#beverage discourse

[littlebitoftrolling]

At Starbucks asking for a latte in 5 stacked cups like it’s Wockhardt

[decadentwerewolfstrawberry]

Ramune>bubble tea but you guys are not ready for that conversation

[epaulando]

hiiiii. do mugs need to have handles? are all cups with handles mugs??

hi artie! yes & yes. mugs are cups that have handles and hold hot beverages. if a mug does not have a handle then it is a thermos and probably insulated so that you don’t burn your fingers off. and i have never come across a cup with a handle that i would not call a mug. WAIT FUCK. teacups. i’m going to say that the distinguishing feature of a teacup is that it is smaller than a mug, has a semispherical base, and is placed on a saucer. but like, it’s still a ceramic cup with a handle. so i’m gonna say it’s a subset of mug despite being somewhat different

[magma-bunny]

Usually if there is no ice at the restaurant, it is because the refrigeration unit in their soda fountain is down. That is the same device which cools the beverages, so these two problems are actually the same problem. A functional soda machine dispenses beverages at refrigerator temperatures even without ice.

If other countries don't serve drinks with a bunch of ice cubes in them is it because they're kept nice and cold anyway or are they serving them like, barely cool??? Drinks should be cold enough that it almost hurts (and that's still never as cold as you really wish they could be)

[aropride]

some of my mutuals post less frequently and queue a lot of posts and have elaborate tagging systems and i love and respect that so much. love y’all don’t get me wrong. but also shoutout to people who post all the time tag nothing and never queue anything. i love when u can tell someones online and scrolling bc in the span of 5 minutes they’ve put a post abt us politics, an old iconic post from 2013, mcyt fanart, a traumacore vent edit, extremely explicit gay furry porn, a post abt queer intracommunity discourse, and an aesthetic moodboard of different types of pink beverages all in the span of 5 minutes. always such a funny experience i hope the scrolling’s going good today

[mandarinmoons]

fluffy request? <3 

Spencer passes reader a little message by writing on their paper coffee cup bc they can’t talk during a bau meeting(?). And then they’re passing a cup of coffee back and forth, talking to each other amid a professional, important business meeting and i can just imagine the others noticing but not saying anything until the meeting’s over and then they mercilessly reel into them. Maybe Derek even steals the cup to see what’s so important it couldn’t wait.

A yawn escaped your mouth as you tried to keep your eyes open and pay attention to what everybody around you was saying.

A meeting was scheduled a lot earlier than usual and having to wake up an hour earlier than your usual routine, it really threw off your rhythm and here you were, having to cover your mouth every ten seconds it seemed to hold back a yawn, which you weren’t handling well at all.

Half an hour into the meeting, from the corner of your eye you saw Spencer lightly pushing a coffee cup towards you with a pencil, careful not to knock it over but also to make sure that the rest of the team wouldn’t notice.

Catching onto his signal to take a sip of the caffeinated beverage, you took a hold of the cup and took a generous swig, letting the coffee do its magic and help you focus. Upon setting the cup down however you saw a little message scrawled onto the side of it.

Be careful not to fall asleep ♡

Looking over at him and seeing him send a smile, you quickly poked your tongue out at him which made him cover his mouth to hold back a laugh. Trying to be discreet, you took the paper cup and quickly wrote out a message for Spencer and slid it half way over to him when the team’s eyes were on the screen looking at a graph.

Spencer pulled the cup towards himself at the next moment when everyone’s eyes were away from him again, and like you suppressing your yawns, he held back another chuckle and thought of a response to you.

The back and forth lasted for an hour when the meeting was over and Morgan was quick to walk over to Spencer, giving him a sly smile and a pat on the back.

“Don’t think we didn’t see what you two were doing over here.”

Spencer looked your way and cleared his throat, pulling some hair from behind his ears to try and hide a light blush on his cheeks.

“I was just letting her drink some of my coffee to try and stay awake.”

“Uhuh keep telling yourself that, pretty boy.”

Snatching the cup out of Spencer’s hand, JJ quickly skimmed over the messages written between you two and smirked at the discourse.

“Yeah, coffee was the last thing on their minds.”

You can find my masterlists here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[loveharlow]

↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ BURN (NOTHING BREAKS LIKE A HEART)

JJ Maybank x Fem!Carrera!Reader [ more jj content ]

SYNOPSIS & WC─•❥ [2.9k] Six months after the wedding that broke your heart, the one thing you needed to never happen...happened, and you don't know whether you should feel guilty or grateful.

WARNING(S) & A/N─•❥ part 2 to satisfied, based on first burn (not burn, but it still works) from the hamilton musical but i'd recommend listening to nothing breaks like heart by miley or reflections by the nbhd, swearing, emotional infidelity, deception, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, sibling discourse

THE MAYBANK HOME WAS WARM, a stark contrast to the biting February wind howling outside. You and your friends were gathered in the living room of Kiara and JJ's somewhat newlywed house, a rare night of relative peace. John B was strumming a guitar on the loveseat as Pope and Cleo made more hot chocolate in the kitchen while Sarah attempted to teach JJ a card game at the kitchen island. 

“I’m so glad you could make it.” Kiara smiled at you from her place on the couch, next to you. The group of you were wearing matching pajamas, embracing the approaching winter spirit. “I was so upset when mom told me you were moving to the Mainland. I knew you'd been thinking about it but...I don't know, I thought I’d never see you again.” She pouted, a mug of marshmallow-flooded hot chocolate clasped between both of her hands.

You scoffed, shaking your head and unwrapping a piece of chocolate. “Oh, please. I’ll always come to visit.” You assured, shrugging and tossing the sweet candy into your mouth, pushing it against the inside of your cheek so you could speak. “I just…I don’t know, I think I just need to be somewhere else for a bit. You know? Change in scenery...” You said, peering at your sister through your eyelashes. 

The truth wasn’t that you needed to be away necessarily, you just couldn’t stay here. Staying in Kildare, driving by Kiara and JJ’s house everyday on your way to work or catching them at the local grocery store was starting to wear on your heart. It was starting to become too much. 

Every day you wondered if your decisions and the predicament they landed you in made you a better or worse person. An amazing or terrible sister. Or maybe it was something in between, you didn’t know.

“No, I get it. I mean, I get it now.” She corrected, sipping her beverage. “I was just hoping you’d live down the street from me forever. When JJ and I have kids, I wanted to be able to drive five minutes down the road and drop them off to you without warning.” She joked with a bright smile and a light laugh, one which you struggled to match. Her words were like a shot to your gut. They physically hurt. Hearing them, picturing them…

It’d been almost six months since you stood up in front of a crowd and lied to their faces. Six months since you lost complete control of yourself outside of that reception tent, finally telling the truth to JJ when it was all too late.

Swallowing your pride, you spoke. “How’s that going by the way? You and JJ? Enjoying the married life?” You hated yourself for asking.

“Umm..” Kiara stalled, tucking her curls behind her ear and staring down at her lap. “It’s different.” She said, cringing to herself. “I’m happy, I am.” She assured, eyes going wide at the thought of you potentially taking her hesitation the wrong way as she glanced at the blonde across the living room. “But..he just always seems like he’s somewhere else. Like he’s here, but I don’t feel like he’s here with me, you know?” She said, voice dropping almost to a whisper. “I asked mom about it and she said to give it time but…Y/N, it’s been six months and nothing’s changed. He’s the best. He takes care of me and tells me everything I want to hear but...something is just off. I can feel it.”

You just nodded at your sister’s words, briefly glancing at the blonde as he spoke enthusiastically with Sarah. There was nothing you could tell her, that wouldn’t be a lie anyway, to ease her worries. Just as slowly as your resolve was crumbling, you wondered if JJ’s was doing the same.

“...But, that’s marriage, I guess.” Kiara gained your attention once again, her lips drawn into a thin line as she took a long sip from her decorative mug. “I’ll just keep trying to get through to him.”

“I mean, it is JJ you’re married to.” You said softly, setting a hand on her knee. “He usually needs more time than most people do for most things.” You smiled pitifully. 

“You have a point.” Kiara agreed, dismissing the argument as her eyes found the christmas cards on the living room table. “Oh! We have to sign the Christmas cards for mom and dad.” She remembered, standing from the sofa and setting her mug down. “She hasn’t let us live down forgetting last year.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes and nodding in agreement. “I think there’s some pens in JJ’s office. He always asks me not to touch anything in there but he’ll live.” She rolled her brown eyes, pursuing her lips. “I’ll be right back.” She excused herself, skipping down the hall of their home to enter her husband’s office. 

You made idle conversation with John B, who was seated on the loveseat across from you as you waited for Kiara to return. As time passed and still no sign of her, you got up and approached the four people in the kitchen, walking into the middle of Cleo and Pope bickering.

“No one likes peppermint hot chocolate, man!” Cleo protested, a look of disgust on her features. “That’s crazy.”

Pope smiled at her repulsion, dropping a candy cane into his mug. “What’s crazy is the amount of whipped cream on top of yours.” He pointed, sipping his beverage. “Would you like some hot chocolate with that-ouch!”

“Shut up.” Cleo mumbled, lightly swatting Pope’s arm. You laughed at their antics, turning at the sound of Sarah calling your name.

“Hm?” You answered, raising your eyebrows, trying to ignore JJ’s burning gaze from his place next to Sarah.

“Where’d your sister go? She was begging us to start Secret Santa and now she’s nowhere to be found.” She sassed playfully.

“Hey, don’t blame me for her attention span.” You threw a hand up in mock surrender. “She’s getting some pens from the office for us to sign our parent’s cards-”

“What?” JJ interrupted, you looking to him just in time to see his shoulders go square, face flushing red.

“...She went into your office to-” You started more slowly, not understanding his sudden terror before he was moving like a man gone mad — pushing his barstool out from underneath the counter so fast it screeched, almost tipping over as he rounded the island.

“Hey! What is wrong with you?” Sarah protested, half of the cards from the game they were playing being knocked on the floor just as Kie emerged from down the hall, stopping JJ in his tracks — the blonde looking disheveled as they stood in front of one another.

Kiara stood silent. In her hands were what looked to be a handful of envelopes, suffocated in her fist as she looked at JJ like he was the devil himself. JJ’s eyes fleeted between Kiara’s face and the papers in her hands, suddenly coming to a realization. The rest of you went silent, wondering what was happening.

“...Guys?” Pope spoke up, breaking the tense silence that entered the room out of nowhere as John B entered the kitchen from where he was secluded in the living room. “What’s goin’ on?”

Kiara’s solemn gaze slowly scanned the room until her sad, brown eyes landed on you in the middle of the kitchen, holding up the papers in her hand.

“Did you know about this?” She hissed, eyes squinting in your direction.

Your eyebrows pinched in on themselves slightly, eyes darting around to all of the other people in the room before speaking, suddenly feeling anxious and confused as you hugged yourself. “Did I know about what?”

“These letters.” She snapped, feet carrying her swiftly to you as your friends crowded in between the two of you, sound of protests from them not knowing exactly what was happening still. “The letters in my fucking hand-!”

“She didn’t know, Kie.” JJ spoke from where he hadn’t moved an inch, a hand in his hair and the most forlorn look on his face you’d ever seen. 

“Bullshit.” Kiara spat, turning around to face him and unballing the papers in her hand. “They’re written to her-”

“I never sent any of them.” He asserted, his annoyance growing with no one but himself. The rest of you stood watching, wanting to know what Kiara was seething about but not wanting to get in the middle of whatever this was. “Okay? She didn’t know….” JJ trailed off, his blue eyes drifting over everyone else in the room to look at you. His eyes were glossed over, sending you a pleading gaze. He looked sorry. But for what?

The kitchen suddenly felt suffocating. The warmth of the house, once comforting, now felt overwhelming. The lightheartedly, familial setting of the evening had evaporated. 

“Kie,” Sarah started, approaching her friend and putting a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Kiara asked as if the question burned her, stepping away from Sarah’s touch. “What’s wrong is I just found a stack of love letters-”

“Kiara...” JJ tried, dragging his hands down his face.

“Written from JJ to my fucking sister.” She ignored him.

You were fairly certain your heart dropped at her words. This was the first you’d heard of these letters. How could letters be written to you that you'd never received? More importantly, why did Kiara of all people have to be the one to find them?

Clutched in her grasp were letters that detailed JJ’s love for a woman other than herself. Letters that outlined his love, a love so profound, for not only another woman, but a woman she’d grown up with. A woman she shared a life, a home, a family with — her own sister. He’d wrote of your laugh, your smile, your spirit, the life he’d dreamed of with you. The same life Kiara had dreamed of with him. He wrote of his feelings for you, feelings that, to him, were inevitable and irrefutable. Eternal. Unwavering. She didn’t even know he knew half of the words scribbled on the pages she’d read.

But the most damning revelation was the reason for their marriage, outlined in a letter written only a month after their marriage. In a particularly heart-wrenching passage, JJ confessed that he'd married Kiara only because you, in your ‘selfless desire’ to protect your sister. JJ, trapped between his love for you and his loyalty to your wishes, had made a choice. A choice that now lay exposed in Kiara's trembling hands.

"They were hidden in a drawer in his office." Kiara said, her voice trembling as tears fell.

An even more suffocating silence filled the room. The air crackled with awkwardness and anxiousness but Kiara noticed the lack of…disbelief. The lack of shock. She reeled back at the lack of reaction and anger that matched her own, looking at everyone single person in the room. “Why do none of you looked surprised?” She snapped, throwing her hands out as you all glanced at each other, lowering your heads and letting out sighs. Your reactions almost as if… 

“You knew.” Kiara scoffed, letting her shoulders fall.

“Kie…” You tried, taking one step forward, but she ignored you, turning away and talking to the wall. 

“You all fucking knew.” She hissed, turning back around and serving the group of you the meanest glare she’d ever given anyone — especially you. “You,” She started, pointing at you and approaching you, stopping less than a foot in front of you as you held back tears. “You’re my sister. And you-” She stopped herself, huffing as tears continued to fall from her eyes. 

You clenched your jaw, fighting your own tears as she whipped around to storm in JJ’s direction, throwing the collection of papers at his chest. “You told me you loved me and you lied.” She seethed, getting in JJ’s face. “You married me because she didn’t tell you not to. Do you know how fucked up that is?”

JJ flinched, the truth hitting him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to speak, to deny, to explain, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn't lie. Not anymore.

"I thought... I thought I could make it work," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I thought if I was with you, if I built a life with you, it would be enough. But it wasn't. It's not..." He looked at you for a moment, a moment too long for Kiara.

“Do not look at her.” She snapped, lightly pushing his shoulder back. “Look at me.” She cried. “You’ve looked at me and lied for almost six years now. So, look at me now and tell the truth.”

JJ’s eyes filled with a desperate sorrow. "...I never meant to hurt you, Kie. You have to believe me. I never wanted this-"

“Well that much is clear.” She gritted out, eyes never leaving his own unless it was to look at you, still standing, feet planted to the floor in the kitchen. 

Kiara's anger reached a fever pitch. The hurt, the betrayal, the years of feeling like something was missing, all coalesced into a burning rage. She snatched the letters from where they'd fallen on the floor as the rest of you watched with slack jaws and teary, guilt-filled eyes, her hands trembling as she held them. You were all at fault in some aspect.

“I should’ve known...” She mumbled angrily to herself, pushing past all of you to enter the living room, approaching the fireplace. “I should’ve known that night at that stupid party all those years ago.” She threw the first letter in, then the second. “I should’ve known when you kept looking at her during our goddamn wedding.” She threw the letters into the flames, one by one, watching as the fire consumed the words of love and longing that were never meant for her. The room was filled with the acrid smell of burning paper, a symbolic destruction of the life she thought she had. “I should’ve known when you disappeared during our reception and I found the two of you outside. God, I am so stupid-”

“Kie, please...” You attempted to ground your sister, a hand on her arm. Her skin was scorching, burning with unadulterated anger as she roughly pushed you off.

“Do not touch me!” She screamed at you, whipping around to look at you – your noses almost touching. “I bet you think you’re some kind of hero, don’t you?” She taunted, her tone darker than you’d ever heard it. “Always trying to be the better sister. The good sister.” She scoffed, looking you up and down. “You’re not.” She took a step closer to you, her eyes blazing as you remained silent, letting her get her frustrations out. 

As the last letter turned to ash, Kiara to both you and JJ, her face a mask of pain and pure anger. "Whatever you two have going on, consider me no longer a part of it." She said, her voice low and dangerous. "Pretending might be your thing,” She threw at JJ. “But it’s not mine. So, I'm done. I'm not pretending we're one big happy family when you've both been lying to me for years." She cried, her anger only growing as all you stood before, silent and ridden with guilt.

“...Get out.” She snarled, crossing her arms — meeting each of your eyes one by one. 

“Just…hold on a second…” John B intervened, taking one step forward.

“Yeah, Kie, let’s just think about this, okay?” Sarah tried as well.

“No. I’m not thinking about anything, I’m not talking about anything with any of you. Get out-”

“There’s a lot happenin' right now...” Cleo finally gathered the courage to try and calm down the girl.

“Cleo’s right. We have to-”

“Kiara, I-” You had finally overcome the lump in your throat to speak just as Kiara broke.

“I said get out!” She bellowed — cheeks flushed crimson red, tearful eyes strained as her hands swung at her sides, balled into tight, painful fists.

Ignoring her wishes, you stepped into her space. “...I thought I was doing the right thing.” Kiara simply shook her head at your words, face twisting with hurt.

“And at what point did you realize you weren’t?” She countered, voice watery. You grew silent at her question, Kiara nodding resentfully at your silence. “Right.”

Kiara didn't continue to wait around for a response. She turned, snatched her car keys from the table by the door and walked out of the house, slamming the door open behind her with a force that rattled the windows. You and your friends stood in stunned silence for a moment, the warmth of the evening replaced by a chilling emptiness.

You didn’t hesitate in attempting to follow after her when you were halted by a hand on your arm, turning around to find JJ — tearful and silent, but something similar to relief was floating in his eyes. Out of instinct, you snatched yourself away from him as the tears in your own eyes finally spilled over.

Your friends all worried around you — cursing, groaning, and sighing. You simply stood before JJ, jaw clenched and fingernails digging into the palms of your hands, eyes blazing with a village of emotions your couldn’t quite place. The blonde never looked away from you as you stared him down, not knowing what you wanted to do when you broke — lip quivering as a sob broke past your lips and your forehead fell against his chest as you hugged yourself.

JJ wound his arms around you, pulling you against himself as he laid his head a top yours. He felt guilty, for more reasons than one — but mostly because, as you sobbed against his chest at the very real possibility of never talking to your sister again, he only found himself solemnly grateful that he could finally hold you.

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©loveharlow.

[c-53]

The ‘do you make hot chocolate with milk or water’ discourse needs to die, the correct option is you make it with black coffee and make the gayest beverage

[aspiringtrashpanda]

A conversation about ship names with @shootingstarrfish inspired me to write this silly little fic featuring my favorite OC ever, Starr's MC Sidra!

Characters: Belphegor x Sidra (MC, he/they), Leviathan Ridiculous discussions in ship names, Belphie is still bad at art. No warnings apply

“You want to… what?” 

Belphie wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. There was always that stretch of time where he laid in limbo, somewhere between sleep and the waking world. Everything felt a bit like a lucid dream, like the voices around him fed him prompts and he could do with them what he wished. 

He was sure Sidra had spoken. The subtle vibration had lanced through their thighs where Belphie rested his head. Then, he had heard his own voice. Had he meant to speak aloud? Ah, whatever. It wouldn’t be the first time he spoke in his half-sleep. 

Another rumble through the pillow he had made of Sidra. “Come up with our ship name.”

Alright. So, he had heard correctly. It took him a while, maybe so long that Sidra had forgotten what they were even talking about, but Belphie managed to pull himself upright, to rub his tired eyes as they adjusted to the dim firelight of the living room. Sidra hadn’t moved an inch since Belphie had curled up for a nap, his nose still buried in his D.D.D. as he played some sort of rhythm game. Levi had probably introduced them to it. At least he looked comfortable, lounging on the plush couch before the crackling hearth.

Belphie peered at his partner, eyes a sliver of violet as he processed the words, hoping that the more time he took would equate to knowledge magically filling his head. He didn’t like not knowing. Maybe that’s why he got along well with Satan. Well, aside from other shared interests…

Belphie sighed, giving up. “And what’s that?”

“It’s…uh…” Sidra balked, and it wasn’t lost on Belphie how he exited out of his game mid-song. That wasn’t a good sign. 

“Did I hear ship discourse happening over here?” A familiar voice, overly enthusiastic about something Belphie was sure to find uninteresting, interrupted. Leviathan appeared like a sonic boom, heard before seen. Arms teeming with snacks and beverages, Belphie was certain Levi had been on route to a gaming session in his room. A second later and he wouldn’t have heard anything. Terrible timing, really. 

Yet, Sidra indulged him, a lazy shrug accompanied by a breezy, “kind of, sort of.”

Belphegor was lost. In a feeble attempt to understand what his partner could possibly have to discuss with Leviathan, he asked, “Are you flooding the Devildom again? Is that what’s happening?”

Ships. Water. Flood. It checked out, okay?

Alas, Levi laughed. It was that haughty laugh that irritated Belphie to his wit’s end. The one that said I know something you don’t know. So annoying.

Satan would understand. 

And despite the pity in his orange eyes stoking the defiant fire in Belphie’s gut, Levi confessed, “No, Sidra isn’t referring to a literal ship. He’s referring to you.”

Belphie blinked. “What about me?”

“No, you.” Levi went to gesture, but then seemed to remember his hands were full. He settled for jerking his head from Belphie to Sidra and back to Belphie. A violent blush bloomed to life as he stuttered, “As a…c-c-couple.”

Still, the whole concept was lost on Belphie, for he was too busy internally criticizing Levi’s inability to speak of romance without turning as bright as a screaming hell tomato. “I still don’t get it.”

“When two characters have romantic potential,” Sidra, clearly done with whatever threeway foxtrot was happening around the subject, decided to throw Belphie a bone. He chose his words carefully, pushing the sentence along with his hands. “It’s called a ship. Like a relationship.” 

His D.D.D. had fallen into his lap. Belphie liked when Sidra talked with their hands. He was so cute. 

But then, Levi had to go and ruin Belphie’s quiet moment of admiring his partner with an obnoxious but actually, “It was coined way back in an online forum where fans of a series about aliens and mysteries believed the two protagonists would get together. They called themselves “relationshippers”, and then it was shortened to “shippers” and bam! Ships.” 

The fire crackled in the hearth. For a moment, Belphie considered resting his head in Sidra’s lap and going back to sleep. Maybe he could pretend this was all a dream. 

Unfortunately, Sidra was looking at him with this expectation glittering in his eyes. Classic Sidra. Always afraid to ask for what he really wanted. But that’s why they were with someone like Belphie, right? Belphie smirked. He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. 

“Okay,” He feigned nonchalance, flopping backwards against the arm of the couch. “So, what’s our ship name?”

“Well,” Sidra chewed the inside of his cheek. His warm brown eyes darted to the log in the fireplace, bark peeling away in bleached strips as the flames ate away at the wood. “Typically, the two character names are mashed together. Like, um…”

Levi’s grin brightened. This time, a bag of gummy salamanders fell to the ground with a thud! “Taizuki is the name for the romantic pairing of Taichi-san and Azuki-tan!” 

Sidra snickered, “And Lucifer and Diavolo would be Dialuci.”

Belphie lit up. Well, wasn’t that useful information. Cataloging such a name in the back of his mind, he considered his own pairing. “So we’d be… Belphdra?”

Levi snorted. Sidra frowned.

Belphie pursed his lips, “What?”

‘’Why does that sound like a monster?” Levi completely abandoned any pretense of leaving, dropping his trove of snacks on the coffee table as he chuckled, “Oh, like Lotan but with Belphie’s various expressions for each head.”

With a gasp, Sidra’s entire body lurched forward, their hair flopping with the movement. They searched the drawers of the end table, cheering when they found an old notepad Mammon had left lying around after this last round of monthly budgeting. “Wait hold on, I want to draw this.”

The silence that enveloped the sitting room was unnerving. The glint in Sidra’s eyes warned of something that Belphie wasn’t necessarily going to like, their pencil scrawling across the compressed pad with an irritating scratch. 

Sure enough, when Sidra presented his masterpiece, a flare of indignation roared to life in Belphie’s chest.

Pictured was a rather magnificent looking dragon, if Belphie did say so himself, but each of its three heads wore a displeased expression, all furrowed brows and bared teeth. Certainly a rather unflattering representation of himself. He wasn’t that grouchy, was he? Sure, maybe when he was woken in the middle of a good dream, but that wasn’t always. 

Biting his tongue, Belphie settled for scoffing, “That is not what a Belphdra would look like.”

“Then you show us,” Sidra volleyed back with ease. There was no bite to their words, only curiosity burning in the stretch of his smile and the light of his eyes. 

For a moment, Belphie forgot about Levi, forgot about the doodle, forgot about the challenge. Lost in the radiant glow of his partner’s amusement, in their dimples and their little moles and the happy blush that seeped across tan skin, Belphie considered tossing the conversation aside in favor of carrying Sidra away to the attic. There, he could kiss the creases in the corners of Sidra’s hazelnut eyes. There, he could show him exactly what a Belphdra looked like. 

But then Leviathan was clicking his tongue impatiently, and Sidra was pushing the pad of paper into Belphie’s hands. 

With a roll of his eyes, Belphie got to work. Tip of his tongue peeking out between his lips, he pressed the dull point of the pencil to the paper again and again. A curved line here, a straight line there. A little squiggle for a mouth. 

When he was done, he revealed his work to… complete confusion. Sidra and Levi stared, mouths flapping around words they couldn’t quite say. Their gazes traced the slope of the seven necks, but they didn’t seem to acknowledge the tiny circle that represented the body. They glanced from the pointed tail, to the goofy tongue, to the fancy hat upon the third head, and still, they failed to provide any sort of praise.

“It’s…” Levi started.

Sidra put him out of his misery, “Unique?”

Before Belphie could make some sort of snarky remark, his partner patted him on the shoulder. With a sympathetic smile, Sidra waved away the disappointment with a cheery, “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Our ship name isn’t Belphdra.”

Levi cocked his head. “No?”

“It’s Sidphie,” Sidra asserted, bold smile booming with certainty. At this, Levi’s expression changed rapidly. Something akin to indifference morphed into shock, into horror, into a mix of resigned yet impressed acceptance. 

Belphie was lost. Stifling a yawn, he looked between Levi and Sidra for some sort of explanation, asking, “Wait, why?”

There was a beat of silence, a mischievous smirk from Sidra the only warning Belphie received before Levi laughed, “The character who tops is usually named first.”

He was kicked out of the room via pillow thrown at light speed. 

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN! I've finished the first round, please give me more! This is a fun little writing exercise for me! Find out more HERE.

[moonstrider9904]

Drift

Part 2 of the Urban Flora mini series

Part 1 | Part 3 | Cross-posted to AO3 | Series Masterlist

Summary: Just after you thought your encounters with Crosshair would never happen again after that night at the opera, you run into him on a rainy day.

Tags: Smut (18+ only), flirting, mild jealousy, clit play, nipple play, vaginal sex, blowjob, cum eating, hair tugging, making out

Word count: 5.2k

Playlist: Drift by Alina Baraz

The rain fell on the glass windows with a gentle pit-pat sound. You could notice the occasional flash of lightning from the corner of your eye, followed by low rumbling thunder of the distant heavy storm, though you were lucky that the most that had followed you to that café on the east side of the city was the softer rainfall, your favorite. The heavy layer of clouds in the sky made it darker than it usually was at that hour, and inside the little specialty café, the warm lights were turned on.

You sat at your usual table with your usual preferred warm beverage resting on a cup in front of you. You were leaning forward with one elbow on the table, hand supporting your chin, and your other hand was holding the small holopad with which you were surfing the holonet. You’d felt nervous for a moment about the holonet being virally flooded with pictures and videos of you with Crosshair the night before, but any coverage you saw of the opera had to do with the performance and the celebrities who were attending.

Lucky for you, it seemed you fell in neither of those categories despite being your mother’s daughter.

Then, as you were scrolling through your preferred gossip blog, your thumb froze to the holographic screen when you saw a picture of yourself sitting at the bar, and in front of you was the man of the hour. He had his back turned to the camera of whoever took the picture, therefore there was no way anyone could recognize who he was, or so you frantically told yourself. Even if there was, Crosshair was a soldier, not some celebrity or political figure. Maybe that would protect him, and by extension, you.

You wouldn’t deny that you stood by your sentiments from the night before—the time you spent with Crosshair, an unbelievably sexy, charming man, was worth anything—but you felt like you’d dodged a bullet, knowing there was already someone out there talking about you and your mystery man, even if it was just a gossip blog. Speculations and teen discourse ruled over that blog, but what would have happened if you had ended up somewhere with more influence?

You sighed. You hated that you had to guilt yourself into not being with someone as amazing as him.

With curiosity, you couldn’t help but look at the caption.

Spotted: Coruscant Senator’s daughter getting flustered and flirty with a mystery man at the Opera last night. Could he be just an escape from the loud, boring performances, or should we perhaps start ringing wedding bells? My sources say this man has never been seen at the Opera before, but if the front is as good as the back, we’d sure love to see more of him sooner rather than later ;)

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at the fact that the gossip didn’t seem to be anything more than you and Crosshair chatting at the bar. There were certainly no details about what transpired between the two of you afterwards. He wasn’t identified by anyone either, so no one would be able to reach him.

Your heart then sank at the realization that you didn’t know how to get to him either. You looked at the picture on the blog again and sighed. You were smiling brightly in that picture, and it was a natural smile, one of the few you’d ever seen in pictures of yourself. And as you saw Crosshair in the picture, with his elegant outfit, broad shoulders, and silky silver hair, you felt your walls clench around nothing at the memory of the time you spent with him.

You couldn’t believe you hadn’t asked him for his comm frequency. But then… he hadn’t asked for yours either. With another sigh, you saved the picture from the blog onto your holopad’s storage and turned it off, setting it inside your bag as you reached for your cup to take a sip of it before it got cold, and you enjoyed the rich taste and the texture of your coffee as distant thunder rumbled outside.

The sound of the rain falling outside got louder, and it prompted you to look up from your cup. When you did, your eyes scanned the café and you noticed a young man from the other side of the café looking at you. He looked around your age, and he was easy on the eyes with his full head of black, silky hair and a pair of admittedly stunning blue eyes, and he smiled at you when your eyes fell on him. You lips tweaked, barely forming a smile, as you didn’t want to give an immediate invitation, and yet again, your mind wandered to the night before. When it had been Crosshair looking at you from the other end of the bar, you had immediately let him know you wanted to approach you.

Regardless of whether the guy at the café was cute or not, you had a feeling the sensation you’d gotten when it was about Crosshair wouldn’t be replicated with a different man anytime soon.

Breaking your train of thought, you noticed the young man getting up from his seat and walking up to you, smiling gently as he approached you.

“May I sit down?” He asked you.

You smiled kindly and nodded.

The man took a seat across the small table and his smile widened when you two made eye contact. “I’m sorry, I really don’t mean to intrude, I just… well, I’m new at the city and it’s a little hard to find genuinely nice people here on Coruscant, but you seem nice so…”

You chuckled softly and reached for your cup of caf, taking a sip of it. “Where are you moving in from?”

“Raxus,” he answered.

You nearly choked on your coffee, but you successfully played it cool. Raxus was a planet name that was all too prominent in conversations you’d overheard of your mother with other people, particularly other senators.

“Really?” You asked, setting your cup down. “What’s someone from Raxus doing all the way here on Coruscant? Isn’t that like trying to mix fire and water?”

The man chuckled; the sound admittedly charming. “Yes, well… Politics brought us here. My family and I aren’t huge fans of the Separatist ideology, which quickly rendered us pariahs back at home.”

“I imagine,” you reached for your cup, taking another sip. “Fun tip, though. If you’re going around Coruscant declaring you’re from Raxus without being asked, maybe that’s why people aren’t being so nice.”

“I’m not, but duly noted,” he chuckled. “I just figured… you know, big city folk has a bit of a reputation.”

“Oh, definitely,” you agreed.

The man quickly glanced at your cup and then back at you. “Could I buy you another cup of caf? I notice that one’s empty.”

“O-Oh,” you stammered, but you decided to let things flow a bit. It was just a cup of caf, after all. “Sure.”

The man gestured at a nearby waiter and requested a cup of caf exactly like the one you’d just finished, entirely on him. While your next cup arrived, you and the man continued chatting about the differences between Coruscant and Raxus, and he seemed pleased when he found you had quite a lot to say about the strained relationship between the two planets caused by the Clone Wars, and your knowledge about senatorial procedures was uncanny. It was a pleasant and stimulating conversation, and you didn’t get much of that among most of your peer senatorial offspring.

Once again, you were enveloped in a blur of actions as the next series of events followed. Both you and this strange man were chuckling at one of your clever remarks, and a waiter came by to deliver the pending cup of caf you’d be treated to, and the next thing you felt was a third person rushing to your table and pulling up a chair for himself, taking his spot next to you.

“What are we laughing about here?” He asked.

Your eyes widened, and for a moment you couldn’t believe you were looking at him. The sight of his striking amber eyes and his silver hair with rain droplets scattered around it finally brought a smile to your dropped jaw, and when Crosshair finally directed his gaze your way, he winked subtly.

“U-Um-” Your new friend began, but Crosshair was imposing enough to render anyone speechless.

“Crosshair, this is… um…” You were gesturing at your friend, but you then realized you hadn’t asked for his name. “Anyways, he’s new to the city and I was offering some advice.”

Your new friend nodded, looking back at Crosshair with his big blue eyes widening nervously—you could sympathize with your unnamed friend, and you found it hard to laugh at all the things he was thinking about Crosshair and his sudden appearance, no doubt praying hard that this man who’d suddenly appeared at your side wouldn’t want to beat him up for flirting with his apparent partner.

“Y-Yea, that’s all it was,” he said, “and I wanted to thank her by refilling her cup of caf, that’s all.”

“Mm,” Crosshair mused, reaching for the cup in front of you and drinking out of it. “I see.”

“W-Well, I was just leaving,” said your friend.

You smiled and waved as he left, but you didn’t bother asking for his name. It was incredibly likely you would never see him again, and even if Crosshair hadn’t shown up, that would have been the sentiment with which your encounter would have ended anyway.

“So,” Crosshair hummed. “Do you make it a habit to come to this little coffee shop?”

“I also make it a habit to actually drink the coffee,” you said as you noticed him drinking out of your cup again.

“This is some good shit,” Crosshair gestured at the caf. “Specialty?”

“Yes,” you smiled. “I’d sure love to try it anytime now.”

“Right, of course, because this was after all a gift for you,” Crosshair teased.

“I’m not gonna turn down a cup of caf,” you said. “If you wanted to be the one to buy it for me, you should have shown up earlier.”

He chuckled. “Sorry I’m late, darlin’. Did you miss me?”

“I didn’t even know you were coming,” your teasing demeanor turned sincere. “But yes.”

“How touching,” he smirked at you.

“I didn’t need saving, for your information,” you said. “I had it all under control and I had no intention of going home with that man.”

“Is that so?” Crosshair purred. “What makes you think I care?”

You giggled and leaned in close to him, with your hand under the table brushing up his thigh. “How did you know I was here? Spare yourself any excuses. I know this isn’t a place you come into frequently because I’m here all the time and you never are.”

Crosshair chuckled and leaned in close to you too, and below the table, his own hand found yours and brought it up dangerously closer to his crotch. “I told you I love that you’re so smart.”

You cooed, biting your lower lip. “We can’t do that here, handsome.”

Crosshair leaned closer and gave your lips a quick peck, smirking as he pulled away. “I know a place.”

Every hair on your body stood on end at his words, and your eyes widened with anticipation and wonder when you met his gaze again. You remembered how disheartened you’d felt the previous night when you arrived at your apartment alone, having just let go of the most amazing man you’d met. There he was in front of you, another chance at bliss.

It was worth it.

“Now?” You asked.

From his pocket, Crosshair pulled out enough credits to cover the tab plus the tip, and he grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the café.

“Now,” he grinned.

You both ran out of the café into the rainfall. The street seemed deserted, as anyone who may have been on it had already taken shelter someplace or another, and it was just you and Crosshair walking quickly in the endless falling raindrops, and always having been one for romanticism, you pulled to a halt and tugged Crosshair’s arm.

“Wait!” You called.

He turned around, his eyes meeting yours, eyes softening slightly as he approached you wanting to ask you why you wanted to stop. To his pleasant surprise, you listened to your burning desire to throw your arms around him and kiss him on the lips. You didn’t care that you were both getting wet, and you didn’t give a damn who could see you. You grinned into the kiss, and you playfully whimpered into Crosshair’s lips when he lifted you and briefly spun you around in the rain, never breaking the kiss until he finally set you back on the ground, smirking at you.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re not far.”

You followed Crosshair across the rainy sidewalks into a cute little building, a motel you’d never paid any attention to. The décor was nice and the people who worked there seemed discreet, and there was no difficulty in getting a room. Next thing you knew, you and Crosshair were stumbling past the open door of your bedroom, your lips instantly falling on each other as it closed and locked behind you, and he lifted you up from the ground once more to carry you to the bed and gently set you down on it. Crosshair climbed onto the mattress on top of you, caging you to it, and with a seductive smirk, he finally kissed you again.

The night before on the couch had been magical, but it dawned on you that you hadn’t seen each other naked yet despite the immense pleasure he’d given you. You also reveled in how large the space seemed around you as you both lay on the bed—it was so soft and comfortable and warm and cozy, and it allowed you both to do so much more on its large surface than you probably could have on a couch. The thought sent shivers down your whole body.

His kisses on you were like fire. Crosshair didn’t just limit himself to kissing your lips. His lips also trailed around your face and your neck, even your shoulders and your collarbone over your clothes. Your hands brushed up and down his back, and at times, your fingers toyed with the short, silver locks on the back of his head, and that seemed to be what prompted him to lift his figure off you only enough to remove his jacket and toss it to the ground beside the bed. You wanted to follow, to remove every garment you had on you and be done with it, but Crosshair was patient. His lips continued to lavish every spot they could find, and you were so entranced that you hardly noticed when his hands finally began to tug at your clothes.

Crosshair was gentle. Slowly, he first removed your jacket, helping you lift your torso to do so. He removed your shirt and placed it aside, and you heard him groan into your lips at the sight of your brasier shielding your breasts from him. His hands traveled up your belly and your chest, feeling the soft fabric delicately holding up your mounds, and his lips didn’t relent. You felt your mind being flooded with the essence of Crosshair, and your lips sped up as your breathing turned heavier, suddenly engulfed with an endless desire of him. As you’d done the night before, you nibbled at his lower lip and tugged on it with his teeth, which he seemed to like, and as you did, Crosshair reached his skilled fingers around your back and unhooked your brasier, letting your breasts fall freely as the placed the garment aside. Then, Crosshair pushed you slowly onto the bed once more for you to lie flat on your back, and his hands didn’t hesitate to make their way up to your breasts.

Crosshair massaged your breasts slowly, his palms covering up each mound entirely. His movements were slow and flooded each of your corners with delightful shocks which intensified when his fingers began to lightly pinch your hardened nipples, playing around with the pace and the intensity of his movements, soon having you mewling under him. Every sound you made drew out his more passionate instincts, drawing a low growl for him that nearly made you beg him to take you now. Your heart beat even faster when Crosshair kissed his way down your body: your neck, your collarbone, your ribs—where he left a generous mark only the two of you would know was there—your belly, your lower abdomen. Hungry for you, Crosshair even kissed your inner thighs and your crotch over the fabric of your trousers, with his teeth ever so slightly nipping at your plump flesh, drawing sharp little whimpers from you that made him groan in anticipation as he felt his erection ache in confinement.

You were so aroused, you felt your wetness would begin soaking through your clothes at any moment. Crosshair felt it was time to take it to the next level, and he stood up from the bed, removing the dark, long-sleeved shirt he wore. You couldn’t tear your eyes off his shirtless figure, toned and lean, adorned with battle scars he’d overcome, with a thin trail of hair going down the center of his abdomen and concealing itself, teasing you, under the edge of his low-waisted pants. You were aware you looked visually hungry, but you hardly cared. The man was beautiful, and he brought out a fire in you that you didn’t even know existed.

You sat up on the bed and made your way onto all fours, crawling across the mattress to the edge where Crosshair stood. You kneeled on the mattress and went straight for his chest, kissing his warm skin and feeling his musculature under your lips, trailing in any direction your heart desired. You delighted in the sensation of Crosshair’s chest rising and falling as your lips traveled around it, and the movement intensified when you kissed down his abs. Your middle finger delicately toyed with the thin trail of hair the lower you got, until you reached the edge of his pants and there was only one thing left to do. You unbuckled his belt and undid the button and zipper, hearing him groan through gritted teeth. His hand softly cupped your cheek as you freed his erection from his trousers, feeling your mouth watering at his length and girth, and you didn’t have to give it a second thought.

You instantly went big, taking in as much of his length as you could, bordering on deepthroating him. Crosshair rumbled a low moan in his chest as he let his head fall back, uttering a series of curses in admiration as you bobbed your head up and down his cock. You switched between quick and slow paces, applying perfect pressure with your lips around his shaft, and you circled your tongue around his tip occasionally, an action you quickly noticed he liked. Crosshair then looked down at you again, reveling in the view of you bent over with your ass in the air, your hips emphasized by the rim of your pants, your breasts hanging and brushing against the mattress, your hair messy… he shivered. He loved the way your hair looked, messy and carefree while you went down on him, and he took a hand to grab a fistful of locks, tugging ever so gently as you continued.

The pace of his moans grew, as did the strength with which he fisted your hair. You could tell he was close, and you had no intention of stopping. Through nonsensical mutters, you finally were able to make out that Crosshair was trying to tell you he was going to cum, possibly as a warning for you to back out now if you didn’t want a mouthful of him, but you looked up and made eye contact with him, squeezing your lips around his shaft harder as you increased the pace of the blowjob, and soon, Crosshair was writhing. He panted, groaning softly as he tried to keep from squirming, until he was able to contain himself any longer and his hot ropes of white spilled inside your mouth. You swallowed all of it, unwaveringly, and then you sat back on your heels as you looked at him proudly.

Crosshair smirked at you, his demeanor grateful and almost worshiping as he lunged forward and kissed your lips with intensity. His hands wasted no time in getting you to wiggle out of your trousers, and he freed himself of any clothes remaining on him as well. You waited patiently on the bed as you watched him climb onto it, and Crosshair made his way to the headboard and the pillows where he sat back, comfortably, and he gestured to you to sit on top of him. It wasn’t what you’d expected, but you followed along and, smiling with excitement, you sat with your back pressed to his chest, his lips hovering over your right ear, and your legs spread. At that angle, you could see your breasts, your belly, and the top of your cunt. Finding a moment’s shyness, you looked over at Crosshair, and he chuckled in adoration at you as he gently kissed your temple.

“Wanna see what I do?” He asked you softly.

Your heart fluttered in anticipation as you nodded, and you looked back down at your pussy as Crosshair’s right hand snaked over to your folds, his left hand toying with your left nipple. He ran a single finger up your wet flesh until reaching your clit, and he rubbed quick, small circles over your pearl. Such a simple movement came with intense sensations, and you moaned in curiosity and expectation, particularly aroused by being able to see what he was doing to you. You wondered if he would take a different approach, but he remained solely with his finger rubbing over your clit—it wasn’t as if he needed much more. Soon, you were beginning to see stars around you, and your breathing gradually got heavier. Tiny, foreboding waves of sparks coursed through you during the buildup, hinting at how breathtaking the pleasure would be once you reached the peak, but you had a feeling nothing could prepare you for that.

You remained astonished at how the little rubbing could be sending you directly into paradise, and then the time was right, and you were pushed off the edge into climax, squirming in Crosshair’s grip. You watched his finger speeding up on your clit throughout your orgasm until the pleasure was too intense, and you closed your eyes, leaning back on Crosshair for support. You didn’t make sense of anything he muttered into your ear, only of how alluring and ethereal his voice sounded, and how well it went with each wave of pleasure rapidly spreading through your body. And Crosshair continued, dragging out your orgasm as much as your body could withstand, until he retrieved his touch from you and you were left a panting, dazed, sweaty, and flustered mess on top of him.

You heard Crosshair laughing low and sexy. “So cute.”

You shifted your body, turning around, and you kissed his lips hungrily. Crosshair’s hands planted themselves firmly at your hamstrings, lifting you up for you to straddle him as he sat up straighter, supporting his back with the pillows and headboard behind him. You didn’t have to think twice about sinking down his long, hard cock, hypnotized by the sheer magnificence of the stretching inside of your walls. You moaned long and silky, the sound filling the room, complemented by a low groan from Crosshair at your warmth and wetness submerging him. You inched your torso forward, leaning on him, looking down at him as your hands cupped the sides of his face and your forehead rested on his. Crosshair held your lower back with one hand, and his other arm curled around your shoulder for his hand to hold the back of your head, clutching your hair. You both made eye contact as you slid up and down his length, and you couldn’t help but smirk each time you felt Crosshair pulse and twitch inside you.

Your pace was steady, never in a rush, letting you both feel everything there was to feel. Inundated by how amazing he was, you leaned forward to kiss Crosshair with passion, closing your eyes as you let the sensations guide you. There were moments when Crosshair’s lips deviated from yours, nipping at your chin, your jawline, and your neck, and the speed of his lips around your skin grew with the pace of his breath the closer he got to his release. You made eye contact with him again when the rhythm of your bouncing increased, both of you panting, and your high-pitched whimpers exquisitely enticing him into bliss. Your whimpers turned into moans, and your full weight rested forward on him as you held him tighter than ever, and Crosshair grunted until his release spilled inside your walls.

Your bodies softened, but Crosshair’s grip remained strong as he helped you off him and onto the mattress beside him. You were both now lying on the bed, facing each other, and he didn’t hesitate to let his lips fall on yours. You both kissed each other heavenly, with your hands continuing to explore each other’s bodies leaving no surface untouched. You were intimately pressed together, entwined, lacking any space between your figure and his, and you easily lost track of the time that passed. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours, but it made no difference.

You had never felt like that before. On a physical level, surely, no pleasure from anyone had ever been that great, but on an inner level… you found your soul aching for him. You were astounded at how quickly Crosshair could become your everything, but it was a feeling you welcomed even if it were to ruin you the very next day. He ruled your thoughts, your body, your heart. You always wanted to be around him.

You were lying on the bed staring at each other, and only then did you notice that the rain had stopped. You sat up on the bed and reached for your holopad on the nightstand, checking the time, and you held in a gasp.

“Crud, I think I have to go,” you said. “I’m expected at the senate.”

“What do you do there?” Crosshair sat back on the pillows with his hands behind his head, the pose inviting you in for another round of drawing your lips on whichever parts of his skin you could touch. You blushed at the sight of him, painfully drawn to him, but alas, your margin for sweet cuddles post lovemaking had nearly disappeared.

You chuckled. “This time around, I’m only going to help in a series of meetings. Nothing major, but I did promise I’d be there.”

Before reaching for your clothes, you knew you didn’t want to seem too eager to leave despite being late. You crawled up to Crosshair on the bed and softly kissed his lips, staring gently into his eyes afterwards.

“Crosshair?”

“Mm?” He smirked.

“Please promise me we’ll meet again,” you muttered, hopeful.

Crosshair straightened up, chuckling, and he reached for your holopad. On it, he dialed his frequency and saved it, and then he handed it back to you.

“Whenever you want,” he said. “Well, almost.”

“Right…” your heart sank at the thought of him being shipped back off to the war. “When do you leave?”

“Day after tomorrow, at night,” he replied.

You nodded slowly. “I’ll see you before then.”

He smiled confidently, and he gave you a brief nod. “You got it.”

You smiled sadly at him in response. “Let’s get dressed. I’ll wait for you.”

“No, you should go,” he chuckled, and then exhaled heavily. “I still kind of need a minute.”

You chuckled. “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“Nah, it’s not a problem, doll,” he said. “Now go, I don’t want you to get grounded.”

You laughed at his remark and got off the bed. Crosshair watched as you got dressed, enjoying every movement you made, until you were fully clothed and all that was left was for you to fluff your hair. When you were done, you met his gaze and approached him to kiss his lips softly one last time, and after a longing stare, you were out the door headed towards the rest of your day.

Crosshair gathered himself for a few more minutes on that bed, pondering on every memory he’d just made. When he was finally in shape again, he got dressed and left a few credits on the nightstand as a tip, then he discreetly made his way out of the hotel and into the outside world.

It was still cloudy, but the rain had stopped, and the air had that chill that Crosshair had a feeling you loved. He would have probably liked to talk to you about it, but you were already well on your way in your decided route, but the difference that time was that now he didn’t have to resort to some random gossip blog to cross paths with you. Crosshair smirked at the thought—he just might hit you up that same night if you weren’t already busy.

But as he walked, Crosshair suddenly got a feeling, courtesy of his sharpshooting instincts. He stopped in his tracks, and just as he suspected, someone unknown to him leapt out in front, blocking his way.

“OH, MY STARS, IT’S YOU!”

Crosshair straightened up again and he let go of any fighting instincts when he realized it was a simple girl. A human girl, no older than sixteen years old, dressed in expensive designer clothes with an elaborate hairdo in her blond locks, wearing far too much makeup for a child.

“Kid, get back to your parents,” Crosshair said.

“SMILE!” The teenage girl aimed her holopad at Crosshair and snapped a holo of him.

“What the hell?!” Crosshair growled. “Why the hell did you just do that?”

“Um, you’re the man of the hour, duh!” The teenager answered. “Don’t tell me you only read Scandal Gal to find out where the senator’s daughter was!”

“What—”

“Unless she actually asked you to meet her at the café?” The girl’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, that’s so romantic! Where is she now?”

“Leave me alone, kid,” Crosshair began walking around her. “And erase that picture.”

“You look good in it,” the girl said. “I’m gonna send it to Scandal Gal and now everyone’s finally gonna know what Sweetie’s mystery man looks like!”

“Sweetie?”

“Yeah, it’s what everyone’s calling her!”

“Whatever, kid, erase that holo and don’t send it anywhere,” Crosshair said.

“Can’t make me!” The girl stuck her tongue out at him in defiance.

Crosshair rolled his eyes. So, a pic of him would end up in Scandal Gal. It’s not like anyone important read that anyway.

“Whatever,” he repeated, finally making his way far from the kid. “Good day.”

Even as a soldier and a sniper, Crosshair had seen or experienced few things as weird as the one that just happened. He figured big city folk with money to waste needed to find some sort of entertainment when survival wasn’t their priority. And yet, somehow, you weren’t like that. You weren’t a spoiled little brat who couldn’t care less about others’ boundaries. You were clever, you were kind, you were funny, and absolutely beautiful.

You were you, and that thought was enough to get him through the chilly walk alone back to base.

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging to support me!

Next chapter ->

[kisforkerosene]

spiked hot chocolate is wayyyy better than coffee or soda will ever be trust me

the drink discourse is insane. things getting heated in the beverage fandom

[sharkpedia]

THE CONTRADICTORY KIDDIFICATION OF SORBET SHARK COOKIE

Devsisters is lying to you.

Ok, bit of an exaggeration, but I'm not crazy, I promise. Hear me out.

This little thing. We've all been in love since we say them day 1 all the way back in the Tower Of Frozen Waves update for Ovenbreak, all the way back in 2020. After all, the design is pretty damn good and also cute, and they were a really fun character. And I love them too! Otherwise, this blog would not exist. But... A feeling has been creeping up on me. A slow realization, the makings of a weird conspiracy.

We take the fact that they're a child for granted. After all, how could they not be? Look at their size! The sheer cuteness factor! ... Not everything is as it seems. At least, it used not to be.

I realize most of Cookie Run's audience these days inhabits Kingdom, since it's a much more casual-friendly game and the one with the fancier degree of presentation. But, let's not forget, Sorbet wasn't introduced there. And they had not been called a child until Black Pearl Cookie came out. In fact... Let's look at everything one could examine for the possibility of Sorbet being a child before Cookie Run Kingdom came out, why don't we? Let's look at Ovenbreak, and Ovenbreak only.

1. Stature/Proportions

This is what immediately made people think Sorbet Shark is a child. They're incredibly short, and their limbs are stubby, as far as the land form goes. But... Come on, you can't get any more superficial than that. Let's look at 4 examples that deconstruct this notion.

A) Lychee Dragon Cookie: Stubby limbs, incredibly short. This CANNOT be a child, despite Mangosteen Cookie being a disguise used by Lychee, simply because... Look at them. This thing not only takes design cues from succubi, but also has similar abilities. Obviously removed from the more explicit connotations, but they're still there. There is no such thing as a kid-friendly succubus. B) Snow Sugar Cookie: Proportions are about the same as just about everyone else who isn't freakishly tall. Still a child, though, since they were featured in the Junior Cookie Challenge from the LINE game. C) Ice Juggler Cookie: Shockingly, not a child. Incredibly small, definitely has some behaviors that could be considered child-like; fooled me at first! Yet, according to the Lost Holiday event, she's not at all a kid, and outright denies it, and is presumably insulted by the fact Walnut Cookie might have thought she is one. D) Alchemist Cookie: I have seen... So much age discourse around this one over the years. So, so much. And yet, in all these years, with attention being called to cookie age a few times, she's never been included with the ones deemed children. She's just short. Incredibly short. In fact, about as short as Sorbet.

So, proportions are a no-go. Specially because once the shark form comes into play...

Woah there, when did you get so big?! In fact, looking at sprites, Shark form is about 2x as big as Sorbet's base form!

And... Hey look, the arms are a LOT longer too! In both sprite size and proportions between the two main renders! Hell, if you look at other known underwater cookies such as Lobster, Mocha Ray and Electric Eel, all adults, they're either perfectly on par or actually stubbier!

So... Not proportions. Then, maybe, ingame dialogue..?

2. Tower Of Frozen Waves

This is the only event Sorbet actually participates in as far as Ovenbreak goes, to my knowledge. So, let's look through it! Above is a link so that you can check the dialogue yourself if you so desire.

Okay, first scene and- HEY WHAT DO YOU HAVE THERE BUDDY

Ok, let's get something straight here. It's not stated that this is an alcoholic beverage. But come on. Sure buddy, pirates are totally gonna be partying with non-alcoholic beverages. And no, it's not "ohhh it's for kids they're not gonna have ACTUAL alcohol in there" because one, Vampire Cookie is constantly drunk off his ass, two...

We have literally seen cookies get drunk. Yes, this is from Kingdom, but this is about what the brand does and doesn't allow, so this is a good indicator (Besides, getting drunk isn't the worst when you have gotten somewhat comfortable with showing blood- er, strawberry jam.) There is no universe in which you could convince me that Sorbet isn't drinking totally-not-rhum here. Specially because everyone is drinking the same thing, out of what looks like a standard traditional beer mug. So either Pirate Cookie is encouraging underage drinking, or... Well, let's not get too caught up in that now. Let's keep going.

We meet Captain Ice Cookie, captain of a navy ship, who hunts down pirates and takes them into custody. Let's establish something now; Captain Ice Cookie is very, very motherly. It's a core component of her character. She let Peppermint on board simply because the kid thought her ship looked like a whale, and really wanted to get on it. A navy ship. Her weak spot for children seems to be something she can't really control, otherwise, she wouldn't be letting a child on a navy ship full of weapons used to hunt down pirates. Her nature is on display many, many times in various bits of text.

So, if she saw a child on a pirate ship, she would probably be concerned and ruthlessly berate Pirate Cookie for letting a child on board, right?

Nope. Absolutely not. Her soft spot for children is not even remotely on display here. Not for a second. And this endures through all of Tower Of Frozen Waves.

So either A) Sorbet IS a child, and Captain Ice is... Stupid, I guess? And couldn't recognize that? B) Sorbet is a child, but more importantly a pirate, and in Ice's eyes, any and all forms of basic human respect is something a pirate is not deserving of, no matter their age (Which, although funny, is... Absolutely batshit insane.) C) Sorbet wasn't written as a child during this event, at all.

The closest Captain Ice ever gets to showing any sort of concern for Sorbet is this moment, and even then...

For just about the entirety of the event, Peppermint is FREQUENTLY referred to as "little one" by Captain Ice, something Sorbet never once gets.

They're also a constant reason for Captain Ice to remind Peppermint to never trust a pirate, which would be... Really, really weird for her to insist upon if this was just a kid.

So, Sorbet and Peppermint go to Sugarteara, no one once addresses Sorbet as anything but an equal, or in any way imply that they could be a kid, they get Sea Fairy out of there, etc. Sorbet and Captain Ice never interact during the last few cutscenes. So not once, not even a single time, has Captain Ice demonstrated any sort of motherly nature towards Sorbet, not even the most basic one, past, you know, trying to get them not to die. Which is in her best interest, and probably part of her general moral compass. She only wants to arrest pirates, not kill them.

And... To my knowledge, Sorbet never gets any dialogue anywhere else in OB events or story bits! So... In the text, there's no implication as to Sorbet being a kid or at all young. They're just kind of inexperienced at being a pirate, because for most of their life, they were a shark, not a cookie. Speaking of...

Sorbet's Story card! This was later reused for Kingdom, which as we'll later see might have been a mistake, but either way... Phrasing here is very, very important. There might be hyperbole, but "Once upon a time" implies that this tale happened a decently long time ago, supported by the line "Saddened, the shark disappeared into the sea for ages.", which implies a decent chunk of passage of time. Not once is any indicator of youth ever stated here, and in fact, depending on your interpretation of the text, it's very easy to see the text indicating the exact opposite.

This isn't really related to Tower Of Frozen Waves specifically, but I felt it was worth noting.

3. Lightning round

Ok, this is just where I put miscellaneous things that may add to my point. Let's look at Sorbet's costumes real quick.

Pirate Overlord and Noctilucent Vigilante Apprentice!

One is Sorbet Shark in what's presumably the future, having made a name for themself as a Pirate Lord, commanding the seas and striking fear into those who hear their name. Pretty well decorated! Yet, despite the passage of time that would have taken place for Sorbet to get to this position, the proportions remain the same. They're even rocking some shiny black eyeshadow or something of the sort! Hmm... The other is Sorbet having joined Electric Eel Cookie's Noctilucent Vigilantes, a hypothetical group that cleans up trash from the oceans. It looks like a nightclub outfit. That's probably the point. They're even shirtless, and get an ear piercing. Would be real weird to do this with a child, not gonna lie.

Secondly, I wanna address something that probably furthered the notion that Sorbet Shark is a child.

On land, they're just about entirely non-verbal. People online seem to have... A bit of a problem, when it comes to even partially non-verbal characters. They're often babified, treated like children even if they're not. I've seen this happen countless times; non-verbal characters either get treated as "Ooooh so cool and mysterious" or "Awww babyyyy i wanna protect themmm" no matter the author's intent. Not a callout on anyone in particular, of course, but there's a pattern there.

Next, the concept art.

So... At some point, Sorbet was meant to be taller. And, although hard to tell, it's possible they may never have been intended to wear a shirt at all, just... Ever. If so, that would be really weird to put on a character meant to be a child from the start. Oh, and the shark form got slightly bigger between the concept phase and finalized design. Interesting, isn't it?

Now, for the crux of this whole thing. If you look at Ovenbreak, there is no proper, logical reason to believe Sorbet is a child. It's fine as a headcanon, it's whatever, but there's more to indicate that they're not one than there is for them being one.

And then the other game came out.

Kingdom has taken the series in... New directions. Some good, some bad, some... Interesting. Some blatant ripoffs of other more successful mobile games! Such as one with a 2-word title, with the initials GI, made by a company whose name ends in "hoyo". Either way, Kingdom makes... A lot of changes. A new backstory entirely for Dark Enchantress, the existence of kingdoms once implied to be left in complete ruin, etc.

I think you see where I'm going with this.

Eventually, Sorbet Shark came to Kingdom. There were no indicators of being a child, other than... Frankly, being woobified quite often by the characters around them. They kinda just existed to sit there and look cute and do absolutely nothing important. They save some people near the end offscreen, and that's about it. And, oh hey, costumes made their return, I wonder what Sorbet Shark g-

... Interesting. From Pirate Overlord to... Little sailor outfit. Quite the difference, right? Though it almost checks out, with how they were treated beforehand.

Oh yeah, Soda Islands also directly contradicts the Story card they reused from Ovenbreak. Fun!

They try to imply that Sorbet simply just went underwater for, idk, 20 minutes, and popped right back out as a cookie! Even though that makes no sense, as the Story card says that they disappeared for a long time.

And, to make things even more inconsistent...

Black Pearl. Buddy. You don't live in the Soda Islands. You live in the Duskgloom Sea. Hell, you have your own set of islands named after you. So either Sorbet went mach speed to the Duskgloom Sea, entered the cave, got the wish, and swum back to the Soda Islands, all in about an hour or so tops, or that makes absolutely no sense. Nonsense on top of nonsense! How incredibly fun!

You're seeing what I'm seeing right. Everything about Sorbet's age coheres in Ovenbreak, but then Kingdom... Yeah, it's a mess. Kingdom is trying to sell to you that Sorbet is a child, when plenty of information from Ovenbreak contradicts it; hell, it contradicts itself, since they reused the Story card from Ovenbreak, instead of making a new one that fit this canon. Said canon wouldn't even make sense if they did, since Sorbet would have had to make an incredibly fast trip from one sea to the other in order to participate in the Soda Islands story at all. And these two know each other! They have dialogue together! You can't even say Black Pearl is talking about someone else, because they have unique dialogue that calls back to this!

So... Here's what I'm trying to say;

Sorbet's current age is a retcon.

To those of you who don't know, a retcon is when a story makes an addition that either contradicts or alters pre-existing material. For example, Dark Enchantress actually being White Lily was a retcon. Not all retcons are bad! But if they contradict previous material enough, it becomes hard to take them seriously, and it calls into question the consistency and/or quality of the source material.

Sorbet Shark, by all accounts, is NOT implied at all to be a child in the source material, or at all young, is suddenly a child in Kingdom. And all the means used to imply that are direct contradictions of pre-established material.

But... Why? Why exactly would this be done?

Now's when the conspiracy theorist hats come on.

MONEY

I sincerely, thoroughly believe that the reason Sorbet was turned into a child with Kingdom despite previous contradictions, is because it made them more marketable. I'm not kidding. See, the thing that's made Sorbet so popular is their cuteness factor. The people at Devsisters knew this damn well. So here they have their new game, absolutely booming with players, full of opportunity for people to sink money into their favorite cookies. And that's not even accounting for possible merch revenue!

So, they have this character who sells well due to cuteness factor. Obviously, if they want it to sell even more, they need to do something. And so they did! They leaned into the cuteness factor as much as possible. That's like, their primary purpose now. They're only in shark form for about 2 cutscenes, and 1 small one that you need to find on the map itself. Most of the time they exist, it's in land form, the small, cute, marketable one. So they give them a cute little sailor outfit, and... Hm, what else could they do?

Well... People already see them as a child in the larger fanbase, right? And people find children cute! They want to hold and protect and care for them, and it instills that feeling of wanting to keep said child close to them. So...

Why not birth fanon into canon?

Many modern writers fall into this trap. After all, if the audience sees something a certain way, that must be because they prefer it that way. And if you wanna please an audience or sucker money out of them, why not change a character to be more the way they like? We've seen it happen countless, countless times in many pieces of media. Cinema, anime, comics, games, the works. As a Dragon Ball fan, I'd know! They turned my main man Goku into a complete bumbling idiot in Dragon Ball Super! He's never been book smart, sure, but he's experienced, has emotional tact, and can get really good reads on people. He's not stupid, just smart in his own way. Super just makes him an idiot. Because people kept making jokes and parodies where he's depicted as such, so Toei wanted in on the joke. And it backfired. Hard.

This, to me, is what happened to Sorbet. Much like Goku was turned into a complete idiot because the fanbase seemingly saw him that way, Sorbet was turned into a child because the fanbase largely saw them as one, and because it'd potentially help drive up sales related to the character.

This is all speculation, of course; you could argue endlessly about the why of the matter. But the fact is; Sorbet's age in Kingdom is, undeniably, as proven above;

A retcon.

... You know, assuming Kingdom and Ovenbreak are even the same timeline. Which, considering we've seen Gingerbrave escape from the Witch's Kitchen about 4 times now, all through different means and framed differently... Yeah, there's a good chance they're not really the same timeline anymore. So there's a possibility that OB Sorbet is not a child, while Kingdom Sorbet is a child, despite the designs and personalities (mostly design) being the same. So, either retcon, or split timelines. Pick your poison.

So, what I'm getting at is...

If you see Sorbet as not a child, and would prefer to keep it that way, you're damn well within your right. I know I never did, and I never liked the notion of them being one in the first place. Take it from me, an exhausted writer and (sort of?) fic creator, who loves overanalyzing media.

Peace out. Don't fight people over this little thing's age, because really, it's pointless.

Not even the creators of the character know what they're doing, after all.

See you all later.

[woodsdyke]

i love when some Discourse makes it to my dash and both sides of the argument are soooo stupid. you all should get a nice beverage and go sit outside and drink it at the park.

[mademoisellewol]

Downtown Pub

|| A Wee Bit of Imagination || || CONTENT WARNING || Fast hiccups Mentions of cordial/liquor Mention of food indulgence Occasional use of Profanity Case from offscreen continuous gulp A bit of playful banter Light romantic gestures A few teasing moments

To pass the night away after an upsetting turn of events of a date night, instead of lounging oneself in their condominium, drowning themselves in food indulgence as they have done in the past, why not have a small drink downtown and confess to the bartender, casually involving and overwhelming them to a converse about one's troubled evening? For instance:

"They didn–HNK'MRK!...Huck! even m-MK! make the effort. What a dick. Mmm-H'MUCK!-uh."

A sniffled their dry nose, feigning an upset expression, rubbing their eyes with the heel of their hand, a slight pout evident on their face. Their back slumped forward, their free hand on their drink. Not of a potent beverage, just a light cordial to keep themselves from unleashing a faux tear flood.

In front of them, aside from the rows of beer bottles and liquor, the bartender was polishing glasses clean. Their eyes remained on their calloused hands wiping each and every glass, but their ears were open, listening to A in their discourse, more so of a rant.

A was a bit bothered by it, but, so long as the bartender's presence is there, their conversation may carry on. They do not see any means of stopping coming from the bartender, so A continued with a feigned somber tone in their voice.

A sigh-hiccuped, groaning as they try to sit upright, yet they felt another jostle in their chest and their middle torso popped out quickly. The sensation was sudden, taking in every bit of thump from the back of their throat and the jerk of their head pulling back. Their case was truly putting up quite a racket in their system.

They lean closer to the bartender, a hand propped up to rest on their chin, the other drumming their fingers subtly on the smooth table. A swallowed a hiccup before speaking to continue their ranting.

"Y–HMP!–you know–"

"No, I do not know." Replied the bartender in a gruff voice, cutting A on their words.

How rude, but it was meant to imply a literal response that the bartender does not know...whatever A is about to mention. All to lighten up the mood a bit.

The bartender lift the glass in their hand to a light, reflecting its shards, checking for any residue for thorough cleaning.

A lightly thumped a fist on the table, feigning a whine.

"Let me finish! Hup!-ngh…"

The bartender gave an apologetic nod for the tease under their nonchalant expression, gesturing for A to continue.

"N-HCKL!-not one ca-ULK! call from them, and I sta-YID!HCK'LP! stayed patient. We were ERK!HUCKLE!-mmm…suppose to go-HOCK!-mmm, pardon…go out HI'UPK! and go for a HULK!-for a-HRK! a-MRK'HMPK!—"

They let a double hiccup pass first, rubbing their chest as it jostled once more. Their case was suddenly telling to shut their yapping for a minute, ending to a quick-paced case.

HUCK!-UHK…Mmmuh-HNK!Hirk!-ooh fuck-MRK! Fudge th-NGK! this-MIG'KLP!-Mmk-Mk!-M'MUGK!-UCK!HUCK!HUCKLE!-HhhULKP!

A tried to suppress it down a notch, but to no avail, trying to let out a groan, if they could.

The bartender took notice, subtly and casually pouring them a glass of lemonade. Pushing it in front of A, A looked at the glass for a moment, grumbling at the kind offer they didn't ask or needed.

Okay, perhaps they do need it a bit, the case was going around town as they thought. A took the glass in their hands, feeling the condensed moist from the coldness of the ice in it.

A spoke once more, clearing their throat mid-sentence.

"Go FURK!…MHM!-Mk'uh! for a food trip. They know HUP!-how much—I am fo-UCK!-fond HUM-MIGK!HIGK! with culinary dishes and s—nacks—"

A silent-dragging hiccup ending with a double shook their chest, leaving them to soothingly rub it with their hand in response.

"And we don-MMK!-t even need to-HhhOOP! go out to buy d–rinks. HMPK!-uh! My beloved MRK! make-ULP! such…good driiiiiii–ICK'LP!–nnnksss."

A dragged the last word with a hiccup interrupting midway. They plop their head down on the table, their body shaking from the case ever so noticeable in front of the bartender. They muttered words to express their feigned frustration in a whispered tone.

"Jerk. HMP!-Uh! MRK! Bitch. Forget-me-nots, they say-HUCK!-mmm."

Their groan and words was cut off when they heard the bartender clear their throat. It was deep, catching their attention immediately.

A shifted in their seat, looking up to the bartender in front of them. Nice-looking person, with their apron on, weary, yet calm expression, they wouldn't want anything than to be there for their customers, especially the regulars who gave nothing but good moments of laughs, camaraderie, and just needed someone to listen to their rants and such.

The bartender gave a chided look for their use of profanity that was uncalled for, yet their eyes filled with endearment.

A gave a slight pout, but turned away with an apologetic nod in return for their "uncalled for" manners.

The bartender smiled softly, a genuine hand touching A's as they gave a reply, settling down the glass they were cleaning for a while.

"I love you for being here, dearest. And you did insist that you will be coming here instead since I'll be busy tonight. We can hang out here as it's your favorite pub spot and…"

Before they even continued, A brought a finger over their lips to stop them promptly. Not asking to be exposed right then and there.

After that playful banter, the bartender dropped the act, alongside A, still jerking in their seat as the succession lingered to a more slow yet deep pattern of a case. The bartender felt sympathy for their beloved.

"Yeah, yeah. Huck!Hhhuck! I kn—ow. I know-HMK!-uh...hhhUP! Ugh-crap." A uttered in return.

"I'm doing my best to meet up with you earlier and I did say I could only give out texts, so I can't call you. But, I suppose it's not much of a reason to not tend to you for this date night. My apologies."

The bartender sincerely spoke, kissing A's hand with sympathy and genuine guilt in their eyes and voice.

Despite the terrible event of a date night, A appreciated their moment together in the pub more than going out alone when they are already in their favorite place to hang out with their beloved.

A brought a hand to their beloved bartender's cheek, grazing their thumb as they spoke through the case.

"I find this-MRK! m-more MMK-HMK! to my liking-HIGK!-mmm. Excuse me for URK! this." A chuckled softly, a faint flush on their face for having an obnoxious case for the night.

But the bartender didn't mind it at all, shaking their head to dismiss it. In fact…

"I find them quite endearing, my dear. But perhaps drink the lemonade, you look like you're dying every second in your seat."

The bartender chuckled softly, a rumbling on their chest that brough A to flush. A brought an innocent, yet firm punch on their beloved's chest, huffing an air out.

"Shush you-HUCKLE!-mmhmm!" A cleared their throat.

But in the end, they followed their beloved's words, taking in small sips in hopes for their case to rest or simmer down to spend the night with their spouse with a couple of drinks to toast made by theirs truly. Sneak in some cuddles and comfort whilst they are both at it, why not?

[thinkingabout-girls]

sipping my large beverage and eating some popcorn watching my tumblr dash explode with insane callout discourse about 3 blogs i have never heard of in my life

[jamiemooreblog]

The Intellectual Absurdity of "Smart Fella" vs. "Fart Smella"

Imagine a world where profound philosophical questions crash headfirst into the most juvenile of bodily functions. Welcome to the realm of "Smart Fella" vs. "Fart Smella," a linguistic paradox that exposes the glorious tapestry of human existence, where brilliance and buffoonery dance hand in hand like a tipsy philosopher and a flatulent ghost.

So, dear reader, grab a beverage of questionable provenance and prepare to embark on a journey into the depths of intellectual absurdity. We shall wade through the weeds of linguistic wonders and ponder the ponds of pompous pronouncements.

---

The Phonetic phuckery: A Linguistic Car Crash

"Smart fella" becomes "fart smella," and the English language trips over its own tongue, careening into a ditch of existential confusion. This, my friends, is the magic of the spoonerism, a verbal sleight of hand that transforms the mundane into the uproarious, like a pat of butter that bats its putter or a crushing blow that becomes a blushing crow.

Psycholinguists call this phenomenon phonological interference: your brain, anticipating a discourse on the finer points of quantum physics, slams on the brakes when confronted with the unexpected vulgarity. It's a cognitive pileup, a mental demolition derby that leaves you gasping for air between fits of laughter. In a flash, your expectation of intellectual grandeur is disrupted by the sheer chaos of bodily functions, a reminder that even the most polished of minds are vulnerable to the absurd. It's as if you've ordered a fine wine and received a wine fine instead.

---

The Existential Dichotomy: A Tale of Two Selves

We are all shape-shifters, oscillating between the "smart fella" and the "fart smella." One moment we're pontificating on the migratory habits of penguins, the next we're sprawled on the floor, having tripped over our own shoelaces, a victim of a keen scene gone clean bean.

This duality, this inherent contradiction, is the very essence of the human condition. We are simultaneously philosophers and fools, geniuses and buffoons. To deny this is to deny the very symphony of our existence. We are all, in a sense, noble souls trapped in a snobby hole.

Just yesterday, I was wrestling with a particularly elusive concept in my latest manuscript, my brain feeling as barren as a desert landscape. Frustrated, I sought refuge in the great outdoors. As I wandered through the park, I stumbled upon a dog chasing t embodiment of the human condition, endlessly pursuing meaning in a world that often seems devoid of it. I, the writer, was the "fart smella," humbled by the canine's unwitting philosophical insight. But as I chuckled at the absurdity, the words began to flow, and my existential crisis (and my manuscript) were saved. It seems that even a bad dog can lead you to a God dag!

---

The Timeless Appeal: Why We Laugh at Our Own Tragedy

Why does this question resonate with such profound humor? Because it reveals the fragility of our intellect, the precariousness of our existence. We laugh because we see ourselves in the absurdity, in the unexpected eruption of chaos that reminds us we are all, ultimately, just a fleeting gust of flatulence in the grand scheme of the cosmos. We are all, in the end, just a soul searching for a roll.

---

The Takeaway: Embrace the Absurdity

So, the next time you're asked, "Are you a smart fella, or a fart smella?" don't recoil in horror. Embrace the absurdity. Guffaw at the cosmic joke. For in that laughter lies a profound truth: life is a ludicrous escapade, and the sooner we accept that, the sooner we can truly begin to live.

---

Footnotes:

The Heideggerian Fart: Even philosophers are slaves to their bowels.

The Tao of Fart Smella: True wisdom lies in balancing intellectual prowess with the occasional olfactory faux pas.

The Fart-Hegelian Dialectic: Every fart is a philosophical debate, culminating in the synthesis of unrestrained mirth.

---

The Final Word:

Go forth, dear reader, and embrace your inner "fart smella." Find the humor in the absurdity, the wisdom in the ridiculous. For in the words of the great philosopher, Anonymous, “Life is a fart—volatile, unpredictable, and bound to leave its mark. Hold on tight and enjoy the ride.”