#why is he saying this. why is he so unserious

[littlemillersbaby]

"sweet treat"

request: so um WTH UR JOEL FIC WAS SO GOOD!! It was. A great mix of serious and smut oml- anyways I wanted to request for him again I see alot of Joel x baker reader ? Gathered this is when they’re in Jackson but you could spin it to where reader was a baker and they meet outside of Jackson etc IDK I just need another fic I beg ty ty word count: ? warnings: +18 minors dni, really sweet sex, joel being flirty and grumpy. please let me know if i have missed anything!

even after the many years you've spent here, jackson still smells like rain-soaked wood and smoke this time of year. you’d been pacing the bakery’s wide-plank floors for ten minutes now, tracing little loops in the flour dust, waiting for him. and he’s late, of course. because joel doesn’t rush for anybody, especially not for something as "unserious" as baking, as he likes to say.

you glance at the tray of eggs you cracked, the mountain of sugar, the softened butter, and the dog-eared recipe cards you scrounged from behind the counter. miss shelley, the older woman who usually runs the place, trusted you to lock up for the night. “just don’t burn the place down, sweetheart,” she said with a wink, and gave you a key.

you weren’t going to do it alone. not for the town’s spring celebration tomorrow. you’d begged him for this—him of all people—joel miller, resident brooder, secretly gifted with his hands in ways most people never got to see, but you had. *wink wink*

“there’s nothin’ complicated about cookies,” he’d grumbled that morning, folding his arms.

“i want them to taste like something, joel,” you’d insisted, poking a finger into his chest. “not like regret and disgust.”

he’d snorted, mouth twitching at the corners, and after a minute, like it physically hurt him, he agreed.

breaking you out of your thoughts, the door creaks open, and you don’t even have to turn. the sound of his boots on wood is enough to make your spine straighten, a ripple of awareness climbing up your back.

“you bakin’ or throwin’ a damn science fair?” he mutters, already peeling off his jacket. his eyes move over the counter, then to you. you pretend not to notice the way they stick to your legs, the hem of the dress barely grazing mid-thigh.

“just tryin’ to impress the town,” you say sweetly. “or you. which ever’s harder.”

his brow arches. “you ain’t got to dress like that to impress me.”

you flash him a fake innocent look. “like what?”

“like trouble,” he says, low, making you glance away with flustered cheeks.

he rolls his sleeves up, exposing those forearms that should to be illegal. thick-veined, tan, dusted with salt and pepper hair.

you hand him the bowl. “start creamin’ the butter and sugar. use the wooden spoon.”

“bossy tonight, huh?” he grumbles, but he does it.

you watch the muscles flex as he works, the way his wrist moves in slow circles.

“did you ever bake with sarah?” you ask, casually. you two have spoken briefly about his relationship with sarah. he was very hesitant to tell you how she died, but after a couple of beers, he poured his heart out.

his jaw tenses, but it’s a soft thing, not offense or sadness.

“yeah...when she was little. she’d make a fuckin’ mess of it, but.... thankfully made the place smell like cake for a week.”

you don’t answer, just let the silence sit between you. it was kinda nice working in silence with his comfortable presence.

he looks at you after a moment. “you know what you’re doin’?”

“not really, it's a new recipe,” you say cheerfully. “that’s why you’re here, to try it with me.”

“should’ve known this was a trap,” he mutters.

you laugh, and you’re leaning over to grab the flour, one foot off the ground, hips tilted just enough that the dress pulls up—and you feel a smack.

a puff of white explodes against your ass cheek. you yelp and whirl around. joel’s holding a fistful of flour, smug as sin.

“did you just—”

“you bent over like that in front of me, ‘course i did.” he shrugs, not even sorry.

you grab your own handful, lob it at his chest. “you’re such a child.”

he lunges, making you squeal and dart around the island, heaving a laugh that feels good echoing in the high ceiling of the bakery.

“you think you’re fast, huh?” he growls.

“i know i’m faster than you, old man.”

“fuckin’—”

he catches you by the waist, spins you, lifts you onto the counter. your thighs part around his hips automatically, your breath caught in your throat. his eyes burn into yours, all the humor gone.

“shouldn’t tease me like that, darlin’,” he says. his voice is grainy and mean.

you stare up at him, pupils blown wide. you whisper, “do something about it, then”

his lips crash into yours too quickly to even comprehend. the kiss was completely savage. no sweet build-up or gentle asking, his hand cups the back of your neck, fingers threaded through your hair, tugging until your mouth opens wider under his. his tongue licks into you like he’s starved for it, like the taste of you is the first thing he’s allowed himself to want in years.

your legs hook around his waist, heels digging into the meat of his ass. he grunts into your mouth, grinding forward, and you feel the thick, heavy line of him through his jeans.

“fuck,” he mutters against your lips, voice thick with gravel. “you planned this, didn’t you? struttin’ around in that little thing—bendin’ over like you wanted my goddamn hands all over you.”

you nod, panting, lips kiss-bitten and tingling.

“yeah?” he hisses, gripping your thighs and dragging you closer to the edge of the counter. “then you’re gettin’ what you asked for.”

his mouth dips to your neck, licking and biting. his salt and pepper beard scrapes the sensitive skin as he drags his lips lower, working open-mouthed kisses along your throat, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts.

“take it off,” he growls, tugging at the hem of your dress.

you lift your arms, and he peels it off slowly, but the second it’s over your head, his control breaks.

“jesus,” he mutters, staring at you in nothing but a lacy bra and matching panties, flour dusted across your hips. “fuckin’ look at you.”

he sinks to his knees.

that's a sight to see, joel miller on his knees.

your hands scramble for something to hold onto as he spreads your thighs, dragging you forward until your ass is barely balanced on the edge of the counter. he kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other.

“you know what’s the best part of bakin’?” he asks, voice dark and close.

you shake your head, too breathless to answer.

“gettin’ to taste what you made.”

his mouth presses against the damp cotton of your panties, tongue laving up the center, making your hips jerk.

“you..fuck—joel—”

he hums against you, fingers digging into your hips to hold you still. then he hooks a finger into the waistband and peels your panties down, dragging them over your knees, off your ankles.

he looks up at you from between your legs, eyes firey, lips already wet with you.

“keep your fuckin’ eyes on me.” his tongue slides between your folds, slow at first, savoring you; he licks broad and flat, then teasing, flicking over your clit just to hear you whimper.

your thighs begin to shake.

“more,” you beg, voice breaking.

he gives it to you. sucks your clit into his mouth, rolls his tongue around it like he’s drawing circles on your spine. his fingers join the party—one thick finger sliding into you, crooking just right, then a second stretching you open.

his beard is slick with your arousal. he groans like he needs the taste, like your pussy is the only thing that’s ever mattered.

you claw at his hair, hips bucking wildly against his mouth.

“you gonna cum for me, baby?” he asks, tongue fucking back in before you can answer.

you cum with a choked cry, thighs clamped around his head, heels drumming against his back.

he doesn’t stop. just continues to lick you through it, makes you ride it out until you’re twitching and whimpering his name like a chant.

he finally stands, face soaked and shining with you. he drags the back of his hand across his mouth, but doesn’t wipe all of it away.

“never tasted anything sweeter,” he mutters.

then his hands are on his belt. the worn leather creaks, and the somewhat rusted zipper hisses. he pulls his cock free and it’s thick, long and heavy with a flushed red tip.

“joel—”

he shoves your knees up, crowding in between them, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock.

“look at this mess,” he growls, dragging the head through your folds. “so fuckin’ wet for me. you wanted it, now take it.”

he pushes in, instantly. his cock splits you slow, and wide continuing to drag along walls already swollen from his mouth.

you grip his shoulders hard, fingertips digging into muscle. he’s not even all the way in and your pussy’s already fluttering, already trying to squeeze around him like it’s too much—like he built it for you and you’re still not ready.

“joel,” you gasp, voice strangled, “fuck—fuck me—”

he stills, deep enough that your breath catches in your throat.

“you feel that?” he growls, hand cupping your jaw, angling your face up so you have to look him in the eye. “how tight you are around me? like you’re tryin’ to keep me in.”

you whimper as his cock pulses inside you.

“this what you wanted, sugar?” he grits through his teeth. “havin’ me take you right here? bent over flour and cookie dough?”

“yes,” you whine. “wanted it all day, wanted you—”

he starts to move. slow grind, hips rolling, his cock dragging against every single hypersensitive nerve like he’s trying to reprogram your body from the inside out.

“say it again.”

“wanted you,” you cry, fingers fisting in his shirt. “wanted your hands, your mouth—your cock, joel—”

he groans and slams into you, the counter creaking, your breath punched from your lungs.

“that’s it,” he growls, picking up the pace, fucking you deeper now, hard and mean and perfect. “you know how long i been thinkin’ about this? thinkin’ about takin’ this sweet little body—watchin’ that mouth beg me for more while you come all over my fuckin’ face?”

you can’t even answer him. you’re a complete mess, legs trembling, mouth open, just a mess.

he leans down, forehead to yours, panting against your lips.

“you don’t even know, do you?” he says. “how fuckin’ crazy you make me. God, the way you look at me, the way you talk—all that smartass mouth—and i been wantin’ to shut it with my dick since the day you showed up.”

“then do it,” you whimper, dazed and desperate. “joel, please—please—”

he pulls out and grabs your throat. not choking you—just slightly guiding. his cock taps your lips, stil wet with your arousal.

“open up.”

you moan around him as soon as he pushes in, filling your mouth.

“gotdamn,” he groans, head tipped back. “that’s it, baby...suck it like you mean it.”

you swirl your tongue around the tip, lips stretched wide. your hands grip his thighs, your throat working as he fucks your mouth slow.

“look so fuckin’ good like this,” he mutters. “slobberin’ all over me.”

you pull off with a wet pop. “want you back inside me,” you whisper, spit and precome slick on your chin. “please—want you to ruin me, joel.”

his hands are on you in a second—turning you, bending you over the counter, yanking your ass up. he slaps it once, the crack loud in the quiet bakery.

“ask me nice.”

“joel, please—fuck me. hard.... don’t stop till i’m cryin’.”

he drives into you in one savage thrust, burying himself to the hilt.

“you asked for it,” he growls, and starts pounding into you, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise you. the counter shakes beneath you. something falls off the shelf, shatters on the floor. yet neither of you care.

his balls slap your clit on every thrust, your juices loud and wet and obscene.

“you hear that?” he snarls. “that’s how wet you are for me. so desperate, so fuckin’ needy.” you can't help crying at the immense pleasure—tears dripping off your chin, mouth open on a moan that never ends.

“you gonna come for me again?”

“yes, yes—joel, i’m—fuck—i’m gonna—”

he reaches around, finds your clit, rubs it in tight messy circles. “then do it....cum pretty,”

your whole body spasms, toes curling, back arching, choking on a scream as your pussy clenches tight around him, milking his cock.

joel snarls, fingers digging deeper, hips jerking once, twice—then he comes. spilling inside you with a guttural moan.

you feel the heat of it, dripping out as he keeps fucking into you slow, like he doesn’t want to stop.

you both sag over the counter, chests heaving.

“...still think bakin’s for suckers?” you rasp, voice shot.

he huffs a laugh against your shoulder.

“depends what i’m bakin’ in.”

special tags: @inbred-eater , @wintfleur , @555aturn

[shypotatoes013-blog]

Why do people insist on believing the lads men don’t exist at the same time?

The main story is different from the memories because the memories are meant to give the player interactions with individual Li so that you can focus on the ones you like. It will not be obvious in memories for that reason.

There is bountiful proof that they all know of each other’s existence and exist within the same timeline.

Caleb and Zayne were childhood friends.

In the beta version, mephisto drops the ruby brooch in front of mc and Caleb on their way back home before the explosion is supposed to happen.

Mephisto was watching over mc and Xavier in the no hunt zone.

Lumiere has a bounty in the n109 zone and Sylus is not a stupid man by any means.

Chapter 7-1, Sylus sends Rafayel’s bounty to mc while she’s on the dark web.

Rafayel, Xavier, and Sylus are stalkers so they have to know about Zayne and each other.

Caleb hinted at knowing she spent her time with the others while he was absent.

There was a text from raf that hinted at him knowing of the others. I had to find the pic on reddit. If you know Raf, a lot of things he says is subtle, showing his awareness, but he uses his playful facade to deflect and make it seem unserious.

Maybe they will never interact face to face, but they did know of each other.

[chalantzah]

IN A WORLD OF BOYS, HE'S A GENTLEMAN

hamzah x clueless reader oneshot

friends?lovers

| warnings include - slushynoobz humour, & fluff

‘ fancy restaraunt mukbang vlog’

“alright, intro time. everyone look good?” martin says, holding the camera up as he films you and hamzah, who is dressed in a navy blazer, with his ‘mama needs a blunt’ shirt peeking out from underneath, topped with none other than cargo pants to really tie the look together, you didn’t fight him on his decision, because to each their own.. but you dressed more appropriately to make up for his joke of an outfit. you wore knee-high boots, a slip dress, and a leather oversized bomber jacket with a print on it’s back.

martins outfit was also unserious- the bottom half included dress pants paired with fancy shoes, while the top half consisted of an emoji print zip-up hoodie, with his ‘find x’ shirt peeking through from underneath the jumper. you all stood next eachother, martin in your left, and hamzah on your right. he pulls you in close, arm around your shoulder, and smiles at the camera to do the intro.

a few minutes of walking pass, and martin dramatically informs the camera that we have finally made it to the restaurant.

“welcome to my crib.” hamzah teases to the camera, leaning on one of the grand pillars that stood close-by to the entrance of the restaurant. the restaurant itself looked like it was a castle worthy of royalty to own. the camera turns to you, letting out a laugh, at hamzah's pun, making him smile to himself.

“boi if all three of us put our money together we couldn't even buy the one of those pillars.” you gesture to the one he’s currently leaning on.

martin’s behind the camera, rolling his eyes at you and your jesting, then flips the camera so it faces him “incase you guys are new here, we aren’t picky eaters around here, so prepare to see some food you guys probably have never seen before because- well- rich people foods aren’t accessible to everyone, and every time you guys subscribe to us, we will plant a tree, because trees make paper, and paper makes money so you guys can be rich one day, just like us.” he rants, making movements with his hands, and giving a sympathetic facial expression to the camera, you and hamzah death stare him and stiffle your laughs- letting martin absorb his embarrassment.

“hey- my reservation was booked under my good friends name, khloe kardashian - is that anywhere in you system?” martin tells the receptionist.

i look at hamzah who’s already covering his mouth with his hand to cover a shocked laugh, pointing the camera to martin.

to both mine and hamzah’s surprise, the woman replies with “yes- table for three- for khloe kardashian...” handing martin the reciept that showed our booking number, booking name, and the table we were assigned.

“bro- why would you do that?” hamzah asks martin, still laughing.

“what? i told you- i read that they charge average people more than celebrities, you gotta do what you gotta do in this economy boi.”

“motherfucker they can tell you’re not khloe .” i emphasise, “yeah well i did say she’s my good friend, never stated that i was her.” martin sassed back, as our waitress walks us towards our table.

after ordering your meals, the camera faces all three of us, the order of seating going: martin, then hamzah, then you.

“you guys are probably wondering why mandy isn’t here, and that’s because she refused to leave the house until its spotless, so while we all eat good food, she’s setting a good example to all women, and cleaning” martin explains making unconvincing faces, and expressions during his explanation. which has me and hamzah nodding convincingly to play along with martins sarcastic, misogony-mocking joke.

the mukbang dinner ends up being a mix of gagging at how inedible some of overpriced dishes are- then seconds later moaning at how good the others were.

another thing that the dinner was full of, was hamzahs touch- he would constantly reach over to the tissue box halfway across your side of the table, when he had many clean napkins sat infront of him, he also enjoyed nudging you with either his shoulder, or knee, when he waiting for you to say your commentary about the food to the camera.

but it was all friendly.. right?

outside, the air is cool, the night dark but not too cold. the camera’s still rolling. martin’s talking to the camera about the “world’s most expensive mukbang in history,” but you’re not really paying attention anymore. your feet are screaming from the boots you chose to wear to fit the aesthetic of the video.

you try to keep up with the two friends, but the shoes are becoming unbearable to the point where it’s not cute and unnoticeable anymore.

hamzah senses your discomfort right away, of course. he turns around and raises an eyebrow.

“hey, you good?”

“yeah, just—” you wince and shift your weight from foot to foot, “these boots are brutal, wearing heels through a 30 minute walk, big big big mistake.”

he looks down at your heels, then at his own sneakers, and smirks. “alright, i got you.”

“what?” you start to protest, but he’s already crouching down, taking off his sneakers. “wait, you’re not serious.” you watch as he slips his feet out of the sneakers. “no you’re lying- you are not walking home barefoot bro.”

“dead serious. and no i’m not gonna be barefoot- give me the heels.”

“no way.” you laugh, but it’s already happening. he’s kneeling next to you and sliding the zip of your boots down, completely unfazed.

you step into his sneakers, feeling immediate relief. they’re way too big for you, but honestly? in this moment they’re the comfiest thing you’ve ever worn.

“how do i look?” he asks, slipping your knee-high boots with a 4” heel on like it’s no big deal. he stands up, wobbling a little but making it look… oddly natural. “dude how did your feet fit into that- theres so much toe space in your sneakers for me.” you ask with genuine wonder.

“oh trust me they do not fit, my toes are all getting compressed into one toe as we speak- but its kinda therapeutic.” he defends- unconvincingly as he coughs to cover his pain.

you throw your head back laughing. “cmon- this is torture to look at just give me-” and right as you begin to beg for your shoes back, hamzah makes a run towards martin who was atleast 20 meters ahead of us by now.

the way this man was running, you would think he just learned how to walk approximately 10 minutes ago.

martin’s behind the camera, trying not to laugh too loud. “this is gold, man- girls get yourself a man who would do this for you.” he flips the camera to show your feet in huge sneakers, alongside hamzah and his new heels. “boyfriend material- am i right?” martin nudges you and winks at the camera. “dude now they’re gonna speculate .” you roll your eyes at him “yeah but more clicks and views!” martin jokes and dances his tongue to the camera.

hamzah either didn’t mind the fact that they would get dating speculations- as he just stayed quiet, or he was too focused on the pain in his feet.

probably the second one though.. yeah?

hamzah then grins, obviously pleased with himself. “content for the people.” he winks.

NOTE i hope u enjoyed my first piece of actual writing, if you guys love this I may possibly turn this into a short series, but right now its just a one shot :)

thank you for reading.

taglist - @aalanahh0 @noturbabe22 @martiniibluee07 @mopslusher @ladylincoln @officialthrad @urfavblonde27 @infinitefireflies @notmeee3 @slicdfo0t @beybeys-world @shytrashpastadream-blog

if you joined my taglist and havent been tagged, please go and like the taglist post from your MAIN blog, or message me from it, as tumblr doesnt allow to tag sideblogs :)

[hamzahsbaby]

How do you think young dad Hamzah would tell the noobz about his baby 💔

honestly nothing serious at first, they just play ‘parent simulator’ game where they have to take care of a new born baby. there’s no serious message, just martin saying “and you guys might be wondering, why are we playing this game? and that’s because hamzah is going to be a dad soon.” and since martin seems so unserious while saying it, everyone brushes over it, thinking it was a joke. but then months later, they do one last vlog where at the end hamzah explains that he actually is going to be a dad and he’s not sure how long he’s going to be away, but for now his top priority is baby and you. martin also explains that he could make solo videos but he’s also stepping away for a while to support hamzah and you! and he keeps making jokes about becoming an uncle (he’s super excited lol).

long story short, they hint at it, but no one connects the dots 💔 until hamzah’s ass says bye yall i gotta kid to take care of. all the slushies are happy for you and hamzah, but also insanely confused. you’re just a normal girl, the slushies knew you existed and that you were hamzah’s girlfriend, but they were definitely surprised to find out that you were pregnant.

[sturnispider]

Hi, can you possibly do a Nathan and Sebreina one shot and its her getting her wisdome teeth out and her brothers are flimng it and nathan is taging along with them

ofccc!!💘💘

absolutely — here’s a funny and sweet story of sabrina getting her wisdom tooth out, with the triplets vlogging the whole thing and nate by her side:

the vlog started with nick holding the camera in the car, aiming it at matt in the driver’s seat and chris beside him. sabrina was in the back, sunglasses on, hoodie up, slumped next to nathan.

nick said “today’s vlog is a special one. we’re taking sabrina to get her wisdom tooth yanked out.”

matt said “she’s terrified. she hasn’t said a word in twenty minutes.”

sabrina said “i’m manifesting survival. don’t talk to me.”

nathan said “she googled ‘can you die from laughing gas’ last night.”

chris said “she also texted me her will.”

sabrina said “i told you to delete that.”

nick said “don’t worry, we’re gonna take great care of her. and by that i mean film everything.”

—

after the procedure, sabrina sat in a recovery chair with gauze in her mouth, cheeks puffy, eyes half-open. nathan held her hand while the triplets stood around with the camera.

chris said “she’s out of surgery and deeply confused.”

sabrina said “i feel like… a bag of soup.”

matt said “what does that even mean?”

sabrina said “like, squishy. i’m… i’m emotional noodles.”

nathan said “you’re doing amazing, baby. ten out of ten soup bag.”

sabrina said “you’re so handsome. did you know that? like… why are your eyelashes so long?”

nick said “someone get this girl a mirror.”

sabrina said “no. don’t show me. i feel like a balloon.”

chris said “a soup bag and a balloon. she’s shapeshifting.”

matt zoomed in on her slowly blinking eyes.

matt said “tell the people how you feel.”

sabrina said “i can’t feel my tongue. it’s gone. i lost it. call the cops.”

nathan said “the tongue is still there. i promise.”

sabrina said “how do you know? did you check?”

nick said “okay we’re cutting that part out—”

—

they got her into the car, seat reclined, sunglasses back on. she rested her head on nathan’s shoulder as he held a smoothie up to her mouth.

sabrina said “this is the best smoothie i’ve ever had.”

nathan said “it’s just strawberry banana.”

sabrina said “you’re strawberry banana.”

chris said “bro she’s in love.”

matt said “she was already in love. now she’s just unfiltered.”

sabrina said “you’re all really good brothers. like… even when you’re annoying.”

nick said “say it again for the vlog.”

sabrina said “i love you guys. and also this smoothie.”

—

the vlog ended with the group back home, sabrina asleep on the couch, a blanket pulled over her. nathan sat on the floor next to her, scrolling on his phone, occasionally checking if she needed anything.

chris said (whispering) “she survived.”

matt said “barely. we almost lost her to the smoothie.”

nick said “like and subscribe for more content,bye guys!!.”

______________________________________________

the next morning, sabrina shuffled into the kitchen, still in sweats, hair in a bun, one cheek a little puffier than the other. she moved slow and dramatic, like she’d just survived war.

sabrina said “i better not be on the internet.”

nick said “well, about that…”

matt said “the vlog’s already up. 40k views in two hours.”

sabrina said “you’re lying.”

chris said “it’s titled ‘our sister got drugged (wisdom teeth edition)’.”

sabrina said “that’s so unserious.”

she groaned and dropped into the couch next to nathan, who was already holding the remote and smiling like he had way too much fun editing it with nick.

nathan said “ready for your acting debut?”

sabrina said “no.”

he pressed play anyway.

the video started with nick narrating the intro dramatically, panning to sabrina curled in the backseat pre-surgery.

vlog-sabrina said “i’m manifesting survival.”

real-sabrina said “okay that’s kinda iconic.”

then came the clips from post-op.

vlog-sabrina said “i feel like a bag of soup.”

sabrina said “OH MY GOD—why didn’t y’all stop me?!”

matt said “how could we? you were spitting straight poetry.”

vlog-sabrina said “you’re so handsome. did you know that? like… why are your eyelashes so long?”

nathan said “that was my favorite part.”

sabrina said “that makes one of us.”

they kept watching. she had to pause when she saw herself dramatically whispering:

vlog-sabrina said “call the cops… i lost my tongue.”

sabrina said “nope. absolutely not. i’m deleting myself.”

chris said “too late. the comments are calling you a national treasure.”

nick said “someone made an edit of you comparing nathan to a smoothie.”

sabrina said “i don’t remember saying that. i don’t remember ANY of this.”

nathan said “it’s okay. i loved it. it was so real.”

sabrina said “you just liked the compliments.”

nathan said “obviously.”

she covered her face as the vlog ended on her passed out on the couch, with nathan sitting beside her feeding her a smoothie like a nurse with too much free time.

sabrina said “final review: zero stars. never let me speak again.”

matt said “nah. we’re making merch. emotional noodles is going on a hoodie.”

chris said “i’m ordering three.”

nick said “too late. already designed it.”

sabrina said “i hate all of you. but like… lovingly.”

nathan said “that’s the meds talking again.”

sabrina said “no. that’s just me being soft. now turn that vlog off before i cry.”

—————————————————————————

it started two days after the vlog dropped.

sabrina walked into a target with nathan and immediately heard it — a voice from a few aisles away:

“omg… it’s the soup girl.”

sabrina froze.

sabrina said “nate. be so serious. did she just call me soup girl?”

nathan said “i mean… you did say you felt like a bag of soup.”

sabrina said “in confidence!! under anesthesia!!”

they turned the corner and found two girls staring, trying so hard not to freak out. one of them was wearing a triplets hoodie.

girl #1 said “sorry, are you sabrina? from the vlog?”

sabrina said “unfortunately, yeah.”

girl #2 said “we love you. you were so funny. also, emotional noodles is like… my new personality.”

sabrina said “i’m never speaking in public again.”

nathan said “she still hasn’t gotten over the smoothie line either.”

the girls gasped.

girl #1 said “you are strawberry banana!”

sabrina said “i need to go lay down in the freezer aisle.”

later that night, she walked into the triplets’ house and was instantly greeted with a chorus:

matt said “look who’s back — our little balloon.”

nick said “have you lost your tongue again or…?”

chris said “wait—” (he held up his phone) “did you see the fan edit where someone autotuned you saying ‘call the cops’?”

sabrina said “i hate the internet.”

nathan said “no you don’t. you love it. you’re the main character right now.”

sabrina said “main character of a sitcom maybe.”

nick turned his laptop around and hit play. a tiktok started blasting with a dramatic remix of her voice:

“call the cops… I lost my tongue… call the cops…”

matt said “it’s charting in my brain.”

chris said “we’re making that your tour opener. no backing out.”

sabrina said “i���m gonna sue all of you.”

a few days later, they went to a meet and greet event for the triplets — sabrina tagged along for fun.

bad idea.

fan #1 said “sabrina, you changed my life. i say emotional noodles every time i feel anything now.”

fan #2 said “can you say ‘you’re strawberry banana’ to my friend on facetime?”

fan #3 said “do you still feel like soup?”

sabrina just looked at the camera, deadpan.

sabrina said “this is my villain origin story.”

nathan said “and i’m the smoothie sidekick.”

YOU’RE STRAWBERRY BANANA😜😜

-@sturnispider

[intersexnateriver]

[chloesimaginationthings]

The real reason Michael has a British accent in FNAF…

[kinard-evan]

[jalluzas-ferney]

OK BUT I NEEEDDDD TO KNOW RAS BEEF WITH LLOYD. - like is it just me or does it feel like he Especially hates him.

[houseshousewife]

Watching House, you just have to accept that sometimes the writers will make him act gross and slightly out of character.

1; because of the times, and 2; likely because the writers have their own weird fetish about it 🙄🙄

[macchiatosdumptruck]

At this point I don't know how to explain what protagonists are and how they work

[rowanoftheunknown]

Okay but no joke the fact that after ALL THAT Armand is still with Louis. Like they're together in the modern day. After ALL THAT. Like okay we knew from the beginning what was going to happen, Claudia was a ghost the entire time I KNEW THAT and I KNEW that she was killed because of and due to those fucked up men but My God. Burning in the sun is too good for him, being eaten by rats under garbage is too good for him I need Armand in the fucking. Hell dimension. Immediately. One million years CBT. Not therapy.

[anna-scribbles]

regained my 12 year old swag(read an entire new percy jackson book in one sitting)

[detectivemiku]

what did he mean by this 😭

[thatscarletflycatcher]

One of the biggest problems of writing that Frasier post is that the logic of 90s comedies is not real life logic. It's not just that you can just pick which exaggerated thing to believe more (and sometimes you need to outright pick between two mutually excluding canon facts), but also the degree to which you believe anything. Which is fun for theorizing but also terrible for theorizing because to argue one way or another you need to create the fiction that the coherent narrative you are pointing out has value of truth in a universe where the value of truth is the rule of funny.

[dragonfoods]

One thing that kind of gets on my nerves is when an author not so subtly tells you how you are supposed to perceive their character