#wish i was a little snail with no thoughts and no responsibilities

[artbyace]

i’m having a rlly rlly rlly shit day so here r some animals to cheer u (and me ) up C:

[nanaslutt]

Bathtime w/ Fuckbuddy Satoru Gojo <3

contains: fem reader, reader is a teacher at Jujutsu High, clit play, mutual pining, teasing, so much dirty talk, possessive!Satoru if u squint

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Ahhhh...." You moaned quietly into the small space of your bathroom as the soreness from your limbs was washed away by the borderline scolding hot water that swallowed up your body. The bubbles tickled your chin as you sunk deeper, letting the water cover your body up to your neck so you appeared to be a head floating in the bath.

Gojo had been out on a mission, which meant you were in charge of teaching his students and overseeing their sparing. Only you had to get hands-on with them several times and ended up moving your body in ways you haven't moved since you were in high school. 

You were a sorcerer and you trained frequently, but in the weeks before training his students, curses had been quiet, which meant fewer missions and less moving your body. So you stayed inside most days to complete paperwork, ignoring the training you should've been doing to stay agile and keep your bones loose during the dry spell of curse appearances--and boy did it show.

Not in your performance, but in your bones. You felt your muscles straining and burning when you pulled off some showy move for the students as you avoided one of their hits. The day felt like it was dragging on forever, and each time one of his precious students asked if you would spar with them, you accepted because your ego was too big to decline because of a little soreness. 

You had plenty of time to regret it afterwards though as you lay on your floor and stretched your body, cursing at Gojo over the phone for having such energetic students. He laughed and apologized, though he didnt seem very sorry to hear you groaning and moaning in pain through the phone. All of your moans sounded the same to him, pervert. Although he did promise to make it up to you when he came home from his mission in a few days, so you let him off the hook. 

Though you were irritated, as you shut your eyes and let the Epsom salt soak into your tired body, letting the hot water creep into your skin, you couldn't find yourself to be all that mad. This felt so good, you hadn't relaxed like this in a while. You silently prayed to someone that the dry spell of curse sightings would keep up so you could relax like this more often, even though you knew that was wishful thinking. 

You let the hot water wash all of the thoughts from your head, and it must've taken some of your consciousness with it because you failed to hear the dull bang of your front door opening, followed by footsteps that got closer and closer to the outside of your bathroom door. Your entire body jolted forward when you snapped back into reality fully at the sound of the bathroom door creaking open.

The adrenaline and fear from your fight or flight response didnt last long when the familiar feeling of Gojo's cursed energy flooded into your body, relaxing you almost instantly. "Oh? Did I scare you?" Gojo giggled as he pushed the door open entirely, his long frame leaning against the doorway, arms crossed as he watched you from under his blindfold.

 The bubbles had covered your chest in a way that almost looked like someone had placed them there on purpose. They came up to just above your nipples, covering the part of you Gojo wanted to see most. The rest of the suds stuck to the skin of your breasts, slowly slipping downwards at a snail's pace. If you kept your body sitting up like you were for long enough, the bubbles would surely run off your tits and reveal your pretty nipples to Gojo's eyes. 

The water still sloshed around your body from your sudden movements before you sighed and leaned back against the tub, letting the water absorb you into it once more. "Fuck, Satoru... what are you doing here? I thought you were going to be gone for another week?" You asked, trying to keep the longing out of your tone as you spoke to him, not wanting him to know you missed him as much as you did, his ego didn't need that. 

"Aww did someone miss me?" Gojo asked, tilting his head at you. "I missed you too, that's why I used you as motivation to exercise that curse as quickly as possible so I could come to you~" The teasing and playfulness in his voice both irritated and aroused you. You scoffed, turning your head away from him to stare at the very interesting blank wall of the shower as you felt a blush creep onto your face.

"Get in and close the door or leave, you're letting all the hot air out." You bit, ignoring his teasing words as you felt goosebumps tickle your arms from under your skin. "Ohhh~ Is that an invitation?" Gojo cooed, uncrossing his arms as he kicked the door shut behind him, a large hand reaching behind his head to pull off his blindfold, his beautiful blue eyes being revealed from underneath.

You kept your face unreadable as you looked back at Gojo, your greedy eyes taking in the way his arms bulged as the jacket slid off his arms, falling to the floor. It must've been hot where he was sent on the mission because instead of the signature white long-sleeve button-up shirt he usually wore under his jacket, his body was adorned in a tight black muscle shirt. One that made your mouth water with how little it left to the imagination.

"Hey, my eyes are up here. You're making me embarrassed, y'know~" Gojo whined, faux pouting as he crossed his arms over his body and pulled up the bottom of his shirt before slowly sliding it up his body, giving you a show as each row of his insanely defined abs was revealed to you. Satoru grinned at you when he pulled the shirt over his head, his hair looking ruffled and fluffy from his head being squeezed through such a tight opening. Cute.

"Don't say that like you don't stare at me shamelessly when I take off my clothes in front of you." You retort, feeling your body start to react to the show he was putting on for you. "I can't help it, you get so squirmy when I watch you, it's adorable," Gojo responded, his hands making quick work of his belt as he kept his piercing eyes on yours while he did so.

Your lip curled up slightly in embarrassment at his words. How was he able to just say stuff like that? "You touchin' yourself under there?" Gojo asked, his voice keeping the teasing tone but with the addition of something deeper now. Your jaw dropped as you stared at him incredulously, a blush spreading across your face. "Y-you-" Briefly looking down you noticed the bulge that had already formed in his pants.

He could see nothing but your head floating atop the bubbles, how was he already hard? "You have such a dirty mouth Satoru." You responded, shaking your head at him. He giggled as he finally pulled his pants and boxers off his heels, his hard cock standing at full attention, the delicious curve made it point up towards his belly. You did your best to avert your eyes, looking back at the blank wall of the shower as he got closer.

"Heh~ You're so easy to tease." He teased. "Scoot forward, make some room for me, princess." Your heart was beating out of your chest. It had only been a week and a half since Gojo had left on his mission, but your body had missed him so badly. Not a second went by that you didnt crave Satoru's presence in some way, so now that he was actually here after ten days of pining, your body didn't know what to do with all the feelings you were experiencing.

Wordlessly, you leaned forward and allowed Gojo to slide into the bath behind you. He hissed when he stuck his first foot in the bath behind your body. "Are you a masochist?? Why is the water so hot??" Gojo complained, hissing and whining under his breath after each inch of skin he sunk into the water.

His childishness eased some of the tension and embarrassment you were feeling. You smiled to yourself as he situated himself deeper into the bath, his thighs spreading around your body. "Your students pushed me to my limits, I don't think there's a muscle in my body that isn't sore." You sighed. Gojo hummed in awknowledgement as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you back agaisnt him, your back flush to his chest--which felt so much wider than you remember. 

You tried to ignore the very prominent feeling of Gojo's hard cock poking your lower back as you relaxed against him, your eyes taking in his usual porcelain skin turning red on the tops of his knees as they poked out from under the water, burned from the heat of the water. "Is your body more sensitive to heat because of your infinity? Or are you just a bitch?" You asked, staring blankly at the shower wall in front of you.

Gojo tsked at your words, his arms squeezing tighter around your body. "You could've said that last part nicer. I'm sensitive." He replied, pouting as he placed his chin on your head, staring at the same wall you were. You laughed softly, relaxing even further against him "I've always been sensitive to extreme temperatures, but I think anyone besides you would agree with me when I say this bath is just too hot."

You stayed quiet for a few seconds before you spoke again, "I think you're just a bitch." You said teasingly, smiling to yourself. Gojo pulled his head back from resting on the top of your head and looked down at your smaller frame against his as he pouted. He quickly got distracted though, forgetting your words as his eyes traced over the slope of your shoulders, the curve of your neck, and the valley between your breasts, glistening from the water.

Satoru licked his lips when an idea suddenly popped into his head. Releasing the hold he had on your body, he placed one of his hands right under your tit, the other slowly sliding down the front of your body. On instinct, you looked down, as if you could see his hands working on your body under the water. His large hand acted like it creating a path to your cunt, but right when he got to your pelvis, he changed direction and rubbed his hand down your thigh before sliding it back up, repeating that action.

"You're so mean to me sometimes..." He pouted, the hand he had holding your body against him slipping up to cup your breast, his large hand practically engulfing the entire thing as he slowly massaged it. "Satoru..." You whispered, your head pressing back against his chest. "I'm nothing but nice to you, y'know?" He continued, his hand alternating between pinching your nipple with his fingers and rubbing your entire tit in his palm.

You sighed as he touched you, your body melting under his touch. "But even though you're a bully..." Satoru's hand slid back up to your pelvis, he rubbed the area of skin right above your clit with his fingers, pressing down against the skin slowly, the same as he did when he fucked you and was trying to feel himself thrust inside you. You didn't even realize that your legs were spreading on instinct, making room for him to touch you.

You gasped quietly as you waited for him to touch you. The throbbing between your thighs was now pulsing rapidly with your need for relief the longer he teased you. "...I still want to make you feel good." He finished, his fingers releasing the pressure on your pelvis as they slid down to your pussy, his fingers finding your clit with ease as he started rubbing slow, teasing circles against it.

"Does that make me a pushover?" He whispered hotly against your ear as you gasped in a breath at the sudden striking pleasure. "Fuck-" You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as he played with your little clit expertly, his other hand rubbing his index finger in circles around your areola, much the same pace as the one on your clit. "Hm? Does it baby?" Gojo asked, his greedy mouth sucking the shell of your ear into his mouth, his tongue teasing it as his lips suctioned around it, the sensation sending goosebumps down your body.

"I-I don't know." You whined, your brain not even registering what he was saying to you as he pleasured your body. He truly knew your body like the back of his hand, he knew each and every spot that had you whining and crying for him. "You don't know?" He repeated, leaving hot kisses against your ear as he sped up the circles on your clit, adding slightly more pressure at the same time.

"You aren't listening huh? That's so mean princess. I'm going out of my way to make you feel good even after you've bullied me, and you can't even listen to me?" He cooed, making his voice higher as he teased you. His index finger and thumb pinched around the hard bud of your nipple as he rolled it between his fingers. You squirmed against his body, your legs jerking every so often causing the water to slosh around you.

Your hand gripped Gojo's wrist which was working vehemently on your pussy, making jolts of electricity shock through your body. "S-Satoru... satoru that feels good." You whined, your hair tickling his skin as your head rubbed on his chest. Gojo smiled, switching his hand to massage your other breast. "You can't think of anything other than how good you feel, huh?" He asked, kissing the spot right behind your ear.

His cock was twitching against your back after each whine and moan you released. He was so grateful you were pressed so tightly against him, your squirming giving his cock significant release as your lower back rubbed all over him. "M-mhmm-" You responded, pressing your lips together as you opened your legs wider for him. 

Gojo pressed kisses all over your neck and ear as he continued rubbing his fingers over your sensitive little bud, working you higher and higher toward your orgasm. "You're so soft. I missed you against me like this. I love holding you." Gojo whispered, his words too intimate for a fuckbudy to say, making you blush with embarrassment. "M-missed you too." You respond honestly, putting your pride aside. "You make me feel so good Satoru.." you praised, your words going straight to his cock.

"Yeah? I touch you so much better than you touch yourself huh?" He asked, his fingers quickening with his own excitement. "Y-yeah." You whine the word dragging out from between your lips. "I'm the only one who makes you feel this good, huh?" Satoru whispered, practically whining into your ear as he rutted his hips against your back. 

You groaned in response, feeling yourself almost about to tip over the edge. His hand on your tit massaged harder as he humped against you faster, the water sloshing around your body, spilling onto the floor. "Say it baby, need you to say it," Gojo begged, increasing the pressure on your clit, making your legs jerk together, trying to close around his hand when you felt the hot coil of your release wind up impossibly tighter.

"O-only you Satoru only you. F-fuck fuck I'm cumming-" Your smaller hand tightens around his wrist as you hold onto him for dear life as your orgasm wracks through your body. Satoru chases you, keeping your body pressed to his when you jerk forward, your body trying to fold in on itself when the intensity of your high. "Oh good fucking girl, take it, baby, that's it, cum for me." Gojo groaned against your ear, his hand squeezing your tit as wave after wave of your orgasm washed over you.

Satoru's cock dripped pre-cum into the water when you came, his own arousal increasing tenfold as he watched you cum. You relaxed back against his chest when you came down from your high, your head falling limply on his chest as you gasped softly, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm. "That looked like it felt so good baby, good job." He praised, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Your face was flushed red with your arousal as you closed your eyes when you felt his lips touch you. "Thank you, Satoru. I really needed that." You said, rubbing your thumb on his wrist that had started caressing the spot where your thigh and hip meet. He hummed, kissing your head once more as he acknowledged your words, the hand on your tit still slowly massaging it in circles.

"Would you look at that..." Satoru spoke, making you turn your head to look up at him, wondering what he was looking at. He smirked down at you when he got a view of your face, his eyes making contact with your own. "The water is still hot." His smirk grew when you tsked and looked away from him, the white-haired man bursting into a fit of giggles as he wrapped his arms around your body. 

[eldritch-spouse]

Shags get obsessed with a girl that works at an art store where he gets his supplies. She's laid back and chit-chats with him about any projects he's working on.

[Okay but what if you had a really strange thing going on?]

You like this little freak.

Yeah, okay, that's a bit of a mean thing to say. But can you be blamed? There's no word that fits him more aptly than freak. Not even in the physical sense, there's a lot of variety in mushroom monsters, you know some of them can be tall and gangly like Shags. He's just bizarre.

The way he speaks, moves, conducts himself. You swear, not a single mannerism this monster makes feels natural or reflexive. Even the way he seems to intensely wait and make himself an obstacle until you initiate conversation with him... God, even the fucking topics of conversation, it's like he makes an effort to speak in riddles.

In this rather boring dead-end of a job, seeing this weirdo bend and squeeze through the doors like Samara about to crawl out of the TV is the highlight of your shift.

That's why he's your favorite client.

He's been standing still in the same supplies isle for too long, you already know what he wants.

" Having trouble finding something, Mr Shags? "

As if, he probably knows this store better than yourself.

In fact, he outright told you he used to be a client before you started working here.

He murmurs a response too quietly to interpret, forcing you to come closer. And, predictably, as soon as you are within grabbing distance (not hard to achieve when you're a lamppost of a monster featuring branch-like arms), a spider hand slithers onto your shoulder. It's cold, he's always a little cold.

You're urged in front of a shelf, his head looming over yours.

" Ahh, I need your honest opinion on something... If you don't mind? "

This is the paints section, a mural of hues that hurt the eyes.

" Sure. "

" What shade of orange do you think I should get? "

You love these questions. Because never once does he elaborate on what he's creating or why he wants you to choose. It's happened many times before. What size of canvas should I get? What pen should I get? What sketch books should I get?

You like the strange autonomy of getting to pick, offering him the same level of context he does to you.

Absolutely none.

" Alloy. " You point.

Shags reaches towards it with little effort, snagging several little containers with his root-like digits. The hand on your shoulders tightens.

" What a choice. Thank you very much, my dear. "

" No problem. "

It takes a bit of shifting before the hand on your skin is lifted.

You stroll back to the cash register with a small smile and occasionally observe the monster in the same way you'd study an animal at the zoo.

It's strange how little he moves sometimes. Initially, you thought it was just so he wouldn't drip ink everywhere, but it seems to be a part of him now. Blending in with all his other vaguely creepy mannerisms. Mr Shags gets all his items at a snail's torturous pace and finally, finally approaches you.

" How are the latest projects going, Mr Shags? " You start while scanning the paints first.

The shroom actually seems to frown for a second. Fingers busy on the balcony. " Not as smoothly as I wished... "

Tap tap tap.

" My latest muse and I, our chemistry, I'm afraid it has no substance. "

" Oh? " Your eyes deviate to his face for a moment.

" Yes... Something tells me it's time to move on. But I do want to honor our time together with one last, preserving piece. "

Tap tap tap.

" Mhm. Sounds good, I hope the next one works out. " Frankly, you're not sure what he's talking about, but you usually never are to begin with.

" Me too. " Then he smiles again, and you get the distinct feeling his stare has turned into a more scrutinizing one.

Far from the first time, it doesn't scare you like it did initially.

It's pretty funny, actually. You started out thinking this guy was some kind of loser looking to harass you, to intentionally make you uncomfortable. Nowadays he's more of an entertaining almost-friend.

Tap tap tap.

" Will that be all, Mr Shags? "

" Shags. "

He's told you to call him just by his name a couple of times. You always ignore it, but he keeps trying anyway.

There's a silent beat.

During your first years of work, the lack of action would have made you antsy enough to break the silence, which is what you know he wants you to do. But now, you have no trouble staring back placidly until he continues the conversation.

Apparently, the shroom enjoys that continuous challenge, because his grin widens slowly.

" You have a peculiar facial definition. " He eventually rasps.

A nothing statement, not quite a compliment, not quite an insult, definitely said to confuse and prompt a question. One you don't give him the satisfaction of hearing.

" Thanks. " The customer service smile has an edge of playful smarm this time.

Tap tap tap.

" ... I would enjoy sketching you sometime. Your facial expressions are intriguing. "

This is essentially his way of asking you out, you presume.

" You've drawn me before. "

He's even given you the pages, pencil depictions of you caught in a selection of moments. Mostly bored to tears and staring at the little universe between the cracks in aged walls.

Shags tuts. " It's quite different when the muse in question is part of the experience. I much prefer it that way. "

You can't help the hint of a snicker that tugs at the corners of your lips as you bag his items to hurry things along. Not that there's anyone else inside right now.

" Mm. And what if we don't have good chemistry? "

The shroom monster hands you his card, not even caring about hearing the total.

" I think we both know that wouldn't be the case. "

Tap tap tap.

It's only a few moments of intentionally creating suspense until you hand him all his new belongings and card.

" See you soon, Mr Shags. "

His grin only twitches for a delightful glimpse of a second before he carefully takes his possessions and leaves.

Playing with fire is fun.

One day, you'll get burned.

[roosterforme]

Is It Working For You? Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Just in case you need to start at the beginning or visit an earlier chapter, check out my Masterlist!

Summary: Just a day at the beach. Bradley finally gets some of the answers he wants, and maybe a little more.

Warnings: angst, fluff, some swears, adult banter, getting more into 18+

Length: 5000 words, yes 5000 words JUST FOR YOU!

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

"What does dress for fun even mean?" you asked Maria through your open door as you tore into your closet the next morning.

"I guess a bathing suit? It's a beach day, make it sexy," she yelled back. You immediately thought of what Rooster might be wearing. Or not wearing. He'd definitely be shirtless at some point, and if you knew anything from the times you'd briefly touched him, the man was ripped. 

"Shit," you whispered as you pulled out your bathing suits. Your body was not the specimen of pure perfection that Bradley's was, but at least it seemed to get the job done. "Purple one piece or black two piece?" you asked Maria.

"Hmmm, black two piece!"

You finished getting ready and inspected yourself in the mirror. It was no string bikini, but you were definitely showing a lot of skin. And your intentionally messy ponytail would be shocking for a work day, but it seemed fine for a day at the beach. You threw on a pair of ripped jean shorts and an oversized tee shirt and headed to your car with your backpack, "I'll meet you there, slowpoke." Maria just gave you the finger in response.

The parking lot above the seaside cliffs beach was narrow, and you snagged one of the last open spots, right next to Bradley's Bronco. Your heart danced in your chest, excited and nervous to see him. You had been waxing poetic about how much you liked him while you were at the Hard Deck, but he hadn't really given you much of a response. Of course, you'd had an awful lot to drink, and hopefully he was just being gentlemanly. But would he be happy to see you today? You also really needed to talk to him about how you felt.

You realized you were going to have to climb down a lot of rocks to get to the beach below, and you wished you had worn something better than your boat shoes. Very gingerly, you took your time safely navigating the boulders all the way down toward the sand. But you slipped and nearly landed on your ass as soon as you saw Bradley. Phoenix had said all of the guys got attention from the locals, and you agreed, they were a good looking bunch. But Bradley was just ridiculously hot. He turned so his back was to you, and he was talking with Coyote and Bob. Just as you hopped off the last of the rocks onto the sand, Bradley reached behind his neck and yanked off his US Navy tee shirt, tossing it to the sand. 

Your lust ridden body was moving at a snail's pace. You didn't know where to go. Thirty feet ahead of you stood the sexiest man you'd ever seen, and you were only looking at his back for fuck's sake. Bob waved to you, and Bradley turned your way to see who was there. 

"Y/N," he called with a smile, seemingly happy to see you. 

His cut off denim shorts rode below his belly button, and he had perfect six pack abs. You could just barely see the waistband of his underwear, and you wanted to run your fingers along it. His body was literally a 6'1" fantasy. 

He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his sunglasses. As he took a step in your direction, you felt your thighs clench together, and you almost moaned out loud. It was going to be a long day. 

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

So you had decided to come to the beach. Bradley knew Maverick had invited a lot of the support staff for the day as well, but so far Hondo was the only one who had shown up. But now you were here, looking beyond adorable. God, he wanted to get you alone and make you explain to him exactly where he stood with you. 

"Y/N! I saved you a spot!" Phoenix called from behind Bradley. And you took off in her direction, just giving Bradley a nervous smile on your way past. He turned and watched you spread your large beach towel out near Phoenix and Halo in what he heard you all referring to as 'the girls' corner '.

Well that just wouldn't do. He gave you a couple minutes to settle in as he walked down to the water to rinse off his arms and cool down a bit. But, then he went and crashed that party. 

"Forgot my towel. Yours looks big enough to share," he announced before plopping down on your towel and lounging back on his elbows.

"Excuse you, this is the girls' corner. Get out," Phoenix told him, pointing toward the area where some of the guys were lounging about. 

"No, I like it over here," he replied as he looked up at you. 

You sighed dramatically and took your sunblock and water bottle out of your bag. "I guess you can stay, but we will be talking about you boys and all manner of other girly things."

"That's cool. I'm very in touch with my feminine side. And I also have a lot of opinions on these guys." 

Halo and Phoenix laughed, but Bradley's breath caught in his throat as you unbuttoned your shorts and shimmied them down your legs. After you neatly folded them and tucked them away, you brought your hands up along your hips and under your shirt. As you pulled it up and over your head, he bit back a groan, completely hypnotized by the expanse of your pristine skin and your cleavage. 

He'd probably made a bad decision by hijacking half of your towel, but it was too late. He was already here, and now you were applying sunblock to your legs. God, those fucking legs. He was dying to touch your skin. He watched you glance between Phoenix and him a few times before holding out the bottle in his direction. 

"Will you do my back?"

Bradley was more than willing to do so, so much to your back... your whole body, really, if he was allowed to. He quickly got himself into a seated position and patted the spot in front of him on the towel. After a second of hesitation, you carefully sat cross legged a few inches in front of him. 

The first swipe of lotion across your shoulder had you leaning back a bit, and Bradley used his big hands to gently rub it into your soft skin. As his fingers dipped underneath your bathing suit strap, he could feel you exhale sharply. He took his time, going over every inch of your back two times with his hands. He let his fingertips rub into your lower back just above your suit bottoms. As he brought his hands up to the back of your neck, he noticed you had stopped conversing with Halo and Phoenix and seemed to be enjoying this little backrub as much as he was. You hadn't pulled away from him. In fact you had been inching closer. He caressed the back of your neck softly, touching the wisps of your hair that had come loose from your ponytail. 

If any of the guys were watching, Bradley would surely be in for a ribbing about this later. And Hangman would try to make his life a living hell if he saw any of this. But you were melting into his touch, so it was worth it. Phoenix had a shit-eating grin on her face, but surely she wouldn't make fun of him too much, since she already knew what a mess Bradley was over you. 

"All done," he whispered to you as he let his fingers drift away from your skin. 

Your simple response of, "Mm, thank you, Bradley," went right to his cock. He was good and fucked at this point, so he just let himself collapse onto his back on your towel. He closed his eyes and listened in on the promised girl talk and the sounds of the ocean. Apparently Phoenix and Halo both used to have a crush on Coyote. That could be good blackmail information for later. Then you told the girls a funny story about a horrible date you went on a few years ago, and your laugh washed over him like the warm sunshine. 

It was still pretty early, and some of the aviators and others were still slowly arriving at the beach. At one point he heard Maverick announce that he had a cooler of drinks and had ordered sandwiches for everyone for lunch. He knew this was supposed to be a team building day, so he was going to try to push aside his feelings about Maverick and make the best of it. 

And it didn't hurt that you broke away from the girl talk to lay down next to him. When Bradley turned his head toward you and opened his eyes, he could tell you were already looking at him through your sunglasses. You both sized each other up for a few minutes, Bradley slowly memorizing the shape of your lips and the curve of your cheeks. Finally he reached out his index finger and tapped your hand. "Wanna talk?" he asked quietly.

"Not really, but yeah, I guess we should. I'm sorry, Bradley. I was pretty out of line on Saturday night. I... shouldn't have butted in on you when you were talking to your two new... friends."

He swallowed hard. "So you want to be just friends with me then?"

"No, that's not what I said. Oh, this is so embarrassing," you groaned and propped your head up on one elbow so you were looking right at him. It took a lot of willpower for Bradley to pry his eyes away from your chest and focus on what you were saying. "I just can't believe I did that. I-I came at you like you were mine or something, and I'm sorry. I think it was the tequila talking, but I know that's not an excuse."

"Sweetheart, I wasn't interested in those girls. I'm interested in you. And you said you liked me. You said you were attracted to me. Was that the tequila talking?" Bradley was ready to beg you for answers if needed.

Sweetheart again. You couldn't handle it. You puffed out a little laugh and a blush crept along your neck and cheeks, now refusing to meet his eyes. "No, that was the sober truth. Drunk truth, too, I guess. But I do like you, and I am attracted to you."

"Then why did you turn me down when I asked you out?" he asked, his heart pounding in his ears.

"I didn't turn you down, I told you not to ask me out at all."

"Is there really a difference?"

"No, I guess not. But I know how you guys are. And I know how I am. And I'm scared ," you whispered.

Bradley liked you so much, he couldn't imagine a world where he would do anything to you that would scare you or hurt you. He would take you out wherever you wanted to go. He would hold you against him and kiss your neck. He would listen to every single thing you had to say. He would appreciate you. He would make love to you exactly how you wanted him to. "Why are you scared? And what can I do to show you that you don't have to be scared of me?"

You raised an eyebrow at him before taking a deep breath. "When I got serious with my last boyfriend, he changed his mind part way through. And then recently when I tried to keep a casual friends with benefits thing going, the guy changed his mind and suddenly wanted to be serious with me. I'm tired of trusting the guys I shouldn't, and having others demand of me what I don't want to give them. And don't even get me started on how dating another officer could impact my career with the Navy."

That made a lot of sense to Bradley. And maybe he wasn't the only one with some issues here. "And does that leave any room at all for me?"

Your only response was your fingers tangling with his on the towel.

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

Your friends finally showed up hours after you had. Now you were sitting on the rocks with Cam and Maria, eating sandwiches and drinking lemonade. 

"Rooster keeps looking at you," Cam noted as he worked on his third sandwich. 

"She keeps looking at him too," Maria added.

They weren't wrong. Bradley was playing volleyball with some of the others, and you were pretty sure he had missed a few shots, because he'd been smiling at you. All you had done was gently held hands with him while you relaxed in the sun, but you'd felt a little bit lighter and fuzzy around the edges since then. 

"No comment," you said as you hopped up from the rocks and started walking toward the water.

"Seriously?! I'm practically employed as your life coach and you won't tell me what's up?" Maria called as she and Cam followed you to the water.

Then all of the guys plus Halo and Phoenix made their way loudly toward the water's edge as well, and Hangman had a football in each hand. Hondo was sorting everyone into two teams. His hand connected with your shoulder as he said, "Blue Team".  

"Huh? What's happening here?" you asked Halo as she was sorted onto the Red Team.

"It's dog-fight football. Offense and defense at the same time. You'll love it."

"How is it offense and defense at the same time?" you asked, frantically trying to find your teammates. 

"It makes sense once you start the game. I'll help you out," said Coyote, who had somehow been selected to be captain and quarterback of your Blue Team.

"Listen up!" yelled Hondo. "I'll keep score. Don't make me call penalties, because it will piss me off. Absolutely no tackling into the sand. And... everyone on the losing team does fifty pushups!" 

Your eyes bugged out, unsure if you'd done that many pushups in the last six months.You had a desk job for crying out loud, and basic training had been a decade ago.

"Maybe I'll just sit this one out," you muttered and tried to sneak away. But Bradley appeared in front of you, shaking his head. "At least let me put my shorts and shirt on over my bathing suit before we start," you pleaded, thinking if you could just get back to your towel, everyone would forget about you.

Bradley took you by the elbow and pulled you back into place, lined up next to your teammates Coyote and Bob. "You have to play, or it will be an uneven number. And I promise, there's nothing to be afraid of," he said, crossing his heart with his index finger. Then he lined up directly across from you with the Red Team and crouched down, hand planted in the wet sand, biceps bulging. You mimed his actions, causing him to burst into laughter. "Now that's intimidating. I'm a little scared, actually."

"Oh, shove it, Rooster!"

"She's already trash talking!" exclaimed Bob. "Kick his butt, Lieutenant Y/L/N!!"

Hondo blew his whistle, and everyone took off running in every direction. You saw Maria pulling Cam through the water, and Phoenix had somehow already scored a touchdown before you even moved. But there was so much chaos, you managed to distract Hangman by calling his name, and you got him to pass to you, even though you weren't on his team.

"Oh no," you gasped when you caught the ball. Then you were off, ducking and running as Payback, the intended receiver, was headed right toward you. Maverick provided some cover, and you scored for your team. 

Halo was right, you were loving this.

"Damn it, Bradshaw! She's fast! Cover her better!" Payback yelled as you jumped up and down with the ball.

"Yeah, I've got her," Bradley replied as you and he lined up across from each other once again. You stuck your tongue out at him in response to his smirk. "She's all mine." 

Now Bradley was on offense, and you had to figure out how to keep the football out of his hands.

"Shit," you gasped as he caught a beautiful pass from Hangman. Unsure of how to stop him from scoring, you jumped directly into his arms. Maybe you could get him to drop the ball?

Nope, not a chance. Bradley scooped you up one handed and hauled you along with him and the football. He adjusted his forearm under your butt, and his massive hand wrapped around your thigh, holding you against his abs. You grabbed his shoulders as he picked up speed and dodged Bob. You tried not to get turned on as his fingers gripped your leg harder. And you tried so hard to keep your hands still, but you couldn't deny yourself the feel of his shoulders then collarbone and then neck beneath your palms.

"Nice try, but that was never gonna work," Bradley whispered against your left ear. That raspy voice left you speechless as he set you gently down in the sand. The loss of contact with his warm body almost made you whine for him to pick you up again.  

Lining up across from Bradley over and over again was exhausting. Sure, the game was tiring you out, but trying to stay calm while presented with his body was mentally taxing. It was as much a form of foreplay as your banter had been. If you moved to the right, he followed you. If he tried to sneak around behind Halo, you were there. Offense or defense, it didn't matter; your hands were all over each other. Sand and water splashed and sprayed up everywhere, adding texture to his glistening, sweaty body.

Oh, how you wanted more.

When Hondo blew the whistle for the two minute warning, you were on defense. Bradley crouched down, planted his hand and slowly shook his head at you. "Come on, Y/N. Show me what you got."

The pass came right toward you both. You jumped and tried to catch it, but he was too tall. He paused and tried to gauge what you were going to do, so you went with your one and only move. You jumped directly into his arms again, wrapping your legs around his waist, and his hand came up to your thigh again. This time you tried to knock the ball out of his hands, but he just laughed and held it high above his head. You felt your chest smashing into his as you scrambled to reach for the ball. Your nipples were so hard, and you knew he could feel them. He ran for the touchdown and tossed the ball back over his shoulder.

"Come on, Baby Girl. I thought we already established that isn't gonna work," he rasped against your neck as his other hand came up to your waist with a squeeze. 

Baby Girl. Fuck, you were on the verge of combustion. His mustache was tickling your neck as he chuckled, and his grip on your body was unrelenting.

You faintly heard the Red Team cheering as they had tallied more points when he scored, but he kept his attention on you.

"You keep doing this, and a guy might think he has a chance with you."

You couldn't respond, you were too turned on. If you opened your mouth, you would definitely kiss him. If you moved your hands from his shoulders, they would end up in his messy, sandy hair. Bradley just slowly lowered your aching body back to the ground, and when your feet hit the water, he winked and told you, "I think it's time for your push-ups."

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

Bradley watched you struggle through your push-ups, but you never gave up. He'd come to appreciate that about you; you were smart, resourceful and determined.

And honestly, he was thankful to have a moment to cool down. Your whole body had been wrapped around him, twice. It was too much. He had been on the verge of kissing your lips and dragging your body against the front of his shorts, where he really needed you.

"Good game, Bradshaw," you told him when you were finally finished with push-ups. You were looking at him like you wanted to jump into his arms again. You shouldn't be looking at him like that, not in front of everyone.

"I really had a lot of fun, Y/N," he replied, hoping nobody else could hear how horny he sounded. 

He watched you swallow hard and then turn back toward your towel.

"God damnit," Bradley muttered as he took off in the other direction. He needed to get away from you, or soon everyone else on that beach was going to know without a doubt that he had it bad for you. They probably already did. Anyone with eyes could see the way he reacted to you every single time you were around him. He grabbed a drink out of the cooler and downed the whole thing.

"Well, that was hot," Phoenix crooned behind him. "Jeez, Rooster, you could at least take her back home before you maul her apart."

"Fuck, everyone knows now?" he asked, his voice pleading.

Phoenix just shook her head in a maybe motion. "I don't think so. I can just tell with you how big of a deal this is. The others probably just think you turned your flirt meter way up for the day."

This did not help calm his nerves at all.

"But it's going to be okay. I've got your back," she said with a saucy wink that did not bode well with him.

Bradley took a walk along the water alone, stopping to wash some of the sand from his body and hair. The sun was starting to dip lower in the afternoon heat, and there had been talk about everyone meeting up to get burgers and then going to the Hard Deck for drinks. It was nice to see everyone getting along today. Maverick was even going to buy the first round. Apparently nothing got aviators more excited than free drinks. 

He turned to see some of the group had already started the climb back up to the parking lot, but you hadn't left yet. You were taking your own solo walk along the far side of the cove, so he took his time before gathering his things together. 

"Bye. See you at the Burger Shack," Phoenix said as she rushed past Bradley, arms filled with stuff as she headed for the boulders. 

"You need help with all of that?"

"I'm doing you a favor," she called back. "You can't help me do you a favor, that's not how it works!" 

There were officially zero women in Bradley's life that made any sense or made things easier for him. 

And now it was just you and him left on the beach as the sun dipped lower. He got his shirt and shoes back on and tucked his keys and phone into his pockets as you slowly traipsed back from the water's edge. 

"Wanna walk up with me?" he asked as you picked up your towel. 

"Where's all my stuff?" you asked, looking around frantically. "I thought my bag was under my towel. My teal backpack had everything in it. My phone and keys and everything."

Bradley glanced around at nothing but empty sand. "I'll bet someone grabbed it by accident. Here, call your phone." He unlocked his and handed it to you as he realized who the culprit most certainly was. 

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

Your phone rang and rang and rang. After the third try, you realized nobody was going to answer it. Now you were so mad you'd never taken the time to set up that remote phone tracker app. 

"It's probably with someone at the Burger Shack," Bradley reassured you, shoving his phone back in his pocket. "I can give you a ride there, we can get your bag, and then I'll bring you back to get your car."

You looked up at him and laughed, pushing your sunglasses to the top of your head. "Bradley, I don't have anything except my towel. I don't even have shoes, and it will take me all night to climb up the rocks with bare feet." 

Bradley looked down at your feet as you wiggled your painted toes around. "I can carry you."

"I can't ask you to do that!"

"Then don't ask, just get on," he said, gesturing for you to jump on for a piggyback ride.

You hesitated for a moment, but then conceded, draping your towel around your shoulders. The man had already carried you up to your apartment and that hadn't killed him. "Okay..." you mumbled as he crouched down a little and you hopped up onto his back. You squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck as he grabbed your thighs with both large hands and hoisted you a little higher.

"You okay back there?" he asked, and you could hear a smile in his voice. Of course you were okay, his biceps were rubbing against your sides.

"As long as you are." But he was already starting up the rocks, taking his time to make sure he had good footing. You held on a little tighter and rested your chin on his left shoulder, anxious to see where he was going to step next. He felt so strong, his back pressed against your front. And he smelled so good, you wanted to bury your nose against his warm skin. The thin layers of fabric between you both were doing nothing to keep the butterflies at bay. "I honestly don't know how you are doing this. I almost fell on my ass walking down here earlier!"

Bradley chuckled. "You might be surprised by the things I would be willing to do for a chance to carry a cute girl around."

You could feel yourself blushing hard as your legs rubbed along the soft cotton tee covering his back as he moved. "Will you let me buy you a burger later?" you asked.

"No."

"How about a beer at the Hard Deck?"

"No."

"Well then, what will you let me do?" you whispered in his ear, almost screaming when he audibly groaned in reply.

"There's only one thing I want."

"Oh really? What's that?" 

"I want you to admit that you can't get enough of me, and that's why you jumped on me twice during football." He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye behind his sunglasses with a grin.

You were quiet for a moment as he continued the journey upwards, finally nearing the top.

"Okay, first of all, how am I supposed to defend against someone roughly twice my size? It should have been Bob playing against you! Second, that was my only move, Bradshaw. Other than flinging myself at you like a flying squirrel and hoping for the best, there was no better option. And third...."

"Yes, go on..." he teased as you two reached the top of the hill, the beach now far below you. You were coming up quickly to the Bronco as Bradley carried you in that direction. 

"Well, third, yeah... you know. Come on, you know you look good, Rooster." 

"Not as good as you, Sweetheart," he rasped as he let go of your leg with his right hand and quickly unlocked the passenger door. He pulled it open and gently bent to set you down on the passenger seat. You slid into place and tossed your towel to the floor as he turned to face you. "Not as good as you."

You needed to feel him against you again. It was the only pressing thing now, your missing backpack totally forgotten. Bradley leaned toward you and wrapped the seat belt around your bare torso, his fingers gently grazing your left side as he clicked it into place. Before he could remove his hand, you grabbed it with your left one. You reached up with your right hand, removed his sunglasses and tossed them onto the driver's seat, revealing a look of longing in his eyes. Then you let your fingertips trail along the scars on his cheek. His eyes closed for a few beats as you pushed your fingers up over his ear and into his hair. His eyes opened again, pleading with you as you played with his messy hair, your fingers moving to the back of his neck. 

You pulled him closer and closer until you pressed your lips against his. You should have been embarrassed by the broken sigh that escaped you, but his hands were both immediately on your waist, and you were gone. He drew little circles on your skin with his thumbs as he explored your lips gently with his mouth, his mustache tickling your upper lip in the most delicious way.

You kissed and nibbled on his lips, now using both hands to pull him in tighter to you. Your nose bumped his as you changed positions slightly, leaning up to feel the pressure of your chest against his. With a moan, he used his mouth to part your lips, and you could feel the tip of his tongue against yours. 

He tasted so good and so warm. Your fingers dipped into the collar of his shirt as you teased and tasted each other over and over. When his lips danced over your chin and along your jaw, you really dug your hands into his hair. You had to squeeze your legs together to stop from crying out as his mouth connected with your neck, nipping just below your ear. 

"Baby Girl," he whispered and you almost lost yourself completely. Then his phone rang loudly causing you to jump back an inch. 

You looked at each other, panting slightly as he checked who was calling.

He cleared his throat a few times before saying, "I think someone is calling back from your phone."

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

I can't thank you enough for reading along!

Part 6

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[justdaphne]

prompt: Dad!Cardan in a meeting and his daughter interrupting it because she lost her toy

It was like watching a mundane show the speed of a snail. The eyes of his many advisers were soulless. The way they chattered among themselves in a gibberish manner. Or perhaps Cardan was just drunk? Nah. He was just painfully bored. It seemed like the meeting was going in a circle - topics kept looping back all the way to the beginning. There was no way out.

Much to his dismay, his wife was not there so he, for once, couldn’t bail out. Jude was away in the mortal world, attending Vivi’s engagement celebration. However, knowing Vivi, it was more of a rave than a celebration. How he wished he was there to attend. But alas, there was the dreaded meeting, which he couldn’t cancel (again)

Suddenly, the door opened with the slightest creak. His daughter, looked up at him with eyes so wide, shimmering with tears. “Papa, I lost my toy.” she said very faintly, barely heard for the advisers were still raging among themselves. “Silence,” Cardan said to them, with his voice of the High King booming along the hall. Turning back to Eva, he said calmly, “could you repeat what you said to me, Eva?”

“I lost my toys, can you help me to find them?” she murmured , her eyes pleading. “You want me to find them now?” She nodded in response, her lips barely a smile. “Alright.” He said, standing up. “Gentlemen, excuse me for a moment but please carry on.”

The moment the door closed, a thankful smile teased his lips. Freedom, Cardan thought. “Now where did you leave it, Eva?”

Searching for Eva’s toy was far from simple. Cardan and his daughter searched high and low, side to side, tearing the palace inside out (quite literally) But they couldn’t seem to find it anywhere, which caused Eva to tear up

Cardan lifted her up into his arms. resting her little head on his shoulder and patted her head in comfortingly. “Don’t cry.. don’t cry,” he whispered, “We’ll find it soon, alright?”

He brought her to the High King and Queen’s chamber to rest in and quietly set her down on their enormous bed. “We’ll find it okay?”

But just then, Cardan felt excruciating pain coming from his foot as he took a step. It was like a knife stabbed through his foot with so much rage. “TOY!!” shouted Eva, excitedly. “So, this is where it was.” said Cardan as he winced in pain. “I told you we would find it.” “Thank you, Papa!” Eva said with a smile so sweet it could rot teeth with just one look. “Stay here, alright? Papa needs to return back to the meeting.”

When he reached the meeting hall, he was greeted with pin drop silence. No one looked at him, no one spoke to him. He was facing rows and rows of empty seats. I came back just in time, Cardan thought to himself, a grin teasing his lips.

[tillneverlovedivanuntilhewasshot]

whats your opinion on deuce surely it can't be that bad

What I think about deuce? well he...

Deuce Spade. You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. I wager you couldn't empty a boot of excrement were the instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won't go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs. You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have to us who think and reason? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake? You are a waste of flesh.

You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed , drooling meatslapper. You smarmy lagerlout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oik artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I'm sorry. I can't go on.

This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don't have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half-baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are "challenged" persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known, that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

You're an idiot. A moron of the highest order. You're so stupid it's a wonder and a pity you can remember to breath. Intelligent ideas bounce off your head as if it were coated with teflon. Creative thoughts take alternate transportation in order to avoid even being in the same state as you. If you had an original thought it would die of loneliness before the hour was out. On an intelligence scale of 1 to 10 (10 corresponding to the highest attainable IQ) you're rating is so far into negative numbers that one would need to travel into another quantum reality in order to even catch a distant glimpse of it.

Your personality is that of a rabid Chihuahua intent on destroying its own tail. Your powers of observation are akin to those of the bird that keeps slamming into the picture window trying to get that other bird it keeps seeing. You are walking, talking proof that you don't have to be sentient to survive, and that Barnum was thinking of you when he uttered his immortal phrase regarding the birth of a sucker. You are, at varying times, tedious, boring, and even occasionally earth shatteringly hilarious in your idiocy, routinely childish, moronic, pathetic, wretched, disgusting and pitiful.

You are wholly without any redeeming social grace or value. If God ever decides to give the planet an enema you'd better run like the wind because anywhere you stand is a suitable place for The Insertion. There is no animal so disgusting, so vile that it deserves comparison to you, for even the lowest, dirtiest, most parasitic member of the animal kingdom fills an ecological niche. You fill no niche. To call you a parasite would be injurious and defamatory to the thousands of honest parasitic species. You are worse than vermin, for vermin do not pretend to be what it is not. You are truly human garbage. You are a fraudulent, lying, predatory charlatan. You are of less worth than a burnt-out light bulb. You will forever live in shame.

You have nothing to say, and Godwin's Law does not apply when writing about you. You are the anti-Midas, for all that you touch becomes valueless and unusable. Mothers gather their children close when you appear. You are an aberration, a corruption, and a boil that needs to be lanced. You are a poison in need of being vomited. You are a tooth so rotten it infects the whole body. You are sperm that should have been captured in a condom and flushed down a toilet.

I don't like you. I don't like anybody who has as little respect for others as you do. Go away, you swine. You're a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, and a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon. You are a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. Meaningful to no one, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts that sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I wretch at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, and the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell? Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. You are a waste of flesh. On a good day you're a halfwit. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away. I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, study, spell, and count, you will have more success. True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us "normal" people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. It just wouldn't have been "right". Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libellous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystrophic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, abrasive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, and socially-retarded.

Shut up and go away lest you achieve the physical retribution your behaviour merits, deuce spade. I hate snuggling. And I despise said hunger games.

There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.The only possible way in which your future would be brighter than the black hole your existence currently is would exclusively be because there is absolutely no conceivable way that you would even be able to sink lower than the pathetic place your current failure has put you in.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either.There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. There is no one in this world that has ever loved you, and especially after what you just did, no one will ever love you in the future either. There is no hope that your idiotic behavior and especially your crooked soul will ever change for the better, and in fact quite the opposite might be true. By making the mistake that you just did, you have shown me that you are so incredibly hopeless that you will only devolve into a more idiotic and wretched creature than you already are. The hunger games were the end of me. My reputation, my moon die, everything was taken away from me the moment you approached me. I was hated by all, forced to go away for a month. Why did you snuggle that day? my life is ruined because of your snuggling, man. I cant believe I wasted my time and precious hours on this response. Just go away, Deuce Spade.

tldr; he's quite the devious fella😂🤣😶‍🌫️

[kariachi]

Some birthday fic for @thenixkat! If you gave Laios a digi I missed it so... Just went with generic blob critter.

~~

“Laios. Laios.” He could thank his military training for only taking two calls to wake, though giving them the credit doesn’t sit well in his stomach. What he has to thank it for is the keen realization that the unfamiliar voice comes too close and the immediate response. He rolls to the side and just barely manages not to fall over himself as he settles into a crouch, scanning the trees for the stranger. Only days have passed since he packed his things and slipped away in the dead of night, and a creeping concern moves up his spine that the army has sent someone to find him.

Instead, all he finds is a small, pink… thing, staring back at him with big, black eyes. He can’t say he’s seen anything like it before- a mollusk maybe? It looks like it has the one foot like a snail or a slug, but he’s never heard of one so upright, or with arms. Some sort of monster then, but he’s also never heard of a monster that spoke so clearly without also taking more human forms to deal with people-

“You can relax,” the little thing says, tone almost bubbly as it climbs onto his thin mat, not a single foot but a mass of small feet, absolutely fascinating, “nobody else is here, it’s all safe.” For some reason he wants to believe it, and though the incident with the kelpie runs through his head, Laios warily sits down on the hard ground, hand still within easy reach of his sword. It’s skin is smooth, what he can only describe as an attempt at a tiny muzzle on it’s face, and he finds himself humming in consideration.

“What are you?” It can’t be a demihuman, not only does it look even farther from a human than orcs and kobolds, he’d surely have heard about them before, but it certainly is strange for a monster. He suddenly wants to grab out his journal and start taking notes, making sketches.

“I’m Mochimon! I’m-” It pauses. “You’re-” Again, face scrunching where there should be a nose. “We’re ours!” That doesn’t really answer his question, though it makes something in his gut glow warm and bright, and he’s wondering if it would be the wrong thing to say so when it continues. “I’m a Digimon.”

Laios has never heard the word before, but he figures he can make a reasonable guess that the ‘mon’ is related to ‘monster’ and is somehow even more curious for it.

He abandons the sword and begins blindly digging through his pack for his journal.

“Are all Digimon like you?” The journal is easy, his pencil a little harder, as Mochimon squelches down in what Laios assumes is it’s equivalent to a sit. It’s fascinating, as he wonders how exactly the muscles are moving in there for it’s body to morph like that. There has to be at least muscle of some sort, right-?

“No,” it says, sounding pleased as he starts filling a page with notes and sketches, “I was Poyomon before, and someday I’ll be something else.” Laios blinks, looking up from the journal.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Mochimon tries to nod, he thinks, but it comes across more as a sort of wobbling back and forth. “All Digimon do it.” Oh, that was amazing, and fascinating, and amazing. Was it a life stage thing? How many were there? Mochimon hadn’t specified what it would become, were there different morphs? Or was he thinking too far into it? People always said he thought too far into these things… But just the idea-

“Wish I was one.” The words slip from his mouth before he can think to bite them back and he cringes at the slip. Good job, Laios, way to show your weirdness right off the bat. But Mochimon doesn’t shy away, give him a harsh and disgusted look. It just, he thinks it might be an attempt to tilt it’s head, but it’s head is about forty percent of itself (how does it fit it’s organs into such a small space when it’s got so much head to feed-?) so it’s closer to a lean.

“I don’t know if that’s a thing,” it says in a thoughtful tone, then brightens again and throws an arm up, “but if anyone can make it happen, Laios-” How does it know his name, he hasn’t even asked that yet, though somehow it feels like it should. “-it’ll definitely be us!”

He agrees. He knows next to nothing and he still agrees.

He’ll be more concerned about that later.

[venzlenes]

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As they say in Texas. I’ll bet you couldn’t pour !@#$ out of a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won’t go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you.

You’re a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

You are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformation. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell?

Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs.

You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You’re a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won’t have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake?

You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral[size] equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper.

On a good day you’re a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You smarmy lager lout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oink artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away.

I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid gotten so dense that no intellect can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot mid-day sun on Mercury stupid.

You emit more stupid in one second than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. Your writing has to be a troll. Nothing in our universe can really be this stupid. Perhaps this is some primordial fragment from the original big bang of stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I’m sorry. I can’t go on. This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don’t have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh.

The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of what you wrote, because, well... it didn’t really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us ”normal” people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are ”challenged” persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn’t have been ”right”. Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

P.S.: You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystopic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, clueless, and generally NOT GOOD.

I know u got this off a google. I've used it before. AND U WERE WITH ME WHEN I USED IT @myguumi

[stickerrsssss]

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As they say in Texas. I’ll bet you couldn’t pour !@#$ out of a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won’t go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you.

You’re a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

You are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformation. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell?

Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs.

You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You’re a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won’t have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake?

You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral[size] equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper.

On a good day you’re a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient

in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You smarmy lager lout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oink artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted

fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill.

You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate,

noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away.

I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid.

Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid gotten so dense that no intellect can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot mid-day sun on Mercury stupid.

You emit more stupid in one second than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. Your writing has to be a troll. Nothing in our universe can really be this stupid. Perhaps this is some primordial fragment from the original big bang of stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond

the laws of physics that we know. I’m sorry. I can’t go on. This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don’t have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh.

The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of what you wrote, because, well... it didn’t really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us ”normal” people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are ”challenged” persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn’t have been ”right”.

Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

P.S.:

You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb,

evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystopic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive,

mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, clueless, and generally NOT GOOD.

(I lovb yaou… this is a copy pastas🥺🥺)

This is a copy pasta??? No way!!!! I totally definitely thought you wrote all of this out by hand!!!!

[gingerteaonthetardis]

well, @nerdie-faerie, when i tried to answer your ask, tumblr ate it. just absolutely gobbled it up and deleted my draft. but here's my response to your prompt (must be a day ending with 'y'), a little later than expected.

you gave me free reign to pick a doctor, so i chose four for reasons that i think will become clear right away. the best parts of the doctor are often his companions, you know...

anyway, in spite of the delay and technical difficulties, i hope you enjoy!

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

At the sight of the soaring toaster, Romana did the sensible thing and ducked for cover.

Leela, on the other hand—who had just dashed into the room with her hair in wild disarray—stood her ground, watching the violent exchange with her usual baffled intensity.

"What is this?" she asked no one in particular. "Are we under attack?"

As if in answer, a terrific shout—not unlike a battle-cry—rang out across the console room, followed visibly by a streak of blonde and bright, lobster-y pink, weaving through the mess.

"Help!" cried the Doctor from somewhere—behind a coat rack, it seemed like, stuffed with eccentrically-coloured furs. He apparently had chosen the spot to take shelter from flying objects. "I'm under attack!"

At the sound of his voice, Leela's jaw dropped.

"They are fighting," she marveled, turning to Romana in dismay. "Again."

"Mm, yes," Romana drily agreed. "Must be a day ending with 'y.'"

Her tone was lost on the other woman, of course, who seemed more preoccupied with observing Rose—and poor Rose, she really did feel for the girl, especially after being stranded in that awful, muggy pleasure palace for two weeks.

That is, two weeks relatively. The Doctor had actually realised his error—with a rather baffled, panicky, "Have I misplaced my wife?"—immediately and turned the TARDIS around, inasmuch as it could be done, in under thirty seconds.

However, his obvious repentance was not currently under attack. Only his driving. And Rose seemed intent on making her point using every projectile at her disposal. It was lucky for her—and perhaps unlucky for the Doctor—that the TARDIS was in the middle of something not unlike Spring cleaning.

That is, it wasn't precisely Spring anywhere nearby, and the console room could not currently be called clean, but the ship was making an effort, it seemed, to offload some of her extra bulk to one central location. Presumably, she wished for much of it—the toaster, the technicolour furs—to be taken out with the trash.

The Doctor, meanwhile, persisted in hiding in the refuse while Rose flung bits of it in his general direction.

"Two weeks!" came the shrill, emphatic cry. "I was left fending off the extremely slimy advances of some snail-faced, pond-scummy blob king for two—bloody—weeks! All because you can't be bothered to read one stupid little manual!"

Rose's words were punctuated by two flying shoes. Her own, Romana could only hope. They landed with a thunk-thunk against one of the roundels, and then fell down and knocked something over behind the coat rack with a clatter. The Doctor yelped.

"I didn't mean for it to take two weeks," he protested. "You must know that!"

"Should we break them up?" Leela asked, voice hushed.

"They had me sunbathing five hours a day!" cried Rose. "I'll be shedding burnt skin for ages! I look like a lobster!"

"A lovely lobster." The Doctor's voice was muffled by coats. A few must have fallen on him. "Prettiest of the lot."

Wrong move, Doctor, thought Romana with a shake of her head. Aloud, she said, "No, I don't think we should."

Rose made a protesting noise that was something between a growl and a squeal. She had quite an impressive range, when it came down to it. For all she was young and occasionally quite silly—now, for example—the older woman couldn't help but admire her… thoroughness. And her spirit.

And she kept the Doctor on his toes, which was certainly no small task.

Not that he needed it, necessarily. His balance was bad enough on two flat feet.

Poking her head up from behind the console, Romana tried to take stock of the rustling sound that was Rose reaching with both hands to part the contents of the coat rack, behind which she could just make out the huddled Doctor.

His knees were pulled up to his chest, and his eyes were wide. Not fearful, but sort of alarmed in a general way. His wife's distress always made him distressed, not that he was normally aware of that fact. He didn't project an attitude of particularly conscious empathy.

Rather, his feelings for Rose seemed to strike him as a frequent and overpowering surprise.

Just apologise, you buffoon, Romana thought, rolling her eyes, and have done with it. They would both be happy again, and she could get a moment's peace.

The Doctor's mind seemed to move along similar lines, though not with any particular alacrity. His face suddenly scrunched up, his brows all compressed and petulant, and he cried, "Well, all right! All right, I'm sorry. Is that what you want me to say?

"I am sorry for throwing the TARDIS manual into a Saggitarian supernova and learning—rather impressively, I think—on the fly! That is, literally on the fly, Rose. And I am sorry the King of the Snit'snails was so awful to you and boiled you alive." Here, his contrition seemed to become more genuine. Some of his indignance went away. "I'll get you some sun cream, hm? And I'll put it on your shoulders for you."

"That is kind of him, surely," whispered Leela.

"Oh, not a bit," Romana whispered back. "He's just angling to get to touch her ever again."

"We can hear you both, you know," snapped the Doctor, poking his head out from between the furs. "And you are making a mess of my apology!"

Rose spoke up before Romana could. "You made quite a mess of it yourself, Doctor," she said. But her tone was calmer, bordering on amused. The tempest was over; now, they were all sailing on relatively calm seas. She stretched out her hand.

The Doctor took it. But instead of using it to help himself up, he simply shook it a little and, when she didn't remove it, pulled it to his lips to press a kiss on the skin of her palm. Rose tittered a laugh that made the Doctor smile in his giddy, infatuated way.

Fools, the both of them, Romana thought to herself.

Leela nudged Romana's hip. "I think it is time to leave."

"Yes, I think so," the Doctor agreed, too-loudly, making eyes at Rose all the while. And rather than protest how ridiculous that would be—for they'd only come into the console room a few minutes ago, ready once again to ship out on another absurd adventure—Romana took Leela's proffered hand and retreated without a parting glance.

The mess there could be left for another day.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

more lighthearted prompts...

[kaioshin-kai]

You swine. You vulgar little maggot. You worthless bag of filth. As they say in Texas. I’ll bet you couldn’t pour !@#$ out of a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won’t go away. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you.

You’re a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon.

You are a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done.

I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformation. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell?

Try to edit your responses of unnecessary material before attempting to impress us with your insight. The evidence that you are a nincompoop will still be available to readers, but they will be able to access it more rapidly.

You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs.

You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You’re a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won’t have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot.

And what meaning do you expect your delusional self-important statements of unknowing, inexperienced opinion to have with us? What fantasy do you hold that you would believe that your tiny-fisted tantrums would have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat, spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake?

You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral[size] equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper.

On a good day you’re a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. You spread misery and sorrow wherever you go.

You smarmy lager lout git. You bloody woofter sod. Bugger off, pillock. You grotty wanking oink artless base-court apple-john. You clouted boggish foot-licking twit. You dankish clack-dish plonker. You gormless crook-pated tosser. You churlish boil-brained clotpole ponce. You cockered bum-bailey poofter. You craven dewberry pisshead cockup pratting naff. You gob-kissing gleeking flap-mouthed coxcomb. You dread-bolted fobbing beef-witted clapper-clawed flirt-gill. You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you, and I wish you would go away.

I cannot believe how incredibly stupid you are. I mean rock-hard stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid so stupid that it goes way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of stupid. You are trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid gotten so dense that no intellect can escape. Singularity stupid. Blazing hot mid-day sun on Mercury stupid.

You emit more stupid in one second than our entire galaxy emits in a year. Quasar stupid. Your writing has to be a troll. Nothing in our universe can really be this stupid. Perhaps this is some primordial fragment from the original big bang of stupid. Some pure essence of a stupid so uncontaminated by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. I’m sorry. I can’t go on. This is an epiphany of stupid for me. After this, you may not hear from me again for a while. I don’t have enough strength left to deride your ignorant questions and half baked comments about unimportant trivia, or any of the rest of this drivel. Duh.

The only thing worse than your logic is your manners. I have snipped away most of what you wrote, because, well... it didn’t really say anything. Your attempt at constructing a creative flame was pitiful. I mean, really, stringing together a bunch of insults among a load of babbling was hardly effective... Maybe later in life, after you have learned to read, write, spell, and count, you will have more success.

True, these are rudimentary skills that many of us ”normal” people take for granted that everyone has an easy time of mastering. But we sometimes forget that there are ”challenged” persons in this world who find these things more difficult. If I had known that this was your case then I would have never read your post. It just wouldn’t have been ”right”. Sort of like parking in a handicap space. I wish you the best of luck in the emotional, and social struggles that seem to be placing such a demand on you.

P.S.: You are hypocritical, greedy, violent, malevolent, vengeful, cowardly, deadly, mendacious, meretricious, loathsome, despicable, belligerent, opportunistic, barratrous, contemptible, criminal, fascistic, bigoted, racist, sexist, avaricious, tasteless, idiotic, brain-damaged, imbecilic, insane, arrogant, deceitful, demented, lame, self-righteous, byzantine, conspiratorial, satanic, fraudulent, libelous, bilious, splenetic, spastic, ignorant, clueless, illegitimate, harmful, destructive, dumb, evasive, double-talking, devious, revisionist, narrow, manipulative, paternalistic, fundamentalist, dogmatic, idolatrous, unethical, cultic, diseased, suppressive, controlling, restrictive, malignant, deceptive, dim, crazy, weird, dystopic, stifling, uncaring, plantigrade, grim, unsympathetic, jargon-spouting, censorious, secretive, aggressive, mind-numbing, arassive, poisonous, flagrant, self-destructive, abusive, socially-retarded, puerile, clueless, and generally NOT GOOD.

[cottakit]

Starstruck Fear Info Dump!

Like all people, humans and monsters alike, Starstruck has fears. A lot of them are caused by past trauma in their AU, and therefore I will be hiding them below the cut! As they could be potentially harmful to people with trauma of the same type. There are also a few more sneak peeks into Starstruck's character and past!

Check out other Starstruck posts: Starstruck's Design 1.0! Meet Starstruck! Starstruck's Magic And Attacks!

Starstruck's fears range from true PTSD to simple phobias. Their common phobias include the fear of spiders. That's about it, the only fear that they have that isn't related to any sort of past events is the fear of spiders.

More in-depth fears include the fear of failure, the fear of abandonment, the fear of exclusion, the fear of being forgotten, the fear of making enemies, and the fear of being misunderstood. These aren't the most out-of-the-ordinary fears, but they still tie in with their backstory, and so it is in this section.

I will be explaining all of the reasons below, which will reveal quite a lot of their backstory!

So, for the fear of failure: This fear started to bloom when Starstruck was a mere child and used to be in responsibility of their two brothers. They used to go without food for days at a time just to feed them both. They would do errands for the occupants of Waterfall for food or money. Waterfall soon became their only safe space. However, when crossing over the disproportionately small gap during an errand, they slipped and dropped both of their brothers. One was caught by the bird, thankfully carrying him across to the other side safely, and the other... Starstruck had been dropped in the water themself but managed to scramble out without getting washed away by the current like their baby brother. They swore they could see something from the corner of their eye before their brother sunk down into the water. What was yet to come of those sights and possible hallucinations, they wish they could've stopped. They now feel that if they make any mistake, no matter how small and insignificant it might be, it will end with the same tragedy that caused their family to go from three to two.

For the fear of exclusion, and the fear of being forgotten: As they grew older, they were no longer as helpful to the people of Waterfall. Who were once friendly kids that they could play with, were turning into adults with their own lives. They could no longer distract themselves with a game of fetch, tag, or snail racing. Their friends were no longer interested in those sorts of things. Even their own brother had made his own friends. Sure, that was a good thing, but it left them alone once again. They wanted to play with their brother and his friends, but they were older by a few years. They didn't belong anywhere. But don't worry, their brother grew up to hang out with his older sibling again!

For the fear of making enemies: [REDACTED] used to poke around at their little brother, which made them suspicious of it. Its intentions were clear. Therefore, they were in denial of it, keeping their brother away from it. It did not like that. It was there to hurt him. It was there to hurt them. And that is what it did, years into the future when Starstruck and their little brother thought it was gone. Starstruck has felt dizzy ever since, an ever-spinning parasite in their brain. It would never let them go. Why would it? They were mean to it, they were enemies, and they deserved this eternal mental torture. At least that is what is constantly rushing through Starstruck's mind when they are alone.

For the fear of being misunderstood: They had told everybody around them that [REDACTED] was not safe, that it had ill intentions. But nobody believed them. They swore to see them in the corners of their eyes, to see them lurking from a distance, seeing them clung to their brother when they looked away. Everybody thought they were simply psychotic. It was friendly! It was always smiling and always had such a happy tone. They passed it off, telling them that they were in the wrong. The gaslighting went on for years, until [REDACTED] lashed out and finally proved itself horrid. But, soon after, no one was left to rant to about how they were right the whole time.

That's all! That was a big info dump! Both brothers' names will remain unknown, and so will [REDACTED]'s, until the AU is complete. Thank you to everybody who read up to this point!

~Cottakit

[firesofdainix]

October 21: Day of the Departed

10 days left. I will prevail! I need to finish most prompts on Sunday because the next few weeks will make me super busy so, once again, I’ll be in an almost offline stage.

@morrotober

AO3 Version

If Morro tells his comrades back in the Departed Realm (that’s a lie; he didn’t have comrades, he only had some blank shades he talks to whenever he gets bored… or lonely) that he ruined a perfectly good revenge plan so he can help his former master, those little spiteful spunks would be clapping him on the back. Those shades he's now associated himself with (which was initially a harmless idea that lacked foresight) were not as vicious as the Cursed Realm ghosts, but they sure lack the brains he's had the entertainment of having conversations with. In addition, the ghosts in the Well of Regrets were afflicted by this annoying condition to have sessions in which they dabble in useless dreams and visions, of different timelines and choices they made. Whenever they come out of that state they're all so… melancholy and depressive. He didn't want to connect with them in that position.

And he didn't want to be like them either, coalescing with his own desires and the happy ending designated for him.

If he was being honest, he really wishes that his access in the Departed Realm wouldn't be so limited; The Wells of Regret and the Fields of the Elements can only keep him entertained and distracted for so long. He knows that everything was punishment for his own sins, but he's thoroughly sure he would never hear the end of it.

Morro, at the end of all things, is so tired of everything.

He feels as if his own energy was taken from him after his loss during the Preeminent, his form permanently burning. The Departed Realm may not be as wicked as the Cursed Realm, but it never does tolerate his delusions and ambition.

Can ghosts die? Because Morro wants to, at the very least, sleep permanently. No trace of an afterlife in the aftermath.

But, a Cursed ghost can dream.

And dream he did.

The Bounty was as mundane as ever for a ride; its speed was average and a little on the slower side, which did not help Morro's impatience and nerves. The wind may be slow and still, yes, but it has to move. It has always been fast and brief to his liking. No matter what, it has to be moving.

But the Bounty feels as if it has barely moved, and that is grating on his nerves.

He groans, staring at the eclipse that had brought him back here. Whatever dark magic Yang created to summon the villains back into Ninjago, he was powerful. And that makes Morro quite wary. He turns to Wu, who was steering the wheel at a slow, quiet pace. If he was the angry, resentful, and rejected young boy, he wouldn't notice the grim expression and the shaky grip which his master possessed. Former master, he supposes.

"For a worried master, you seem to be going at a snail's pace," Morro says for the first time since the two of them have boarded the ship. The two had not spoken since Morro relayed that his motivations were not as sinister as Wu had assumed. (Morro tries not to feel the squelching of sadness as he thinks about that. His own master did not trust him to have good thoughts.) Maybe it was because this reunion was not as cheerful as Wu had expected, maybe the two of them were waiting for the other one to talk.

Wu, in response, pulls a lever. The blasters and thrusters behind Morro begin to boost, prompting Morro to steer clear of it. Technology these days was hard to fathom, and he didn't want to be caught up in this burning. Much to his surprise, the Bounty goes faster, almost stumbling as gravity and the wind returns to him full force. He scowls at his master, whose eyes were on the skies. He feels as if he is being petty.

Morro continues to roll his eyes. "You're ignoring me."

"Wind is invisible," Wu says cryptically, and he bites back a sigh. "It cannot be ignored."

"You do a great deal ignoring me until now."

Wu turns to him for the first time in a while. "I did not mean it like that."

Morro sighs. "I understand. I am your first pupil, but also your wayward student."

Wu did not say anything.

Morro looks away. This entire session was a bust. Maybe he should have left Cole to his fate.

He was not a hero.

He was a Departed soul searching for penance.

Then, after a while, Wu speaks. "You look… different."

It takes a while for Morro to understand what Wu meant. Cursed ghosts have been cursed to appear inhuman as they stay within that wretched Realm. Morro, Soul Archer, Bansha, and Ghoul Tar were one of the youngest cursed ghosts, but their abilities and appearances have already lost all human coherency. Perhaps they'd look human if their hue was not a sick green, but they are deciphering differently. Dark scleras, cat-like irises with their eye color, tattered shapes underneath their eyes, marking their allegiance to the Preeminent, sharp teeth that elongated to fangs, and claws that resemble animal claws. That was just the first stages of their transformation; once they lasted a century or more in that realm, they can notice worse changes to their body… if they stayed in that Realm long enough, they'd turn out as ugly as the Preeminent.

Morro sighs, thinking of Hideaki. Still beautiful. Or maybe that was his subtle affection for him still being important.

In the Departed Realm, he'd still have that green hue; all ghosts are cursed to have it, after all. But he can already see changes in his appearance as if he's already been living in the Departed Realm for decades. His fangs and claws and marks are reduced, but the black scleras remain the same. It was as if the Departed Realm is currently stripping him of the things that made him inhuman… forgetting why he was not one of them in the first place.

It didn't matter.

Nothing matters to him anymore.

That's why he was helping Wu.

Right?

Morro shakes his head. That is the perfect reason why he is helping his former master reunite with his student. He did not want them to be lost as Morro and Wu have.

Never again.

"Why?" Wu asks, the silence so palpable it can be cut.

Morro frowns. "Why… what?"

"Why do you decide to help us?"

Morro laughs, albeit bitterly. "Have you lost the will to look at me without me being evil, master?"

The older man falters, and Morro bites his sadness with a scoff of resentment.

"I should have expected this." Morro's voice was angry, yes, but there is the slightest hint of disappointment and sadness that is left stagnating in the air. He didn't want to believe it; the fact his master decided he wasn't meant to be good is affecting him more than it should. "Perhaps we are too different now, master."

Wu did not respond initially, but then he spoke. And, as if the balance that threatens to rip the world apart again has been restored, his voice was like concord personified. "I have never lost hope for you, Morro. But…" He hesitates, turning to look at Morro for the first time since they went aboard the Bounty. There was a sad sigh. "I have a new family now."

That hits Morro harder than it should have.

It shouldn't have surprised him. He already knew Wu had made his choice when he was their adversary.

He just assumed that he would have handled it better, after all that time in the Departed Realm.

The wind is a wild force that cannot be contained.

And so are his emotions.

Morro shakes his head. He is not going to freak out about that. Not here, not now.

He is supposed to be better than that now.

All the lessons the Departed Realm is teaching him will be for nothing if he loses control over his wind now.

He heard Wu suck in a breath. He doesn't want to look at him. "I am glad."

"Glad you finally got me off your subconscious streak?" Morro inquires bitingly. His wind feels acrimonious as well, biting at his own corporeal form.

Wu shakes his head. "That we can finally be on the same side again."

Morro's expression becomes that of surprise. He should have foreseen this likely outcome— Wu is, admittedly, quite inept when speaking the right words, especially when he is currently emotional. But, when he is highly emotional, he can express these certain feelings in small, lengthy emotional speeches. It was always why Wu was so good with his words, to the point it made Morro, for a little, falter. Wu’s expertise in being able to make heads turn was, unsurprisingly, one of his more notable assets. Morro is wary of it.

The ghost’s eyes grow wide with disbelief.

He feels warmth pooling in his chest, the knots that have been tangled since arriving in the Cursed Realm slowly, but surely, untangling themselves.

He lets out a deep breath; ghosts cannot breathe, but souls can.

And he could feel all of his insecurities and anger fading away. Even if it was just for a little while.

Even when the two of them know that he will have to leave.

“Come live with us,” Wu says once again, and Morro blinks.

“Live… where?” He knows what he’s enunciating, but he would like to have confirmation before he blows it out of proportion. See, Departed Realm? He is maturing. They can stop sending him mixed messages about a new threat brewing in the deepest depths of the Realm now. He is done with being given hopeless missions. He is hapless in them.

Wu bristles, as if it was obvious. “In the Bounty, with my Ninja.”

Morro stares at him, scoffing after a heartbeat. He looks away from Wu, knowing that the senile man can understand the emotions he is currently conveying in his face. He is not going to risk letting Wu see his true emotions, especially when it comes to a sensitive matter like this. Wu knows that most of his ninja have the right to dislike him, correct? Even Lloyd, who, last time Morro checked, is still caught up with nightmares about him possessing his body. At least, that is what the Departed Realm is showcasing him— they love showing him the truth, the consequence of his actions rather than blustering him with praises, polishing him as if he was some eye-catching gold trophy that will rust.

“You overestimate their tolerance, master,” Morro says, seething a little. Yes, he can see that, in particular, the ninjas are kind. But kindness can only be strained enough.

“I can get them to behave.”

“You must prioritize their comfort over me,” he replies with finality. “I will only be helping you with this one simple task. And… I will be gone.”

Wu looks over at him solemnly. “I do not wish for you to be gone.”

Morro frowns. “We can’t always have what we want; that’s what you told me, the day Destiny spat on my face.”

[takaraphoenix]

I don’t see myself as a Karen. I’m not the type of person to complain. The mere thought of asking for someone’s manager actually seems terrifying.

But this past week and my interaction with Google support makes me wish I could actually talk to the manager or whoever is the superior of the person I’ve been talking to, because this is not just the worst customer experience I’ve had, this was just straight-up rude and dismissive and now I’m just being... flat-out ignored.

For the past week, I’ve been trying to buy channel membership for College Humor, because as you might have noticed, I’ve fallen down a Dimension 20 membership and while I wasn’t ready to pay with my own money for it when checking it out first because I didn’t even know what it was or if I’d like it, now that I did check it out and am loving it, I very much want to pay actual money for it, it feels like the universe is against me. It keeps failing and I keep getting an error message that tells me that there is a “problem with my address” every time I try to make the purchase.

Since the error message tells me the problem lays with PayPal, that’s where I first went. And PayPal support was wonderful! They replied very quickly, they checked everything, were helpful. Everything seems to check out on my PayPal account. And that makes sense, because on my PayPal account, I can see the transaction order for Google, like, it’s there, it is set up, it looks like I bought this thing, like it went through, despite Google claiming it didn’t.

So my next stop was Google support. And somehow, for some reason, I expected quicker response times from GOOGLE, since that’s a huge company I assumed they would be behind quickly responding to support. One email a day. That’s such a snail-pace response time I’ve honestly never seen before.

And it was the same email each day. Three days in a row. Regardless of how much I rephrased and emphasized my problem, I got the same reply back. Every time, they would reply with a variation of “the problem is with PayPal, please contact PayPal support!” and “there is no failed transaction linked to your account”.

Even though every time I explained to them that there is no problem with my PayPal account. Even though I said that I can see the transaction order on my PayPal account - I mean, how can you claim this has to be a PayPal problem if things go through on the PayPal side of this? If you don’t even have a failed transaction there? If nothing is happening on your side? Then something went very wrong there.

Completely ignoring anything I say. Just repeating themselves. In one email a day. Until they just stopped answering me altogether.

And I have never in my entire life felt the urge to channel my inner Karen more than in this moment, seven days into trying to purchase this youtube channel membership, four days into trying to talk to this rude-ass Google support person who has the conversational skills of a fucking brick wall. I just want to talk to a person, who will actually read the email I sent them, who will consider what is written in said email and give me the feeling that I am being heard and will make me feel a little less like I am slowly going insane.

Because seven days into this, I am starting to feel like I’m going insane and the repetitive behavior of the echo-chamber that is Google support has greatly factored into this.

All I want is to watch the newest episodes of Game Changer. That is literally all I want to do. How. How is this happening. This is the first time in my life that I am willing to pay for a form of streaming. And it is not letting me. And the process here is feeling like some divine punishment set in Hades itself.

[nispakamuy]

For the vast majority of his life, this day had meant nothing to him— a day like any other, completely unremarkable. Even Tanabata was lost on him, as the countries he'd primarily lived in since his childhood didn't celebrate it. And yet, this was the third year now that he'd awoken on this day with a head full of wishes tangible enough to commit to tanzaku, strong enough to visualize as he blew out candles.

Not his candles, of course, but his responsibility to blow out, nevertheless.

Such was the duty he carried in his heart as he went through the day— this year more enjoyable than the last, and that year magnitudes more bearable than the first. The company was pleasant, and all in all, it was a fun day. He really, truly loved the people fate had chained him to; he could admit that. Despite the walls of ice he'd caged himself with, he had never been immune to their warmth. Of all the wishes he held today, perhaps the desire to melt was the only one that was truly attainable. Ghost that he was, he wanted them to see him even still. And, on days like today, those walls didn't seem so insurmountable.

He'd entertained a certain idea— considered, thoroughly, for quite some time. And yet, no matter how much thought he poured into it, trying out worst case scenarios like outfits in his head, no matter how sure of himself he was, he was filled with trepidation as he began a new text to Rinne shortly after all the official proceedings were through. He trusted his unit leader. That much was not to be questioned. After all, he knew. However, the logic did little to quell the upwelling of uneasiness within him— or the glow of warmth that had led him to bring this up in the first place.

Would you like to spend HiMERU's birthday with him? The company may be good for him. We can meet in the lobby.

Along with the text, he sent his location... decidedly not Ensemble Square. After all, on today of all days, more than even his intact facade, only one thing mattered.

It only took a second that whatever Rinne was doing (pachinko. it was pachinko) was less important than replying to this.

[ didcha send dis to the others or you asking me on a date merumeru???? ]

[ pls dont get my hopes up too much im but a fragile maiden~ ]

He cackled to himself, pocketing in his earnings while awaiting a potentially snarky reply. "Alright alright~..."

[ Wait wait Mewumewuuuu~~~! ] He sent the sticker of a cat holding a heart. [ Wait for me I'll be right there~ didcha eat? I just won some good bucks lets get crepes it will be c~u~t~e~! Let's get matching ones~~~! ]

And he was running over there: Meru making the first move?! This was a once in a year (literally?) opportunity not to miss, no matter what! Although he could have made a joke given the wording of the text about finally meeting the famous HiMERU, 'tis was but an intrusive thought Rinne shook off. This particularly stubborn unitmate was one to move at a snail pace... and he would walk alongside him every step of the way.

It was not so hard to spot HiMERU in a crowd. Even if he was hiding his identity through accessories, he had a constant elegance to him only professional models had (as if they were photographed 24/7). Plus... it was Meru! No way Rinne would not spot him a mile away.

The gambler hid behind a pillar, noticing the other busying himself by a few young fans recognizing him, probably wishing him a happy birthday.

The perfect time to sneaky sneaky behind this delightful blue-haired guy and JUMP at him the moment the fans are out of sight.

"MERUMERU HAPPEH BIRTHDAAAAAYYY~~~~!!!!"

[alynicoleee]

Beginning of Forever: Chapter Eighteen

Title: Beginning of Forever (Chapter 18) Pairing: Tim Lincecum / OFC POV: Third Person - Tim Lincecum Rating: PG-13

Tim walked around his dad's house and noticed that his dad had set up a few Christmas knick knacks around the place. His dad had never been one for decorating - their holidays had mostly been meek and quiet, just the two of them for many years.

Tim had wished Alyssa a happy thanksgiving and she had responded back, stating that she hoped he had a nice time with his family. He sat in the kitchen island drinking coffee when his dad walked him.

"Good Morning Tim".

"Good Morning Dad. I like the Christmas details starting to pop up."

"Thanks. I thought I'd add something to cheer up the place a little."

Tim nodded and stared into his cup.

"You okay son?"

Tim looked up and sighed. He hadn't talked about Alyssa to anyone, but kind of wanted to.

"When did you know you were ready to move on? After Mom left?"

Tim and his father's situation wasn't the same. His wife had passed away after they had been together for ten years. While his mom had left his father one day after they had been together for over fifteen years. They had both lost their partner but in significantly different ways. He knew it wasn't the same - but maybe his dad would be able to offer some sort of perspective.

Tim's father, Chris, sighed. "I don't know if there was ever a point where I said - I'm ready. Now is the time. For a few years there I lived vicariously through you, through your career, so I didn't really have time to even think about a relationship. I want to say that it was once I stopped missing your mother, once the empty feeling went away. I think that's when I knew I was ready."

Chris paused waiting for a response from Tim. When he didn't get one he continued, "Are you thinking that time is moving too slow? Or maybe too fast? There's no definitive time table here. No one can tell you if it's too soon or not soon enough. Only you'll know when the time is right. If it feels right."

Tim had been listening to his dad and looked back down into his cup. "I met someone. And I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm ready to go and start something but then other times I feel guilty, like I'm moving on too fast."

Chris sat down next Tim and placed a hand on his shoulder, "It's okay to feel guilty. But Cristin wouldn't want you to dwell and be alone forever. She'd want you to be happy and find love again."

"I know. And I tell myself that Cristin would be okay with my moving on, but then I'll go a few days where I don't even think of her, and that's when I begin to feel guilty. And I know that's not fair. To me, to her memory, or even to the woman I met."

"You want to tell me about her? Or is that prying into something that you don't even know where it stands right now."

"You know it's never prying Dad. And I always value your input. You know Drew and Sean were down in Miami in late October. Drew being Drew decided he'd download one of those dating apps on my phone and set me up with a profile. I didn't think I was even going to use it but I did. For the most part the app was pretty mundane, matches didn't really go anywhere - but than I matched with this one woman - Alyssa. I think what made it different with her was that she seemed so relaxed and nonchalant right from the beginning. And she knew exactly who I was - but never made a big deal out of. In fact, even now I don't think she's ever mentioned anything about my playing days. She knew who I was but treated me like just another random match. I liked that."

Tim moved to put his cup in the sink as he continued talking, "We went out twice and the connection was incredible. It felt like I had known her my whole life and then I got scared that everything was feeling right and maybe moving too fast. So I kind of back tracked and we started over, going slower. But sometimes I feel like it's a snail pace, but I don't want it to feel rushed either. But she's amazing. She's giving me space and time to figure everything out, but I don't know if that's even fair to her and I don't want to hurt her either.

Tim sighed as he leaned against the countertop and waited for his dad to tell him something he didn't want to hear, but instead Chris just sat and responded, "Son, good things are allowed to happen to you too. And they don't need to be difficult, or hard or come with sacrifices. They can just be."