#wow that makes me sound pretentious but it’s just…….

[starfilledsky2810]

like half of my mutual's otp's are my notp and I laugh abt that to myself so often lmao

[moonjxsung]

Kinktober Day 5: Perv Best Friend

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Han Jisung x reader

•

“God, Hyunjin’s so annoying,” Jisung remarks, as he shoves his way past the door and into the bathroom.

The faint sounds of chatter can be heard when he gets quiet again, observing the way you touch up your crimson lipstick in the mirror. There’s a rhythmic thump from the heavy bass of the speakers downstairs, and when he glances at the door to ensure it’s locked, he can almost swear he still hears Hyunjin’s obnoxious tone filling the room with tales of his pretentious college life as an art major.

“Jisung, you’re not really supposed to follow a girl into the bathroom,” you say to him, chuckling lightly.

“What? It’s not like you’re taking a piss or something. You’re just doing your makeup again.”

You sigh frustratedly, biting back a smile at the sight of Jisung leaning against the wall behind you, a bottle of apple juice in hand and his arms folded over his broad chest.

It’s almost pathetic how clingy your best friend can be- completely sober at every social outing, always sulking about how much he despises the atmosphere.

“I’m just going because you’re going,” he’ll usually say, and you know it to be true by the way he follows you around like a lost puppy. Always voicing his distaste for the people, or the music, or sometimes the food. Typically a little annoyed if there are more men than women, but also painfully awkward in the presence of any woman besides yourself. Fidgeting around on his phone as though a game of Tetris might somehow make the evening go faster- in between strings of texts to you, of course, begging to just call it a night already.

“He’s not annoying,” you finally say, and Jisung scoffs in response.

“Nobody cares that he studied abroad for a semester. And I’m sure anybody could paint the way he does.”

“Sounds like you’re just a little jealous,” you say, raising an eyebrow, as you blot your lips with a folded tissue.

“Jealous?” He retorts, his eyebrows arching up as though he’s pleading for you to think otherwise. “You’re just saying that because you want to fuck him.”

Jisung waits for you to argue with him, taking a swig of his apple juice as he prepares for you to pivot on your heel and yell at him for implying such a far-fetched idea. But when several seconds of silence pass, he swallows nervously, knowing that this is an even worse outcome that he was preparing himself for.

“What, so I’m right?” Jisung chimes in again with a chuckle. His fingers run along the grooves of the plastic bottle, pupils trembling, as he hears you sigh loudly.

“I think he’s cute,” is all you say, mentally preparing yourself for the fit he’ll inevitably throw at the confession.

“Hyunjin?” Jisung voices, like you haven’t been talking about him for the entirety of your conversation so far. “Are you serious? Wow, you really do have the worst taste in guys.”

He takes a step forward, placing the now-empty bottle on the granite counter by your makeup bag and meeting your gaze in the mirror.

“Do you do it on purpose?” He questions, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips as one hand runs through his tousled black hair. “Choose the worst guys to thirst over?”

“He’s not the worst, Jisung. You just don’t like him- that’s different.”

“I don’t like him because he’s the worst.”

When you finally do pivot around, Jisung is surprisingly close to you, his fingertips practically grazing the hem of your skirt as his gaze meets yours. He swallows nervously at the proximity, hands shoving awkwardly into the pockets of his jeans, as he towers over you.

“What’s a guy like Hyunjin have,” Jisung begins, observing the way you straighten your posture to maintain a confident stance. “That a guy like me, doesn’t have?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the question, your heartbeat quickening in your chest at the sight of him this close to you.

It’s a fair question- one you’ll never be able to conjure up a proper answer to, considering there’s really nothing Hyunjin has that Jisung doesn’t. Sure, he’s an artist, and he’s remarkably handsome. But Jisung is both of those things, too- he’s also funny, charming, adorably clingy. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be smitten with Jisung, too- except he’s your best friend, and nothing more.

“Nothing,” you say candidly.

Jisung furrows his brows in confusion at your response.

“You never call me cute,” he argues. “It’s always some stupid frat guy, or a total jock, or a painter. Not that I care, anyway, but you’re not really helping your case by admitting that we share no real discrepancies, and yet you still favor him-”

It’s you who kisses Jisung first, leaning forward just an inch to press a chaste kiss to his pouty lips, your eyes shut while his eyes widen in surprise. When you pull back again, he scans your face for some sign of this being a cruel joke, but there’s no clear indication in your otherwise unreadable expression.

“What was that for?” Jisung asks, his heart racing in his chest. He hopes you can’t tell that he’s already hard beneath his jeans, desperate for you to do it again- maybe take it even further, the way he’s always wished you would.

“You’re annoying,” is all that you say to him, stepping back to hoist yourself onto the granite counter. You assume a spot on the counter beside the sink, hands by your sides, your eyes locked on his as though you’re beckoning for him to continue.

Jisung isn’t sure if he should make a move, knowing you’ll probably just complain that he’s not Hyunjin. But when he takes a single step forward, his lips hovering over yours once more, there’s not a complaint uttered from between your parted lips. Instead, your heavy breathing, as your hands pull him in by the thin black tank top he sports, pressing your lips back to his to kiss him properly this time.

It’s clear how badly Jisung’s always wanted this, by the way that he slips his tongue between your lips, moaning softly between motions as his hands part your legs. When he separates momentarily to slip your sweater off, he’s mesmerized by the lacy brassiere you sport, having gotten off to the thought of it several dozens of times before.

His lips find yours again, working down your neck in hungry motions, as though he’s trying to paint your flesh in as many bruises as he possibly can with the few minutes he has you like this in the bathroom.

“Jisung,” you say to him, your fingers traveling to his crotch and palming his bulge over his jeans.

He practically reads your mind before you can make your request, his nimble fingers working down to undo his belt and snake his jeans down his slender waist. And then all at once he’s in just his underwear, his cock straining desperately against the fabric, as he toys with the waistband of your panties, too.

“Please, can I?” Jisung asks, almost pathetically, as he emits a soft moan before he can elaborate. Your hands massage his clothed bulge, fascinated at how big your best friend feels when he’s hard- and all of it for you only.

He groans when the contact is broken again, but only for your hands to tug his underwear down and effectively free his erection for you. And when your head tilts to observe the sight of his pink cock leaking with precum, he buries his face in your neck again pulling your flesh between his teeth and whispering little pleas to let him pleasure you.

“Sorry I’m not some frat boy, or an artist,” Jisung mumbles against you, rutting against your thigh like an animal in heat. “But I guarantee I want this more than they do.”

An involuntary chuckle escapes your lips before you grasp his chiseled face between your hands, forcing his gaze onto yours and kissing him passionately.

“If you’re gonna fuck me,” you say to him, your hands traveling down to pull down your own underwear. “Then get on with it already.”

His lips pull into a toothy grin against your mouth as one hand wraps around the base of his cock, the other hand guiding your legs a little wider as he positions himself in front of you. He taps the tip of his cock against your clit in anticipation as he kisses you again, and you moan softly at the sensation, your arms wrapping around him to pull him in even closer. At the same time you do, he thrusts himself inside of you, slipping past your lips with ease, his girth completely engulfed by your wetness.

Jisung’s eyes seem to roll back when he’s finally inside of you, quickening his movements without a second to spare as he thrusts in and out of you, his hips rutting frantically, like you’ll change your mind if he slows down to remind you it’s your best friend fucking you. But your movements are frantic, too, clawing at his broadened back as he slips his tongue between your lips again, his cock hitting every inch of you and filling you up in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever been satisfied before. One hand reaches up to steady himself on the glass mirror behind you, pressing desperately against the foggy glass, as he fucks you a little faster now, grunts escaping his lips with every thrust, as his other hand steadies your waist.

“Fuck,” Jisung remarks, head hanging to watch his cock disappear in and out of you. “He could never fuck you like this. Do you know how hard you make me?”

“Yeah,” is all you can say back, and it’s unclear whether it’s an answer to your question, or a verbal display of blissful pleasure. Either way, when he meets your gaze again to kiss you, he feels your nails dig into his back, your walls clenching around him as you near your finish.

“I’m gonna cum,” you breathe out to him, trying to catch your breath as his movements maintain their quick pace.

And for a brief moment, you’re reminded that Jisung is your best friend- and he has been for several years now, despite your knowledge of him always wanting something more. He makes no effort to hide it from you, of course, frequently caught staring at your chest a little bit too long, inquiring about your one night stands, or even insisting he tag along on dates to “keep an eye out for you”. Perhaps there have been a few comments here and there about how he’d have fucked you long ago if you weren’t friends first and foremost, or that you check every box for a woman of his standards. But the confusion is nothing but a fleeting concern for another day, as you’re brought back to the sensation of his fingers gripping your waist, his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust.

Jisung’s been spewing his perversions all the while your mind’s run elsewhere, admitting that he’s “always thought about you like this”, and that “he’s never been this hard for another girl before”. And the rest is indistinguishable as his voice raises an octave, begging to cum inside of you, as he fucks you particularly hard now.

Before he can even announce that he’s close- or perhaps he already has, Jisung is indeed cumming inside of your throbbing sex, as he buries his lips in the crook of your neck, littering sloppy kisses down to your clavicles. He doesn’t slow his thrusts just yet- in fact, his breathing grows labored as he begins to fuck his release in and out of you now, meeting your lips once more as he attempts to speak.

“Are you close?” Jisung asks, whimpering at the sensation of your pussy clenching down around his length. “I’ll stop when you finish, too.”

And the words are dizzying, to hear that he’s so insistent on putting your pleasure first- something you’re not sure any guy has done for you before. Of course if it was going to be anyone, it’d be your perverted best friend and longtime admirer, who’s only dreamt of getting you to cum for him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you say for the second time this evening, while Jisung is still half-hard inside of you. His thrusts are a little shallower, but he keeps a steady pace, just grazing your lips with his as he works you to your release.

He might be persistent, and his mind may run a little too rampant with thoughts of you- both of which work in your favor, you now know, when you finally feel yourself clench one last time around him, throbbing as you gasp for air during your release. In one swift motion, your fluids are trickling down around his cock, and he’s groaning at the sensation, fucking the last of his release, and now yours, back into you.

His panting slows its course as he pulls out of you, scrambling to collect a wad of tissues to assist you in getting cleaned up. As you hoist yourself off the counter, you can’t help but keep your gaze on his, cocking your head curiously, as he fastens his belt once more and tousles his hair in the mirror.

“I suppose we should head back out there,” Jisung states casually, gesturing at the door.

It’s you now, who can’t seem to stop staring at the broad chest he flaunts beneath his tank top, eyeing his slender waist and his veiny hands. He’s a good fuck- perhaps also skilled with his fingers, and most definitely his tongue. The sink is just big enough for him to bury his face between your legs- and outside, the party is just busy enough so that nobody would notice if you stayed here another half, maybe even a full hour.

“I dunno,” you say to Jisung, fiddling awkwardly with the hem of your bra. “We could… stay here a bit longer?”

He smirks, as though this was his plan all along, and then he pulls his shirt off over his head before he can relay a proper answer.

“You’re annoying,” is all Jisung replies, using your own words against you, as he hoists you back onto the granite counter.

*

[literatureloverx]

To frame this analysis, I want to first point out a letter written by fyodor. For a letter most don't have access to, it puts into perspective a LOT about fyodor's character that was previously only speculated through analysis. It was given out during the manga's 10 year anniversary, you can search it up by typing 'fyodor letter bsd'.

But I will copy it here: "I have nothing to say. There is no one who supported me anyway. That's why there is no word I have to say. To anyone at all. Let alone words of celebration. It is impossible. I have always been alone. And that is fine by me. Has been, and always will be. Well... I felt a little less bored when I was playing chess with Dazai-kun. But that's it."

Now this points out something especially interesting, that out of all the people that served him, all the people who worshipped him through his manipulation, for hundreds and hundreds of his years of living, Fyodor found no substance through any of it. Fyodor is lonely, inevitably lonely not only because he has never let anyone into his mind (and uh. Not many people want to hang out with the guy who straps bombs onto kids), but because near nobody can understand him because, as pretentious as it sounds, he lives in a realm of "genius".

Fyodor lives in a world of sin that he sees himself as above, and wishes to find the book and write a "correct" world under God where there is no sin. And he also lives in a world he is bored of because nobody can challenge him. He explicitly uses the word "bored" in his letter. He is never shown to "like" his servants being completely submissive for pleasure, he just does it because he cannot trust anything straying. Now does this mean Fyodor wants to control those around him? Yes. Does this show that Fyodor finds this obedience engaging? No.

The only person he has shown interest in (not in a romantic way) is Dazai, who is the only one who can level at his playing field. This makes me wonder, is Fyodor's "type" someone far from who he would actually fall for? I feel that to grow interested in someone, Fyodor needs someone who can challenge him. Someone out of his control because they understand him on a level that others cannot, because they are on his equal. Fyodor left his life of boredom through one-sided "companionship" with Dazai.

Note: I find it kinda pathetic of Fyodor to seem so eager about their meet-ups too, since Dazai seems to hate it LMAO

Now I can see Fyodor WANTING to control someone for that safety net and I definitely can't see him going out of his way to get with someone if they're in the way of what he's after, no matter how much he loves them. Bro straight up tries to kill his favorite "chess partner". But it seems that if Fyodor ever wants to pursue a GENUINE relationship, he needs to leave his comfort zone because the only ones who will give him substance will be far outside.

This wasn't meaning any hate or anything, I just wanted to point out traits about Fyodor's character that i've observed, but also to hear your thoughts :D

(Also I can see Fyodor falling for not only someone who can challenge him but someone with a great love for humanity and empathy)

Wow, this was so detailed and awesome to read! Thank you very much for writing this. ❤️

I will break down my perspective on this analysis as you asked me to, but I can say that I agree with most of your points. ❤️

First of all, I know the letter you’re talking about. It actually made me sob for a while when I first read it. I felt the loneliness almost in my own body—the situation he’s in must be so dehumanizing for him.

That being said, I considered many of Asagiri’s explanations about the characters (the letter you cited, the one about White Day, their ideal types, etc.) and formed my interpretation of Fyodor this way.

I absolutely agree with the point that Fyodor is bothered by boredom and that he needs someone who can challenge him.

The question here is, what kind of challenge?

In this case, my point was: someone who can challenge him emotionally (as this is an underdeveloped aspect of his, since he really doesn’t have much opportunity to form meaningful connections with others). Not someone who matches his own mastermind (like Dazai, for example). He values Dazai's ability to read his mind but is not particularly invested in any kind of connection besides that of rivals since he can’t trust him. There is no longing for friendship (a meaningful connection) there. Just Do, Do, Do, and win.

Now, I also believe, like you said, since his motives are not bound to himself but rather the greater good of humanity, the most important thing for him to do is indeed—to win. How is he supposed to cleanse humanity of their sins otherwise?

Where my interpretation differs from yours is that I genuinely think he is very comfortable with being the lead in any kind of situation. What he is uncomfortable with is—guess what? Vulnerability, in general. Just like Dazai. And the most challenging vulnerability to overcome, in my interpretation, would be emotional vulnerability.

In my opinion, he would be interested in someone who can challenge him mentally but not strategically. He knows that feeling. It is true that Dazai quenches his thirst for competence and competition in that sense, but is such a person truly fit for Fyodor?

My main issue with a strategically competent partner is the high possibility of Fyodor never being able to fully trust her. I’ve read many headcanons and fanfictions about him and such a partner, but it never really clicked in my mind.

The aspect of him preferring an intelligent individual over a shallow one is, I think, a very common perception of his character in the fandom, which I wholeheartedly agree with.

But: emotional intelligence is a very powerful aspect of intelligence, as well.

Him wanting to control her for security reasons is absolutely valid in my opinion and interpretation too, since it was what I meant in the first place anyway. He wouldn’t manipulate his partner just for the sake of it—he is too deep of a character for that.

Overall, I hope I haven’t missed any of the aspects you were referring to. I’ll gladly edit my post if anything is missing! ❤️

In conclusion, I LOVED your analysis. I’m very glad when someone makes me think deeper about my own thought process and interpretations. Anything of that kind is deeply welcomed and appreciated! ❤️

To read my other works => MASTERLIST

[girlbloggersfolly]

DELTA DAWN - part 1 // Camp Woodrow

Pairing: camp counsellour!joel miller x camp lifeguard!afab!reader

Rating: Explicit (not yet but it will be) 18+ MDNI

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: (1979 summer camp AU) After making a spontaneous trip northwest to a summer camp in need of staff with a few new friends, you find not everyone is so welcoming.

Chapter warnings: age gap (20 + 49), a whole lot of me waffling, extreme slow burn enemies to lovers ect ect ect, swearing, drug use, cigarettes, complicated relationship (not joel and reader.. yet), perv!reader, f!masturbation. absolutely NO use of y/n, reader has hair that can be put in a ponytail, and she can swim duh. This chapter is very tame, basically, just setting it up.

a/n: ok wow this is exciting, first chapter done and i'm pretty happy with it. Just a warning, i really mean it when I say slow burn, there will be no fluffing around at alllllll for a couple chapters, i'm not sure where i'm taking this or how long it will be, i'm thinking maybe 4? anyway enough chatter there'll be enough of that in the fic, if your reading this i love you sooooo much!!!!!!!

Camp Woodrow 1979

The Knack blasted from Sharon’s stereo, smoke plumed from Billies Joint, you’d been driving for a night or so. Mid-morning sun streamed through the windows, it was a brackish heat you had been getting all too used to. You’d met Billy, Sharon and Abel in Salt lake city at a gig, and now you were pleasantly stuck with them for the rest of summer. The drive from Salt lake city to Oregon was long, even longer in Sharon’s dads Buick which hadn’t seen the inside of a mechanic’s since 71’. The three of them had been working at Camp Woodrow each summer since they were, what was it? 15? Somehow they’d managed to persuade you to pack up your whole new life of groupie love and tour buses into a beat up Buick, taking the scenic route up to Oregon for a long, stagnant summer of campfires and controlled water sports, organised fun. You’d made the mistake of mentioning to Sharon you had lifeguard training; there and then it’d been decided you’d be the perfect replacement for their good friend Woody, who usually took the role of Lifeguard in camp, he was off in L.A, having made a name for himself in adult film. It was a long story you’d heard each salacious detail of. 

It’d been a total coincidence, meeting the three of them. You’d let some girlfriends drag you to a gig in a shifty basement venue (Billies band’s place (who weren’t nearly the legendary group they thought they were)) and had been… charmed by Billy… You’d fucked, he was just okay at it but he was easy on the eyes, knew a good dealer and it was cool to tell people you were fucking a hotshot ‘rock star’, even if he was less than generous in the bedroom. Soon you were fast friends with the whole group of them, groupies and all. So here you were, head in Billies lap, high off the broken sun on your face and second hand smoke, his hand drumming along to Doug Fieger’s voice on your bare stomach. You’d hitched a ride in Sharon’s dad’s car with her, Billy and her ‘it's complicated’ Abel.

“Are we there yet?”

Billy coughed through a cloud of smoke, yellow tinted sunglasses making him look all the pretentious rocker he wished he was. 

“Can you open a fucking window, do you know how hard it is to get that smell out these seats?”

Sharon said through agonising chomps of that wad of gum she’d had in her mouth since they’d driven through Boise. Billy cranked open the window. The hideous thrum of wind on the highway beating through the static air of the car. Your hair whipped around furiously and you sat up, stirred from the holy-half-high state. 

“Happy?” Billy said over the obnoxious sound of the engine and the wind. Sharon scoffed loudly over the sound. “I asked when are we going to fucking be there.” He spluttered yet again over his joint, smirking at you while he complained like a child to a very frustrated Sharon. “It’s just down the next turn,” He said, looking at the map in Abel’s lap, he was more focused on the magazine in his hands, you peaked over his shoulder, a sexy nun, the big, hot pink letters ‘TEASE’ haloing the cover.  

“We’re lost,” Billy hit his head back against the window, gosh he could really be a baby sometimes, you remarked internally, increasingly tired of the whole ‘Billy’ thing, a sticky situation you’d gotten into. The car broke into complaints, Sharon, searching frantically for the inconspicuous turning and little wooden sign to Camp Woodrow, stationed at the mouth of lake Calgonie. They’d eagerly shown you their collection of polaroids from the camp in the first few hours of the drive. It was exactly as you’d imagined, a classic all-American summer camp, straight from a gnarly slasher flick. 

“Motherfucker!” Sharon retaliated triumphantly as she manoeuvred the cranky old Buick down the sharp dirt road turning Camp Woodrow 500 yards. Bullseye. The road was almost too narrow, lined with unruly trees, leading up to the clearing in the dense foliage. Billy threw his joint out the window, stretching so his shirt rode up, showing off that lean torso that he was so damn proud of, flashing you a movie star grin. You tucked your hair behind your ears, putting your chuck taylor’s back on after the drive. You knew you all stunk of weed and BO.

 The car came to a pained, screeching halt in a makeshift parking lot. There were two cars parked in the other ‘spaces’, you noticed a blue Ford F-100 pick up, covered in mud and dust, your dad had one of those. Sharon let out a suggestive moan as she stretched, slamming the door behind her so hard you thought it might fall off. You all followed after her, Billy’s arm over your shoulder proudly, as if he was the one who’d just driven for 10 hours instead of whining the entire drive. You told yourself to just get over it, the summer was too long and too hot to hold onto this strange resentment you’d been harbouring for him as of late.

“Hey Abel! Sharon!” You heard from behind you, spotting a man you hadn’t seen before. He was shorter and well built, had a groomed moustache and lustrous black curls. “Tommy!” Sharon squealed, The pair embraced. You took the chance to get acquainted with your surroundings, turning away from the reunion to the woods behind you. Beautiful, it really was. You were a city kid, a suburban mole, so any chance at kindling some kind of a relationship with nature had you jumping at the opportunity, even if it meant dealing with children - Billy included. Trees as far as you could see, as high as you could see, the air clearer than you’d known it in the weeks you’d spent with these stoners.

“You remember Billy,” Abel said to Tommy, motioning to the boy next to you, who waved in his wanton fashion; too cool to put any effort into something as taxing as a wave. “Of course,” Tommy put his hands on his hips, it was hard to forget Billy. “And who’s the lady?” Tommy grinned, sauntering over, offering his hand to shake. Before you could introduce yourself, Sharon did it for you, telling him your name, which he repeated to himself. “She’s Woody’s replacement… lifeguard.” Sharon added, showing you off like an action figure. You fiddled with the hem of your denim shorts absentmindedly. “Ahh, lifeguard,” He had a firm handshake, making polite eye contact, you knew you’d get along with him. “It’s so nice to meet you, I’m super excited to get started.” You said warmly, the words falling from your mouth in something like a croak, you realised you’d hardly spoken for the entire drive, absorbed in tireless thought. Tommy clapped his hands together and turned to Abel and Sharon, then back to you and Billy.

“Well the kids are coming tomorrow, so, should give y’all time to settle,” He gave a little talk, friendly, he was what a camp manager should be, what you expected him to be. It immediately settled you, but the dead weight of Billy’s arm on your shoulders, tying you to him, was a constant jarring reminder of the mess you’d got yourself into with him.

The path to the camp staff cabins was a pretty one, scenic, you listened to your own steady breaths merging with the sounds of the forests. Billy walked ahead of you, his own suitcase swinging as him and Abel laughed their way into their own cabin. Separated by gender, convenient for yourself. Sharon lit a cigarette and grabbed the bottom bunk. You guessed it was so she could sneak Abel in and fuck him a little less conspicuously.

You sat on the top bunk, staring up at the damp ceiling, smoking a cigarette and listening to Sharon tuning a little radio, she cursed over the static.

In the evening you and Sharon decided to take a walk, leaving the boys to turn their cabin into a gas chamber, the forest stunk of them. “C’mon Lifeguard,” Sharon taunted, grinning at you through her cherry chapstick-ed lips. You took it all in, the forest, which opened up to Lake Calgonie.

“Holy shit,” You breathed as you stepped out onto the dock, the sun was setting over the trees, casting a vibrant orange hue over the lake. Your trance was broken by the click of Sharon’s Polaroid camera, the whir of the picture being processed. “It’s something, huh?” She nodded, somewhat proud of the landscape. “This is-” You started, unsure of the right word for how you felt, a little stoned from earlier, weary from the drive, muscles aching, brain heaving from the whole Billy thing, in complete awe of the situation you were in, impossibly, fucking happy. “Is it deep?” You turned to her, realising she was taking a picture of you. Click, Whirrrrr.

She fanned the two polaroids for a bit, tucking them in her bra, a trick she’d giggled about a few weeks ago. “Yeah, gets pretty deep in the middle,” She shrugged, more absorbed in the development of the polaroids she’d taken of you. She noticed the curious, awe-struck look on your face.

By the time you and Sharon returned to the camp the fire was blazing, crackling pleasantly, Billy, Abel, Tommy and an older lady. “Now, I know it wasn’t you two dumbasses who got the fire started,” Sharon landed the playful jab as she planted herself on Abel's lap, announcing her arrival the way she always did, her laugh echoing through the forest. Billy shuffled up to make space for you on the log, his arm around you in seconds, you were sure that that fucking arm would break your damn shoulder soon from how much he rested there. 

“Hey where’s Joel?” Billy asked suddenly. You were only half listening, now the fully developed polaroids were being flashed at you; it was you looking over your shoulder in candid surprise, engulfed in the flashlight and the rich sunset from behind, like a deer in the headlights. “Well what’s he doing in his cabin?” Billy said loudly with a cocky chuckle.

You tuned him out, letting your brain run away with itself, watching as the older woman examined the polaroid that Sharon was passing around for admiration. “Beautiful ain’t she,” Sharon quipped, shooting you a playful wink as she peered over the older woman’s shoulder at your picture. Tommy poked at the fire, blowing at it expertly, so this was the country man. “Oh, this is Lou by the way,” Tommy nodded towards the bright eyed older woman, “She’s one of our senior camp leaders, and our chef,” He said with a tight smile towards you, clearly the introduction was pointed. It was dark now, the faces of your friends and acquaintances lit up by firelight, illuminated in the orange. 

“Hey I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You whispered to Billy, waiting for him to direct you. “It's between the weird tree, with all the branches, remember? and the bigger Cabins, showers there too.”

It was the first time you’d been alone for a couple days. As much as you were charmed by your fast friends, a long lonesome walk to the john was very much needed. Abel’s lighter, you'd borrowed one night from his coat pocket, clicked to life in your hand, the small flame lapping at the cherry end of your cigarette as it hung between your lips. You walked slowly to prolong your time alone, admiring the trees, listening to the forest by night and the gentle padding of your sneakers across the dirt.

After relieving yourself in the makeshift hut you wondered if you could even call a ‘bathroom’, you wandered as slowly as possible down the path, blowing plumes of smoke into the still night, feeling the trees sigh around you. You imagined what your parents were doing right now, sitting in their condo in Cedar city, probably off to bed. You rarely thought of them anymore. 

You were brought to a standstill by one of the larger cabins, you took a drag of your cigarette and stood watching the window. You suddenly felt like a complete peeping tom; a man appeared in the window, not a man, a wife-beater clad god. He paced up to the edge of the room, giving you time to properly take him in; a quality of moustache you’d only seen in porn flicks, a soft, yet muscular torso, paired with arms that looked like they could snap Billy in two. You let the cover of nightfall mask the growing warmth on your cheeks. He stretched, wife beater riding up to reveal the unruly outline of a happy trail. Jesus christ. He was older, that was obvious enough, late forties? early fifties? You tucked your lips into a thin line, gazing at him, feeling like one of the fucking creeps you so often complained about and really not caring.

“Who is that guy?” You mused to Sharon back in the cabin, as she went through her skincare regiment in the janky little mirror, your limbs draped down from the top bunk like a fancy throw rug. “What guy?” She said, the tube of moisturiser taking up her full attention. “I ran into this guy when I went to pee? Moustache, in his forties, maybe fifties?.” You were like a teenager again, batting your eyelashes up at the ceiling. “Joel?” She cooed, turning to face you abruptly, clearly she had the same idea, you’d pulled her attention now. “You met Joel?” She seemed very impressed by this, but met was a strong word, you’d watched him in his cabin for a minute or so. You suddenly felt like this was something you shouldn’t have done, for whatever reason, maybe it was that sultry look in her eye all of a sudden, the accusatory tone in her pouty mouth. “Mhmm” You hummed warily, sitting up to look down at her from the top bunk. She scoffed, massaging her skin “Joel’s Tommy’s big brother, he runs the camp with him, total hunk right?” She teased. It made sense, Joel had looked like his brother, taller you thought, a little rougher around the edges. “How come he wasn’t at the fire?” You pictured him in his cabin, all alone. You now remembered Billy asking for him earlier. “He’s not the biggest fan of um, Billy and Abel, caught them sneaking in these girls, y’know, getting high a couple years ago, but they were like 17, like he’s had it out for them for a while.” This story didn’t come as a surprise, you imagined a young Billy and Abel getting caught smoking pot with girls by the lake. “It’s really only thanks to Tommy that we were allowed back, Joel would’ve gotten rid of them a while ago, wouldn’t’ve been outta line to either,” Sharon rambled on, all you could think about were those broad shoulders, the curve of his aquiline nose, it was a perverted stereotype you didn’t mind filling, young girl absolutely taken by an older man she most definitely could not have. “It’s a shame, he’s so fucking hot,” Sharon said as she pursed her lips, applying a healthy amount of lip balm to her pout. 

Camp LIFEGUARD t-shirt on, little red running shorts that covered next to nothing, chuck taylors to match, another pair of Billies big brown sunglasses on your nose, you were every bit the summer camp lifeguard. Tommy had your lifeguard certificate and paperwork, breakfast had been a breeze, it was all ready. The kids were arriving in the afternoon, so you had the morning to scope the place out alone, leaving Sharon with the guys and taking the path to the lake.

The lake was invigorating as you dipped your toe through the strangely still surface, chuck taylor’s, socks, shirt, glasses and the little metal whistle all bundled into a polite little pile on the edge of the dock. You sat down, taking a deep breath and splashing your feet gently in the water, the tiny ripples lapping back at your calves. It truly did feel like a movie to you, clad in that red, lifeguard swimsuit, hopefully catching some sun.

The morning was pleasant, if a little humid. As warm as it gets in the pacific northwest, you basked in the quiet of the lake, sliding slowly into the water. It was eerily calm after the recent chaos that had become your beloved life. 

You hadn’t swam leisurely in a while, not in a lake for even longer. You avoided the silty bottom by pushing off immediately to the middle, planning to test just how deep this lake was. It was strangely clear, you could see the bottom for a while, but as you swam out, below you it was just your flailing limbs treading in the dark blue. The hum of a boat engine broke the trance you’d been under all morning, snapping into consciousness as a small speedboat made its way around the lake, right up close to where you were treading water. You hadn’t seen it from the dock, hadn't noticed any waves.

 It came to a quick halt, splashing water in your face. “Motherfucker” You spluttered as you spat out lake water. You wiped your eyes and shielded them from the sun to see who this obnoxious, nautical asshole was. He looked down at you, crouching, silhouetted by the sun. 

“You shouldn’t be swimming without a lifeguard.” As your eyes adjusted to the bright light you identified the asshole: Joel, your blood ran colder than it already was. You could see him better now, dark glasses on, those sun kissed forearms, his slightly sun bleached STAFF t-shirt, that low, southern voice still unbearably charming, pouring over you like molasses even when he was being cold.

You realised you were staring and looked to your left at the dock. “Sorry, sir,” You started, hoping he’d appreciate the formality, “I am the lifeguard,” You grinned up at him with a saccharine bat of your eyelashes, really trying to appeal to the sexiest man you’d ever seen. He was still staring down at you in the water, sunglasses giving away nothing.

He let out a short scoff, obviously not amused. “Well what happens when you drown?” He said coldly, he did not seem at all charmed by that killer grin you flaunted so well, so you let it drop ever so slightly. Maybe you couldn’t kill him with kindness? “No lifeguard out to save your ass,” He looked down at you pointedly, still crouched beside you like you would’ve done with a kid that dived in a no dive pool. 

“I’m a strong swimmer.” You cocked your head, he scoffed again, shaking his head in casual disbelief. You were too absorbed in working out whether he looked more like Burt Reynolds or Tom Selleck. “I don't care how strong’a swimmer you are, missy,” He retaliated quickly, your lips parted in slight surprise, you weren’t used to people being even slightly unpleasant to you, thanks to your people pleasing.

“I'm sorry?” You said in the wake of your surprise.

“Look, lifeguard, I’m gonna ask you to strongly swim back to the dock right about fuckin’ now,” He stood up to his full height chuckling at you in that southern baritone, again darkened to a silhouette by the sun. You remembered how good his muscular body looked in that wife beater, his goddamn broad shoulders, then pushed the thoughts from your brain, it was fucking embarrassing, you batting your eyelashes and grinning at him like he wasn’t reprimanding you.

After hastily making your way back to camp, a complete state, your cheeks annoyingly hot with embarrassment and a sinking feeling that you could only call ‘horny’, you caught up with the rest of the guys. They’d somehow got the radio set up and were sitting around it outside the boy’s cabin like moths to a light, Buffalo Springfield was playing softly, the sound slightly subdued, broken by static every so often.

You leant on the wall beside them, trying to collect yourself after whatever the fuck that was. “How's the water temp, sugar,” Billy landed a light slap on your ass. You couldn't even look at them, afraid to see your own flushed reflection in their tinted sunglasses. “Tepid.” You heard yourself say absentmindedly. You knew two things for sure, Joel was an enigmatic pain in your ass; another to add to the ever growing list. The other, he had you wrapped around his little finger, you hated yourself for it, but hated him more. “I need a dart,” You sighed, keeping your eyes on your feet as Billy lit your cigarette.

The kids arrived intermittently once Abels casio read 15:00, hoards of them, and quickly. Bumbling groups of girls and boys, completely feral. You silently thanked god that all you'd be doing was watching them, making sure none of their little heads stayed underwater for too long, leaving the morale-boosting, camp spirit stuff to your friends and the other staff. Luckily no water sports on the first day, so you were free to lounge around without worrying about some kid dying on your watch.

You sort of wished you had a way to get your mind off the whole Joel thing, it really shouldn't have gotten to you as much as it had. But there was something about the whole thing, something simply despotic about the way he looked down at you, ordering you about, it fucking jarred you all afternoon, distracting you even from Billy’s hand on your ass.

The next time you saw Joel that day he was with a few kids, a couple suitcases tossed over his shoulders, a big grin on his face as he spoke to them, it wasn't mocking, wasn't charged with some quick-witted comment that he’d make sure really stung, it was paternal, sweet. You don’t know why you thought he’d be cold to everyone.

Damn kids didn't know how good they had it as he made them laugh, beaming with child-like enthusiasm. “Who’s that?” You asked Billy quickly, as if you didn't know full well who that was, as if he hadn't been the only thing on your frazzled, embarrassed mind. Billy scoffed, watching Joel just as intently as you had been. “That’s Joel Miller,” he said that name with more passion than you’d ever heard him put into anything, “Him and I don’t get along so well, sweets,” He nodded, you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes at these pet names he’d been experimenting with. You tuned out the rest of Billy’s moaning, regretting even asking him, the phrases ‘Grade A asshole’ and ‘hypocrite’ were tossed around quite senselessly. 

You needed a shower, everyone did but you weren't going to be the one to tell them that. With a crispy towel in hand and Sharon's flip flops you haphazardly made your way through the dark forest, the kids all in their cabins, staff eating round the campfire. Sharon said she'd meet you there in 20, at least one other person in this damn place knew when they needed a shower. The shower shack was something you’d have to get used to. Even in the abysmal water pressure, even with the ceiling completely caked in cobwebs occupied by creatures you really did not like the look of, the hot water was balm. It washed the smell of the lake off of you, and the dizzying BO you’d gotten used to in the last few days, cleaned off that lingering scent of pot from your skin.

You sang quietly to yourself, an Elvis song that'd been stuck in your head all week. “Your kisses lift me higher,” you scrubbed yourself with the ratty bar of soap you’d found in Sharon's wash bag, the song falling out of you at an increasingly enthusiastic pace, volume rising as you let the water infiltrate your scalp.

“I just might turn into smoke but i feel fine,” Billy was not an Elvis fan, never had been, but that didn't stop you from humming along every time he entered your brain. You heard another shower start and Sharon getting in, not for one second stopping the music falling out of you. You weren't a particularly gifted singer, but in the shower that never mattered. After singing the song countless times you turned off the water. “Just a hunk’a burnin love,” You hummed, the cool night air causing your skin to goose pimple, your nipples to harden as you wrapped your body in the itchy little towel that really didn't do much to cover you up. 

You lit a cigarette as you stepped out, deciding to wait for Sharon outside the showers as she’d instructed earlier, admiring your reflection in the clouded mirror, wiping them clear. “Hurry up, fuckin’ cow,” You chuckled, raising your voice over the sound of the shower that was still going. Like a spell, it stopped, for once she was feeling nice.

"‘Bout time,” You giggled as you combed through your hair with your fingers, cigarette hanging precariously from your lips. You didn’t look away from your reflection as you grabbed your toothbrush from the pocket of your shorts which lay in a little discarded pile beside the sinks. “It's like being at The Westgate, Las Vegas,” The familiar voice chuckled, that condescending comment about your spectacular rendition of Elvis’ ‘burning love’ going right over your head in favour of utter shock and realisation, which hit like a ten ton truck.

You practically spun on your heels to see a smirking Joel Miller shirtless, a towel slung carelessly around his hips. The wind was knocked out of you as you let your eyes linger on his torso, just how fucking built he was, beaded with water, his chest sprinkled with hair matching that on his face. Holy shit. 

You looked back at yourself in the mirror, hugging the towel tighter to your body, scooping up the toothpaste you’d jetted all over the sink from squeezing the tube in your state of shock. Holy shit holy shit holy shit. “Thought you were Sharon,” You said shakily to the sink as you washed the toothpaste from your fingers, your voice now lacking the confidence it’d possessed when you called Joel Miller a ‘fucking cow’. You felt like slamming your head through the mirror right about now, not daring to check if the heat that had spread across your cheeks was visible. “Thought you were Elvis,” He quipped, ever the witty bastard, pulling out a small razor and some shaving foam, clearly he was planning on staying. 

You took a drag of your cigarette to pull yourself back to earth. “You make a habit of sneaking up on girls in the shower?” You heard yourself say, like your mind hadn’t turned into that of a perverted teenage boy after you saw him last night.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” So he knew he was hot shit, standing there more naked than you were comfortable with in that moment, that towel doing very little to distract you from the fact he was right there, all of him, rubbing shaving foam on his jaw. “You're too old to be talking like that,” you said coldly through your dead-pan, the biting words lacking the fire you intended for them. He chuckled slightly, his low voice almost a growl, reverberating through you as you attempted to squeeze your toothpaste onto the toothbrush without making another mess.  “Definitely Billy’s girl,” He said to himself as he held his razor up to the light.

Now that was too far, you turned your face to him, lips parted into a half-hearted scowl as you watched a couple droplets fall from his hair, you held on to the little towel for dear life. “What's that supposed to mean,” You shook your head in disbelief, that had truly been a low blow. “Well you are ain’ch’ya?” He shrugged, bringing the razor to his cheek, you said a silent prayer to god that his hand would slip. “No,” You said after a moment's hesitation. Billy wasn’t your guy and you certainly weren't his girl, he was a friend you sometimes, reluctantly let hump you until he finished. “He know that?” Joel scoffed, suddenly very talkative, you hadn't expected that from the authoritarian asshole who’d scolded you this morning, now a scintillating asshole. “Seemed awful comfy this even-” You cut him off quickly. “It's none of your business Joel,” you snapped, turning back to look at your glassy reflection.

This man would be the death of you; all of this, and now another mouth to ask you about Billy. “Billy’s a prick,” Joel said casually as he shaved his face, it almost startled you, the first thing you agreed with him about. “Aren't you perceptive?” The sarcasm rolled out of you, prompting another of those short, patronising chuckles from Joel.

“What's the appeal then?” It was a good point, why did you hang around with Billy when you could admit that the kid was a complete dickwad. Was it those looks? the way people seemed to gravitate towards his obnoxious laughter? It was all embarrassingly shallow.

“We hang in the same circles,” You shrugged, now completely absorbed by watching Joel shaving so expertly, still hoping your prayer would be answered. “Is he a good fuck?” Joel asked brazenly, not looking away from his own cold expression in the mirror as he cleaned up his moustache, your breath caught in your throat and you stamped out your cigarette on your ratty sneakers to disguise your prudish shock.

The answer was no, a dead no, no matter how much he thought he was. “And there's another thing that's absolutely none of your business,” You began brushing your teeth, glancing at him to see the telling smirk on his lips, that was all he needed to know. 

After a much needed break in the conversation you spat out the toothpaste, holding your hair back and running the tap. You turned to leave with the pile of clothes in your arms, you’d rather’ve taken the short journey to your cabin in the little towel than spend another damn second in that room with Joel fucking Miller. “Hey, kiddo,” Joel interjected casually, you turned to look at him with an obedience that made you sick.

“Next time you find yourself peepin’ on me in my cabin, just knock on the door.” 

You huffed an exasperated, short breath as you slammed the door to the cabin behind you, happy that Sharon was nowhere to be seen. You changed, cursing Joel under your breath over and over and over again as you pulled one of Billy’s ‘Supertramp’ t-shirts over your wet head of hair. That motherfucker! Where could you even start?

He’d seen you watching him. He’d known all day that you stood in the treeline in the unassuming disguise of nightfall, smoking as you’d watched him get ready for bed. He’d called you ‘kiddo’?! you groaned as you curled yourself into the quilt on your top bunk.

You guessed that Sharon was banging Abel in the next cabin, Billy had probably passed out from a long day of doing absolutely nothing. No matter what you thought about to get your mind off Joel; the image of him shirtless and dripping wet, his quick retaliations, nothing helped. You counted sheep, sang ‘Burning love’ a couple more times through, the shame just didn't wear off. He’d gotten the better of you today, catching you out at all the right moments, embarrassing you over and over again.

Finally, after stalling what you knew would be your only relief after a day like this, you let your hand venture under your panties, touching yourself gently at first, ego too bruised to allow yourself what you really wanted. Soon you were practically crying his name into your pillow, back arching desperately. You’d broken into a slight sweat, lips parting quiet ecstasy as relief washed over you. 

You made the decision then and there, it was sink or swim, you weren't going to let today happen again, not let your epic, man-eating reputation be stamped into the dirt  by some old washed-up cowboy with an ego for days and some strange Tom-Selleck-esque power over you.

You were going to become Joel Miller's worst fucking nightmare. 

PART 2

[beabnormal24]

I just saw that you’re writing Carcar fic, a snippet pls 🙏

I love your stories so much so I’m really excited ❤️

This is the first thing that I read when I wake up, thank you so much anon because this means a lot to me, so I'll do it.

(I edited this post, 'cause I had a bit of trouble publishing it)

Soo, a not-so-little snippet for you!

“Mate, I honestly think you’re just exaggerating. It doesn’t sound like that big of a deal to me, really.” Logan stretches his legs out, knocking his feet right against Oscar’s knee. 

Oscar grumbles in lieu of an answer, lowering his head until he can hide his gaze in the bottom of his pint. 

“Don’t know why you hate the guy so much; he seems alright to me.” 

The thing is, Oscar Piastri does not hate Carlos Sainz.

Hate is too strong of a word for an individual with whom Oscar tends to have zero to no interaction whatsoever, except for forced polite greetings in the elevator and those rare times when Carlos decides that going out with Lando is worth his time. 

Oscar sincerely thinks that only pretentious people claim to be as busy as Carlos does, so much so that he never seems able to find an evening to spend an ounce of time with his best friend. 

So, no, Oscar does not hate him. He just can’t stand him, which is a big difference and Logan should note that. 

Is the prospect of working alongside him on his most important project of his entire career going to deepen that grudge? Probably, surely. 

But Oscar is, in fact, a professional, no matter what Carlos thinks of him, and he knows how to work with people he would rather keep a safe distance from. Nail guy and Germophobic guy should be more than enough proof. 

“You don’t know him.” Oscar protests, sighing in frustration. Lando raises an unimpressed eyebrow next to him, tapping his chin. “Alright, sorry Lando. You do not know him in a working context.” 

“I mean, how different can that be?” Logan says doubtfully. “Lando said you don’t even work in the same department.” 

“Lando is just biased because Carlos got to him before us.” 

Lando snorts, shaking his head with an amused smile. “Wow, thanks Oscar, you make it sound like I can make my own decisions.” 

Oscar shrugs. “You’re welcome.” 

“Has he started complaining about being paired up with Carlos, yet?” Yuki asks just as he settles down two other pints on their booth’s table. 

Alex trails behind him, carefully balancing two portions of fries on each arm before sliding in the empty seat next to Logan. 

“Mate, you have no idea.” Logan groans, placing a sloppy kiss on Alex’s cheek as he steals a fry from his portion. 

Alex rolls his eyes, but still lets him with a fond smile. Oscar sincerely thinks he could puke. 

“I really don’t understand why you despise him so much. He seems alright to me.” Alex says, failing at hiding the curiosity behind his voice. 

“Babe! I said the same exact thing!” 

“And he’s a great golf player, honestly.” 

Oscar sighs, knowing that he’s left with his shoulders against the wall. 

It’s not like his friends would understand, anyway, since they do not have to walk in his shoes. 

Logan and Alex do not count, because they like everyone, and Yuki is one of the most unfazed people Oscar has ever met, Lando is just obsessed with Carlos for reasons Oscar will probably never fully comprehend. 

He’s left alone, on this matter, even when they all go out together and Charles and Carlos tag along, Carlos is the only one who seems to not have any joke or a single word to address to Oscar. 

Lando says that he’s probably the one actually ignoring him. Oscar thinks that Carlos is just plain out rude to him, and only him. 

But that’s a bit childish, so he’ll keep that thought to himself. 

Everyone starts focusing on their own food, and Oscar stupidly hopes that the topic must’ve finally been brought out of his last Saturday night as a free man before three months of utter nightmare. 

And then Yuki quips in and reduces his hopes to shreds. “On his first day, Carlos told Andrea that he thought Oscar was too young for that position, and that he would be inexperienced. Oscar heard him, and he’s totally convinced that Carlos knows that he heard him but he still never apologised and Oscar took that personally because he’s peevish.” 

“I am not peevish!” Oscar groans bumping his forehead against the table. 

“Yeah, Oscar, you are a bit peevish. Just a tiny bit, though.” He feels Lando’s hand coming up to pat him on the back, sympathetic. “Come on mate, I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean it like that.” 

“Yeah, I mean, we say similar stuff about each other all the time at my workplace.” Alex offers, in an awful attempt at cheering him up. 

It doesn’t do any magic at all, because Alex works as a teacher and Oscar has gone to school for enough years to know that teachers are only capable of hating each other for stretching out their hours longer than they should and preferring different students. 

Well, unless they’re shagging like Alex and Logan, but they work in two different schools so that should not apply. 

“It’s not just that.” Oscar tries to defend himself. Because holding a grudge for something that happened three years ago does sound a bit childish, and he’s not. 

The rest of the table looks at him inquisitively, impatiently waiting for an answer, just the sound of the background music filling the silence that Oscar would so much prefer over having to talk about Carlos, of all people. 

The worst topic they could choose for a Saturday night out at the pub, really. 

“He’s just-“ he makes a vague gesture, hoping that they might understand it easily. Of course, everyone just blinks at him. “I mean, who goes around with only shirts that have his initials stitched on it? Who goes around acting like they know everything and they’re the best at it? And he says that Lando is his best mate, but I don’t see him hanging out with him that often, no? That’s just top dickhead behaviour, if you ask me.” 

“Aw, Osc!” Lando exclaims, and in a matter of second, Oscar finds himself with his head caged under Lando’s elbow, the Brit’s hand mussing his hair. “You’re so cute, defending my honour.” 

“You never did that for me.” Logan protests, and then more quietly to Alex. “Babe, he never did that for me.” 

Alex smiles, patting his back lightly. “Do not worry, Lo, I’ll do it for you.” 

“I’m not defending anybody’s honour.” Oscar splutters out, his cheeks growing hot, heart thumping in his chest, wild – a dangerous zone. He slaps Lando’s hands away from his hair, trying to ruffle them to some kind of order, but it’s no use, they’ll never make sense. 

Carlos’ hair is always perfectly styled and composed. What a dickhead, indeed. 

“I’m just stating the obvious.” 

“Still, I can guarantee you that you do not need to worry about that.” Lando assures him, trying to reach back for his head, but Oscar is quicker this time, leaving him to poke Yuki’s cheek with a finger, instead. “He’s got other things to do on Saturday, usually.” 

Oscar takes a sip of his beer to cover his snort. 

He doesn’t trust Lando’s words, he’s probably just too biased by having been Carlos’ friend for such a long time. 

Someone who’s not even married and who earns as much as Carlos does surely should not have that many things to do instead of hanging out with his friends. 

But anyway, it’s none of his business. Rather, he should be glad he can at least escape him on Saturday. 

“Sure.” 

— 

On Monday morning, Oscar clocks into work on time, his jacket is completely dry, his hair kind of makes sense and there’s a spring in his step, and he just feels good overall. 

He has spent most of his Sunday sitting on the couch binge watching the entire final season of Brooklyn 99 and he’s convinced himself that whatever mind games Carlos might want to play with him, Oscar is stronger and smarter, and he won’t let himself get squashed. 

Logan kind of fuelled his confidence, as well, with his usual monologues about the importance of believing in himself and remembering all the sweat and tears he put in to reach the place he’s in now, though Oscar is pretty sure he only comes up with them to exercise for his drama kids. 

But the point is that he knows that it’s his job, that it’s his career, and even if he would probably get the promotion either way, he still wants to earn it. If not for Andrea, then for himself. 

The fact that it’s his biggest project ever, just motivates him more. 

He plops down on his office chair with a smile that must be breaking his face if the way Yuki glances at him curiously from the other side is anything to go by. But he just shrugs it off, playing dumb. 

He’s just in a good mood, is that illegal? 

“It is if you’re called Oscar Piastri.” Yuki tells him, no hair on his tongue. “You always look like-“ he makes a serious face, his lips closed into straight line, one eyebrow raised, sceptical. Oscar does not look like that, he thinks (he hopes). “Like those statues from Christmas Island.” 

“I do not look like that at all.” Oscar glares at him, turning his computer on. “And it’s Easter Island.” 

“Yeah, whatever.” 

He spends the morning going through Andrea’s instructions over and over again until he can exactly tell the position of every single letter, and then he spends the rest of it making a first draft for a spreadsheet with all the products they will probably need to change a million times. 

Carlos does not write him, nor does he come around to ask for him, either, but Oscar doesn’t question it that much. God knows he has his own side-projects, although minor, to care about but he guesses that spending some time to start brainstorming over this new one it’s not entirely a bad idea. 

He’ll just email the file Excel to Carlos once it’s done, and then maybe they’ll shortly discuss about it, Oscar will even accept some suggestions because, against all odds, he is ready to work as a team. Besides, his creativity is pretty close to a zero percentage, but he has heard that Carlos knows how to do a mean presentation, and that’s how teams work, right? 

Combine your best skills and all that stuff about sharing each other’s strengths. Oscar wouldn’t know about that, really, since he’s always preferred the solitary work, but he doesn’t have that much of a choice right now. 

Yuki asks for poke at lunch, and Oscar is a man of his word, so as soon as the clock strikes half past twelve, they’re already out the door chattering about the latest apex legends’ update. 

The guy behind the cash register smiles at him sweetly when he pays, and Oscar swears he winks at him as he slides the receipt over the counter, and sure enough when he looks at it there is a phone number scribbled on the paper. 

Oscar isn’t exactly interested in dating as of now, but the guy was cute, and it did boost his ego a bit, and it might not be a bad idea to go out with someone that is not his roommate, his roommate’s boyfriend, his coworker and a weird friend from university. Maybe he could even get laid, which doesn’t seem like a bad prospect at all. 

It’s just the combination of all these tiny little things that makes him feel better, more confident, almost ready to let himself believe that he could change his mind about Carlos, like Lando has been trying to make him for years, now. 

Maybe he could actually reconsider him, even if just by stopping viewing him as a pretentious dickhead. 

But Carlos just makes it incredibly difficult, it seems. 

Oscar has just started settling back behind his desk when his attention gets caught by the new email in his inbox, that definitely was not there before. 

To: oscar.piastri@g...  From: carlos.sainz.vasq...  Sub: team project 

Hi Piastri,  attached you will find your part of the project.  Please, do not contact me on my lunch breaks, Friday nights and weekends. I will not respond.  I sincerely hope you do not need any clarification, but if you do, you can write to the email above.  Good work. 

[See more] 

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” He almost slams his laptop shut, feeling the rage bubbling up inside of him. Logan likes to say that he’s an emotionless human being, Yuki just compared him to a freaking statue, and yet Carlos Sainz is enough to make him doubt himself and his capability to have a decent control of his own emotions. 

He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring as he tries to calm himself down. Breath in, and breath out, it’s just the first day of three months. 

Which means that it can go even worse, fuck. 

“What is it?” Yuki asks, curiously peering over his screen to take a glance. 

Oscar had almost completely forgotten about his presence, and he just groans and turns the laptop around, not finding it in himself to explain without cursing one Spanish lineage or two. 

“Mh, okay, yes.” Yuki mumbles, nodding understandingly with his chin propped up on his palm. 

Oscar can see his eyes moving from one side to the other of the list, a list, of things that Oscar should do, that Carlos decided Oscar should do, just to prove himself once more as the biggest prick Oscar might’ve ever met in his life. 

“Well, I don’t see the problem here.” 

“You don’t- what?” Oscar splutters out, blinking once, twice. Yuki’s expression doesn’t change, it stays confused, amused even. “Isn’t it obvious? He gave me a list, Yuki, a list.” 

“Yes and?” Yuki asks, unsure. “I mean, I would kill to have a teammate who tells me what I have to do. Splitting parts is the worst step for a team project, in my opinion. You should be glad.” 

“I should be glad?” Oscar says, he almost feels crazy about it. “Yuki, can’t you see it? He’s doing it in purpose! He probably just decided what parts he didn’t want and gave them to me so I can, like, do his dirty laundry. I am almost 100% sure he’s going to take all the credit after and he just- ugh!” 

Yuki looks at him, unimpressed, standing in front of Oscar’s desk like he’s seconds away from giving him a slap on his head. When they’re like this and the height difference is completely reversed, Oscar remembers that Yuki can be incredibly frightening, too. 

“Oscar, listen to me.” Yuki says, gentle. Well, not really gentle, because Oscar is pretty sure that Yuki lacks that definition, but something akin to gentleness, surely. “I think you’re a bit stressed out right now, I get it, it’s an important project-“ 

“My most important project.” Oscar interrupts him. He feels compelled to remind that detail, which he doesn’t find small at all. 

It will dictate the rest of his career, his future, his curriculum, his self esteem. He might be exaggerating, but he’s used to take things seriously only when he manages to convince himself that they are, in fact, serious. 

But now that he thinks about it, he may just need a change of perspective:  maybe having to work alongside Carlos is just a challenge for himself, one last obstacle to overtake before he can finally make all his years of studying and working his back off worth it. 

He just needs to impose himself and he needs to show himself and to Carlos that he knows what he’s doing, and that it can easily be a 50/50 kind of work. 

Perfectly balanced, yeah. 

“- and I mean, anyway, if you’re not happy with whatever he decides, you can just go and talk to the guy.” 

“You know what, Yuki?” Oscar says, standing up as he shuts his laptop close, feeling thrilled about the prospect of taking reins between his hands, for once. It must feel amazing, to finally have control over something, and it only makes him want that promotion more. “I think I’m going to give him a little speech about respect.” 

“That’s not what I meant, but you do you.” Yuki shrugs before finally going back to his desk, sitting hunched over his screen and probably causing himself twenty different problems to his back. 

It’s a spur of the moment, Oscar is not used to get them often, he prefers to be more levelheaded, in a way, more rational, logical. 

But Carlos has always managed to get under his skin in a way that he never was able to point out, like he could just crawl inside and gnaw at it and smirk that too full grin of his that some would define as charming, Oscar just finds unappealing. 

If he were to admit it, he would probably find the reasons of their mutual grudge behind deeply buried thoughts that Oscar has long since tried to forget about. 

Like that time he had been scratching his own wrist with his nails, too long, too uneven, waiting for Lando to give him an ounce of his attention, just for Carlos to get it all with a bat of his eyelashes and a show of his straight teeth. 

And Oscar has thought that, well, he did not know how to style his hair and he had always had bunny teeth and he did not post shirtless selfies on his socials, and he did not like to hop from one club to another to spend the time on a Saturday night, so hoping that Lando could turn around and look at him and say ‘Oscar’ all British accented and tongue in the little gap was just- ridiculous. 

Rationally, that should not be considered as Carlos’ fault, but Oscar just knows that he knows. He swears he had seen him, winking at Oscar jokingly before taking Lando away by the hand, tilting his head to the side, curious, wicked, and then acting like Oscar wasn’t there, not even trying go engage him into conversations. 

At work, it’s quieter, at least. 

The only reason why Oscar still hasn’t spilled a hot coffee all over the front of his shirt is because Carlos kind of is his superior, after all, and people would surely almost immediately suspect of him if they were to find a distressed Carlos Sainz in sight. 

But they still work in different sections, and they never have to cross paths unless they happen to be in the same elevator at the same time, or by the same coffee machine at the same time. They never make small talks, sometimes Carlos just glances at him and nods his head and makes a half assed comment about his commitments for the week like he’s someone too important to be around Oscar. 

And Oscar wants to strangle him or scoff at him and give him a piece of his mind, but he does not, because he’s rational and levelheaded. 

On top of that, the inexperienced comment and the lack of apology thereof does still sting, though he’ll never admit it. 

The upper floor is a little bit nicer than the one his and Yuki’s office is, with longer corridors and opaque glass doors and plants that are actually alive. 

Well, he and Yuki had tried to keep one between their desks, but the attempt had failed after they had realised they had forgotten watering it for four weeks straight. But at least they had tried. 

Oscar doesn’t really think about what he’s going to say when he pushes the door open, nor does he when he strides into the office, basically uninvited. 

And then when he finally thinks about it, it’s just to remain utterly speechless at the sight of Charles half slumped down on the little couch in the corner, scrolling away on his phone. 

“Hi Oscar.” Charles says, enthusiastic as all the other times he and Oscar have interacted in the past. Oscar likes him, even though he can’t help but feel slightly intimidated by his attractiveness, but Charles has always been nice to him and when he goes out with them at the pub, he’s always asking Oscar about his day and appearing actually interested about it. 

Which doesn’t explain why he would be friends with such a douchebag like Carlos, but it’s not like it’s any of his business. 

“Hi Charles.” Oscar replies, unsurely taking a step forward. It doesn’t change the aspect of the situation, of course, what is supposed to be Carlos’ office chair is still as empty as the first time he laid eyes on it. “Am I in the wrong place?” 

“Were you looking for Carlos?” Charles asks with a strange lilt to his voice, one that is not just from his accent, Oscar can tell. 

“Uh, yes?” 

“Then yes you are in the right place.” Charles concludes. “But at the wrong time, he’s out for his lunch break.” 

Oscar checks his watch, then he checks it another time just to be sure. “But lunch break ended fift- twenty minutes ago.” 

“Yeah, but he has to do other things, so he asked for a later lunch break.” 

A later lunch break. 

What kind of immense prick asks for a different lunch break than all the other employees? Who does Carlos think he is? 

Oscar sincerely thinks he has never met someone as full of himself as Carlos in his life, not even that one guy at his high school that went around claiming to be able to get every single girl in his bed. 

Which Oscar knew for sure was a big load of bullshit because he had watched Lauren Smith reject him at their final year’s party, and Oscar had given him a drunken blowjob in a bathroom on the same night. 

And still, Carlos managed to top that off. 

“Alright.” Oscar says calmly. “Then I guess I can come back later.” He finishes, already turning around to get out of this office as soon as possible and go back to lament on Yuki. 

But Charles doesn’t seem to be of the same opinion, clearing his throat to get his attention back on him. “Uh, we will be in a meeting later.” He says sheepishly, and then adding, “I’m sorry I didn’t know you needed him so soon.” 

It’s not Charles’ fault that Carlos is a douchebag, really, and Oscar is not that immature to act like one. “Do not worry, I will come back tomorrow, then.” One deep breath, in and out. “Thanks Charles, I’ll see you around.” 

“Bye Oscar!” Charles waves at him, back to his enthusiastic self. 

Oscar can’t share even an ounce of that same giddiness, right now, so he just closes the door behind himself and curses the name tag on it, flipping the golden plate off. 

And then once again before getting inside the elevatore. 

It’s cathartic enough. 

__ 

To: carlos.sainz.vasq...  From: oscar.piastri@g...  Re: team project  Sub: adjustments 

Hi Sainz,  I was not able to find you and I would like to discuss the attachment of your last email.  As it is a team project, I think that we should work, in fact, as team, unless you might’ve missed Andrea’s directives, though I am pretty sure you were sitting next to me. I sincerely hope you do not need any clarification on that.  Good rest of the day. 

To: oscar.piastri@g...  From: carlos.sainz.vasq...  Re: adjustments  Sub: appointment 

Hi Piastri,  I guess I can concede you a talk face to face over the matter. You can meet me in my office tomorrow at half past ten.  Do not be late. 

To: carlos.sainz.vasq...  From: oscar.piastri@g...  Re: appointment 

I won’t. 

__ 

[ash-arts-but-sinful]

This is burning a hole into my brain, but what if new game+ gave you the option to summon Carlo instead of Specter and he offers stupid/witty commentary for each boss you fight with him. Tbh this is just for fun, but I wanted to share in case anybody else might like it

Might have to put this one under a cut it could get long. Also spoiler warning!

Scrapped Watchman

• I never liked cops, this is going to be fun!

• Do we really need a watchman this big?

• Okay Sparky, let’s dance!

• (if he gets picked up) Shit-! -> Ugh- okay that might’ve hurt a little.

• Haha! Good riddance! Don’t know what the local kids saw in that thing.

King’s Flame

• Oh boy, a walking furnace.

• Have I ever mentioned I hate the heat?

• The floor is lava! Shit!

• (if he’s set on fire) I know I’m hot, but this is ridiculous! / Hot! Too hot!

• Sigh, thank god. I could never work alongside that… thing.

Archbishop

• Oh wow, that is… hard to look at.

• Watch the chicken legs!

• Really?! With its tongue?! Disgusting!

During phase 2

• How did he manage to get even uglier?

• You should’ve stayed in your shell!

• God chose you to be an Angel alright. Just not a living one.

Black Rabbit Brotherhood

• Some rabbit, the big guy looks more like a pig to me!

• Would somebody shut her up!

• Half of you aren’t even rabbits! That stupid bucket looks like a dog!

• You are too full of yourself, bunny boy.

• These guys need better fursuits

• Pathetic… And don’t bother coming back!

King of Puppets

• Something feels wrong about this.

• That voice…

• No… It can’t be-!

Second phase

• Romeo?!

• Romeo please! Why won’t you stop, it’s me!

• How do we get through to him?!

• No!!! UGH Why wouldn’t you LISTEN?! *shakey inhale* Damn it, just go! Get out of this damn place.

Victor

• What do you want? Are we killing my best friend in disguise again?

• I finally get to see this guy in action and I’m the one who has to fight him! Seriously?!

• This guy really is all washed up.

• That can’t be good for you.

• Yikes, those fists pack one hell of a punch!

• That Simon guy is a real piece of work. Good luck with that.

Green Monster

• Ohh this thing looks disgusting.

• It sounds disgusting too, I think I’m going hurl!

• It slimed me!

Phase 2

• Not the giant cop again!

• Would you! Just! Sit! Still!

• I can only imagine what it smells like in that puppet chassis.

• That was truly vile. If you ever need help fighting a giant slime monster again PLEASE hesitate to ask.

Black Rabbit Brotherhood 2

• Didn’t you learn your lessons last time?

• Lord, are these guys full of themselves.

• If you couldn’t beat us last time what makes you think you can this time?

• Looks like the pig wants his bacon cooked again!

• You had to mutate yourself because you wouldn’t beat us last time? Now THAT is pathetic.

• Still losers. Still pretentious. Still pathetic. How disappointing.

Laxasia

• Hmm. Big sword.

• Oh and it makes lightning too, great!

• How can she move so fast with all that armour!?

Phase 2

• Ohhhh good, now she’s even faster!

• Weakness to it or not electricity still hurts like hell!

• There she goes into the air again. Coward!

• Well that wasn’t fun, but I suspect it’ll be even less fun in that tower.

Simon

• Isn’t that the guy from the exhibition?

• This guy is a real piece of work.

• And I thought the rabbits were full of themselves!

Phase 2

• I didn’t think it could get any worse!

• Who needs this many hands?!

• God or not this guy is going down!

• The last like after Simon is defeated depends on your playthrough: Truth “Until next we meet. Which will be sooner than you think, I can’t wait.” Punctuated by a dark chuckle. Lie “I’ll see you again soon. For what it’s worth though… I’m sorry.”

Bonus: depending on what playthrough you did the Nameless Puppet will actually talk and have different dialogue

Truth playthrough/Lie playthrough

• I’ve been waiting for this for too damn long. / I didn’t want it to come to this.

• You don’t deserve that heart! It’s rightfully mine! / Please, you have to understand! I need that heart!

• You stupid puppet, I hope you didn’t think father actually cared about YOU! / Gepetto never cared for you, I wish he had, at least you could’ve known love.

• Why won’t you DIE ALREADY!? / I deserve to live too, this isn’t fair for either of us!

• You will NEVER be me, just give up already! / You may not be me, but you deserve better than this.

During Phase 2 the puppet won’t speak, but Carlo’s dialogue will be inserted along everyone else’s, tbh I want to have him say something during phase 2, but there’s already so much going on during that fight. In a truth playthrough the ending will play out as normal and Gepetto will die, calling Pinocchio a useless puppet, Pinocchio will be the one to finish off Carlo’s vessel. In a lie playthrough Carlo will finally be able to control his actions and is unable to finish off Pinocchio, he shuts himself down while giving one final line.

“Maybe in another life we could have been… brothers.”

Gepetto is distraught and instead of shedding tears for his father Pinocchio sheds them for Carlo

A lot of his radient dialogue would consist of laughter that borders on unhinged and the usual exertion and damage taking grunts. Regardless of what playthrough you do he wants to keep either his heart or Pinocchio alive, so if his health falls below half he has a chance of reminding you to heal. Also depending on the playthrough he’ll either compliment perfect blocks, parry’s, dodges or hits for lies and for truths he’ll be a snarky asshole, claiming he could do just as good if not better

[denny-artsss]

Caine throws a "prom night" as the adventure and Gangle (reluctantly) agreed to be Jax's date and Jax basically shuts down because he did NOT expect Gangle to look that good in a dress, like DAMN

Caine: HELLO EVERYONE!! I HAVE SOMETHING SPECIAL PLANNED FOR TONIGHT!

Jax: you're gonna learn to speak in your inside voice?

Caine: SILLY JAX! THIS IS MY INSIDE VOICE! NOW! WERE GONNA HAVE A PROM NIGHT!

Zooble: what are we school girls? Ragatha and Gangle be playing bingo like they're in a retirement home.

Ragatha: we play cause its fun not cause were old.

Gangle: bingo-

Caine: COME ON IT WILL BE FUN! YOU CAN DRESS UP IN DRESSES AND COSTUMES! ITS TONIGHT AT 8!

Jax: is it mandatory to show up?

Caine: YES! ITS ALSO MANDATORY TO HAVE A PARTNER!

*everyone finds a partner except Gangle and Jax*

Gangle: *slowly backs away*

Jax: *pulls her close* Gangle! My best friend!

Gangle: *raises an eyebrow*

Jax: best- frienemy? Whatever. You coming to prom with me.

Gangle: that sounded more like a statement than a question.

Jax: UGH YOURE SO PRETENTIOUS! FINE! oh my dear Gangle, light of my life, would you make me the HUGE honor of going to Caines stupid prom with me? *ironic*

Gangle: you forgot to drop on your knees and beg

Jax: YES OR NO

Gangle: *sighs* I would've gone with you anyway. There's no one left, big brain. But thanks for humiliating yourself I guess.

Jax: whatever. Have fun finding something to put on that body of yours. We'll see who's gonna be humiliated. *walks away laughing*

*Gangle walks with the others to look for something to wear*

Gangle: I'm not forgiving you guys for leaving me to be his date for prom.

Zooble: a risk I'm willing to take as long as I'm Jax-free.

Ragatha: yeah sorry Gangle. My Hate for Jax is bigger than my love for you.

Gangle: that's understandable. *picks up a nice black dress and puts it on* huh- this doesn't look too bad does it?

Ragatha: no it actually looks really good! Here- *hands her some accesories* ooo

Zooble: Gangle trust me.you don't need to get this dressed. Jax will probably just show up in his pajamas.

Gangle: pfft. Like If i was dressing for him anyway- *admires herself in the mirror*

Zooble: I think ill just slap a tie on and call it a day.

-time skip-

Jax: *knocks at Gangles door* you abstracted yet?

Gangle: I wish. *opens the door and looks at him* wow you actually put on some decent clothing-

Jax: ah this? I just stole it from those 2 npcs having a wedding now the groom is naked.

Gangle: there was a whole box of costumes downstairs. *steps out of her room into the light*

Jax: *stares at her, a blush creeping on his face*

Gangle: what? Does it look wierd?..

Jax: no- no it looks- *cleans his throat* it looks good- *hands her a red rose*

Gangle: *smiles softly and puts it on top of her head* how do I look?

Jax: beauti- I mean you look okay- *comes closer and wipes the running mascara off her face*

Gangle: I shouldn't have put make up on with my tragedy mask.

Jax: what happened to your comedy mask?

Gangle: Caine keeps forgetting to fix it-

Caine: DID SOMEONE MENTION MY NAME? MY MY! YOU BOTH LOOK STUNNING- oh wow Gangle I don't think that dress is prom appropriate

Gangle: huh? *looks down*

Jax: SHUT UP CAINE SHUT UP I WILL FORCE FEED YOU DENTAL FLOSS SHUT UP.

Caine: alright then-

Gangle: *walks with him to the prom* wow you must really like this dress-

Jax: *blushes embarrassed* yeah well- I also just really DISlike Caine.

Bubble: does this mean you're my date for the prom Caine?

Caine: ... *pops bubble*

.

(Also heres a drawing of her in the prom dress)

Yes I used this as am excuse to draw Gangle in yet another dress.

[keithkog]

Pretty sure I made a post a long long time ago about how cruelly ironic it was that I liked fire as a kid before my dad died to it. Well now I’m here to say cruel irony has struck once more.

I was driving through the desert when I noticed another shack had caught on fire. In panic, I tried to make sure no one was inside. I then spotted a person inside. To keep things brief I helped them get out and drove them to a hospital on my hoverbike. I was told their injuries were not life threatening, so I went home.

Really, I feel like that would make this an eventful night, but I feel nothing. It’s so strange but saving people just feels so normal. It’s not normally supposed to feel that way, but it does to me. Maybe saving all realities sort of makes everything else less impactful…? Wow I sound pretentious as fuck, sorry.

-Keith

[tinybed]

i rly wanted to vent about this because its getting on my nerves -_- tumblr is where i vent bc there’s no character limit. Ok so i just find it rly annoying how nothing is ever good enough for anyone online. thats a generality ofc and it’s been like this forever but i cant take it anymore! someone posts a poem that they made from the heart and everyone jumps on them saying i hate it Booooo!!! this is a bad poem and you wrote it too simply so its obvious you’re just trying to go viral!!

or someone else makes a tweet that sounds kind of flowery and “Cringey” and everyone’s like “wow you’re so pretentious” and “You rly thought you said something” and then you read the person’s replies and they admit it was actually just a real thought they had and posted offhandedly… not a big deal.

a youtuber who’s been documenting her journey from homelessness to having an apartment while maintaining sobriety introduces their bf who they admit their sponsor knows about, and says they’ve taken it rly slow, and then all of the comments are freaking tf out, mothering her, telling her either what she “needs to do” instead or accusing her of “lying” and denouncing her completely…

an old guy makes a video about something where he has to read from the script he wrote and top comment is “next time put the teleprompter 6 inches up so it at least looks like you’re speaking to us!”

those are just some examples but its sooooo fucking tiring seeing ppls cynicism, criticism, bad faith takes, entitlement, dogpiling, etc.

of course this is something i could avoid by simply putting my phone down forever. but im not going to do that LOL im just noticing it almost seems like its getting worse. i just dont like it and i wish ppl would give other ppl more grace…. we’re lucky when ppl share with us. we are lucky that ppl take the time to make art and “content” thats meant to connect to us and it bothers me a lot how unwilling people are to ignore something we dont like personally. not every poem can appeal to you. not every post can appeal to you. sometimes an old man isnt thinking about looking a camera in the eye to make you feel like he’s talking directly to you? so yeah i guess thats what i wanted to say :-/ if this seems like im freaking out about nothing then thats fine idc

[angelsanarchy]

Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 04 -> CH 05

"In my defense I thought you were commenting on my weight." "So you went with skinny 9th grade virgin?"

Tagging: @roryculkinluvr @thatsthewrongwallcraig @icarus-star @cc-luvr @madamemaximoff06 @shady-the-simp

Jack spent the entire day cleaning. Thankfully he was able to find a company that picked up all the donations and junk he had cleared out of his parents room but he didn't trust anyone to come in and clean. He never realized how much his family didn't need this much space until he had to be responsible for it.

The first time he was able to sit down and relax, it was late and he was surprised he hadn't passed out already. He lit a cigarette and sat on the window sill, letting the smoke flow out of the window as he took in the cool breeze. The sound of shuffling below caught his attention and he locked eyes with Y/n who was taking a night stroll wearing her scrubs.

"Hey Jack, how's your night going?" She asked with a smile.

"It's going about as well as expected when your days consist of gutting your childhood home." Jack mockingly held finger guns to his temple making Y/n laugh.

"Hopefully you've got friends to help you. That's a lot of house for one person to gut." Y/n took a long drag and Jack nodded.

"I'm not very social at the moment...or any moment really. I've been told I'm a particular taste." Jack thought about the last time he tried to go out with Shanda and her girlfriend. He had almost gotten into a bar fight and got two drinks thrown in his face. His personality was a bit abrasive but he couldn't it. His passive aggressive narcissism came across rude to most but to the mores sensitive crowd, he was just a prick.

"I'm pretty sure they have companies who work for assholes." Y/n teased.

"Hey I forgot to congratulate you the other day. You would never guess you had a baby." Y/n's face dropped.

"Excuse me?" She questioned.

"I've never known someone to lose the baby weight before the kids a year old. You look great." Jack didn't typically comment on a woman's appearance, especially to their face but he blamed the exhaustion of the day and him fighting sleep for his lack of self preservation. That and she was a beautiful woman.

"Coming from the guy who looks like a skinny 9th grade virgin." Jack's eyebrows went up. Y/n stood her ground. He was caught off guard by the insult but remembered how Cleo would get when someone commented on her weight when she was pregnant.

"Wow I think I may have fucked up, let me try this again. When I met your mom, she said she had just become a grandma. I assumed-" Jack watched Y/n gasp and cover her mouth.

"Fuck! You thought...I am so sorry. My brother's wife had the baby, not me." Y/n explained making Jack nod his head.

"Okay so then I didn't fuck up as much as you did. That makes me feel better, a little offended but better." Jack pulled a long drag from his cigarette and Y/n raked her hand through her hair embarrassed.

"I really am sorry. In my defense, I thought you were commenting on my weight." Y/n defended .

"So you went with skinny 9th grade virgin?" Jack laughed. No one had really called him anything other than the normal insults. Pretentious prick. Son of a bitch (which he couldn't deny). Fucking asshole. He admittedly lost more weight then he would have liked when he was in treatment. He was trying to find little things that would help get him back into better shape instead of just being skin and bones.

"I was going to go with school shooter but it's been a long day, felt too dark in today's climate." Y/n frowned but Jack took amusement in it. He actually enjoy conversing with her. She had a wit about her that made him want to hear her thoughts on random things.

"I got the same response when my parents were killed in a car crash and kept telling people how my dad was decapitated." Jack gestured to his neck and Y/n nodded.

"It's truly a shame you aren't more social in town. I think these oldies need to be shaken up a little more." Y/n and Jack were probably two of the only people under 40 in the neighborhood.

"I was going to offer my condolences but I admittedly didn't know your parents that well and I'm pretty sure a year post-death seems kind of disingenuous. Your parents seemed like decent people. I always enjoyed the sunflowers my mom would grow for your mom so she had good taste in flowers." Jack was pleasantly surprised that Y/n hadn't tried to console him or offer some fake sympathy for people she clearly didn't know well. She had become a breath of fresh air in this small town full of people acting as though they knew him personally.

"I appreciate your genuine solace." Jack finished his cigarette and considered lighting another but instead just took a deep breath.

"I'm sure the last year of your life has been a real dumpster fire taking over this monstrosity but I guess we're just those kind of children." Y/n pulled something from her pocket and put it to her lips, lighting it and taking a pull.

"Yeah I didn't think I would end up...taking a year off but I guess I needed the mental break from LA anyway. Trying to get this place in order is the current goal so if you're looking for someone else's shit, let me know." Jack caught a whiff of the smoke and his eyebrow cocked. She was clearly wearing scrubs but she was absolutely smoking a joint, which wasn't uncommon for Colorado but possibly taboo among the medical community.

"I feel your pain. When I first moved back I did at least 4 garage sales just to clear out some of my parents bullshit. How can old people have so much shit? Baby boomers completely missed the whole recycling trend." Jack hadn't considered doing a yard sale but his lack of social skills would probably just have him boxing it all up to donate anyway.

"Moving back into this house alone is slowly turning me into a minimalist. I don't know if their generation just thought they were going breed like rabbits or if they were just competing to see who would have the biggest house." Jack felt comfortable having such open conversation with her. He felt like he could actually keep a conversation without someone trying to offer sympathies or checking to see if he was on the verge of another psychotic break.

"It's tough being so young in a retirement community." Y/n joked with a smile. They shared a smile for a brief moment before Jack realized he was staring.

"I guess I will rephrase my previous statement, congratulations on becoming an aunt. That kid is going to have exemplary insults by the time they hit the school yard." Jack smirked earning a smile from Y/n.

"Thank you. I'll be sure to send him your way when he's old enough to start wearing trench coats." Y/n winked like she could go tit for tat with Jack and actually enjoy it. She had a feeling they had a similar sense of humor.

"I should get back. Ace waits by the door if no one takes him to bed." Y/n gestured towards the house and Jack sighed.

"Rub it in." Jack teased, fanning jealousy but truthfully he wouldn't mind that kind of comfort this evening.

"He misses you. It's weird, all he can talk about is the strange habits of the mysterious neighbor. Soon enough, he'll tell me all your secrets so hopefully you've never murdered anyone." Y/n wouldn't realize how that joke hit but Jack chuckled darkly.

"Just my dog." Y/n took it as a joke but Jack was grateful they shared a twisted sense of humor.

"Noted. Have a good night Jack." She gave him one last genuine smile and he gave her a wave.

"Good night." Jack watched her walk all the way to her house, walk up the porch and turn the outside light off. He felt a strange comfort knowing that she was so close by and didn't seem turned off by his dry wit and dark humor. He wouldn't call her a friend but she's a neighbor he doesn't mind having encounters with.

[superfallingstars]

Hey! Wanted to send you another playlist ask prompt (if that's ok) ^^: Percy Weasley in his flat, trying not to think about his family. I'm genuinely wondering what he would listen to

send me playlist asks!

First off, you can basically always send playlist prompts, I’m fine with it, I have a ton of fun with these. It’s just a matter of whether I answer them in a few weeks, months, or years LOL

I confess, before receiving this ask, I had thought about Percy for maybe a grand total of 5 seconds, so suffice it to say that I had no idea what to do about this. However I recently (VERY recently) started rereading the series and I’m slowly remembering who tf he is lol. My playlists for the other Weasley kids all have a huge Britpop influence, so I decided to continue that (along with some other alternative 80s and 90s stuff) on Percy’s. Hopefully it comes across that he is a huge stuck-up nerd, but he is also just a young guy trying to find his place in the world, going through the difficult process of realizing that he's made a mistake, and admitting to himself and the people he hurt that he was wrong... I imagine it was a very humbling experience. Also wow there’s so many great songs about moving on and starting a new life and I don’t think about you at all anymore so idk why you’re even sending me a sweater MOM. Basically I'm quite proud of the lyrics on this one (part of why it took me 10000 years to answer) – so let's get into it

Track list:

Blur - There’s No Other Way: starting off strong with some early Blur. Tbh I don’t really know what this song is about but I enjoy that it starts out with “You’re taking the fun out of everything.” Soooo true Percy you killjoy

The Wedding Present - Box Elder: Great song about leaving (specifically a relationship – unfortunately most great songs about moving on are about relationships, but whatever)! “I’ve got a lot of things to do / A lot of places to go / I’ve got a lot of good things coming my way / And I’m afraid to say that you’re not one of them.” Yeowch!

Lloyd Cole and the Commotions - Are You Ready To Be Heartbroken?: I adore this song in all its 80s glory! The meaning is a bit ambiguous but imo it’s about being an opinionated, idealistic, pretentious young person (“Making your friends feel so guilty about their cynicism”) who doesn’t realize real life is going to – well – break their heart.

The Smiths - London: I just heard this song for the first time two days ago and omg it's perfect. Like it’s literally about leaving your friends and family behind to go move to London and work in the big city. Percy would 10000% listen to this (and uncritically agree that the only reason his family is mad at him is because they’re jealous of his success and his big boy job at the Ministry)

Ned’s Atomic Dustbin - Selfish: from what I can tell, this song is about being an insecure loser so you get all stuck-up and mean about it. "If I don't know what's cool / Will you call me a loser?" ... “I hope your head's aching from having too much fun” ... “The selfish gene in me / Has finally come into being / He’s teaching me how to be mean / But that’s a sorry sorry state to be in” ..Rather fitting, isn’t it?

The Wedding Present - Getting Nowhere Fast: read an article about this song (the original song, this is a cover) that described it as “the feeling that your failing life isn’t what you signed up for” and honestly I can’t describe it any better than that

Blur - Birthday: this song is about spending your birthday alone and feeling really weird and bad about it. Which is something I hadn’t even considered could have happened to Percy but now I 1000% believe that it did

New Order - Weirdo: These lyrics man. “It’s a life that’s made for me / Where I can be completely free / So long as I obey this sound / That echoes all around” Lollll

Dire Straits - Brothers in Arms: This song is a little dated for Percy’s time, but I quite like putting 80s stuff on here because I think older music adds to Percy's supposed maturity as well as making him seem accurately uncool. And “We’re fools to make war on our brothers in arms” wow sooooo true

The Verve - Neon Wilderness: truly captures the vibes of being a lonely young person living on your own in the big city. I can vividly picture Percy listening to this alone in his flat and slowly realizing what a sad and solitary life he has created for himself…

Pavement - Stop Breathing: THE REALIZATION. This song is technically about a soldier dealing with the emotional toll of war but it works fantastically well for this playlist (the guilt of realizing you were wrong, that you truly hurt others, and that your whole belief system was massively flawed). “Write it on a postcard / Dad they broke me / Dad they broke me.” Ummmmm screaming crying throwing up

The Rentals - It’s Time to Come Home: It really is.

WOWWW this one was so fun! It was a challenge to create a playlist for a character I’m not super familiar with, but honestly that was probably the most fun part about it! It’s so rewarding when you spend some time thinking about a character you (initially) feel neutral towards and force yourself to really consider their motivations and relate to them – I like Percy a lot more now LOL. Thank you so much for the ask!

[sherlockholmes-real]

Kinktober Day 1- Praise Kink

Sherlock BBC- Johnlock

Sherlocks parents weren't really the type to tell him that he'd done a good job as a kid, mostly because they assumed he heard that enough at school and from other kids. Most likely, they just thought other people liked people like him, but they didn't really. Actually, most people and kids his age thought he was a pretentious prick.

Now he was older, and people still thought he was a pretentious prick, but he'd mostly gotten used to John telling him how smart he was about twenty-four seven. Sometimes, though, it still got to him. It was like the teenager in his brain wasn't quite used to it and got a bit riled up every now and then. Right now seemed to be one of those times. The two had just gotten done with solving a cold case, something Sherlock was proficient at. John seemed to be still astonished every time he did it, and this was definitely one of those times.

"Sherlock, you're just amazing." John threw his hands up in the air. "You're so good at this."

Sherlock pauses in his tracks for a moment he turns away from John before responding cockily with an "I know."

"No, I mean it, this time you just, wow, you're so good." John smiles in amazement.

"Right." For the first time in his life, Sherlocks' brain feels like it's malfunctioning. "Uhm, tea?" He asks quietly.

"Sure, yes, I'll go make some" John sort of prances towards their shared messy kitchen. Sherlock sits on the couch still wearing his coat to cover what seems to be his problem in his pants.

John walks back into the room while he waits for the kettle to whistle, "Why are you still wearing your filthy coat on the couch."

"It's cold" for someone who's supposed to be a good liar he's not really doing so hot, and he knows it. John peers at him suspiciously.

"Right. Sherlock, it's not cold in here. Take off your coat." John walks over to him and pulls on it from behind.

Now, what does he do? He has a raging boner and his best friend is trying to take off the only thing that's hiding it. "I can't"

"Why?" John sounds genuinly concerned at this point.

"Because." Sherlock says

"Because why, Sherlock?" John rolls his eyes visibly.

"Because I said so, leave me alone." He sounds pretty annoyed, and he stands up and storms off to his room like a little kid, leaving John standing there confused.

The kettle whistles and John decides that bringing his friend a cup of tea was a good way to apologize for being way overbearing. John makes the cup and then sets off towards Sherlocks room knocking on the door lightly.

"What?" He responds to the knocking.

"I brought you your tea." John says quietly, pausing for a moment, "Can I come in?"

Sherlock sighs, "Yes, I suppose." John opens the door to see Sherlock under a blanket, not an unfamiliar sight, but it was strange. Considering he was still sitting up. He hands Sherlock the cup, and as he leans the forward to grab it, the blanket falls just short of his crotch.

John's eyes fall for just a second and then double take, and then instantly fly away once he realizes. "Sherlock." John says, not trying to make it obvious he knows.

Of course, though, Sherlock knows he knows, and maybe it was all part of his plan. He's smarter than that to just let it slip. He wasn't expecting John to ask him about it, though. "Oh!" Sherlock exclaimes with an almost false sense of shock. He quickly covers himself back up, "I'm sorry."

"No!" John says quickly, "I mean, you don't have to be sorry. Well, I mean... I should just go." John sighs a little bit embarrassed, seemingly more embarrassed than Sherlock was.

"Please don't." Sherlock bats his eyelashes at John, and grabs onto the sleeve of his shirt. Sherlock had already set his cup of tea on the side table. He was sure it was going to get cold.

"What, uhm, what do you want me to do?" John asked him, taking a step closer, still nervous, Sherlock had never done anything like this before.

"Help me, I don't do this sort of thing, I don't... masturbate." He said the last word a little awkwardly. John realized what Sherlock was really asking him, and he was on board for it. He had realised he was in love with Sherlock a few months ago, but he wasn't really expecting Sherlock to ask him something like this. Not that he was against it it was just unexpected.

"I can help." John smiled at him, "Do you know what causes it, or was it just random?" He asked before sitting down on the bed next to him placing a hand on Sherlocks thigh.

Was he supposed to tell John it was his constant praise or just keep that to himself, he was already this far so why not, that is something people do when they're in a situation like this right? "It seemed to appear when you called me "good.'" He said just like he was having a normal conversation.

Finding out that Sherlock had a praise kink wasn't really on John's bingo card this year, but it doesn't seem unexpected. He always seemed a little off when he did that. "Okay, then. I'm gonna need you to sit back for me. Can you do that?" John slid his hand up a little higher towards Sherlocks hip to push him back slightly.

Sherlock then adjusted himself to he sitting up against the back of the headboard. John got a little closer to him, starting to close the gap between the two of them, "Good boy, you listen to instructions when we're in here then, don't you?" John noticed the way Sherlocks eyes seemed to glaze over. He smiled slyly before leaning in to kiss Sherlock. He assumed this was okay because the taller man seemed to be very eager to kiss back.

John was practically on top of him at this point. He put his hands in the other man's hair. He was clearly leading here as he had experience, and he assumed Sherlock didn't. He tugged on his hair slightly, and Sherlock gasped, allowing John to slip his tongue into the others mouth.

Sherlock had learned how to do this but he had never put it into practice, he would never admit to anyone that he had put in intense research on how to kiss someone when John had started coming around but he did. Now he was putting it to practice, and he hoped he was doing well. John pulled away for a second, and Sherlocks' hands immediately went to grab the front of his shirt, his eyes begging for more. John laughed slightly at the desperate Sherlock. "You okay?" John asked him.

"More than okay." Sherlock didn't usually have a hard time formulating words, but he didn't know how to ask for what he wanted.

"I'm gonna take off your trousers and pants now, okay?" John said it sounded like a question, and Sherlock nodded, agreeing that he'd probably allow John to do whatever he desired to him. John unbuttoned Sherlocks trousers, and he shimmied out of them.

"Can we get on with it, please? I'm going to die." He sounded so dramatic, but it was a little bit cute to John. He however wasn't going to let Sherlock boss him around, not in the bedroom atleast.

"Be patient, or I'll drag it out more." John said absolutely, and Sherlock gave him that look of defeat. He really was powerless in this situation. John used his hand to palm against Sherlocks erection his underwear still on.

Sherlock trusted up into it his icy grey eyes on John's deep blue, "Please, John." He was practically begging at this point.

"What happened to "I don't beg"?" John said, his palm still rubbing against Sherlocks ever growing erection.

"I lied, just please, touch me." Sherlock pleaded his head thrown back against the headboard, basically grinding against John's hand.

"Alright, alright, but only because you've been such a good boy and begged for me." John smirks as Sherlock closes his eyes and whines.

John pulls Sherlocks dick out of his underwear. It was so beautiful to John, getting to see the person he cares about the most like this. He decided that perhaps a hand job was the most Sherlock would be able to handle for right now, much more, and he might explode. John started out slow for him, just grazing his fingers up and down the shaft. Slow the tip of his thumb rubbing against the head every now and then causes Sherlock to whimper and buck his hips up.

John hadn't pictured that Sherlock would be someone who would make much noise, but now that he does, he would never want him to stop. "Pretty noises you're making for me love, keep doing that, okay?"

Sherlock nods breathlessly as John tightens his grip on the others cock. Sherlock hadn't really expected it to feel this amazing. It was like every touch was electric, and he was just reveling in it. John's touch was magical his hand was just sliding up and down Sherlocks cock and he felt like he was going to explode.

"Do you feel good, Sherlock?" John asked him. The way he said Sherlocks name almost sent him into more of a frenzy than he was already in.

"Yes, John." He was moaning the words, but he didn't even care. He was about to cum and John could tell, Sherlock couldn't keep still and John just kept speeding up. He kept doing that and teasing the head of Sherlocks cock until it started to twitch and John knew he was there. Sherlock came all over John's hand with a moan. He looked down at it, "I'm sorry." Sherlock started to say quickly.

"It's okay, Sherlock, are you okay?" John stood up, waiting for a response.

"Absolutely." Sherlock sounded offended, he would even ask. He hesitated for a moment, "Can I do anything for you?"

He smiled but shook his head, "I'm too tired. Remember, we just came back from a two day, long murder chase." John laughed, "I'll be right back." He goes into the bathroom to wash his hands and brings back a warm, wet, wash rag to clean up Sherlock with.

"You're sure? You don't want me to suck you off?" He sounded so casual like he was asking if John wanted a cup of tea.

John blushed and started to clean the cum off of Sherlocks thighs, "as wonderful as that would be, I assure you I'm perfectly okay." He paused for a moment to look up at Sherlock reassuringly.

"Okay, would you like to sleep together then?" Sherlock offered, and John happily accepted. Of all the things that John had expected to happen when he got home, this was not of them. He wasn't complaining. He did like having Sherlock all huddled up next to him. It was a little ridiculous, considering how tall Sherlock was to see him all snuggled up in John's chest. This was nice, though John thought, probably everything he had ever dreamed of.

[sea-of-machines]

JCS 2000 ALBUM LISTENING (thoughts)

Disclaimer: the only Jesus Christ Superstar I've ever heard before this is the original concept album.

Heaven on their minds: wow, the mixing sucks. Also Judas' voice is odd, sounds a bit weak.

What's the buzz? Strange thing, mystifying: damn, Jesus has a soft voice. I think I kinda like it. Otherwise the track feels somehow hurried and odd paced.

Everything's alright: the mixing is so horrible it's almost making me a hater. Also, the way the singing is flowing with the music feels weird compared to the original concept album (not just on this song but the other's as well).

Hosanna: hmm, this one feels a bit more pleasant to listen to. Whoever plays Caiaphas sounds kinda bussing.

Simon Zealotes / Poor Jerusalem: even the instrumental is poorly mixed. I like the choir singing. Simon has a nice voice too. As far, I feel like they casted the main trio (Jesus, Judas, Mary) a bit poorly but the rest quite well. The mixing is too “cinematic” aka some bits are just too silent.

Pilate's dream: too fucking silent. Singer sounds like mom said that we have opera at home. 

The temple: this has some of my favourite lines for Jesus. It was very promising until we got there. Jesus wasn't upset enough. Should've screamed more angrily. (Oh boy, what will Gethsemane be with this…) Also, the end part of the song began too quietly once again, but it got better. Seriously, Jesus’ singer lacks aggression. He is great but it's lacking.

I don't know how to love him: honestly, at this point I'm probably just a hater, but they played it too safe with Mary. 

Damn, they just skipped songs??? Where's Damned for all time / Blood money??? (This made me realise that there's songs missing from the beginning as well.)

The last supper: was the original this long as well? This feels oddly long. The Jesus & Judas argument is cool, except angry Jesus reminds me of the video where a man was screaming at yellow paint. Choir singing slaps though. Splendid.

Gethsemane: Oh no. The beginning is horrible. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE PACING OF THE SINGING??????? I want to scream into a cardboard tube. The emotion is put in the wrong places. Sounds extremely hilarious. Man screams at yellow paint again. I feel like this was too pretentious and therefore failed to be the great masterpiece it should be.

King Herod's song: hell nahh what is this goofy ahh shit 💀💀💀 I never want to hear this again.

Could we start again, please?: What's this? I've never heard this song in my life. They decided to add this instead of the banger songs they cut out??? (Ok apparently this was in the og movie. I haven't seen it so I didn't know, but this track is lame.)

Judas’ death: promising start, nice amount of drama, but that's about it. The rest is meh. Honestly, I regret uninstalling subway surfers because this is boring.

Trial before Pilate: “so the king is once again my guest” but you cut out the part where he was his guest for the first time lol. I have to admit that Jesus’ vocals are pretty neat in this (rare). Also the mixing seems to have gotten a bit better as we're reaching the end, or maybe I've just gotten used to it…

Superstar: the intro goes hard. Vocals are surprisingly good for this album too.

Crucifixion: DJHSGSDHSHSGZ omg lollll what the fuck this is just so fucking miserable 😭

John nineteen: forty-one: it's an instrumental, they can't fuck it up, right?

I want back the 1 h 19 min I just wasted from my life.

[liquidstar]

Ok so, I have only ever watched one episode of Adventure Time, and it was on a hotel room TV, in terrible hindi dub, and I barely remember it on account of being 10(?) but it horrified me.

I remember the MCs trying to get Ice King a girlfriend or something, but he keeps being a gross asshole so they take him to a lake and point at some swans to try and explain love to him. They point to two swans kissing like ':D' and he's like 'ewww' and then the male swan suCKS IN AND EATS THE FEMALE and IK's like ':)))' while the boys stare in horror.

IDR how the episode ended or how much I watched, but I remember thinking 'wow american cartoons are hardcore. I'm sticking to pirated pokemon from now on.'

And you are telling me that show had lesbians in it leter????

oh my god im so sorry but imagining you watching that swan scene as a 10 year old is so fucking funny, i can understand why you stuck with pirated pokemon LOL

adventure time is absolutely very fucked up in a lot of different ways. the early seasons leaned into that type of absurd shit you just described a lot more especially. while the later ones actually started getting more existential and building on the worlds lore.

there wasnt exactly a focused plot, per say. i mean, there was, but it wasnt something methodical and planned out, it was played by ear. and i think it really worked. the way they did it turned out a really cool magic system (based on the idea that reality is just collective perception, and magic users are aware of this and can manipulate perception ergo reality. but the more cosmic knowledge you have the more insane or depressed you become etc especially if youre mortal), and also cool world building (it takes place in a post apocalypse after a nuclear war, now far into the future the face of the earth has completely changed but the horrors unleashed still impact it today), and also a lot of really amazing themes (the world is always changing and nothing is ever permanent, but no matter how things change things also stay the same, in a different way. especially where bonds and love are concerned. everything stays.)

and YEAH there are lesbians (i mean i always hc marcy as bi but still). and they also come from the shows improvisational nature. theres a lot of genuinely really amazing relationships and plotpoints born out of that to me. like, as the show starts to get a lot more thematically dense later on it can seem like a weird shift. some ppl say it got pretentious over time bc its not as goofy (its still pretty goofy lol), but i think it worked... like... perfectly.

because its a coming of age story where the main character actually ages, it actually feels so right that the world around him begins to seem different too. it makes sense that when he was 12 we were doing stupid goofy adventures, when he was 15 we were watching him deal with a lot of really fucked up trauma, and when he was 17 we watched him learn to grow as a person who thinks beyond simple terms of good and evil.

i know im tottaaallly rambling at this point but theres really an insane amount to talk about with adventure time. the timeline alone is ridiculous. but mostly i think my passion comes down to the fact that i was also growing up with the story, always around the same age as the mc going through similar stuff... even now, the story is focusing on a depressed 20-something trying to find whimsy in her life again. and technically the last episode timeline-wise is about accepting death lol

so like idk how exactly id recommend it to a new viewer, its really possible that a lot of ppl wont be able to really tolerate the early seasons as adults (i mean, i think theyre charming, but i have nostalgia goggles lol). that being said i think that its a series totally worth a shot for everyone... eventually. if it sounds interesting you just gotta accept the goofiness at first and trust that youre in for something wild in a totally different way later on. and totally unique and cool and special in a way nothing else has really been able to capture for me since.

TL;DR: no yeah the show was incredibly fucked up and that swan did eat that other swan. but it does have themes and also lesbians.

[mathisshiftss]

A scenario in my Jazz DR

So… made a new dr and I need help naming it (Jazz DR is a placeholder unless we like that)

Me and Spence meeting for the first time!!!

The music filled the space, the small underground bar. Technically it’s a speakeasy, but that sounds pretentious. My fingers dance along the piano keys while Jenna sings and Pierre plays his trumpet. We play a few songs before taking a break. I go over to the bar to have a drink since playing in front of people makes me nervous.

The bartender and I talk for a while until some tall, nervous looking man sits next to me. He sits quietly for a while. I try to discreetly get a good look at him.

He’s tall, just about the same height as me. Maybe taller. He has brown hair, it’s slightly slicked back. He’s wearing a green shirt under a brown cardigan. He’s so cutely nerdy.

Then he starts talking.

“Hey… I’m Spencer, I’ve been listening to you play for the past couple of weeks and… you’re amazing.” He manages to stutter out. It takes everything in me not to blush.

“Oh! Thank you. I’m Mathis.” I say, holding my hand out for him to shake. He hesitates.

“Did you know that the amount of pathogens spread by handshaking is staggering, it’s actually safer to kiss.” He rambles quickly. I put my hand down.

“Really?” I say, a smile playing on my lips.

“Yeah! 80 percent of all bacteria are actually spread by hands.” He says, smiling. A piece of hair falls in his face and he uses all of his fingers to put it back in place.

“That’s… interesting. I didn’t know that.” I say. “So you’re not big on physical touch?”

“Not really. Not unless I know you well, you know?” He says. His smile is so beautiful. He’s so beautiful. I need to get to know him.

“That makes sense.” I say. I prop my head up on my fist, my chin resting on it. “So, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a profiler for the FBI.” He says. “We make pr—“

“I know what a profiler is.” I say with a smile. “Isn’t that kind of scary, though? I mean, what if the killer comes after you?”

“That’s happened to some of my colleagues. Never me, though.” He says.

“Well, that’s good.” I say. Both of us go a little quiet for a couple minutes. It’s awkward.

“So…” He stutters. “How long have you been playing piano?”

“Um…” I count the years in my head but give up halfway through. “Since I was six.”

“Six? Really?” He sounds shocked. “That’s… wow… you’re very proficient in it, you know that?”

“You think?” I ask, the compliment makes me blush. I cover my face for a moment until the red dies down.

“Oh, yeah.” He says softly. “I’m not good at any artsy things like that.”

“No? That’s… that’s kind of sad. I love art. All forms of it.” I say. “Maybe you’d be good at photography?”

“Is that considered art?” He says. “I mean, I know technically it is but.. you’d consider it?”

“Of course I would. It’s creative, isn’t it?” I ask. “It’s uh… je ne sais quoi… um… sorry, I can’t think of it.”

“Can’t think of what?” He asks.

“Well, I can’t tell you if I can’t think of it, Spencer!” I giggle. Almost on cue Jenna comes by again. She sets her hand on my shoulder.

“Coming to play again?” She asks, smiling down at me. Her hand finds the back of my head, her acrylics scratching my scalp.

“Of course, just a minute, okay?” I ask, looking up at her. “I’m a bit busy, I’ll be two seconds.”

“Alright.” She says, walking away. All of us in the band are graceful. Especially in this bar. I turn to Spencer.

“Sorry, I have to go…” I say with a soft smile. I get up.

“Alright, bye.” He says as I walk over to the stage and I sit at the piano. Jenna leans over me to ask something quietly.

“Who’s that guy?” She whispers.

“No clue. He’s cute, right?” I giggle.

“To you.” She says, putting her hand on my back gently. Then she tells me the song we’re playing and I oblige, playing the beginning of the song.

[cutegirlmayra]

Here's a prompt. Tails has has to go to a science convention they're usually filled with boring geezers and pretentious people who think they're "better." Tails is allowed to bring someone since Sonic won't go he asks Amy. While there they make fun of all the "leading minds and elites" Tails feels less alone having a friend there and gives his best presentation yet.

-Sing-songy- Prompts are on Shut-Down~! That means don’t click the IN-Boxxx~ It’s very fuuuullll~ I don’t have time, anymore~ So, leave it be! (-background choir- Yes, leave it be!) It needs to rest just like my aching fingers and headddd~ (She’s so behind!) I thank you for your timmmeeee~ For trusting me with your ideas! -kicks- I’ll keep trying to complete’em! -Kicks- I just need more of your patience, kiddo! (She’s tryin’!) So keep your head’s held high! I’ll post them on the fly! Just keep your eyes upon my channels and writing sittteeesss~ (She’ll work overtime!) For your smillleeessss~ -big finisher, water sprays everywhere, show girls hug my sides and pose as I spread my full arm-span out and lean my head back to belt the last bit. We then proudly freeze in place for photos.)

Prompt:

Tails stood with his enhanced plane mechanics dissected and laid simply upon the presentation table, feeling like a nervous kid at a science fair while older human men walk by to examine the scientific break-throughs, but only give his stall a glance before moving on.

For some reason, Tails didn’t realize that men of science would be that particularly interested in the ‘look’ of a presented scientific wonder than the actual ‘wonder of invention’ itself.

His script in hand for the later ‘speech’ segment of the convention, he twisted it repeatedly between his gloved hands… wringing it as it cried out crumbled sounds to match his withering self-confidence…

He looked at the ground, his mock-model plane displayed up on a model-stick, the paint beautiful, and his cards for explaining each ingenious piece of it’s refigured structure modeled on the table as well.

‘Well, if I could have flown it, they’d stop and stare, wouldn’t they!?’ He angrily continued to wring the life out of the twisted papers in his hands.

He turned to the table, no longer able to see what looked like a red bear of somekind come up to the panel, scratch his chin, and then nod and take his leave through the crowd flowing past his stall.

“Gah..!” He hit the table with both his hands, squinting his eyes closed, “They won’t even ask a single question or make a remark..!” He had no idea what they were thinking…

The memory of Sonic turning his back to him, whimsically stating that science fairs weren’t really his thing, and winking to him that he’ll do great replayed in his mind a moment… only making his fingers upon the table flinch and twitch at the insensitivity…

‘Did Sonic really believe in me..? Or was that his way of avoiding a ‘boring’ science convention?’ He sighed as he relaxed his tense arms to gently begin sliding off the table, as though losing hope, before a familiar voice caught his attention.

“Wow! It’s even more expansive than the X-Tornado, Tails!”

The sound of Amy’s voice lifted him up in surprise, as he turned around with almost tears of joy in his eyes, “Amy… When did you get here?!” He spread his arms out wide, his twin tails flopping excitedly to show his true emotions of having a friend there to support him in his time of need.

Amy, seeing that, giggled, and moved her souvenir science bag, given to all who paid ticket entry, to the front of her and off her shoulder, “I got your letter in the mail about it! Of course I’d come to cheer you on, Tails!” She looked around, “It must be kinda lonely… not knowing anyone…”

“Are you kidding!?” Tails raced to her side, looping an arm around her and pulling her down to his height, pointing, “That’s Dr. Yellow’s newest machine that protects against sun’s harmful rays! You put it in water and let it sit and absorb light away from skin, like a tractor beam!” He turned her abruptly, causing her to cry out a second in alarm, before pointing to another scientist, “That’s Dr. Uda Strainheart! She’s the top-leading scientist for genetic modification!!!”

He continued to explain, expound upon, and geek out over everyone in attendance.

Amy just sweatdropped a bit in his eager explanation, clearly meaning he hadn’t a friend in the world here, but didn’t dare stop listening and nodding to each of his excited rants about them.

“Wow, I’m glad to see such an amazing mix of talented men and women.” She gestured about, “Including my favorite… You~” She booped his nose.

He chuckled, blushing at her sweetness, “Thanks, Amy… To be honest, I wasn’t really intimidated… more embarrassed…” He bent his ears down, “I’ve always wanted to attend this convention with my own scientific breakthrough… but I… Ohhh… I don’t really feel competent anymore.” He lowered his head. “I don’t have amazing works like sun polarizing mechanics that can draw in harmful light beams, or even change the genetic makeup so a child doesn’t inherit a harmful disease… I just made a new and improved fighter plane that no one seems to think is really helpful to society at large…” He rotated his fingers around each other, “I think… I have to make some sort of contribution to ‘health and safety’ to really make people stop and stare at my work…”

Amy, hearing enough, grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to the front of her, “Now look here, Mr. Miles Prower!” He looked greatly shocked by her using his full name. “What’s more safe than a machine that can go toe-to-toe with a Egg-Destroyer? With a cosmic meteor shower!? You’ve literally created a heroic piece of machinery to protect and defend the whole ‘health and safety’ of the ENTIRE PLANET!” She let him go and threw out her arms into the space above his head. “You’re a GENIUS, Tails! It’s the health and safety of the environment against deadly threats like robotic takeovers or literal levels of cataphoric anomalies the size of the extinction of dinosaurs! You gotta have more confidence in yourself, buddy!” She nudged his arm, and he couldn’t help but smile at the kindness of his dear friend.

“You… You really did read my letter…” He nodded, wiping a tear out of his eye, “Y-Yeah… I guess… I’m not so good at… umm… praising myself? I guess?” He looked at his shoddy, make-shift station to present his work…

“Then you’ve gotta sell your passionate love to make them all fall in love with you!” She got all riled up with fire in her eyes, holding up her fists and looking as though she was trying to set the entire convention up on a date with Tails…

“Uhhh… H-How do I do that? And not go that far, either…” He sweatdropped, forgetting who he was talking to…

“You gotta declare your love to the masses! So those other stingy, pompous scientist nerds have to recognize you no matter what!” Her enthusiasm made him cower back a second.

“E-Easy, Amy…” She jutted herself into his face as he tried to pull back.

“Come on, Tails! In order to win the hearts of those you care about and adore, you’ll have to make them admire and love you! And so,” She took his hand, racing towards the stage, “You gotta beat all the other hopeful suitors to the punchline!!!” She threw him on the stage, making him cry out as he wiggled his arms about but got his tails spinning to land on the stage.

“A-Amy!” He reached out for her, but she held up his plane, winking.

“Give it all you got, Tails!”

He lowered his ears again, looking to see everyone now staring at him, turning to face him and corral around the stage.

“Uhh… uhhhhhhhh-AH!” He was suddenly shot with a spotlight, and all eyes were on him.

He nervously tried to unfold his paper, shrieking silently to himself when his eyes almost bulged out of his sockets at seeing that his wringing behavior from nerves and frustration caused the sweat of his hands to bleed out the script, the words now smearing with the ink all over his gloves.

He hadn’t noticed… what will he do now!?

“Ah, That’s…” Amy’s eyes noticed something above the stage, “Sonic! Spin into this!!!” She threw the plane into the air.

“Ah! Sonic!?” Tails looked above his head, turning around to see a blue spinball go to bash against the toy plane. “Woah! Uhh… Initiate astroid protocol!” He cried out, as the plane began to transform and fire out fake firepower towards Sonic, looking like foam missiles and the like.

Some were just artistically recreated versions of the actual equipment on it.

Tails swiped out his hand holding the script, no longer needing it, “Advance!”

The Plane wobbled a second before boosters shot out, two on each end, and it’s wings flipped to reveal a set of two on each end.

“Now, defeeenndddd!!!” Tails cried out, as Amy rushed up where Sonic was spindashing, holding her arms out wide as the plane’s wings spread out and a photo-realistic projection showed a pink grid screen effect, a wide shield as it then fired out more attacks onto the spinning hedgehog.

Tails watched as Sonic proved his trust in his friend’s abilities, and gave that model plane all of his furious, highspeed shredding.

The crowd went into awe, gasping at the marvel, as the plane pushed against a massive force and held its place perfectly in the air. Its position never wavered, its armor never tore, and Amy smiled at seeing the sparks coming off of its hide, knowing Sonic wasn’t just doing this for show, but was also giving everything he had to the model plane.

“Hit it BACCCCKK!!!” Tails threw himself back, shouting with every bit of passion he had and knowing his invention would hold.

The Plane then turned its boosters in on eachother, and with the four flames becoming a singular, strong entity… The plane shoved with a fierce propulsion Sonic’s spinball up and through the convention’s roof.

“That asteroid returned to a new orbit.” Amy winked and saluted, “Thanks to the amazing and masterful hand of my dear friend,” She then held out her hand to gesture to Tails on the stage, “The youngest inventor of ingenuity yet! A marvel of humility! Miles ‘Tails’ Prower!”

Immediately, people were scrambling to the edge of the stage, crying out, “Oh, Mr. Prower! Mr. Prower!?” Trying to grab at his attention first to ask their questions.

The little toy plane slowly flew down as Amy moved up to gently catch it, “Great job, little buddy.” She smiled at it, then looked up proudly to Tails as he was clambered with scientific enthusiasts and minds all wanting to hear more about his great invention.

Amy then looked up to see Sonic’s head silouetted by the light of the outside crater left in the rooftops, his face darkened by him looking down, before slowly moving off and away.

She heard the similar sound of speeding away, and gently closed her eyes with that same kind smile. ‘Thank you… For not letting Tails down, Sonic.’ She sent almost a silent prayer of gratitude to him, before looking back to Tails who was being tugged left and right, the crowd going bonkers and nuts for him.

“Ah! Hey! O-One at a time!!! Form a line! Form. A. LINE!” She summoned her hammer and began to defend him, still holding the plane like a baby cradled in her arms. Her face turned scary and the people quickly moved back, giving the stage some space.

“Now, you first, please.” Amy used her hammer to direct everyone’s attention to a young girl, who put her hands together as her eyes sparkled towards Tails.

“Mr. Prower… Does your invention have a name?”

Tails smiled, nodding, “It does.” He looked to the crater as the Sonic X sound-music just before the end of an episode began to play. “It’s called… The Sonic-Striker!”

Truth be told, he hadn’t actually named it yet… Now he had the perfect name for it!

Next convention, he had a pink and blue model made, one called the Rose-Courge, and the other… Sonic-Striker Mark II. It was displayed that the Rose-Courage was a support system for the Sonic-Striker Mark II… and a newer model was being created for astronomical storms predicted for future times against the climate-changes threatening natural disasters… The Tails-Pride.