Would Bugs be the owner of Warner or would he be chilling as an A-list celebrity who is a known as a beloved LGBTQA Drag Queen and Genderfluid Veteran?

Mickey and Minnie married off screen and dating on screen?

Looney Tunes known as chaos incarnate but they're a giant family

Bugs and Daffy adopted the Animaniacs because they had no home

Are Bugs and Daffy together off screen?

What would shape each toon into their On Screen and off-screen selves creating that divide?

What would the huge differences be? Maybe some have kids others are married and some have entire seperate family?

How would humans react to these guys as a species that has a bad record of looking down upon people?

Mickey and Bob Iger having a I absolutely despise you but I have to tolerate you relationship

Off screen the Warner siblings are actually related to Oswald and Ortensia explaining the Animaniacs' strange unidentifiable appearances,

Like the possibilities are endless and vast, there's just so much unexplored due to the fact companies can't share at all anymore and they don't think live action hybrids are useful

Chip and Dale 2022 resparked it for me, a lot of ideas going a million miles, like if I had finances I'd be getting reference shots to use for test fan animation just for the fun of it, cause it fascinates me that much,

And while you call it metafiction it's actually just cartoons meeting our reality seriously go check out the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit that movie right there shows what exactly I'm talking about and here I'll even include some screenshots of a couple films that do this

Bugs Bunny Focus for Back in Action cuz honestly I think this is his most iconic look besides the Viking look when it comes to his drag and honestly the line normally I play the love interest is just amazing

Roger and Eddie(played by Bob Hoskins) in Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Chip and Dale Rescue Rangers 2022

This is the adaption I was talking about earlier look at Ellie next to the apartment building for small toons. She's as tall as it, while Chip and Dale are the perfect size for it, unlike Who Framed Roger rabbit Chip and Dale takes place in the modern day that's what hooked me to create a modern AU it's all so fascinating,

You can't see it in that shot but Dale is driving a full-blown human sized car that has been adapted for Chipmunks I'm not joking, however their movie shows how wildly different everybody can look from each other especially in the modern day when CG is a thing. Chip is still clearly 1990s 2D animated while Dale decided to get a CGI redesign

Like if Mickey and Minnie are only two feet tall and if he's the big boss on set yeah it's really funny to me to imagine him running around Disney and trying to picture every single Studio adapting to these Toons and their various size differences

Again there is just so so much that has been untapped with this genre, because Studios cannot get along long enough to tap into it

#who framed roger rabbit #chip and dale #chip n dale rescue rangers #disney #warner #baffy #Animaniacs #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #oswald the lucky rabbit #yakko warner #bugs bunny #daffy duck #looney toons

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lexr86 · 1 month ago

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White Hot Shame

You’re being funny as you walk me to my Tube stop, visibly delighted when I laugh aloud because the shaggy dog story you’re telling is genuinely entertaining and because your affected posh-twat Harrow accent is truly appalling. Not as bad as your Weegie one though. The strapping Scottish burr does not mix well with your native Indiana accent. You can’t hit all the R’s and those you do hit still struggle in the back of your throat. I don’t care though, because you’re funny and I’m enjoying your company and have finally come to a realisation and a decision.

The realisation has been slow to announce itself. Like all my attractions, it crept up on silent feet, not making itself properly known until it was firmly established. It didn’t exist at all that first time I met you, even though you were funny then too. Even after that first D&D session, I wouldn’t have been able to pick you out of the crowd as anyone other than the cheerful joker whose name I didn’t quite catch. Kit, the perpetual arts student who had taken me out the previous week for a coffee that I was only belatedly coming to understand was some kind of an interview on behalf of the group, was beaming at me too brightly. And Greg the Dungeon Master was glaring at me too harshly. Between them I barely had the bandwidth to acknowledge all of you others. Kit embraced me in a purple furry-coated hug almost as soon as I walked through the door of the small community centre and ran through a clearly rehearsed introduction that went in one bemused ear and out the other. And Greg, it turned out, was not as glaringly grumpy towards newcomers as he first appeared. It was just the way his face fell apparently and he warmed quickly once he realised I was a much needed Ranger (level 11). That first time, you shook my hand, your palm warm and your rings pressing comfortably into the skin of mine, and you cracked a joke that I laughed at and immediately forgot as I was moved onto the next person by the purple whirlwind next to me.

It took two more weeks for us to realise that, as everyone scattered to the four corners of this little patch of North London in search of their usual ways home after our campaign session, we two were essentially heading in the same direction albeit via slightly different routes. You stumbled across me just outside the entrance to my stop while I was rooting through my bag in search of my errant Oyster card and casually mentioned that your bus stop was around the corner. And the next week and all the weeks after that, you walked my route with me so that we could joke and laugh until it was time to go our separate ways. I thought perhaps you had designs, would ask me out or make a move, and I would be forced to admit that I didn’t know you well enough to know if I wanted anything other than friendship. But instead, you let me come to this realisation on my own, let the months pass so that we could hit that perfect saddle point for me between not knowing you well enough to be attracted to you and knowing you so well that I’d accidentally friend-zoned myself. Or at least that point where I can hope that I haven’t friend-zoned myself.

And now we’re here and you’ve eventually gotten to the end of your story just as the entrance to my Tube stop comes into view. I breath deep and then let it out, along with the worry that I’m going to completely embarrass myself.

“Eddie…?”

“Mmmmm…?” Your attention is distracted by a loud but seemingly friendly disagreement in the nearby kebab shop. Your unruly curls, which were cut a bit too short to be pulled properly into a ponytail when I first met you, are now long enough to bob against your shoulders when you nod your acknowledgement of my question. I stare back towards the light of the Tube stop, glad that I don’t have to make eye contact for this.

“Would you like to go out for a drink sometime?” There is a silent pause and, fool that I am, I try to fill it. To elaborate. To explain. You know, just in case you don’t know what’s going on here. “You know, like on a date…? With me?”

Yes, I’m an idiot.

The silence does not end.

I turn my head, silently cursing what I know will come next. The slight frown of discomfort. The warm brown pools of your eyes shot through with pity. The No’s that are phrased as not-quite-No’s. “I really like you but not, you know, that way… I think it’s better for both of us if we stay friends… You’re like a sister to me…” I’ve heard a quite the selection of them over the years. For the record, I’ve heard other responses too. A couple of exclamations of surprise that have morphed not-so-slowly into Yes’s. One delighted “You betcha!” that never got beyond the third date but was a wonderful affirmation regardless. My slowness to attraction, both sexual and romantic, is not the worst of impediments. Until now, it seems.

Your response is none of the expected soft let-downs. Your shoulders are tense, your usually relaxed and expressive hands balled into fists under the dangling sleeves of your dark-dyed denim jacket. You look, quite frankly, horrified. Like I have done something to purposefully hurt you. Like I have betrayed you.

This is a response I have never anticipated, not from you nor any of my other slow-burn crushes. It hurts. I feel my own muscles tighten, my heart rate tick up, fight or flight or fawn… My mouth opens to retract it, to pull it back into myself, and I’m already making plans for finding a new D&D group because this is not going to be okay between us, not with this response, and they were your group first so I should be the one to leave.

But before I the words can get past my lips, before my stuttering brain can even lay out what I might say that could make this better, you spit out a terse “No,” and your long legs, that are usually so good at slowing down to let my shorter ones keep up, stretch out to their fullest. In less time than I have to understand what is happening, you are around the corner and gone, and I am standing alone outside my Tube stop gaping after you like a very confused fool.

It takes three days for you to text me, days which I spend contemplating how I will explain to Greg that I can’t make the coming week’s session, that I am ill or moving to a new city yet again or just plain done with D&D all of a sudden. When one of my workmates comes down with the flu, I secretly hope I’ve caught it because then I wouldn’t have to lie. In the end, your message appears before any flu-like symptoms do.

- Sorry.

I stare at the thin pale block of text in WhatsApp for a moment, aware that you know that I’ve seen your apology, that the little ticks have betrayed me, and my options are limited as a result. It would be churlish not to respond to such a short and clear message. On the other hand, I feel that this is not the opening to a single-line reply and then I’m done. I tap out an answer and resolve to wait for the next notification.

- Thanks.

- I get it – I ambushed you. I’d like to be friends if we still can though?

As soon as I hit send on the second message, the app shows you are “typing...” And typing. And typing. Apparently you have a lot to say. Fuck. There is a long wait, long enough that the screen on my phone goes to sleep and I hit the button on the half-full kettle to boil some water for a cup of tea. In the end, your reply isn’t the essay I was expecting.

- This might be easier to explain in person. Can we meet for a chat?

I have no real idea how to respond to that with anything but a single word. I hit the button on the kettle again to stop it boiling and sigh, mentally kicking myself for being such a doormat.

- Sure.

Your answer is a Google Map pin pointing to a pub that is a 20 minute bus journey from my flat.

- Is here good for you?

I react to the question with a thumbs-up and wander towards the hallway to grab my boots, thankful that I’ve at least had a shower and changed out of my pyjamas on this overcast and depressing Sunday afternoon.

Somehow you’re waiting at the main bar for me when I arrive, even though the bus schedule and traffic were in my favour, so you must have had a head start. There’s a three-quarters full pint of something pale and hazy in front of you and I’d be tickled that we have similar tastes in beer if I didn’t have such a sour taste in my mouth. You gesture to your glass and ask what I want. I end up ordering a half pint of whatever pilsner they have that isn’t Heineken and sip while you hand over cash. Then you gesture towards the back of the pub, looking grave and serious and so unlike the Eddie I know, and I’m pretty sure I’m getting dumped as a friend. You lead me through the maze that is this place until you find a quiet nook with a table just large enough for the two of us and no-one in earshot.

Yep, definitely getting dumped.

I hide my hurt sigh behind my glass of beer and sip again and wait for you to start.

“Shit.” You rub your hand over your face, digging the pad of your thumb into the inner corner of your eye, and suddenly you look your age. It’s amazing what a dimpled grin and carefree manner do for you otherwise. Now, here in this darkened corner, you look all of your years and I surmise that some of them have been less than easy ones. Your hand lands palm down on the worn wooden table beside your pint. “I have a health condition…”

Oh. Shit.

“I’m sorry,” and I am. I don’t entirely mean to but my hand ends up hovering over yours, fingertips twitching imperceptibly, and when you look down I find myself asking, “May I…?”

Touch you?

Hold your hand?

Comfort you?

I’ve no idea how I’m going to finish that sentence but you nod and save me from having to come up with something that would have no doubt sounded clingy after my failed attempt to ask you out.

When my palm touches the back of yours, you raise your hand slightly and I find my fingers slipping into the gap between your thumb and first finger. I give your hand a little squeeze. “I’m really sorry, Eddie.”

The look you give me is caught between rueful and amused, and you clarify quickly. “Christ, I’m not dying. I’m just… I have this condition but my health is perfectly fine, except that…” You pause and blow out a deep sigh, one that starts low in your chest, and I see your cheeks pink up and suddenly you’re staring resolutely over my shoulder into the dark corridor behind me, refusing to meet my eye, and your hand is limp in mine. Your voice drops lower but I hear you clearly when you state clinically, “One of the side effects is that I suffer from premature ejaculation.”

Oh!

I’m still processing your words and the emotional seesaw you’ve intently put me on when you continue. “It’s not something fixable. I can’t train myself out of it. So you see why I turned you down, and… sorry, I should have done it better than I did, but you see why I’m a pretty bad prospect for a date when I can’t last longer than a minute most times.” Your voice cracks on the last word and you grimace, your face a humiliated red flush. Your hand disappears from mine and hides with the other one behind your pint. “A pretty terrible prospect for a boyfriend if that’s what you were looking for.”

I look up sharply at that, kicked out of my slow processing of your admission, and I want to snap at you not to say that about yourself but I manage to swallow down my frustrated tone because I don’t think it will do anything except drive you further away from me. I think you’ve probably had your fair share of frustration and pity, and then some. So instead, I ask the one thing that springs to mind, being careful to pitch my tone as soft and non-judgemental. “Does it feel pleasurable when you come?” It sounds equally clinical but ‘enjoy’ won’t work in this context, not with the obvious shame you feel.

Your eyebrows disappear into your bangs for a second and I can tell I’ve thrown you, but then the frown is back, deeper now, the corners of your mouth pulled down and crap… I think I can see the beginning of tears at the corners of your eyes. I want to reassure you that I’m not making fun of you, but instead I plough ahead recklessly even as I keep my voice kid-glove light. “Thinking beyond any embarrassment, is it pleasurable…? Please, Eddie, I want to know.”

Your voice cracks again when you answer. “Well, yeah. But…” You trail off, unable to finish your objections or maybe you think you don’t have to because they’re so evident.

“So you enjoy the physical pleasure of coming. And you enjoy physical intimacy with a… a partner who’s understanding?” That last part is important because I suspect you may not have had as many understanding partners as you should have. Rage bubbles up in my stomach but I keep my thoughts on the matter to myself as you nod. “And if it was the other way around, if it was a woman in your bed who was coming within a minute of you touching her, would you have any objections?”

“That’s different!” You object and it’s so fast I doubt you’ve even had time to think through the idea before it’s out of your mouth.

I tilt my head and stare at you for a beat. Credit to you, you hold my gaze. “Is it? Aside from all the patriarchal cultural bullshit, if you enjoy what your body does and I want to share that with you, would it be so bad for us to enjoy it together?” You sigh and silently refuse to answer so I try a different tack. “I can’t, as I once saw charmingly expressed in a novel, ‘be dicked to orgasm’.” You can’t help yourself, the corner of your mouth quirks up a smidge at this. I shrug, unbothered. “Oral doesn’t work for me. Fingers or a vibrator are the only ways I’m getting there.” I stare pointedly at your hands, still hiding behind your drink. “They still work whether or not you’ve come, yeah?”

Your jaw works as you look away again, eyes staring into the empty dimness of the pub. I resist blowing a breath out in frustration. Clearly logic isn’t going to win the day here so I throw in my last chip, hoping it’s enough to keep me in the game.

“I like you and if you’re willing, I’d like to get naked with you and explore how we can make each other feel good. No pressure, but I’m just saying, that’s what I’d like with you, Eddie.” That and dinner and drinks and more laughter and terrible accents from you.

Your gaze snap back to me, eyes wide and pupils blown, and I hold my breath, waiting for you to tell me “No” once more.

It takes a week for us to get to the naked exploration stage because I insist on both of us getting tested. It struck me in the pub after you huffed out a wary “Yes” that you might feel less pressured if you didn’t have to anticipate the extra sensations of rolling on a condom, and in any case I want to get a bit messy with you. I’m a sucker for a fun exchange of body fluids.

When you arrive at my flat, I think maybe we’ll have a drink first and chat. I’ve even planned ahead and picked up a selection of beverages, including some decent zero-percentage beers in case alcohol might pose a problem. But before I can play the good hostess, you pull the folded-up printout of your STI test results out of a pocket and silently hand it to me.

Raring to go, I think, but your posture is still that of a cornered animal and I realise you maybe just want to get this over with. Fail out quickly and go home wondering why you even bothered trying. The thought fills me with a sort of empty sadness which I hide by quickly scanning the list of results. All clear. My own slip of paper declaring full sexual health is hiding under a gas bill on my small kitchen table. Once you’ve had a chance to eyeball it and nod your acceptance, I lead you down the short hall to my bedroom.

I want to ask you to undress me but I’m worried about making too many demands on you too soon so I start to undress and hope you follow. When I drag my t-shirt over my head to reveal one of the nicer bras I own, soft barely-there fabric and little lace embellishments that emphasise my nipples, you stare and make absolutely no effort to take off any of your own clothes.

Yep, my breasts are simply that arresting a sight.

“You remember about the whole ‘both of us getting naked’ part of this, yeah?” I joke feebly, hoping maybe for an admission that you’re so awestruck with me that you’d genuinely forgotten. Instead, you nod curtly and dip your head to stare at your feet while you go to work stiffly. A black band t-shirt lands on the floor next to mine a second later. Your body is gorgeous, all soft muscle and dark ink. I want to taste the pale pink of your nipples, run my fingers over the trail of hair running south from your bellybutton. I want to find the spots that tickle and make you laugh unselfconsciously before I drag a pleasured groan out of you with my tongue. I want to have my way with you and leave you panting and delirious. Instead, I get back to the task at hand.

My bra is next to go, landing half on top of your t-shirt while you unbuckle your belt. I’m still eyeing you up and notice that your hands still while your button fly is mostly undone because your gaze has fallen on the soft lavender fabric of one cup. Your eyes flicker up, hands still held tense on that last button of your fly. Behind your hands, I can see black boxers – love, love, love a man in black underwear regardless of the cut! – and a pronounced bulge. I drag my eyes up to yours and you are transfixed, staring at my breasts like you haven’t ever seen a naked pair before. Or haven’t seen a pair in far too long. This was the awestruck reaction I was looking for. I stop moving and just stand for a long moment, watching you watching me, both of us topless, you in jeans that are ready to be pushed down your hips and me with the fingers of my left hand about to tug at the tie on the side of my wrap skirt. I focus on breathing, in and out and in again, solely to give you the sight of my breasts rising and falling gently.

After several breaths, I undo the tie on my skirt and wiggle it and my knickers down my legs – just as nice and lavender as my bra but wasted because I don’t even give you the opportunity to see them. I am as naked as I’m going to get, and you quickly follow suit.

Oh god, you have a dark red dragon tattoo on one hip, and I think I’m going to die. It’s straight out of D&D and I want to taste it as much as your nipples. Next to it, your dick stands delicious and proud. I don’t want to make you more self-conscious than I suspect you already are so I give it no more than a passing glance, just enough to know that I want to do terrible, wonderful things to it. To you. I want to make you grunt low in your throat, gorgeous and pleading for me, to make you whimper with overflowing pleasure. Some fucked up part of me wants to make you beg.

Instead, I climb as gracefully as possible onto my bed and half-ask, half-order you to “Come here.”

You do, and I lay out and pull you down beside me, and gently, oh so fucking gently, because I’m convinced that you need gentle right now, I press my lips to yours. It takes a long moment for you to respond but when you do, it’s lovely. There’s no other word I can think to describe it. Your lips are soft and warm and you kiss with just the right pressure. A tiny bit slow for my tastes but we’re apparently both accommodating personalities in bed and naturally adjust to find a speed somewhere in the middle. My fingertips press softly to your jaw for a while as we explore each others’ lips and then move into your hair, down the column of your neck, over the solid curve of your shoulders. I go no lower than that, enjoying this slow, naked make-out session and not wanting to push my luck right now. Your hands stroke over my waist and back, warming my skin and not venturing further afield. In this moment, you seem comfortable and I am happy for you. I have had other partners who were similarly tentative and I have taken their hands in mine to draw them to my breasts or between my legs but I don’t do that with you. You’ll get there in your own time, I think.

When I prod your lips gently with the tip of my tongue, you open for me and our kisses rachet up a level. Christ, you taste good. Clean and minty with that healthy human taste underneath. I could do this for hours. But we don’t get the chance to do this for hours because, at the feel of your tongue stroking mine, I move my hips without thinking. Only an inch or two but enough to bring my thigh into contact with your groin. Nothing more than a brush of skin on skin, gentle and fleeting, and I barely have time to think ‘Your dick is scalding’ as it twitches against my thigh before you freeze up completely and the grunt you make against my lips is not one of pleasure but of fear.

I stay exactly where I am, my body as frozen as yours, while I pull my face back an inch. The red flush is back on your cheeks and your mouth is a tense line, so much embarrassment and shame mixed in with the healthy glow of kiss-swollen lips and natural arousal. “You okay?” I whisper.

Your nod is strained, all your muscles locked into panic mode.

“Would you like to…” I fumble for the right words, “grind against me?” I’m still whispering, and the groan you let out as you press your jaw into the bedclothes is louder than my question. For a moment, you look like you’re trying to escape from me by burrowing your head into the bed but then you tilt your face back towards me again and nod shamefacedly.

I shuffle forward, and your legs part to let my thigh slide between them and then you’re rubbing your gorgeous, shuddering dick against my skin. You’re tilting me partway onto my back, burying your face not in the bed but in my neck, huffing and rubbing your nose and mouth over the sensitive skin there. Scenting me, I realise. Smelling me. Your hands pass stutteringly over my hips, my ass, down the back of the thigh that isn’t pinned between yours, getting dangerously close to the ticklish back of my knee with a palm that is now sweaty with nerves. This feels so frantic, so heaped with desperation. It feels so fucking good. This is you letting go and trusting me, and I know it would be horrible for me to laugh right now or squirm away regardless of the reason, but your hand is getting really close to the point where I will. Thankfully it reverses course and slides back up to cup the swell of my buttock before you can inadvertently set off a giggling fit by touching the wrong stretch of skin.

Thank God!

Your hips are still grinding, not even really thrusting, just pressing and trapping your dick between your body and mine, giving it just enough friction to… “Unnngh…!” Your hands tighten almost to the point of pain, squeezing my pelvis, digging into the fat of my ass, holding me still as you start to spill hot come across my hip and upper thigh.

And I lose my fucking mind.

“I’m sorry, sorry… Shit, I’m so sorry…” It’s like penance from your lips, whimpered hoarsely into the crook of my neck, even as you continue to rut – Christ, what a gorgeous word, rut! – and spurt on me. It is one of the sexiest things a guy has ever done with me, and I can’t help it, I moan and it’s a deep, wanton sound.

Your body gives one last shudder and you stop moving altogether, shoulders and spine locked with tension, your face damp and hot where it’s pressed against my skin. We are both sticky and you are so obviously mortified that I should feel bad for you, not because you came but because you feel so bad about it. Instead, my body has its own agenda and in that moment of quiet I feel a rush of my own juices tickle my pussy lips. I am so wet for you, it’s a bit ridiculous. So turned on, I should feel as embarrassed as you do.

“I thought I could hold on. Really, I…” Your words disappear into a frustrated groan, and I realise I have to do something right now to reassure you or you’ll disappear on me.

I stare at the ceiling above your shoulder as I pet your hair, combing the tips of my fingers through your long curls, easing them over the curve of your ear, the base of your skull, feeling the heat of your dark emotions through your skin. I don’t know how I am going to manage to say these words but somehow, because you need something to take you out of your shame, I do.

“I have this fantasy…” No response from you. Fine, yeah, everyone has fantasies, no big revelation there. I swallow thickly around a mouth that is suddenly filled with too much saliva. “In this fantasy, I’m with a man, someone I care for and who cares for me, someone like you.” Your shoulder shifts beneath my palm. Do I have your attention? I hope I do. “We’re teasing each other, kissing and touching, and then, then…” Jesus Christ, has my face always been this hot? I feel like I’m burning up. “This man, this gorgeous, beautiful man is coming uncontrollably on me. Coating my skin with his spunk. Totally unable to stop.” I don’t use the phrase ‘inhuman quantities of spunk’ because there are some physically impossible aspects of my fantasy that don’t need to be spoken aloud and I don’t want you to feel more pressure than you already do. “Just my mere presence, just the touch of my skin on his makes him lose control. It’s so hot, so… nnngh,” the sound out of my mouth is animalistic, “I don’t even know how to describe it, Eddie, but if I touch myself while I think about this man…” While I think about you. “…I come so goddamn hard!” You jolt in my arms.

I’m not naturally a talker during sex although I have been trying recently to get better about putting my desires into words. Right now though, it feels like the floodgates have opened and I may never be able to shut up again. “You just gave me my fantasy, Eddie, and it was beautiful.”

You raise your shoulders and tilt your head up to catch my eye. Your mouth is still a grimace, though softer now. There is still a line deep between your eyebrows, though whether it’s embarrassment or judgement or downright disgust, I can’t tell. I force myself to match your gaze, even as I stew red-faced and twitchy in a feedback cycle of horniness and shame. In the end, you’re the one to break the stalemate, pushing yourself up on your elbows and peering down between our bodies. I follow your lead to find that we are both smeared with the pearly whiteness of your come. You are growing soft against my upper thigh, relaxing there even as the rest of your body is tense, warm now rather than scalding hot.

“You’re objectifying me.” Your voice is low and gruff. I blink back shameful tears and nod, then manage to hiss out an apology so soft I can barely hear my own words. Your hand leaves rumpled bedclothes beside my head and your thumb and forefinger catch my jaw to tilt my head and force my eyes back to yours. You stare at me gravely for a long moment. “I’m not bothered by it.” There’s a tiny twitch at the corner of your lips and I realise you’re relieved and amused by my admission, maybe even a little turned on by it, even if it’s too soon for your body to start to respond again. You shrug. “You’re not the only one with fantasies, Ranger girl.” You push yourself up and off of me, rolling away to sit on the side of my bed, hands on your knees and head bent to look down at yourself, while I lie unmoving and wondering whether, despite your words, I’ve just blown things completely.

Before I can reach for you or apologise again, you’re on your feet, disappearing into the ensuite bathroom, and I hear the sound of running water. Fuck. You’re cleaning yourself up and in a moment you’ll come out for your clothes and then you’ll leave and I’ll… I’ll… what will I do?

I’m still lying on my back in the middle of the bed, one hand raised to press my fingers to the bridge of my nose in an attempt to hold off the headache that is threatening me, when I feel the warm stroke of a damp washcloth over my belly. My hand falls to the side and my eyes snap open to find you dragging the cloth down over my hip to caress my thigh. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” you sigh the words out like it’s a particularly tiresome chore. “And then we’ll see just how hard I can make you come with my hands, mmmkay?” The dimple in your cheek pulses as you try to hold the smirk on your lips at bay. One moment it’s there, deep and teasing, the next it’s gone as you regain some control and strive to look serious. In the end you fail, and I spread my legs wordlessly as you ease the cooling cloth over a second pass of my thigh. As you approach my hip, your hand veers towards the soft skin my inner thigh as if you’ve missed a spot there and you brush the back of your knuckles against the damp curls at the apex of my thighs.

Oh yes!

My hips buck instinctively, hands clutching at the sheets when you rock your hand back and forth, pressing your knuckles against my pussy. You glide easily with the movement because, even swimming in embarrassment moments before, I’m still soaked. My juices coat your skin and you mumble a surprised, “Fuck, you weren’t kidding.”

You disappear for a moment, and I hear the slap of the washcloth landing in the bathroom sink. Then you are back and kissing my lower belly, peppering featherlight kisses to the stretch between my bellybutton and mons. Your hand returns to its place between my legs but now it’s turned around, fingertips rather than knuckles nudging gently against my clit and trailing over my pussy lips, smearing my own juices in a swirl of liquid bliss over my skin. I groan at the sensation, spreading my legs wider to give you all the access you could ever need to get me off.

“Dirty girl… Making me blow my load all over you like a horny teenage really did it for you, huh? Teasing me and telling me I could grind a little on you like you were doing me a service, when all the time you were using me to get yourself all… worked… up.” You pump a finger into me, once, twice and then withdraw to flick it wetly over my clit. Holy shit, I’m going to combust! Whatever I though about myself talking sexy, I’ve clearly misjudged you. You are a master at this. A fucking god.

“How do you like it?” The question is kissed into my hip and then there is a little scramble as you reposition yourself, dragging yourself back up the length of my body to curl your free arm around my shoulders and press your face back into my neck. The hand you have buried between my legs doesn’t move at all though, except to keep petting and stroking. “Hmmm… tell me, dirty girl. Need to take my revenge and make you come ‘til you can’t see straight.”

We’re back to frantic but now I’m the one who’s frantic. I can barely get the words out. “Please, I need… my clit, I need you to stroke it in circles… gentle… Oh, ye-esss, just like that!” You follow my instructions perfectly. “Could you, I could…? I like to come around something. I have a dildo!”

Christ, I did not just shout that last bit, did I?

You growl in my ear, dismissing my dildo suggestion. “Not a chance! What do you think my fingers are for?” You flex your hand, fingers on my clit suddenly sliding down to dance around my entrance and I’m wondering if you’re ever going to push inside when you drag them back up to my clit and coat it in the slickness you have gathered. You kiss and suck and scent my neck, setting the nerves there alight while you pump your fingers into me, testing and teasing. The stretch is delicious and then the deliciousness of it all ramps up as something circles my clit. Your thumb, I think, and it’s the last coherent thought I have for a while because there’s a little flick to the circular motion you’re making and it’s… it’s… oh God, it’s so good that I come all over your hand within seconds.

Like a wave of perfect warm water, it sloshes around between my hips and flows through my stomach and thighs, causing the most wonderfully achy little cramps in my muscles. And when I clamp down on your fingers, because I have to, I can’t help it, my body’s going to do it regardless of what my mind might want, you feel so solid inside me that I’m sobbing with happiness. And thanks. Apparently, it’s really important to my orgasm-addled brain to thank you right now so I babble out several iterations of it until you’re shushing me gently, your lips pressed to my ear and then my jaw and then then my mouth.

“Thank you, thank you, oh good sweet… mmmmm… thank y–mmphf!”

I spend a while coming back to myself, just wallowing in the bliss and mess of it all, while you pull your fingers out from between my legs and inspect them. Then you stroke them wetly over my belly and my breasts, tweaking my nipples between your thumb and forefinger. Your mouth follows the path of slick that you’ve painted on me, lapping up my taste and wetness, until you reach my lower belly again and then you part my lips and place a single prissy little kiss on my clit. The sensation makes me giggle which, to be fair, is my usual response to oral. I wasn’t lying about it not working for me if I want to climax. It’s too hard to come when I feel like I’m being tickled into a laughing fit.

Fortunately, you’ve taken on board what I said in the pub about the limited options available to eke an orgasm out of my body, and soon you’re aligning your long torso to mine and shuffling your hips and then, with a resigned sigh, you hitch and press them to my belly.

Oh, you’re hard again!

I’m trying to formulate a request, an invitation, something, anything that will allow me to feel you coming against me again when you beat me to the punch. “I’d like to come inside you…” Your words fray a little at the edges. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, I’m not going to last much longer even on the second round, but –”

“Yes!” I rudely cut you off. “Please. Yes, please. I’d love that.” It’s my turn to pepper your skin with kisses, little soft pouts of my lips against your collarbone and chest. My mouth dances over one tattoo that I’m too close to see the detail of and I murmur, “Can you touch me first, before we…” I trail off, not wanting to load you with the pressure of the word ‘fuck’. “Just until I tell you to stop? Just my clit, please?”

You don’t make me explain myself which I’m thankful for, and when your wet fingers find my swollen bud of hypersensitive nerves again, I respond with puppy-like eagerness. My hips rock to the rhythm of my pulse, pressing myself into your hand for greater friction. It doesn’t take long for your touch to get me where I need to be and I find myself grasping your wrist and pulling your hand away before the “Stop” sobs itself out of my mouth. “Now… please,” I beg, and you oblige, lifting yourself away from my side and hovering over me, settling your hips between my eagerly spread legs.

We’re both shaking as you grip yourself and a little whimper escapes your lips. I reach down between us and spread myself for you in the hopes that that will make it easier. I’m drenched and ready in a way I don’t think I’ve ever been before and my body offers no resistance when you push in, the drag of your swollen dick like a balm against my inner walls. I’m not sure whose mouth lets fly the punched-out “Fuuuu-ngh!” that echoes around my quiet flat when you are finally fully sheathed inside me and I don’t care. I’m pretty sure we share the sentiment.

You’re so tense now, so tight in your spine and shoulders, that shaking doesn’t properly describe what your nerves are forcing out of you. Vibrating is more accurate. “Gimme a min–ohhh, Christ!” Despite your words, you don’t take a minute. Instead you grind yourself hard against me, trapping my hand and forcing the heel of my palm against my clit.

“Oh, oh, ohhh…!” I can’t help it, I’m too strung out on the path to this particular orgasm and without warning, I come around you with no regard for how it might affect you. Oops!

There’s a rushing in my ears so anything you might say or shout or babble is lost to me but I feel you thrust once and then grind a second time like you’re trying to get as deep inside me as you can. A solitary, barely-functioning part of my brain that isn’t totally overwhelmed by the bath it’s taking in a soup of happy hormones thinks you might be coming. I really hope you are. The thought of your dick pulsing and attempting to twitch inside me while my clenching muscles hold it so tight that it can’t move, even while you’re emptying your balls into me, while your lovely dick is soaking in our combined fluids… I inadvertently press my hand down harder on my thrumming clit and a tiny, little bonus orgasm licks its way along my nerves like a kitten made of electrical current and candy floss. Any remaining working parts of my brain lock up and all I’m aware of is bliss and the whimpering wordless pleas hissing through my teeth.

When I’m again in a fit state to take in my surroundings, I find that you are my most immediate surrounding. You’ve wrapped your arms around my back and rolled me onto my side with you, my chest to yours, my head tucked under your chin. I feel slick and vaguely out of touch with the overworked nerves between my legs. Experimentally, I flex my Kegel muscles and when you hiss I realise you are still inside me.

“Sorry!”

You huff and I think it sounds pained. “That’s my line, remember?”

I pull back to glare at you, tired of you putting yourself down like this, tired of you not appreciating that we have been having really fucking good sex regardless of your hang-ups! What greets my eyes is not what I expect. You look exhausted… but in a good way. Tired and relaxed like you could sleep soundly here in my arms. Unlike the other night in the pub, it doesn’t showcase your age, instead it seems to have stripped away some of those harder years.

“I came inside of a minute and I didn’t care. You felt so good and you were coming too, and…” You suddenly look worried. “You did come, didn’t you?”

I snort without entirely meaning to and the jerk it imparts to my body causes you to slip from me. We both utter little moans at the sensation, and when I recover I am quick to reassure you. “Eddie, I came twice. My brain engaged in some kind of operating system-level reboot!”

I’m rewarded with a grin and that dimple again. “Good, I’m glad you got something from it.”

“Something!” I scoff, feeling bolder about teasing you now that we’ve both confirmed that we enjoyed ourselves.

“I’m just… Thank you. I haven’t enjoyed being with someone like this in a long time.” You kiss me on the mouth. You kiss sweetly. Almost platonically, I’d say, if we weren’t lying here naked in each others’ arms, coated in come and the hazy after effects of several orgasms.

A suspicion niggles at my gut.

“You know I want to do this again, right?!” The look on your face confirms that you do not in fact know that. “For Christ’s sakes, listen to me, man!” I huff. “I enjoyed you. I am enjoying you. And yes, I probably have some shit to work out in my head about not objectifying my partners and I’ll go to therapy for it if you want me to. But regardless of that, I want to enjoy you again, have sex with you again, make you come again and hear that gut-punch of a noise that you make when you do!” Your eyebrows are climbing towards your sweaty bangs as you take in my exclamations. I take a deep breath and steel myself for the next part. “Assuming you want all or any of that too?”

You look at me, eyes full of surprise and a little wariness. “Please,” I whisper. “I really like you, Eddie.”

That, apparently, is what sells you on the idea.

“Yeah, I’d like that too.” The smile that spreads across your handsome face is easy. Like I didn’t have to just put so much effort into convincing you that you might enjoy yourself with me. Like I didn’t just bare my soul to you. “I like you too by the way… just in case that wasn’t entirely obvious. Even though I’m clearly a total fucking idiot for turning you down the first time.” You blush. Oh my God, a grown man is blushing over telling me he likes me! I swear my knees would buckle if I wasn’t already lying down. “I’d also like… maybe a shower? With you?”

I nod. We are quite the mess. Sweaty and sticky. The insides of my thighs are smeared, and something warm and wet is starting to drip out of me. It’s not an unpleasant sensation but if the bedclothes aren’t already ruined, they soon will be. Good thing I planned to do a load of laundry tonight and have a freshly covered duvet and sheets ready in the closet for a quick change. But first… “A shower sounds perfect. Or we could have a bath if you want?”

Your eyes widen at my suggestion. “How is it I somehow missed that you have a tub in your bathroom?”

I grin, shaking my head in amusement. It’s a big bathtub too, perfect for two people if you don’t mind snuggling close together. Skin-on-skin contact is a must. “You must have been a little distracted, sweetheart.”

“Mmm… that must have been it,” you murmur against my forehead as you pull me back in for a warm hug. Also the tub is in the main bathroom, not in the tiny ensuite, which explains why you didn’t see it.

“Since we’re talking about things we want… I kinda also want to order pizza after our bath. And maybe pop a film on, something we can snuggle up together to watch?” I fuss with the smattering of hair on your breastbone, realising belatedly that I never got to taste your nipples. Sounds like a great activity for the bath, I think to myself.

“Dinner and a movie? That sounds like a date,” you tease.

“Is that a yes?” I push, cursing myself as I do so.

“Yes!”

I want to ask you if it really is a Yes. If you really mean it. If you have this glowly, squeezing heat in the pit of your stomach like I do, because sex is never really just sex for me and I’m aware that I’m in a little bit deeper here than I really should be at this stage of things. I don’t do any of those things though. Instead, I grab your hand and pull you off the bed and across the hallway to the bathroom and its big bath and start running one for both of us.

#fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #writing #ao3 #smut #archive of our own #eddie munson x oc #shame #frustration #older eddie munson #sweet/hot

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takenbypeter · 1 year ago

Text

Jealousy Explained

Adam Warlock x reader

Words: 1418

Authors note: this was supposed to be a silly little fic but uhhhhh that’s not what it became so yeah 😬

Months had gone by since the Guardians had reformed and honestly it took some time for everyone to adjust.

Some more than others.

The Warlock Adam adjusted well to his life as a guardian. It was easy for him to fight, he just needed to be directed to the right side.

What wasn’t so easy was adjusting to his life on the planet Knowhere.

Luckily he had you to help him with that. You two had clicked since that first night he was on this planet.

You had welcomed him with some teasing words that he oddly found comforting before you joined him on the stairs. You didn’t pressure him into dancing as everyone else celebrated the Guardians victory, you also didn’t really ask any questions. While the others partied away, you just sat with him and bobbed your head to the beat.

It was a simple gesture but it meant a lot to Adam and ever since then he’s felt close to you. At first you were the only person he would go to if he had questions about anything, but now, of course after time passed he found he can easily lean on the other guardians as well but still, you always came to mind first. Which is why after more time passed, eventually he confessed his romantic feelings for you and thankfully you felt the same as him.

The relationship was still decently new and while you didn’t really parade it, you also didn’t hide it. Most anyone close to you two knew and that’s all that mattered.

Although Adam loved going on missions and executing them perfectly…well mostly perfect, he most enjoyed his time on Knowhere helping around when he could, as did you.

This particular night was pretty busy in the main square. A few of you were just about finishing some final touches around the planet such as putting some signs back up on buildings while others were just chatting in good fun.

Adam was distracted chatting on his end as his ears suddenly perked up at the sound of your laughter that could be heard across the way.

You had just finished aiding a small group as they put in place the last sign and after completing it, one of the guys you helped came up to talk to you.

Adam, while having no recollection of this fellow’s name, could see you were easily getting along. Was he a friend of yours? Adam hadn’t remembered you introducing him before.

Adam observed as you let out another hearty, full laugh while leaning back. That didn’t bother him. What did bother him was the fact that the other guy was staring at you as you laughed with a smile slowly spreading on his face while he leaned closer to you.

It was subtle to most eyes but Adam noticed.

Adam knew what jealousy was. He just hadn’t felt it in this way before. He felt as if he was a child, wanting to keep that laughter of yours and that feeling of loving you to himself and only himself. He greatly disliked this feeling.

Adam’s expression couldn’t help but shift from worried to a less than subtle frown as he watched from afar.

“I am Groot.”

“Jealous!” Repeated Adam pretty defensively while his attention was now turned to the tree, “I am not jealous!” He added, peeking back in your direction.

That’s when Drax decided to add his piece as he just joined the conversation, “who’s jealous?”

“I am Groot.”

“I am not jealous.”

Drax glanced at where you stood, still joking with the individual you were with, “you shouldn’t be.”

Adam now turned to Drax, “you’re far better looking than that guy and probably funnier too.”

Then another laughter came for you and Drax added, “maybe not.”

Adam shot Drax a look while Drax just shrugged, “what? He seems to be pretty funny from here.”

They were so caught up in their own discussion they didn’t notice you waving goodbye to the small group before making your way towards them.

You approached curiously as their discussion was practically being yelled at this point.

“I am Groot.”

The argument between the Warlock and the Destroyer stop almost instantly as Groot greets you.

“Hey Groot,” you greet while you come up to them interested about what all that noise was, “what’s goin’ on over here?” Your eyes first met Adam’s before he looked away, his eyes drifting to the side. Then you turned to Drax who was staring right at you, “golden boy is jealous.”

“What?!” Adam immediately turned to Drax having been ratted out, “I am not jealous, I’m completely fine,” he countered a bit on the aggressive side.

Before you could make any comment at all Adam was already turned with his back to the group as he practically stomped off.

You turned back to Drax who was already nodding his head throwing another snack into his mouth, “he’s jealous.”

“Thanks Drax,” you mumbled as you followed Adam's trail.

You caught up to Adam easily. To be fair though he wasn’t exactly walking fast, more like just angrily and with no real destination in mind.

“Adam come on, wait a second,” he stopped knowing he couldn't really distance himself from you, and finally as he let you catch up, you got to position yourself in front of him where you could see him eye to eye.

Adam was practically pouting as you stood across from him, “are you jealous?”

Adam's eyes shut tightly as he puffed his upper lip out before letting a breath out, a crease in between his brows formed as his expression grew worried again, “would you think less of me if I said I was?”

You couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle as he stood there, practically vulnerable as he awaited your answer.

“Of course not.”

Well that at least made him feel a little bit better.

“But I’m a Sovereign,” he stood tall as he said that, clearly proud of his kind but not a moment later he deflated a little, “I’m not supposed to have feelings of jealousy, especially of someone like him.”

“You’re right you shouldn't feel jealous of him—”

“Because I am supposed to be better than him.”

“Well no that’s not—”

“Oh so I do have reason to feel jealous of him?”

“No, listen to me,” you exclaimed, trying to get him to focus. Adam opened his mouth but you spoke before he could even begin, “you have no reason to be jealous of him because I don’t like him, I like you,” Adam’s mouth finally closed now as he let you have the floor.

Finally calming the situation, your eyes looked down in thought for a moment as your hand reached for his. Lifting his hand up with yours you placed them, palm to palm, “I don’t care about him the way I care about you. And I would never feel less of you because of your feelings,” you spread your fingers apart and his hands followed yours, while he watched as you interlock your fingers together.

“But…I’m a Sovereign” he whispered practically holding on to that phrase like it was his life.

“Yes you’re a Sovereign, but think of it this way, your people, they have no need for love and relationships, do they?”

“Well no.”

“So technically speaking, are you supposed to have these feelings?” You questioned and Adam’s eyes met yours as he seemed to understand what you were asking.

“Not exactly.”

“Right. Sovereigns weren’t exactly meant to feel the way we do, but you do, right?” he nodded at your question before you asked another, “do you feel bad about the way you feel about me?”

“Of course not,” he said with zero hesitation in his voice.

“Emotions, feelings, they're what make us, us. So you shouldn't beat yourself up because you feel some type of way, and no, I will not think of you less if you feel jealous…I might even feel a little bit flattered.”

“Then I am jealous!” He said with a grin now apparent on his face.

“Well I won’t praise you either.”

He shook his head, with his eyes lowering again as he muttered, “right.”

At his distraction, you brought his hand down tugging on it a little causing him to lean your way as you placed a kiss against his cheek.

He looked at you surprised even though he really shouldn't be

“But I will praise you for telling me.”

#adam warlock fanfic #adam warlock fanfiction #adam warlock imagine #adam warlock x reader #gotg fanfiction #gotg fanfic #gotg imagine #gotg x reader #guardians of the galaxy imagine #guardians of the galaxy x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction

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kitthenameless · 4 months ago

Text

Since almost all the art and pictures I come across on Tumblr have no alt text, I figure maybe people don't understand what it's for or know how to use it. Here's an explanation!

What is alt text?

Some people (mostly blind people, but it can be useful for other disabilities too) use programs called screen readers to navigate the computer and read text aloud. That's why pictures need to have a text description (alt text), for the screen reader to read aloud. Alt text is usually hidden and just there for screen readers, though on this site, anyone can click the button in the bottom left corner to access it on any image that has it.

Why is it important?

Alt text makes the internet accessible for anyone using a screen reader. I used a screen reader for a while, so I can tell you how much it sucks to try and use social media only for every post to be like,

"This is the funniest thing I've ever seen!" (image with no alt text)

"This info is so important, everyone please read this!" (image with no alt text)

And then all the responses are agreeing and everyone is having fun and being social, but you can't join, you have no idea what's going on, you're left out of the fun, the cool stuff, the funny stuff, the important stuff, all of it.

How to add alt text?

On this site, when you upload an image, just click the three dots on the bottom right corner and click the option to update image description. You can also add it later by editing the post, if you forget when posting.

What to type?

I'm not the authority on alt text, so I can only give advice based on my experience as a sighted person and what people have told me.

One advice I've seen is to describe it like you're describing it to someone over the phone.

I think a good method is to start by stating the general, then moving onto details. I might start with, "Digital art of an octopus merman," and then go on to describe the pose, the emotion/facial expression, the body, the hair, the colors, the background.

Every screen reader user has different preferences, I've talked to people with completely opposing opinions. But usually someone can move on if they find there's too much description, whereas there's nothing they can do if there's not enough. So I lean toward over-describing.

Additionally, make sure you include anything referenced in your post. If you're just sharing a screenshot of a group of characters, you probably won't describe the shape of each of their noses. But if you say, "I love Bob's nose!" now you should still describe the overall picture but also include the shape of his nose in your description.

That also applies to things like, "This tree looks how I feel." If your alt text just says, "A leafy tree," that doesn't explain the feeling. "A leafy tree that appears to be hunched over with sagging branches, looking tired," is more helpful.

If there's text, include the text. I also like to give context (e.g. screenshot of a tweet). You can even use websites like this one to extract text for you.

Don't just put the word "image." Don't use alt text to credit artists/photographers. Don't use it for jokes, unless the joke is genuinely helping to describe the image.

And remember, trying is always better than not trying, even if your description isn't perfect!

#alt text #accessibility #tagging my fandoms because i want them to be more accessible #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #sun haven #project zomboid #monster prom #booklr #artists on tumblr

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traumacat800 · 2 years ago

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Yandere Bob Velseb headcanons!! (SFW)

Tw:

Anything you’d expect with Bob, possessiveness, blood, etc. Although it’s somewhat sweet.

-Fidget <3

Yandere rating:

7/10.

If anything, he’s hella possessive over you. He completely disregards your friends and family. You aren’t allowed to keep in contact with them unless he says so. Every once and awhile he’ll let you see them. After he kidnapped and threatened them of course. You were horrified when you were told that your family was going to throw out your cat. You begged Bob to let you keep your cat, to which he agreed.

Expect to be threatened if you even think about leaving the house or trying to get any contact with the outside world. For example, touching the phone without his permission.

He doesn’t like to hurt you of course but he’s too afraid of losing you to control his morals.

However he’ll give you the benefit of the doubt in most situations.

For example if you try to call him while he’s not at home. You cut a vein once when slicing apples and out of panic, you tried to use his computer online to figure out how to heal a deep cut.

You stopped the bleeding but Bob got a notification that his computer had been unlocked.

Bob came home mad, but after seeing your deep wound. He pleaded for you to forgive him, in which you did.

You're allowed to watch Tv, I mean, you can use your phone of course. But, there’s guidelines. You can text your family and friends but you're not allowed to see them of course or let them know your whereabouts. If anything, you wouldn’t want to text them while Bobs around. Thankfully Bob trusts you enough to not go through your phone. It’s one of the only private privileges you get.

He’s pretty much gentle with you, he’s a big guy and he knows that.

He’ll take a lot of your used clothes, you’ve caught him sniffing them a couple times. It’s weird, but you assume it could be worse.

He’s obsessed with you. Bob wants you to have everything you could possibly want. Any clothes you're interested in? He’s already buying them for you.

He’s a great cook, actually, one of the best you’ve ever seen. You eat his food of course. You made sure to tell him that if he tried anything funny you would break up with him.

He didn’t take it well but you stood your ground. You were not eating human meat. He got the memo, so he normally feeds you animal meat. Although he always tells you that human meat tastes better.

Sometimes as a punishment, he’ll explain to you in deep detail how he cooks and tortures his victim. He holds you close so can’t escape, it’s a very traumatizing experience. You cry and tremble as he tells you horrific stories, sometimes causing panic attacks. It makes you feel trapped, it also makes you realize how violent Bob really is. How vulnerable you truly are with him. He doesn’t exactly like seeing you in such a state but it’s anything to keep you here with him, safe.

The first time he did it you didn’t speak to him for a while.

Bob realized just how much it affected you. He’s only saved it as his last resource. He doesn’t want to hurt you physically but mentally should get the message across that you can never leave him.

You see him with the suit often unless he’s coming back home. You're reluctant to let him kiss you after he returns. Hugs are also a no-no until he’s showered. Bob will whine about how much he missed you. You’ll dodge any affection and point upstairs to the shower.

He constantly wants your attention. Somehow, you don’t mind.

You love to cuddle with him, it’s one of your favorite things in life especially during winter. Bob is soft, and you can’t help but want to cuddle up to him while watching a movie.

For a murderer, Bob seems to prefer comedy over horror. You’ll find him laughing at family comedies.

The sets of humor you both have are oddly different.

You get a kick out of calling him Bob the builder. He gets offended by it. You think the face he makes is funny whenever you ask him to build you something.

He’ll laugh at old school jokes, most of which you'll end up cringing at. They’re bad, really.

Your relationship isn’t completely healthy. All you know is, you love Bob, and you know he loves you back. Even if it’s a little too much.

#yandere bob velseb #bob velseb x reader #bob velseb #spooky month 5 #spooky month #sr pelo #yandere bob x reader #bob spooky month #Bob is hot #I just #I just really love this man #like sm

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ww2yaoi · 4 months ago

Note

HBO war asks: a,e,f and i

a. make a moodboard/edit/headcanon for who you think is underrated for any of the shows

I think bull is underrated. headcanon that he's a grill master. that guy can cook a mean hot dog

e. what was a character arc in any of the shows that you loved?

I think eugene sledge's arc is probably the best one out of these shows. he changes so much and completely breaks down and loses himself and then rebuilds I think it's the best done arc in all of these shows

f. rank all four shows in order of favorite to least and explain why.

bob > the pacific > gen kill > mota

bob just has the best characters and a cohesive story while the pacific is a bit more disjointed but I also think has a more compelling message, but I have more affection for bob and its characters. then gen kill because it's very well done but I've only seen it once and the marine speak kills me I think I need to see it several more times to fully grasp everything. great characters though, great dialogue, and very relevant to today. mota struggles the most with fleshing out its characters and their arcs and having a specific message. I love the bucks though

i. tag some of your closest mutuals and choose a show portrayal from any of the miniseries' that reminds you of them.

oh gosh I'm kind of quiet and keep to myself because I'm shy and a loser but I'll tag some people whose posts and fan creations I love

@kbsd you give me bucky vibes because you're spunky and creative. your edits are so tapped into the emotions of the characters that I feel like you're very in tune with things around you/connecting with people/embracing that emotionality

@babe-heffron lipton vibes. like I always feel happy and calm when I see you on the dash and I like how you can very easily joke around but you also have interesting observations about the characters and the fandom. like if you like my post and add funny tags to it I feel like I've made a good post 🫡

@pfctipper always love seeing you on the dash because I know there's going to be some interesting history and analysis left in your wake. so nix vibes. you come across as very knowledgeable and intelligent but you're also witty and I love your observations about bob and specifically dick and nix

@youcalledmebabe my webgott sister in arms you give me web vibes of course because you're creative and you want to learn and know things. but also a bit of babe because I feel like you're a cheerful presence on the dash and you're also just nice

@ifapromise I don't know if this will make sense but harry welsh vibes. just enthusiastic and funny and supportive and you give off the aura of just being a really good friend

sorry for pinging everyone lmao i hope you like your hbowarsonas. thanks for the ask <3

#ask #mstiemountainhop

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vicsnook · 1 year ago

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Exile | Bob Floyd x Reader x Jake Seresin

word count: 1744

warnings: arguing, fist fight, blood, angst

song pairing: Exile - Taylor Swift

notes: Hey y’all! This is part 2 of Wildest Dreams. The parts after this one will be divided by character since there’s an ending with Bob and an ending with Hangman. To try to simplify it, I will link under exile the parts corresponding to each character in my masterlist. Hope y’all enjoy and that this isn't too confusing! Don’t forget to like and reblog and thank you for liking and reblogging the past ones!!!

I can see you standing, honey

With his arms around your body

Laughin', but the joke's not funny at all

As Jake lowered you to the ground, Bob’s eyes scanned your every move. You felt your cheeks burning red and your heart was going a million miles per hour. The look on your face was one of a deer caught in headlights.

“Bob? What are you doing here?” you muttered as you walked toward him. His car parked on the other side of the street which explained why you didn’t notice him when driving into the neighborhood.

“We need to talk. Unless you’re too busy.” He breathed out as he glared at Jake. You watch his fists ball up as Jake comes to stand behind you.

“What is there to talk about Bob?” You ask coyly.

His blue eyes piercing through yours so harshly make you feel small. Then he flickers his eyes to Jake with such hatred that you could only guess he already knows somethings up.

And it took you five whole minutes

To pack us up and leave me with it

Holdin' all this love out here in the hall

“You know I begged to end my assignment early to come back to you?” He says, shaking his head. “I’ve asked about you for weeks since you can’t bother to respond to my calls. Just to come back and find you shacking up with fucking Hangman.”

His fists balling up as your jaw tenses when he mentions Jake. Your mind is going at a million miles an hour. Unable to form a coherent thought before Bob speaks again.

“Nothing? Really, Peach? It hasn’t even been two months.” He spat and then raised his finger to point at Jake as he growled “And you, I thought you were better than that. I defended you to Rooster when you blabbed about his father and the second I’m gone you steal my girlfriend?”

I can see you starin', honey

Like he's just your understudy

Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

“She’s not your girlfriend.” Responded Jake who had now moved to stand beside you. A fist instantly connecting to his face before he could react.

“BOB! STOP! GET OFF OF HIM!” you yelled as him and Jake were trading punches now on the ground. “PLEASE STOP!” you begged as you tried to pull them away which resulted in someone’s fist connecting with your cheek.

You yelped in pain as your hand rose to your throbbing cheek and both men stopped fighting and turned to look at you with concern. “Are you alright?” said Jake as he cupped your face and examined your cheek. “I’m fine” you whispered, pushing his hands off your face and stepping back.

You were my town

Now I'm in exile, seein' you out

I think I've seen this film before

“Both of you need to leave,” you snapped as you headed for the front door. Bob and Jake on your tail as you grabbed for your keys.

“I’m so sorry Peach, please hear me out. Please” begged Bob who was standing right behind you as you unlocked the door. Turning around you eyed his bloody face, noticing Jake standing not too far behind him with a bloody nose. “I think you’ve talked enough today Bob.” You say as his eyes plead for you to let him in and talk. “Y/N please” he begged, it was the first time he used your name in a long time.

Jake watched you both intently. Waiting to see what you’d do. You wanted so badly to ice your cheek that would be for sure bruised by the end of the day. But neither men budged as you looked between them.

“You have 5 minutes. No more. Now go inside and clean your face,” you told Bob exasperated at the position you were now in. He nodded and you stepped aside to let him in. Jake’s eyes watching in disbelief.

You stepped outside and shut the front door behind you as you made your way to where Jake was standing. “Listen, I need to talk to him. I don’t want things to get worse. I’ll call you, I promise.” you whispered, grabbing hold of his hand to get him to look at you. “I don’t think you should talk to him, Peach. All he’ll do is hurt you.” he replied harshly. “That’s not for you to decide, Jake.” you uttered as he let go of your hand.

His head shaking in disappointment as he turned away from you and walked to his truck. You walked backwards towards your door, watching him peel out of the driveway and then you turned around to reach for the doorknob only to find Bob standing in front of you instead. Pushing past him you make your way inside and notice the bag of frozen peas he placed on the table for your cheek.

I'm not your problem anymore

So who am I offending now?

“What’s going on between you and Hangman?” asked Bob as you pressed the bag of peas to your cheek. Wincing at the coolness of it and the question he asked.

“I don’t owe you an explanation, Bob. We’re not together anymore.”

“He’s our teammate, Peach and I thought my friend too.”

I think I've seen this film before

So I'm leavin' out the side door

“It’s none of your business, Bob. If that’s all you came to say then I suggest you leave.” You reply in annoyance. The pain on your cheek worsens by the second making you shut your eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks, hurrying towards you as you sit on the couch. “It's just my cheek. It’s nothing”

“It’s not nothing. I’m really sorry, Peach. I don't know what came over me. He had that smug look on his face and I couldn't stop myself.”

We always walked a very thin line

You didn't even hear me out (you didn't even hear me out)

You couldn’t continue this conversation. Not without talking to Jake first. “I can’t do this right now. Please leave.” You pleaded as the pain on your cheek increased with every word you uttered and the knot in your stomach had you on the verge of throwing up.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, as he got up to walk to the door. Flashbacks of the night you confessed you liked him surfacing as he turned to look at you when his hand grabbed the doorknob.

So step right out, there is no amount

Of crying I can do for you

Your tears spilled as soon as he stepped out and shut the door. What the hell had you done? Your ex-boyfriend and best friend? or whatever Jake and you were, now caught up in this mess.

The water in the shower was ice cold as you stepped in. But you didn’t care. Jake didn't answer your calls. On one hand it wasn't Bob’s business what was going on between you and Jake but if you didn’t tell him you knew he’d ask someone else from the squad and then everyone would want to know. The indecision came to a halt as your phone rang on the sink.

But it wasn’t Jake or Bob. It was Nat. Which only could mean Bob had already told her. “Hello?” you said weakly as you pressed answer. “What the hell is going on, Peach? Bob’s face is all beat up and he won’t talk to anyone.” she said as you turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around you.

“I don’t want to talk about it Nat. I need to go.” you replied trying to hurry off the phone. “Bullshit. If you don’t tell me now, I’ll be at your house in 5” she replied, clearly displeased with your answer. “Guess I’ll see you then.” you said, ending the call and heading to your room to get dressed since you didn’t doubt Nat would be here soon.

—

Nat sat across from you on the couch just as Bob did hours earlier. Eying the bruise on your face that you assured her wasn’t from Bob when she first came in. Truthfully you didn’t know which one of the men was responsible for it.

“Nat, please promise me that anything we talk about is strictly between us. You cannot tell Bob or Rooster or anyone else.” You said, breaking the silence. “I promise,” she replied.

“Okay, so as you know Jake has been around a lot since me and Bob broke up.” you started and went on to tell her everything that happened up until earlier today. The shock on her face was understandable. Squirming in your seat you looked away as the silence was very uncomfortable.

“Peach, I don’t even know what to say.” she said after digesting everything. “I don’t know what to do Nat. On one hand I know I don't need to tell Bob because it isn’t his business but whatever I choose it’ll hurt both of them.” you respond realizing you’d have to pick between them and either choice will affect the entire dynamic of the friend group.

“I think you need to tell Bob.” she says and raises her hand to signal you to stop and listen as you shake your head. “Whatever you decide to do you need to be honest because it’s going to come out one way or the other. It’s better if he hears it from you.” She finishes and looks at you waiting to see what you think. “Maybe you’re right” you whisper in response, looking at anything but her.

Your mind is still split on what to do as she heads out the door. You’re thankful that you at least spoke with someone but you still have no idea what to do.

Checking your phone one last time before you try to sleep, you notice that Jake still hasn’t responded and that Bob texted to apologize once again.

Tomorrow was going to be a very long day.

(Click here for the next part Bob’s Version)

(Click here for the next part Jake’s Version)

#top gun fandom #bob floyd x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd #Spotify

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 12 days ago

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Thoughts on Taskmaster s18e07, written as I watch it:

- Genuine question: do we think Andy brought that outfit from home? Or did he tell Taskmaster that he wants to dress as a Roman soldier, and they let him use Alex’s costume from season 11? I’ve not gone to compare pictures or anything to check, that’s just my first thought when I saw what he’s wearing. Will it relate to his prize task? Or is he wearing it for no reason? Time will tell.

- If I saw Rosie Jones on the street wearing a papier mache head of Greg Davies, the only thing that would surprise me about that would be that I wouldn’t expect to see Rosie Jones in Canada. Otherwise, it would seem entirely natural.

- I was on board with Babatunde’s until he mentioned that he plays music without headphones in public. I always like when contestants try to genuinely answer the prize task’s remit, even if that means sacrificing being funny. And we can all relate to a genuine love of music. But… I know he was joking about playing music out loud in the park, but still. Even as a joke. All sympathy gone, for someone who would even joke about being that guy. Sorry Baba.

- I haven’t seen Emma’s prize yet, just seen her introduce it, but I can’t get over how intense she is when selling her prize tasks. Leaning forward in her seat. Jumping in the explanation like he’s been rehearsing it in her head for the last hour. I want her on every show.

- Actually, if you’re going for practical and accurate answers to the prize task remit, which everyone should be at all times, a hat’s probably the best answer. Wouldn’t require you to keep your hands busy carrying stuff for the entire rest of your life.

- And she took a video of herself adorably showing moisturizer under the hat. Well done Emma. The video with her in it really sells it, I think. The contestants aren’t usually in the pictures or videos of their prizes on the screen.

- I mean, well done to Jack for putting a bit of effort into this prize task, more than he’s put into most of his prizes. But also, that does not fit the task remit at all.

- Took me several moments to work out why Jack’s song sounded familiar. I think it sounds a lot like Stewart Lee’s folk song from Comedy Vehicle, the observational comedy in the style of Bob Dylan. Not sure how similar they are, and again, cannot be bothered to go check.

- We’ve all just been waiting for one thing, right? Greg, Alex, the other contestants, the audience, just going through the motions and pretending anything else is interesting while we wait for the man who’s dressed as Roman soldier to explain himself. So what the fuck, Andrew?

- And I write this next point after having seen his prize: Andy what the fuck? That… I mean it’s the least of my issues with it, but that had nothing to do with Roman soldiers. Who was that guy in the video, dropping cricket balls into it? I 100% believe that Andy Zaltzman owns that thing. If a different comedian, brought that up, I'd assume they just told production staff to find something like that. But I believe Andy owns this. How has he never mentioned it before? Where did he get it? Where did the video come from? Someone please submit some of these questions to the Bugle’s Ask Andy; I’ve already asked him about a BBC questionnaire he filled out in 2004 so I can’t submit any more weird stuff.

- I continue to love Emma’s unjustified intensity. And her pattern, throughout the season, of solidarity with Rosie Jones (an Emma + Rosie team would have been great), and of animosity with Andy. “I have to move boroughs” made me laugh.

- Yeah I agree with that scoring. But I hope we get an outtake where they further question Andy on what the fuck that was.

- I like Emma’s visor under her Clouseau hat. I re-watched the first couple of Pink Panter movies with my dad last week, and fucking hell, I forgot how funny they were. Still made me laugh so much, just like they did when I was a kid. And now that I’ve watched them so recently, I can really appreciate how accurate Emma’s costume is. And how appropriate a character it is to invoke on Taskmaster.

- Andy’s idea to “Call Ian Bell, the cricketer, on my phone” made me laugh out loud. It’s just that it’s such an Andy Zaltzman idea. All the way along he’s been trying to find the most absurd workarounds for tasks, and if any other contestant were doing that I’d think they were a highly competitive meticulous student of the game, who’d studied all previous workarounds and believed that every task is a trap, every trap is an opportunity. But I know that’s just how Andy Zaltzman’s mind works. That’s the root of so much of his comedy, just seeing a different way of interpreting words. I’d made several guesses about how his offbeat comedy style would translate to Taskmaster, but I hadn’t guessed this, the way that side of him would come out in the most absurd ideas for how to re-imagine tasks. Like a debater trying to squired a resolution. Like a man trying to claim that a piece of wood is a locket. Or that a cricket player is a bell.

- I mean… is the obvious guess not to think that the bell isn’t on any of the ropes? They wouldn’t make it purely a game of guessing the correct rope, so if there are no clues as to which rope it is, are they just a red herring? Even if there is a bell attached to one of those ropes, could you just go inside, find a bell, right it, and call the task done? The doorbell is right behind them, could Andy just turn around and ring that?

- Despite everything I just said, and how I’m finding it frustrating that Andy is always looking at tasks creatively but it has not occurred to him to try non-rope options, it is pretty funny to watch Andy Zaltzman keep pulling on ropes and having balls fall on his head. Some solid slapstick humour, in the style of those movies I’ve been watching lately. This is why Emma decided to invoke Clouseau.

- Finished Andy’s task now, that was quite funny. Cannot work out why he didn’t at least try ringing the doorbell. Just kept knocking stuff onto his head. I don’t really think of Andy Zaltzman as a slapstick comedian. Maybe he should try clowning. I liked it when he knocked down Patatas and said “Well that’s the cat, obviously.” And then mentioned that some breeds of cats have bells in the them. Even in the thick of stressfully knocking stuff onto his head, Andy can still pluck lies out of thin air.

- Well, I assumed Andy was isolated because he’d be the only person to ring every bell. Good to see Baba and Jack did it too. So does that mean the two women are the only ones smart enough to work out the trick before pulling on ropes? Or at least, before pulling on every single rope?

- Oh shit, I was joking about ringing the doorbell. I mean, sort of joking. I would genuinely try that if I were them, but I didn’t think someone actually would, or that it would work. It appears that it did, though. And in fact, that going inside and finding a bell wasn’t some clever workaround, it was the entire point. They got there eventually.

- I was thinking Emma was pretty clever for backing up, to try to see the top of the rope area without looking up (though obviously it would make more sense to back up into the driveway, where you can go as far as you want, rather than backing up into the house, where you’ll get blocked by the ceiling). Then she started explaining to Alex that what she’s doing is like when you zoom in a camera, except that in real life you have to do it with your whole body. And suddenly I was less impressed by her intelligence. I feel like that is a good metaphor for Emma’s performance in this entire season.

- Actually, Rosie has a good idea too. That would work if there are any bells there, just shaking the rope.

- Oh, and Emma has figured out that she can back up into places besides the front hallway. She actually looks very Clouseau-like in this task, when she was shuffling sideways in the house, and then standing on a chair and squinting, convinced this trick would work.

- Oh, and Rosie’s got it! The doorbell strikes again. Obviously. It’s right behind them.

- Emma Sidi: I’m just zooming out again.

Alex Horne: Okay. Don’t fall off the chair.

This is basically a Pink Panther sketch.

- There is no more Clouseau-like way to do a task, than to run around standing on chairs and squinting while convinced that if you manage to stand at just the right angle you’ll crack the case, and then, while trying to set up for your next angle in this stupid idea, you accidentally trip over the object you needed, pick it up, ring it, and accidentally succeed. Well done, Emma. Doing your costume proud.

- Emma jumping in to defend Rosie in the studio. “That is a good idea, though, isn’t it?” She’s right, it was a good idea. Emma Sidi/Rosie Jones dream team. Give them a sitcom. Or just a show where they chat to each other.

- And then she calls Andy a thousand years old, under her breath. I don’t fully know why Emma keeps applying her weirdly intense studio manner to solidarity with Rosie and animosity with Andy. But it’s really funny. One of the best things about this season.

- Oh, hot dog! Rosie in the hot dog! Is she going to win by cheating like Babatunde did when he was a hot dog? Let’s find out.

- Solid title drop out of Rosie there. Probably the best title drop of the season.

- Babatunde’s right. Being dressed up (sort of) as an old time-y ship captain does suit Andy Zaltzman. It’s amazing how many costumes suit Andy Zaltzman, as we’re learning.

- Task instructions: You must lie throughout the next task.

Andy Zaltzman: Born to do it.

Fuck yes! Fuck yes, giving Andy Zaltzman a special solo task that just tells him to lie. Alex, don’t you know that’s his specialty? That would be like having Adam Hills on Taskmaster and setting a task called “remove your leg and throw it into a tree.” That’s how big an advantage Andy has over anyone else in the art of lying.

- Ooh I love the way the lying task started when they entered the room. Technically, Jack nodded when Rosie said she was dressed as a hot dog. And she was dressed as a hot dog. That’s telling the truth, knock a point off Jack and Rosie.

- I actually really like the lying idea. I see how it messes with this task in particular, but it’s a good idea on its own. I think it might be funnier if they’d implemented it in some other task, where the whole thing doesn’t depend on them conveying accurate information, they just have to complete something while remembering not to tell the truth.

- Holy shit. Emma figuring out that Andy is lying, standing up, eyes shining with excitement as she expresses it, is up there for most adorable things I’ve seen on Taskmaster. So excited. So unnecessarily intense. Worked it out because of course Andy Zaltzman knows what velvet is. Cut through the animosity, and of course this man knows what velvet is! I take back what I said in the previous point; this was a great task for applying the lying rule, just for that moment.

- I think Andy broke a rule there, by speaking even though Alex hasn’t asked him a question. But surely they have to let that go, for how good a moment it is for Andy to say “The end of the world isn’t coming” in a task where he’s not allowed to tell the truth. Meaning technically, they could have a debate in the studio about whether to dock them points, and they get to keep their points if the end of the world is, in fact, coming.

- Very funny to watch Emma and Babatunde struggle while Andy’s helpless to do anything for them. Mostly Emma, really. It was funny when Emma got “lemons a five-pound note”, Alex said they were “half right”, and Baba jumped in with the excited voice of a man who’s just realized he could finally contribute something, that maybe it’s 2 pounds 50. Which doesn’t even work, because if 5 pounds were half right, that would be ten pounds.

- I can’t believe they actually got one lemon and a 5-pound note within under 40 minutes. I don’t think I could do that, even without the lying. That’s a really hard one. There was a tiny hint from Alex, when Emma kept guessing books, and Alex asked Andy if there were numbers in there, I guess to guide Emma more toward the right answer, possibly because they had to get out of that room eventually. But it wasn’t much of a hint. That was brilliant work by Emma.

- Not a single truth by Andy Zaltzman. Fuck yes, that’s how it’s done. He’s been training for this his whole career.

- Well first of all, the task said to only make silent facial expressions unless answering Alex’s question, and Jack is doing little giggles. Andy broke that rule maybe once, and it was to say something funny enough to justify it. Jack’s breaking it right off the bat.

- Okay, what the fuck? I was joking before, about Rosie Jones winning by cheating while wearing the hot dog, the way Babatunde did. But that was absolutely blatant. Jack Dee made noises all the way through that, when rules specified silent expressions. He also told the truth repeatedly to Rosie. He made a cursory effort to lie when Alex asked him questions, but all of his expressions – and his noises – that he directed at Rosie were truthful. Absolute bullshit. Arguably Jack and Rosie should be down like 50 points, one for every correct facial expression he made. Obviously you can’t do that, but at least that should be no points for this task. I will be genuinely annoyed if they win this, especially did Emma did so brilliantly to work it out by not cheating.

- Oh good, we’ve returned to the studio and Greg has immediately pointed out that Jack was “openly talking” and also not lying. Glad we’re at least discussing this one, unlike Baba running. They’d better not get points for this. Not fair to Rosie since it’s not her fault, but, you know, that’s what you get if you have so much faith in Jack Dee that you wear the hot dog for a team task because you think he’ll get you the double points.

- Emma, for the entire season: Unquestionably supportive of Rosie Jones, always jumping to her defence in the studio and charmed by her jokes.

Emma, as soon as they point out that Rosie's negative three points should maybe get doubled to negative six:

Hilarious. They are being generous as I think Jack told the truth every time Rosie made a guess, but they can't actually dock that many points, so I would accept three points docked, due to truth telling, and no points gained for completing the task, due to cheating.

- And that's what they got. Fair enough. I'd have been genuinely, honestly upset if Jack got away with that just because he's Alex's favourite.

- Technically, they could put the fortune cookies in a Ziploc bag before dropping them into the bowls of hot sauce, salty water, vinegar, whatever else. The fortunate cookies are still in a bowl. And they don't have to eat vinegar.

- Interesting idea, to shoot and edit Rosie and Baba's attempts at this task like it's a Saw-style, torture-based horror film (I've not actually seen the Saw films, but I assume that's exactly what happens in them, right?). This reminds me of the final filmed task of season 9, when Rose opened all the tasks in the correct order and it was easy, and then we see everyone else get the order wrong and it was torture. This one seems to be very much luck of the draw, which ones you open first.

- Ah, Jack's come up with an even more obvious solution than the Ziploc bag. Just don't put them in the bowl at the end.

- I would definitely go with covering one eye with my hand, rather than trying to wink continuously for the rest of the task.

- I enjoyed that Emma looked genuinely annoyed when they got back to the studio, and Greg said he's allow Jack's hot sauce avoidance trick. I think that one's fair enough, the task didn't say they have to obey the cookies in the order in which they opened them.

- Right, I wrote the above point before watching the beginning of Andy's task attempt, in which he says that right away, that he can save some for last.

Alex Horne: I think you have to do them in the order you open them.

Andy Zaltzman: [picks up the task, reread it, calmly put it down] No, you do not.

You tell him, Andy! All the information is on the motherfucking task!

God, I love pedant. I'm such a massive fan of pedants. You're the best, Andy. (I am reminded of an old Andy Zaltzman joke here: "Nobody likes a pedant. Well, actually, I guess it's not true to say that nobody likes a pedant...)

- Holy fuck. I am genuinely glad that my roommate is not home right now, because the volume of my gasp would have caused concern. That might be the loudest I have ever gasped while watching comedy. I've only heard the first couple of seconds of Andy's phone call so I don't know how far they get, but I know that voice. I am not usually great at recognizing voices, but I know that voice incredibly well. In the last few years, I have spent more hundreds of hours listening to that voice, in the last few years, than I have spent listening to my own mother's voice.

Guys. Guys. Guys. It's happened. Against his will - very much against his will - Daniel Kitson is on Taskmaster. And people thought it would never happen! Well it has! Daniel Kitson's on Taskmaster.

Technically this is Chocolate Milk Gang content. I'm going to be a pedant about it, which I am, I would have to cut out this clip and put it in my Chocolate Milk Gang folder. Oh my God guys.

- Having seen the rest of that phone call, I feel compelled to post this audio clip. It's from Daniel Kitson's 2007 stand-up show, It's the Fireworks Talking (brilliant and available on Bandcamp), in which he lists the friends he has at the time, and how he knows they're his friends.

He is, of course, referring to John Oliver, Russell Howard, Gavin Osborn, and Alun Cochrane. Andy didn't make the cut at the time, despite being in the Chocolate Milk Gang. But Kitson did explain, in that clip, that you know someone's your real friend if you can call them up to tell them about your genitals, and you won't need to give them further explanation about it. Does this mean that Andy is now on the "real friends" list, but the criteria has changed, in their older and wiser age/stage of life, to be that you can call someone up to say you're in the bath, and not need to give further explanation?

Food for thought. I'm going to be honest, I am so stuck on how cool it is that Kitson was on Taskmaster, I barely care what else happens in this episode now.

Also, it should be noted for the record that while this is the first appearance of Daniel Kitson on Taskmaster, it is not the first reference to him. That was back in season 1:

- Oh, Andy was doing so well until he got the "start all over" one. So well. Telling Alex off. Phoning the greatest comic mind of his generation. Not keeping his mouth open because he didn't have to.

- Every other person interpreted "shout the word yes for thirty seconds" as "say yes over and over". Not Andy. I think he actually believed he'd be able to sustain saying one word "yes" for thirty entire seconds.

- I'm going to be clipping several things from this episode. I want that phone call for my Chocolate Milk Gang folder. And I want the audio of Andy Zaltzman shouting "yes" for as long as possible to be the alarm that wakes me up in the morning. I'm like 40% kidding about that.

- Overall scores are getting closer. Going into this season, Andy Zaltzman was my favourite, but not my pick to win; I expected him to be langishing in last place by this point. Instead, he's tied for second, only six points behind first place. There's a lot of ground to make up, but he still has the hot dog in his pocket. And so does Emma. Emma actually was my pick to win, going into the season, I'd be very happy with either her or Andy winning. And very annoyed if Jack wins.

- It's been impressive how so far, for the vast majority of the season, they've had tasks that have worked just fine for Rosie Jones, to the point where normally I barely remember that there are major physical things the others can do and she can't. But this task... might have been made without taking the disability into account. It is funny, though. Pretty sure that's how Rosie wants it, just throw her into stuff with everyone else (when it comes to made-up points that don't matter, while giving her accommodation for things that actually do matter, like being able to sit on her chair comfortably).

- And the first few turns of that task bear out my view of it, but luckily, sitting on the elimination bench just gives Rosie more chances to talk shit to Jack Dee. Which has been great fun all episode.

- Yes! Jackie's also out on the first turn, Andy with a shot at five points. This could really narrow the gap in the overall scores. I hadn't gotten all that far into being competitive in this season, I guess because my favourite did not seem likely to win. But now that I see where we are with three episodes (and one live task) to go, and Andy's in with an actual chance - suddenly I am quite invested in the scores.

If Andy wins, we get him on Champion of Champions III. But I think I am almost more excited about the fact that if Andy wins, we get him on the podcast for the final episode. He was so fucking funny in his Taskmaster podcast episode, I want another one of those.

- Andy checks the wind like it's cricket. I've just realized there has been no explanation for the Roman costume, and in fact, it's barely been referenced all episode. He's just Like That.

- Fuck yes! You go, Andy! Both beanbags, perfectly calibrated!

- And Baba's out! Hell yes, Andy, you weird fucking Roman warrior!

- And another episode win for Emma Sidi! She reminds me of her buddy Rose Matafeo, wearing that hat.

- God, was that ever fun. This is a fucking amazing season. Obviously I'm biased because my all-time number one Taskmaster wishlist contestant is on it, but I think this season is amazing even without my bias.

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