#drunk skunk rant

[drunkenskunk]

So I've been playing a lot of Helldivers II, and it's really fun!

(at least, it is when the servers are working lmao)

However: there is one thing about the game that annoys me. It's the same thing that always annoys me whenever drop pods are mentioned in science fiction.

Nobody ever seems to get them right!

Whenever drop pods show up, they always seem to depict each pod as a single projectile rocketing towards the surface of a planet, usually behind enemy lines. They're the logical sci fi evolution of airborne infantry dropping in by parachute, because a lot of military sci fi tropes have trouble moving past WWII. And, y'know, that's fine. That's not the issue I have.

The issue is the single projectile part.

It's almost like every writer who includes drop pods forget that anti-aircraft weapons and SAM sites are currently a thing in the real world and would almost certainly still exist and be better in the science fiction space future. Those drop pods rocketing towards the surface would present the juiciest targets imaginable and would almost certainly get shot out of the sky before they even got close to impacting on the surface.

Annoyingly, the only sci fi that I know of to ever get drop pods right is the first one to ever do it: the Starship Troopers novel by Robert Heinlein.

Now, say what you will about Heinlein - and I do, quite often. For the most part, he's not that great of a writer, and his politics are terrible. The man was an asshole who loved writing wet farts of fascist porn, and the novel absolutely pales in comparison to Paul Verhoeven's 1998 masterpiece of satire, where he took one look at the book, rolled his eyes, and started making jerk-off motions.

But when I first read the novel when I was, like, 6 years old, I was a dumbass child and didn't notice (or care) about the... I mean, I'd call it "fascist subtext" except that it's literally just The Text. No, what drew me in was the one singular thing Heinlein was actually good at writing: technical sequences, written from an in-universe lens.

The way he described how the drop pods actually work in the first few pages of the novel - and, more importantly, how they don't immediately get shot out of the sky - is great! It makes sense, it's easy to understand (because Johnny Rico is, let's be honest: an idiot, he's not going to give you a complicated explanation), and it fills in a plot hole you never realized was there.

For as many faults as the man had as both a writer and a human being, and for all the many problems the rest of the book has, that first chapter - and specifically the drop pod sequence - is a great hook.

Like, this is the template for drop pods. This is The Thing that people are referencing whenever drop pods show up in sci fi, like in fucking Halo, or Starcraft, or Warhammer 40k. And everyone always seems to forget the single most important thing about this infantry delivery system: the countermeasures.

I dunno. This is just one of those things that's always annoyed me.

[tim-stroker]

drunk as a skunk and ranting about gerry keay god he deserved so much better. theres *no way* gertrude didnt Know about that fucking tumor. im so pissed

[cryingpariah]

I really need to know how Kuzan and Camel met.

Some of the few things we know about Camel is that he's just as sleepy as Kuzan but also shockingly good at cooking barbeque.

I think Camel woke up from a nap one day to find Kuzan dozing next to him and didn't think much of it at first so Camel just fell back asleep. But then later when Camel woke up and Kuzan didn't, he got scared that this human was starving so cooked up some barbeque to entice him to wake up. And they've been sticking together ever since.

ODA‼️‼️ DROP THE KUZAN-CAMEL LORE‼️‼️ AND MY LIFE IS YOURS‼️‼️

That’s such a cute idea for their first meeting 🥹🥹. Kuzan was probably depress and drunk as a skunk when he came across a giant penguin and thought why the hell not?! He wasn’t a Marine Admiral anymore, maybe he could be the guy that sleeps next to penguins!

Camel to his credit is a smart little fella, one of the smartest of his huddle in fact! He knew plenty about humans and this one…didn’t look so good. But that’s nothing some of his signature barbecue skewers couldn’t fix! Kuzan was incredibly confused that this random bird was smiling at him was such concern and trying practically shove food down his throat but he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth so he accepted it with little preamble.

He really thought this was just gonna be a one-off encounter but the bird seemed to following around wherever he went and as much as he hesitated to admit it…the company was nice. It was great to have someone know him as Kuzan rather than Aokiji, it was freeing. Occasionally in his rants about his old life he’d slip up and mention something horrible and look back only to find the flightless bird tilting his head in complete confusion. Camel could only think how odd his new buddy was, always getting such a wobbly chin when pulled into a hug or scarfing down their food.

[shieldofiron]

Vibe Check Part 8

You Can Sleep When You're Dead

The Frat Boy Au

Read Previous on Ao3 or tumblr.

Steve doesn’t know what time it is when the door swings open.

“Honey, I’m home!” Billy announces in a booming voice, flinging his keys vaguely in the direction of the hooks by the door.

“Sorry, Steve.” Carver bustles in, scooting around Billy and grabbing the wastepaper basket, positioning it next to Billy’s bed.

Steve blinks into the light coming from the hallway, seeing only the vaguest outline of a female form. Did Billy bring home a girl from the bar? Maybe Carver did, because he can’t imagine a girl wanting to stick around for Billy in this state.

Only a few people can handle Billy like this. Argyle and Argyle’s girlfriend Eden are used to him. Steve is pretty used to it too, although he’s gone a few weeks without it.

Is it weird to say he’s missed it. Missed Billy’s drunken rants about gossip, the way he moves a little sloppier, not so tightly wound.

Steve misses him. Present tense. He feels like all he does lately is miss him.

And his eyes hurt but he refuses to close them, watching Billy take out his wallet and lay it on his dresser with supreme concentration. Steve'd been up the night before reading the queer theory that Robin had sent him because apparently gay porn and being in love with a man wasn’t enough.

And he’d also held Robin’s hair tonight when she’d puked in the bushes. Luckily Heather Holloway agreed to walk her back to Heather’s sorority house or he’d have let her sleep here too. Blessedly Eddie’s girlfriend had taken the night off too, so at least they didn’t have to contend with that too.

When he’d finally gotten around to asking about Billy, the party was over, and only Eddie had offered a halfhearted explanation.

Guilt crept over him now as he watched Billy struggle out of his jeans, bare ass on full display.

Steve pushed himself up and reached over to his desk to retrieve the open box of Alka Seltzer. Billy snatches it out of his hand before Carver can add it to a bottle of water.

“For me? Oh, Stevie. You shouldn’t have,” Billy began to struggle with the paper wrapper.

“I’ve got it,” Carver said.

“I’ll just eat them dry,” Billy said.

Carver winced.

“He will too,” Steve muttered, “get in bed, asshole. Quit fucking around.”

Billy drops the alka seltzer to the floor and Carver topples over trying to retrieve it with a very un-Carver-like giggle. 

Great. They’re both drunk as skunks.

At least that’s a good excuse as to why Billy yanks on a pair of Steve’s sweats and pulls back Steve’s covers to get in beside him.

“Hey!” Steve is cold for a moment before it’s replaced with a blistering guilty heat and Billy, warm and sweet.

Billy snuggles right up next to him and takes the offered bottle from Carver like a little princeling, born to the Manor. Steve looks blearily towards the hallway but it’s empty now. Maybe he imagined the girl after all.

“Billy, you can’t-” Carver says, frowning.

“It’s fine. We’ve shared beds plenty of times,” Steve says weakly. It’s true. They bunked together last year on the ski trip and it was no big deal.

They were just plastered from ankle to chest and Billy’s hair was adorably askew after he threw off his t-shirt.

“Have it your way.” Carver throws up his hands and he moves the trash can to Steve’s side, throwing Billy an inscrutable look.

Billy sucks down the still fizzing water bottle with a disgusting slurp before turning into Steve’s chest, curling into himself.

It is disgusting of Steve’s heart to skip, but it does, and it’s disgusting that he thinks w e’re not alone with a mix of disappointment and panic. But he does.

Steve is disgusting, not because he has gay porn on his phone or because he has feelings for Billy. But because he can’t control these wayward thoughts, can’t seem to corral himself. He wants to brush Billy’s static-y curls back. He wants to feel Billy’s sweat sticky skin and have it not be a big deal but it is.

“Thanks, Carver,” Billy croaks. “I’m still gonna kick his ass.”

“I know, Cheryl.” Carver nods. “You… you take care of yourself, alright?”

“I’ve got him,” Steve says.

Carver nods again, like a little blonde bobblehead. “Kay. Uh… goodnight. Want me to get the light?”

“Yeah. Yes,” Steve says, worried that his voice is giving him away. He should ask Carver to stay. Not because anything’s gonna happen. Just because he can’t be alone with these thoughts.

And then they’re alone in the dark. Steve and Billy. Not alone like that, just… alone.

Steve lies stiff as a board while Billy won’t stop curling closer.

“You have a good time?” Steve asks after a period of silence that feels at once way too long and way too short.

Billy snuffles a little, adorably, “Yeah.”

“Why’d you leave the party?” He hates how he sounds. Needy, like a girlfriend.

Something seems to wash over Billy then, and his limbs rustle a little, settling around Steve a little differently.

“No reason,” he says lightly. “Carver and I just decided to go out for a bit.”

The stab of jealousy is expected, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Billy never used to leave a party Steve was at. Not without taking Steve. And the feeling is worse close up, with the bear sticky smell of Billy skin tight.

He could just turn his head and kiss Billy and get pushed away. He could push Billy out of the bed, too. Both would probably be a relief.

So he’s not sure why he chooses the pain. He stays there, breathing lightly. Not trying to touch Billy, and not moving away either. Lightning crackles over his skin with every brush against Billy. It’s so close to what he’s imagined when he’s trying not to imagine it.

They could be together so easily. Walk each other to class and come back to their room. Kiss and play wrestle and fuck with each other and fuck too. They could be together, all the things Steve has wanted forever, if Billy wouldn’t hate his guts for him even suggesting it.

He’s only ever been on the edge of feeling this once before, with Nancy. He thought they could be everything to each other: best friends and lightning and thunder.

But that was all a lie.

And this is too much to take in at once. Being gay is the easiest part to understand, it almost feels soothing.

But being in love with Billy is much harder, much more painful. It feels like he’s seeing a glimpse of everything he’s dreamed of again, only to see it dashed before it even had a chance.

And Steve knows it’s shabby that he hasn’t been talking to Billy, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He wants to be near him so badly but he doesn’t know if he can bear it.

And so he just lies there, not moving, listening to Billy’s breathing even out, feeling Billy’s arms go heavy. Until Steve eventually can join him in that in between place, letting go.

[funeral-division]

🔪CALL FROM THE DEVIL I🔪

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After getting a new job as a counsellor at camp crystal lake, your husband drives all the way over to force you to come back home. Due to his agressive nature, he earns himself an unexpected visit.

Warning/s: No use of Y/n, abusive husband, implications of part II

-- HAPPY FRIDAY 13TH!!!🥳🎉

Sighing softly, you set the newspaper article down on the table. A red circle is marked over the new counselling job you had recently been hired to. Camp crystal lake. Your husband didn't seem too fond of the idea, but then again, was he ever fond of anything?

He comes back home, drunk as a skunk as he crashes on the couch. Grabbing his beer bottle, he breaks it over the table which sends the ash tray to go hitting the ground. Blinking drowsily, he focuses on it for a few moments. However, before he could even sit up, you had already cleaned the mess.

Grumbling, he turns over and flicks through the many channels before ordering for you to get more beer for him from the refrigerator, to which you do as you're told. After a few more minutes, you hesitantly open your mouth to speak.

"So..." You murmur quietly, treading carefully as to not flare his anger up this evening. He had quite the temper "I have to go out tomorrow morning,"

You didn't even get to finish your sentence as he harshly glares you down and slams the beer bottle roughly atop the glass table. It was a miracle how it hadn't shattered due to the many marks that it had been, dare I say, gifted.

"Out where? To a party? I'm not having you fuck a random guy whilst I sit here and do nothi-"

"No darling, the counselling job" He gives you a skeptical look before leaning closer and lowering his voice dangerously.

"Did you just cut me off, woman?" He watches as you shrink under his gaze before smirking inwardly and pulling back, deliberately dropping the ash tray. "Clean that up, that's your punishment"

You bend down without another word, cleaning up the mess that he had made, feeling him spank you roughly before going upstairs to hog the bed like usual. In that moment, he turned off all the lights as well as leaving you in utter darkness.

The next morning, you put on your work uniform and left a note on the kitchen counter before exiting the house. It was still the early hours of morning and the world hadn't yet woken up.

Driving to the campsite, you settle on doing a few hours worth of work before settling back and enjoying the scenery. It was strange since your boss never sent an email or any kind of resources to help with your first day and yet you managed to get paid regardless.

Cleaning up the warehouse equipment, you feel a presence linger around but decide to ignore it. It isn't until you're shoved forward do you turn around, the sight making your blood run cold.

It was your husband. With a shovel. He started cursing and yelling whilst threatening to slam it upside your head with firm jabs. Stepping back, you try to create distance but he doesn't seem to care, grasping your throat and whispering dangerously.

"You really don't know how much you irritate me, you fucking slut"

He silently observed the unfolding scene from within the shadows of the woods and his eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of the arguing couple. He moved his hand, having it instinctively tighten on the handle of his trusty machete as he watched the unfolding drama.

The harsh words and threats from the husband only fueled Jason's growing anger. He could feel the familiar sensation of his temper rising. But before he could step in, something caught his attention. As he listened closer, Jason realized that the man wasn't just ranting – he was physically abusive. It was enough to make even the most hardened killer bristle with anger.

His grip on the machete handle tightened even more, the metal grinding as his knuckles turned white. He couldn't stand idly by and watch this kind of abuse unfold. Not again.

With a low growl, Jason began moving out from the shadows. Every muscle in his body tense, his mind focused on a single objective – to prevent further harm from happening to this woman.

He stood there, a towering figure of darkness against the forest backdrop, eyes narrowing as he sized up the man who had been threatening you. The man tried to put on a tough facade, but his trembling voice betrayed his fear. He tried to protest, to defend himself, but the words died in his throat as he met Jason's unwavering glare.

That was it. He ran. He didn't even care if you died, he wanted to leave. Jason didn't bother giving chase. The man's cowardly retreat was expected. Instead, he turned his attention to you, eyeing you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

He looks over at you, head tilted before dropping his machete in surrender. Watching you leave with in an attempt to spare your life, face a mess of tears and makeup. One thing is certain though, he'll definitely going after that bastard.

Because after all...

It was officially Friday 13th. Well that and you have a shit excuse for a husband :)

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

Words: 847

Characters: 4650

Date: 13/09/2024

Time: 08:08am

Proofread: YES / NO

Signed: @funeral-division

[voxmilia]

❛ i shouldn’t allow myself to get this close to you. ❜ (self-indulgent pain~ Beejgrazi~)

(in which Remy loves me and I reward that love with pain while introducing mashblr to my oc, the twenty-one year old nurse graziella "grazi" "hotshot" kowalski)

BJ had always been so kind to her. To all the nurses, really. Not in the flirtatious ways of Hawkeye or Trapper John, not with the slightly patronizing "honeys" and "sweethearts" Colonel Blake would indulge in - and god strike her down for speaking ill of the dead. But in a way that reminds her just a little bit of some faces back home - Davey Jacob's brilliant mind, Jack Kelly's cheek, even Liam Conlon's fierce, unwavering loyalty.

She hadn't even sought him out today. No, she had slipped into a corner table at Rosie's, hoping a drink would dull her ache. She thinks of her father, how he must have felt similarly, and drinks more when all logic dictated to put the bottle down. BJ had found her four or five beers in, tear tracks still fresh on her face. He had coaxed her so gently outside for some fresh air and call her naïve, but there was no ulterior motives in his gaze. Blue eyes were brimming with warmth, but no fire. The water near the Navy Yard pier on a gorgeous summer afternoon - familiar, comforting, inviting.

She knows he's married; how could she not? Mail call gets announced and he's all but bum-rushing Radar, eager for word from his wife. Unlike so many other men in the unit, the ones who forgot about their rings or ranted about their wives sneaking around while in bed with another woman themselves, BJ didn't stray. That was one of the truest facts Graziella knew. The sky was blue, there would always be wounded arriving when you try to take a nap, and BJ Hunnicutt was as loyal as they come. The very same nurses who would warn her about how men like Trapper or Hawkeye would chew up fresh meat like her and spit her back out would eye BJ as if hoping he'd do that very thing to them.

She should know better than to accept an invitation into a married man's space. But the Swamp was quiet, with Charles in post op and Hawkeye at the office's club. It gave them the space to sit down, for Grazi to pull the crumpled, tear stained letter from her pocket and allow BJ to inspect the reason for her distress.

"Leo's always been a sickly kid," she sniffles, hugging her knees to her chest, feeling very much a child in this moment despite being a grown woman. "He was a preemie. I think he got whatever weak constitution, or whatever Mama has. S-So it ain't news that he's sick, really, I, I just...I should be home with 'im, with all'a them!"

The sobs begin afresh, thinking of her younger siblings. They were still kids; Tony was barely sixteen, Rosa fifteen, and baby Leo only twelve. Grazi's aware she's on the younger end of officers here at twenty-one but knowing she left behind actual children... They were supposed to be her responsibility! With Mama sick and Papa drunk as a skunk, they needed her! And she left!

She can't articulate any of these thoughts, not with the way her sobs shake her entire frame. She feels the warm of long, strong arms winding around her as BJ pulls her in for a hug. And though she knows she shouldn't, knows it's pushing against some pretty firm boundaries, Graziella allows herself to hold him in return. Fingers clutch desperately at his shirt, seeking an anchor to the moment, to reality, lest the tides of despair wash her way.

Tender as anything, she feels a kiss pressed to the crown of her head as BJ cradles her head to his chest, allowing her tears to soak into the fabric of his shirt without shame or hesitation. It only makes Grazi cry all the harder.

"I-I enlisted for Frankie, for Liam," she blubbers, thoughts shifting to her twin brother and best friend on the front lines, far away from her. "A-And I ain't anywhere close to 'em! I can't, I can't help 'em, I can't help Rosa and the boys back home, I, fuck, I can't do shit here!"

"You save lives here, Graziella," BJ returns fervently, fingers stroking through tangled brown locks. "A hell of a lot of people are grateful you're here instead of Brooklyn. And there are dozens and dozens of nurses just like you at other MASHs and aid stations that are looking out for your brother."

It's true, all of it. They need every spare pair of hands they can get some days and Grazi's done an awful lot of good here. She knows this, she does, but that doesn't make it any less hard to swallow that she should somehow be both here and there.

An impossibility but one that weighs on her nonetheless.

BJ's fingers grip her shoulders, gently coaxing her to pull back. No sooner was her face lifted from his tear-soaked shirt did his hands move again. Long, slender fingers cup her cheeks, swiping away tears as they trickled down from watery brown eyes. "They'll be okay. We have to believe they'll be okay or we'll be too busy being pulled half a world away to take care of the people here."

She sniffles but manages a nod. It wasn't as if crying over her sick little brother was going to heal him, or the patients they're monitoring in post-op, after all.

Her eyes are downcast, trying to compose herself, unaware of the way those ocean blue eyes start to harden, even as his thumbs continue to wipe away the last of her tears. "I shouldn’t allow myself to get this close to you," his words are a whisper on the air, barely audible. But it's enough to pull Graziella out of her wallowing for a moment of lucidity.

God, what was she doing here? Like this? With a married man? A loyal married man, at that?

She smiles, still a little shaky, even as she lifts her hands up to gently grasp BJ's wrists. He offers no resistance when she pulls his hands away from her face. "...You're a real good friend, BJ," she murmurs so sweetly. "So I'll be a good friend right back and get outta your hair. Before we both get a little too friendly, ya know?"

He does know, his eyes say, though his mouth remains pursed in a thin line. A story for another time. A safer, softer time, when he can laugh about it with his pretty wife. Grazi stands, and in a foolish, naïve move, presses a kiss to BJ's hair, just as he had done for her.

She paused, hand pressed to the mesh of the door but not quite opening it. There's another door she needs to close first. She glances back, with a faraway smile and nods once. "Goodnight, Dr. Hunnicutt," she murmurs. She doesn't wait for a reply before walking out of the Swamp, gaze aimed ever forward.

[theevilmaninyourcomputer]

For all his eccentricities, my father was an astute man. “Dad” to me, and  “doctor” to every other self-respecting person–including the children in his Kindergarten class. Although, secretly, I think he would’ve preferred that I called him doctor too. The idea made me laugh.

“This man is dying and we can’t land the plane! Quick, is anyone on board a doctor?” 

“Yes–right here. Now, bring me the sheet music for La Campanella.”

If talent was genetic, then surely, I must have been adopted. I plunked my way through Twinkle Twinkle Little Star with all the tact of a drunk baboon playing a funeral dirge. I wasn’t growing into the musical savant my father had hoped I’d be. On the contrary, I was a puny, bumbling 14 year old burn-out. And piano certainly wasn’t improving my image. 

I studied the cool teens on Disney Channel. Lindsay Lohan wore eyeliner, and said things like, “God, Mom, can you learn to knock?” Hannah Montana sported low-rise v-necks, and layered colored tights under her jean shorts. But they shared one common attribute–my surefire, scientifically-backed, guarantee to popularity. They were both in a band. So, I opted to swap piano for guitar; and while my friends went on to play Carnegie Hall, I sat in the garage, learning Wonderwall. I would be the band’s frontman, obviously, steadily cultivating a small-but-loyal cult following on Tumblr, before finally breaking into the mainstream with a chart-topping Indie classic, like I Was Radicalized By PBS Kids (My Suicide Note in MLA Format). 

There was one small kink in my plan–I wasn’t alone. I was another mediocre singer/songwriter in a scene that was already oversaturated with Elliot-Smith-wannabes. Men, who wore secondhand sweaters in 90° weather, serenaded unassuming women at frat parties, and ranted about the “unparalleled genius of Thom Yorke.” Men, who called movies “films.” Men, who made a show of reading The Feminine Mystique, but cheated on their girlfriends. These men, I noticed, generally didn’t “make it big.” They grew up to work unfulfilling corporate jobs, and haunted open mics that felt more like A.A after-parties, slobbering into bar microphones as they sang about their latest divorce. Like Scrooge seeing his own gravestone, I looked into the faces of these simpering drunks, and I understood that my future was bleak. That's when I knew: I couldn't stoop to solo artistry, I needed to find a band. A real, actual, honest-to-god band. 

There it was, scribbled on printer paper and stuck to the wall with an old wad of gum: the answer to my prayers. We want to start a band. Like, a real, actual honest-to-god band. If you’re interested, text (405)-570-1299.

“So, what do you want me to like, do?” I asked, as I fumbled with the clasps on my guitar case. I’d pictured a high-stakes X-Factor style audition. A beer bottle would get chucked at my head, or at least, the serious musicians would laugh me out of the room. Instead, I watched as the organizer disappeared into the bathroom for a third time, only to reemerge with bloodshot eyes and a dopey grin. Skunk, as he’d been dubbed, was four years my senior, and I was beginning to understand how he’d earned his title. 

“I mean, can you sing?” 

“Oh–uhh–not well, but if you want me to, I guess I can try.” Skunk had made his artistic vision very clear. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was the least punk-rock person on the face of the earth. I cried watching Cats the musical. I owned all five seasons of Glee on DVD.  More importantly, I had never so much as attempted to sing death metal. “But I don’t have a mic.” 

“Just sing loud.”  

And thus, we became Antimatter Club. Or, the “assless chaps” per my dad’s suggestion. But I wasn’t going to take advice from the man who spent his free time at the frisbee golf course, loosening the screws in the goalposts. More often than not, the band was known as just that: The Band.

Our name was a point of contention. But then again, everything was becoming a point of contention. It had been several months, and our stylistic differences were making it more and more difficult to accomplish anything. We crammed ourselves into the guitarist’s freezing garage, shivering, as we made our way through our limited repertoire of Nirvana covers. 

“Do you think you can do the scream at the end of Negative Creep?” The guitarist asked, gesturing towards me with a pick.

“I–I’ll do my best.” We’d tacked thermal sheets to the walls to make the room warmer, but we’d only succeeded in making the garage look like the set of the moon landing. “By the way, do you know when Skunk’s getting back? We have a show next week, and he hasn’t been to practice in two weeks.” It wasn’t that I didn’t know the answer, but someone had to say it. Skunk was going to graduate high school in three months. The Band didn’t rock. In fact, we sucked. We were never going to pack stadiums, and MTV probably wasn’t in our cards. Skunk was barreling head-first into his future like a toddler on a water-slide, and he was realizing, with a dawning horror, that he didn’t know how to swim. He’d joined another band, in the hopes of kickstarting his musical career. All I could say was “Whatever, man, let’s just get through this song.”

None of us said it, but we all knew: this was the beginning of the end. I packed up my guitar, and I drove home, with a quiet finality. The gig came and went and I decided that I was done with the scene. Skunk would crawl back into whatever alley he came from, and I would go back to where I belonged: my highschool musical theater program. 

Six months later, I stood by the sink of the school bathroom, washing my hands. 

“What are you doing out of class, young man?” I froze, slowly turning around. There he was, in all his unkempt glory. Skunk. Wearing a navy-blue janitor’s uniform, and  lugging a large, sagging trash-bag over his shoulder. His name-tag read Skunk. It occurred to me that it may have been his legal name. “I’m just kiddin’ what, did you think I was a narc, or something?” 

“Oh–oh my God…Skunk? Are you–uh–working for the school?”

“Yeah, it’s not so bad. You know, I still have your mic stand. Me and the band are working through some Nirvana stuff–you should come to our show next month! It’s gonna be a good one.”

I dried my hands on my pants.

“I'm busy next week. But, you can keep the mic stand.”

“Oh, good, we broke it anyway.” I smiled, shaking my head. Who the hell was I kidding.

“I know.”

[dumbcowboahs]

Rdr2 Fic Prompts List

-Arthur takes John to the local town because John mentions needing a christmas gift for someone special and dear to him and Arthur assuing it’s Abigail and knowing how useless John is, insists on helping. John becomes more and more confused and distressed when Arthur keeps showing him dressses and jewlery when all he wanted was to buy a preset for his horse. -Javier spikes the stew with chillis for shits and giggles and everyone is immediatly dying and trying to chug any liquid they can get their hands on, except for Sean, who eats the whole bowl without flinching. Javier is convinced he must have super human tollerance and has a whole new respect for him but actually Sean had just tried to prank the stew with lemon juice himself half an hour beforehand so had portioned off a non-contaminated bowl for himself. -Arthur goes out to do his thing and disapears for a few weeks, Dutch sends Bill out to find him but Bill doesn’t feel like it so tells everyone he died. The camp mourns and Arthur comes back three days later very confused to find a gravestone close by with his name on it. -Hosea takes Lenny out to teach him to hunt. It goes well up until they both end up getting sprayed by a skunk. No amount of bathing seems to get rid of the stench and no-one in camp will come anywhere near them. The entire camp reaks and everyone wants to d i e. Miss Grimshaw ends up filling an entire tin bathtub with tomato juice to make them bathe in. Unfortunatly the camp gets attacked half way through and they have to fight their way out, naked and covered in tomatoes. -John is struggling to deal with parenthood and doesn’t feel comfortable opening up about his stress to anyone in camp so starts going to the local town to take delux baths like three times a day so he can rant about his problems to the confused woman. No one has ever seen John so clean. -Someone makes a comment about Hosea being more useful than Dutch because he kows about hunting and forraging and it pisses Dutch off so he decides to prove them wrong and goes hunting. He doesn’t catch a single thing but brings back a whole bag of mushrooms he finds and proudly gets Pearson to cook them into the stew. The entire camp proceeds to have a shroom trip from hell because they were fuckin’ psychedelic. -Charles wakes Arthur in the middle of the night, stoicly calm but clearly deeply concerned, asking him to help hide a body. He accidently shot Micha with an arrow while hunting and doesn’t want Dutch to throw a fit thinking it’s an act of mutany. They ride all the way out to the swamps to feed him to the Gators. He wakes up on the way there because it turns out he didn’t die from the wound, but they both pretend not to hear him. -An angry badger wanders into camp and won’t leave, it keeps terrorising everyone; stealing food, biting and hissing at people, spooking the ladies. Arthur is tasked to get rid of it because he is tasked with everything, he tries to do it without shooting it but it bites him a bunch of times and nearly mauls him so he ends up killing it anyway. The next day, the camp is overrun with angry badgers looking for vegence. They eat Dutch’s shoes and he cries. -One morning Arthur wakes up and puts on his hat and it’s full of spiders. Assuming it’s John playing a bastard prank, he shoves a snake in John’s boot. John, assuming it’s Sean being a drunk dick, pisses in his beer bottle, Sean think’s Lenny is messing with him so rubs his underwear in poison ivy, Lenny thinks Bill is trying to piss him off so sticks raw fish in his pillow case. This continues for weeks and every single person in the camp ends uptrying to get revenge on everyone else like some silent prank war. Arthur’s hat was only full of spiders because Jack had been bug collecting and needed something to put them in.

[rosedavid]

Merther prompt: Arthur ask Merlin who his ideal partner is. Merlin in an effort to hide his growing feelings from Arthur describes someone completely opposite Arthur. Shortly after someone arrives in Camelot hoping to become a Knight in Arthur's roundtable. This person is exactly as Merlin described and has immediately seem to set his cap at Merlin. Merlin doesn't know what to do especially when Arthur starts to act funny and won't explain why. Though everyone else seems to know the answer.

thank you so much for the prompt!! it ended up a little bit different, but I hope you still enjoy it!! :)

If you want to read it on ao3, here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23541073

…

Laughter echoes from around the campfire. The sun has long set, but nobody has any intent to fall asleep quite yet. Merlin relishes nights like these; nights free of bandits, evil sorcerers, or something other disaster that Merlin has to solve. Nights like these are few and far between, but when they do come, Merlin appreciates them. He appreciates joking with the knights as if he’s one of them. Around the campfire, after all the chores for the day are finished, he can just relax.

“No way,” Percival shakes his head. “That is not what happened!”

“As if you’d remember! You were as drunk as a skunk! As if you’d remember. Unlike you, I can hold my mead,” Gwaine retorts, puffing out his chest.

“I would never jump on a table and sing!”

“—And it broke, don’t forget the best part!”

Percival smirks, “But if this happened, then why didn’t the tavern workers make me pay my debts for the table?”

“Have you seen yourself?” Gwaine gestures with a wink. “Not only are you a stud, but you’re a big, intimidating stud. Plus, I think Mary has a crush on ya!”

At this, Arthur snorts, “Please, Mary has a crush on everyone. She even complimented Merlin of all people!”

“He’s just jealous because he thought Mary was complimenting him at first,” Merlin pipes up, earning a glare from Arthur as well as hearty laughs from the other knights.

“Ah, crushes are fickle things, my friends,” Gwaine grins, raising a flask he seemed to procure from thin air.

“I can attest to that,” Elyan agrees.

“Oh, do you have someone you fancy, Elyan?” Percival teases, punching his shoulder jokingly.

Elyan rolls his eyes, punching Percival back. “As a boy, I did. I thought she was the love of my life. But we just grew apart. What about you then, Percy?”

A deep blush spreads across Percival’s cheeks, shone only brighter by the light of the campfire. Everyone laughs. Gwaine and Leon push at him from either side, urging him to tell. He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, fine. I might have a certain girl that I like…”

“Who is it, Perce?! Come on, you have to tell us now,” Gwaine begs, tugging his sleeve.

“No way!”

“At least describe her for us, mate!”

Percival gives in at that. “Okay fine! She has dark, thick hair that curls down to her shoulders. A soft smile. Deep brown eyes that you can get lost in. She’s funny, too, and shy.”

“It sounds to me like Percy is in love,” Lancelot grins. Percival blushes, but doesn’t deny it.

“How about the rest of you, then? Who do you like, Lance?”

“No one at the moment,” he says, honestly.

“Me either,” Leon admits. “My only lady is Camelot.”

“And what does Camelot look like, Leon?” Elyan teases.

“I mean, I’m not at all picky. Though I do like a girl who is kind-hearted and loyal.”

“Boo! Boring,” Gwaine sighs. Merlin, who sits between Gwaine and Arthur, suddenly gets squished into Gwaine’s side, Gwaine’s arm wrapped possessively around his shoulder.

“I like serving girls,” Gwaine proclaims boisterously. “Who have dark, beautiful hair and sparkling eyes, and are clumsy—”

“Gwaine!” Merlin groans, attempting to get out of his tight grasp. All the knights are laughing and cat calling.

“Okay, okay,” Gwaine yields, finally letting Merlin go. When Merlin finally has use of his limbs back, his eyes immediately go to Arthur for some reason. Although Arthur is smiling along with everyone else, his posture is tense, and his smile is tight. Before Merlin can think about it anymore, though, Gwaine directs his attention back to Merlin.

“Well? Don’t keep us hanging!” Gwaine says.

Oh. Merlin is expected to take his turn. This is a problem. He risks a quick glance at Arthur again, knowing that the heat forming from his cheeks isn’t due to the fire. The thing is, Merlin does have a crush, an extremely inconvenient crush. He hates how Arthur’s smile sends butterflies swarming through his stomach, how when Arthur touches him his heart rate speeds up. Over time, Merlin has gotten used to it. After all, nothing would ever come of it. Arthur would never fall someone like him, even if Merlin was noble.

Across the campfire, Lancelot sends him an apologetic look. For some reason, Lancelot ended up knowing not one, but both of Merlin’s biggest secrets. Although Merlin appreciates someone to rant to, he also can’t stand the looks of pity that Lancelot sends him. It’s embarrassing, mostly; Merlin feels ridiculous for even having a crush on Arthur in the first place, let alone someone else knowing. Still, Lancelot raves about his crush on Gwen in return, convinced that she’ll never reciprocate his feelings because her and Arthur are in love. Merlin has a feeling that even though Arthur might be in love with Gwen, Gwen doesn’t return his feelings in anything but a platonic manner. She only has eyes for Lancelot these days. Despite the obvious yearning looks between Lancelot and Gwen, Merlin doesn’t mention anything because Lancelot always certainly denies the obvious. Plus, it just makes Merlin feel worse about his situation.

He can’t risk Arthur finding out. This secret is second only to his magic. There’s no doubt that if any of the knights find out, the truth will come out to Arthur eventually, too. Merlin has to steer them off any trail connecting his crush to Arthur.

“Dark hair and eyes,” Merlin says, picturing the opposite of Arthur. “Sensitive, reserved, and always open about their feelings.”

Gwaine slaps him on the back, “You’ll find her someday, Merlin. I can be your wingman!”

Merlin smiles half-heartedly, still thinking of the person he really likes. He looks over toward Arthur again, only to find him standing up, grumbling about getting more firewood. There’s already a pile big enough to last them the rest of the night.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just a spoilsport,” Gwaine groans. “Princess needs to unwind a bit sometimes.”

“That’s the King you’re speaking of,” Leon reminds him, although there’s no bite behind it.

“I know you all agree!”

The bickering between the knights continue. Merlin smiles and laughs when prompted, saying minimal words the rest of the time. Lancelot notices odd mood, but knows better than to confront Merlin at that moment.

It’s only much later that Arthur finally returns, arms full of wood (it’s the completely wrong kind to keep a fire going, but Merlin doesn’t dare mention that). By that point, the knights are finally calming down. After dumping the sticks near the fire, Arthur turns toward his men.

“I’ll take first watch,” Arthur volunteers stiffly. “Leon, you can take second. We’ll head back to Camelot straight away tomorrow morning.”

Arthur seems different than normal, more stoic. He seems uncomfortable, too, especially when Merlin heads over to his side. Merlin worries that Arthur somehow picked up on his bluff. What if Arthur suspects his crush and is disgusted by it? Merlin really hopes that isn’t the case; he can’t risk jeopardizing the odd friendship they’ve built over the years for one stupid little crush.

“Are you sure you want to take watch? I can do it while you get some rest,” Merlin offers hesitantly.

Arthur purses his lips, silent for a moment before finally responding. “No, Merlin. Just go to sleep.”

No joking or mocking, just a simple statement. Merlin screwed things up so bad. He can only hope that tomorrow will be better. As Arthur stalks off to lean against a tree, Lancelot approaches Merlin. He pats Merlin on the back a few times with a comforting smile.

“Are you okay?” Lancelot asks quietly, as not to alert the others.

Merlin nods slightly. “Yeah, ‘course.” He says this not only to reassure Lancelot but also himself. Who cares if Arthur’s acting grumpy about this all? He’s probably just still caught up with his crush on Gwen and in a bad mood from the long day. Merlin’s not worried at all that his secret has been revealed and Arthur hates him. Things are fine.

…

The next morning proceeds like any other. Arthur orders Merlin around like usual, bickering with him and tossing insults back and forth. And Merlin is relieved. Things seem to be normal once more, and Merlin can deal with normal.

“Mer-lin! Could you be any lazier?! At this rate, we won’t get back to Camelot until nightfall,” Arthur proclaims, waiting with arms crossed as Merlin finishes packing the saddlebags.

“So sorry, my pratness,” Merlin grins. Having a pack thrown at his chest in retaliation has never felt better.

On the journey home, Lancelot trots his horse up beside Merlin, urging them to the back of the pack. “You and Arthur seem normal this morning.”

“I guess he was just in a bad mood last night, after all,” Merlin replies.

“You’re okay with things being normal again?”

“Normal is better than Arthur hating me.”

Lancelot pulls a face. “Merlin, I really don’t think Arthur could ever hate you.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to respond with, but luckily, he’s saved by their approach into Camelot. Arthur, having noticed that his manservant isn’t beside him, calls out for Merlin with annoyance. Merlin offers Lance a small smile for his efforts as a good friend before catching up with the King.

The next fortnight goes by with miraculously no complications. Arthur is busy with his duties as King and ordering Merlin around to do his chores. After coming back from the latest hunt, Merlin decided he would not get hung up with his crush on Arthur. It went well, at first. Merlin pushed out any type of thoughts relating to Arthur’s annoyingly brilliant smile, stupid blue eyes, or joyous laugh. He didn’t feel the tingling sensations when Arthur touched his arm or patted his back. Merlin definitely hasn’t been admiring Arthur’s sleeping body in the morning before he wakes, so soft and relaxed, golden hair tousled along the pillow and skin gleaming under the crack of the sunlight from the curtains.

Damn it. Maybe this isn’t going to work as well as Merlin had hoped. In fact, it seems like Merlin just becomes more infatuated as the days go on!

Unbeknownst to him, there was a big change coming in the form of one Oliver Francis.

…

Recently, word of the Knights of the Roundtable has passed throughout the kingdom and beyond. For the last few months, more and more nobles and non-nobles alike have been traveling the distance to Camelot in order to train for a spot as one of Arthur’s prestigious knights. Many had trained and fought, and very few actually succeeded in becoming a full-fledged knight.

If you asked Merlin, he would say he has no clue what the big fuss about being a knight is. Of course, he believes in Camelot and Arthur and understands the attraction to the prospering kingdom. Never will Merlin understand, though, the fun of constantly sacrificing your life and hitting things with glorified sticks. Not to say he doesn’t appreciate the knights, but he can’t understand it. If Merlin had his choice, he wouldn’t have to use his magic in dangerous situations to constantly save Arthur’s backside. Merlin has no choice in the matter, though, destiny this, future of Albion that, but these prospective knights are willingly putting themselves in that spot. Merlin can’t believe it. And, naturally, Arthur disagrees.

“I don’t expect you to understand the extreme honor that comes with being a Knight of Camelot,” Arthur scoffs after Merlin’s tirade of the new bout of knight training today.

“I’m just saying that there are many other ways to serve Camelot than hitting things with sticks,” Merlin replies, handing Arthur his sword with a smirk.

“Like mucking out the stables?”

“Oh yes sire, mucking out the stables is truly one of the highest honors of Camelot. Perhaps you should have your new trainees do that, instead?”

Arthur laughs sharply. “Then who would protect Camelot? You, who can barely walk without stumbling over his own feet?”

Merlin goes to retort fruitlessly, but happens to trip over a chair leg in that very moment. His face reddens while Arthur grins cheekily. If only Arthur knew exactly how much Merlin does for him.

A knock sounds against Arthur’s chamber doors. “Sire, the trainees are about to arrive,” Leon calls from the other side of the door.

“Yeah, better finish up whatever you and Merlin and doing in there, Princess!” Gwaine says, before muttering “ouch”, probably from getting smacked from one of the other knights.

“I’ll meet you down there right away,” Arthur responds, sending a pointed look at Merlin. Arthur’s cheeks are dusted pink, but Merlin thinks nothing of it.

True to Arthur’s word, they make their way down to the training field a few moments later. The sun burns down hot, causing Merlin to start sweating as soon as he steps outside. He wonders how the practiced knights survive with their heavy chainmail in this kind of heat, let alone a bunch of trainees vying for a spot.

The potential newcomers are already lined up and ready to go in sets of chainmail, swords clutched in their grips. There’s only three of them this time, and as Merlin listens to them speak to Arthur, he ascertains that two of them are of noble blood, while the other was born a peasant. Although Merlin is trained in the art of sword fighting like the King, he’s picked up a few things from watching Arthur train his knights all of these years. He knows enough to tell that they all have potential. Borden, a tall, thick noble, is talented at defense, but not so much at offensive moves. The other noble who goes by Gavin is quick and light on his feet, but his strength leaves much to be desired. Lastly, there’s Oliver. His fighting styles are a bit unconventional, but he knows his stuff. He’s smart in his movements, too, as if every one has an exact purpose to them.

During a quick break from the sweltering heat, the trainees huddle under the shade of the tent and grab a cup of water from Merlin. Oliver is last in line, smiling politely up at Merlin.

“I can’t believe I’m in Camelot,” Oliver says with awe, one hand ruffling through his dark hair. “It seems unreal that I have the chance to be an actual knight.”

Merlin only realizes that Oliver is talking to him after looking around and seeing no one else near them. He then replies, “Camelot is great in many ways. I’m sure that you’ll enjoy your time here.”

“What’s your name, then?”

“Merlin,” he answers. “King Arthur’s manservant.”

“Nice to meet you. How is it working for the King?”

Merlin hums. For some reason, he feels like he shouldn’t be afraid to tell Oliver his real thoughts on the King. After all, Oliver isn’t a noble born. “He’s a prat.”

Oliver gapes for a moment before giggling. Merlin soon joins in, happy that he has a new potential friend. Arthur, having heard them from across the training grounds, eyes them suspiciously before stomping over. His blond hair is stuck to his head with sweat, yet he appears as energetic as ever.

“Please feel free to ignore Merlin,” Arthur says. “He’s an idiot.”

“It’s no problem at all, your highness,” Oliver responds. “Merlin’s company is much enjoyable.”

Arthur narrows his eyes as he inspects Oliver and Merlin. “If you’re certain. But I do have use of my manservant, Oliver, so if you’ll excuse me.”

With that, Arthur yanks at Merlin’s wrist, tugging him to the opposite end of the large tent. Merlin mouths an apology to Oliver before letting himself be pulled along.

“What was that about, clotpole?” Merlin asks.

“I can’t have you distracting my potential knights,” Arthur mutters, wiping his face with a towel. “Besides, I need a fresh towel.” He then throws his dirty towel at Merlin’s chest, making Merlin groan with disgust.

Arthur is about to head back to the training field, but before he does, he stops at Merlin’s side. He reaches up and, with a gentleness Merlin not thought possible, brushes the sweat laced hair strands of his eyes. Merlin’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, relishing in the soft touch. Then, as soon as it comes, it’s gone. Arthur brings his hand away, then says, “Get yourself some water, Merlin. I can’t have you fainting like a girl from dehydration.”

…

Things only continue to get stranger from there. As Arthur continues seeing if these potential knights have what it takes, Merlin notices that Arthur has started acting different than usual. Not only has Arthur been more aloof, but he’s also been especially hard on one of the trainees in particular: Oliver. At first, it wasn’t noticeable; the quick glares, the little bit harder he was ragged on after practice, but then it became apparent. Arthur seemed to only have eyes for making Oliver break under him. Of course, Arthur has never been cruel, but his distaste for Oliver is obvious to everyone, including Oliver himself.

About a week after coming to Camelot, Oliver finds Merlin in the castle halls carrying a large load of Arthur’s laundry to be washed.

“It’s good to see you,” Oliver greets, piling pieces of clothing that have fallen back onto the top of the wobbling basket.

Merlin smiles, “You too, Oliver. Is there something you need?” He guides the basket to the ground, needing a break before his back gives out, anyway.

Oliver sighs, “I suppose I was wondering…well, since you’re so close to King Arthur and all…do you think I have done something to offend him?”

“I have no reason to think that you offended him,” Merlin offers. “Nor do any of the others. We all enjoy your company and skills. Arthur can be difficult, sometimes, but I’m sure that he will get to know you better soon, and you two will become closer.”

Relieved, Oliver clasps a hand around Merlin’s shoulder, mirroring the position that Arthur has held with Merlin many times before. Of course, at that moment, Arthur himself comes rounding the corner to head toward his chambers.

“MERLIN!” Arthur shouts, voice echoing through the walls of the castle. Merlin turns to see Arthur standing just a few foot lengths away, glaring at the pair of them.

“You didn’t have to yell, prat, I’m right here,” Merlin complains. Arthur moves closer toward him, and Merlin prepares himself to be berated or get something thrown at him. Instead, he feels Arthur’s arm wrap around the very spot that Oliver’s was seconds ago, squeezing his shoulder tightly.

“Hello, sire,” Oliver says.

“Oliver,” Arthur acknowledges, nose up. “If you would spend more time training and less time fraternizing with my servant, then maybe you’d have a better chance of becoming a knight.”

Merlin feels just as stunned as Oliver appears. Merlin has never heard Arthur speak so brashly before, and to a knight in training nonetheless. Oliver casts his gaze downward respectfully, hands clasped in front of him like a servant. Suddenly, Merlin has a feeling he knows why Arthur dislikes Oliver so much, and he won’t stand for it.

Arthur leads Merlin back the short distance to Arthur’s chambers, not bothering to respond toward Merlin’s complaints about his laundry still being in the hallway. When they finally arrive, doors closing behind them, Merlin pulls himself away from Arthur’s arm, glaring at him.

“Okay, enough is enough. You’ve been a right prat toward Oliver ever since he arrived, and I know why.”

At this, Arthur pales considerably. “Y-you do?”

“Come on, Arthur, you really thought I wouldn’t figure it out?!”

Arthur purses his lips, feet shuffling. “Merlin—”

“How could you?”

“What do you mean how could I? I can’t help it!” Arthur protests, running his hand through his hair.

“That’s just an excuse, and a terrible one at that!”

“Is it really so wrong?”

Merlin gapes at him. “Yes! I-I though you were a better man than this, Arthur.”

“I—” words die in Arthur’s throat. He almost appears distraught, and Merlin has a sudden urge to comfort him. But Arthur needs to understand that what he did to Oliver was wrong.

“I thought we were friends!” Merlin continues to rant, beginning to pace back and forth. “I thought that after you knighted people like Lancelot who weren’t of noble blood, that you would have no bias toward someone from a non-royal background trying to become a knight, but obviously I was wrong! You’ve been treating Oliver terribly, and just because he’s not nobility.”

“What?” Arthur gasps, peeling off into laughter.

“This isn’t funny,” Merlin says as he grows angrier.

Arthur continues laughing, and Merlin can’t take it anymore. He turns to stomp out of the room. Before he can leave, though, a hand takes his wrist. Arthur’s laughter finally dies down as he wipes at his eyes.

“You’re so dense, Merlin.”

“Me, dense?!”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Yes, you. I couldn’t care less about Oliver or anybody else’s background. They all deserve an equal chance to become knights.”

Merlin eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. “B-but, then why are you being so rude toward him?”

“God, Merlin, it’s because he’s your dream guy!”

Now, Merlin’s even more confused. “My dream guy?!”

“Yes,” Arthur nods seriously. “That knight in the forest a few weeks back, when we were all talking about our…ahem, crushes, and the type of person that you said you are into is Oliver to a tee.”

Arthur remembers that. Arthur remembers his description. Arthur is talking to him about crushes. Could this day get any worse?

“What does that have to do with any of this?” Merlin wonders, still not getting it.

Arthur groans in frustration, tugging on his hair so hard that Merlin worries he’ll yank it out. He then takes a few deep breaths to calm him down. “None of you ever asked me who my ideal date would be.”

“Wait a minute…” Merlin trails off, “Do you have a crush on Oliver?!”

“What, no!” Arthur groans again. “No, you daft idiot! I have a crush on you!”

Silence falls over the room. Merlin stares at Arthur, as if he’ll wake up from this dream any second. He stammers for words, but nothing comes out of his mouth. Over and over he replays Arthur’s words in his mind. I have a crush on you. I have a crush on you.

Arthur likes me.

“Y-you…you like me?” Merlin gasps. “How can you like me?”

“I wish I knew,” Arthur mutters, “But somehow you’ve managed to get under my skin like no one else. I…I was, a bit unfair—”

“—terribly rude—”

“—Okay, fine, I was rude to Oliver! But I couldn’t help it, Merlin. Every time I saw you two together, laughing and smiling and touching, it made a fire rage in my stomach. I couldn’t stand him looking at you like that.”

“Arthur…” Merlin says, stepping closer to him.

Arthur clears his throat, stepping backward. “But it’s nothing, it’s fine. I mean, I know you must have a crush on Oliver, as he’s exactly the person you described.”

“Now you’re the one being an idiot,” Merlin smiles, stepping toward him once more. This time, Arthur makes no move away. “I’ve been ridiculously in love with you for the longest time, Arthur.”

Arthur’s mouth drops. “But Oliver…”

Merlin blushes profusely. “Well, actually, he’s not really my type. I may have lied a bit at the campfire to conceal my true feelings. The type of person I want to date is actually much different.”

Arthur takes a step closer. “Oh?”

“The type of person I like is kind of a big prat,” Merlin continues. “A big prat with a heart of gold. Who’s brave, caring, and fights for justice. A person who infuriates me daily with his snide remarks but surprises me with his kindness.”

They’re so close now that Merlin can feel Arthurs breath mingling with his own. Merlin’s heart is beating out of his chest, waiting for Arthur to say something, anything. Finally, Arthur is opening his mouth to speak….

“Is it Gwaine?”

Merlin groans in frustration. “You have got to be—”

“I’m joking,” Arthur promises, reaching forward you cup his cheek. “Dollophead.”

“That’s my w—mmph!” Merlin starts, only to be cut off by the sweet press of Arthur’s chapped lips against his own. It tastes like sweat and is filled with desperation. Merlin clumsily fists his hands in Arthur’s shirt, bringing him as close as possible. He’s wanted this for so long that it doesn’t quite feel real.

They only pull apart when they absolutely have to, both panting for air. Even then, Merlin doesn’t let go of Arthur’s shirt. Meanwhile, Arthur’s hand traces it’s way down the side of Merlin’s face, a gentle caress. They drop their foreheads together, unable to hide their matching smiles.

“You’ll be nicer to Oliver now?” Merlin whispers.

Arthur chuckles as he strokes Merlin’s cheek. “I suppose. I do have him to thank for getting us to come to our senses, after all.”

“You mean for you to come to your senses.”

“Do you want to be sent to the stocks?”

“Mmh, you wouldn’t. You’d miss me to much,” Merlin hums, leaning to press a chaste kiss against Arthur’s lips.

Arthur hauls him back in.

“In your dreams.”

[drunkenskunk]

Welcome to another Drunk Skunk™ rant!

It is entirely possible that you have noticed: I love Warhammer 40k. At the same time, I hate Warhammer 40k... okay, hate is probably the wrong word, but let me explain.

40k is one of my favorite sci-fi settings because it is, hilariously, one of the few that actually manages to get the scale of Outer Space right. Most sci-fi writers have no sense of scale, but 40k is somehow able to convey the unimaginable, incomprehensible, terrifying vastness of Outer Space correctly.

Granted, I think it does this entirely on accident, because everything in 40k is exaggerated beyond the point of absurdity. The scale of everything is massive, every number has several zeros tacked onto the end of it, travelling anywhere takes months, years, even decades, and... that's just how Outer Space is. You can't exaggerate on what is already functionally infinite.

As a result, 40k as a setting has an enormous amount of potential. No matter how much we see of the Warhammer galaxy, we will only ever see a bare fraction of it, and there is always going to be more - and stranger - stuff hidden in pockets of the galaxy that has slipped entirely beneath notice for decades, if not centuries. Or even millennia!

But here's the problem I have. All of this potential? It is almost always completely wasted by Games Workshop. Nearly every single time, GW ignores the massive amount of potential in the setting they created, in order to focus on boring shit that nobody cares about like even more fucking space marines. It's infuriating.

As far as I'm concerned, there is no better example of this in the entire setting... than the Tau Empire.

The Tau annoy me, but not for the reasons you think.

The most common complaint I see leveled against the Tau is that they are the "good" guys, and that they don't fit into the Grim Darkness of the Grim Dark far future of Grim Dark. This is untrue. Moreover: it was never true. Even when they were introduced in 2001 with their first codex during 3rd edition, they were not good guys.

I've always held the suspicion that people saw things like their catchphrase "The Greater Good" and they read things like "the Tau are not overtly hostile," and took all of that entirely at face value, because a sizeable chunk of this fucking fandom has no media literacy skills.

It still amazes me that Warhammer 40k - a game physically incapable of subtlety - has fans that miss the blatantly obvious.

Before I get to my main point, let's clear the air on something right now: the Tau are bad guys, just like all the other factions in 40k.

If you were to place the Tau in any other science fiction setting, they would be a terrifyingly evil authoritarian space hegemony, with a firmly held belief of "Manifest Destiny" and constantly expanding the borders of their imperial holdings through the use of dirty tricks, illegitimate treaties, and good old fashioned military adventurism spurred on by their vast military industrial complex.

Yes, the Tau typically engage in diplomacy first, but that's usually only to establish a casus belli to claim the moral high ground in a conflict because the Tau are obsessed with appearances and love to play the Long Game. Yes, the average standard of living in Tau space is higher than the Imperium, but that's not a high bar. The Tau have a rigidly enforced caste system, and you can imagine how they deal with their "client races" who might disagree with that and even other Tau who refuse to fall in line.

Or have we all forgotten about Commander Farsight?

... I feel like I may have gotten a bit off track.

Okay, so: the simple reason the Tau annoy me is because there was a whole lot of potential there, and all of it has been completely wasted because Games Workshop doesn't seem to understand what made them interesting in the first place.

See, when the Tau were introduced in 2001, it was quickly established in the first codex that the only reason they even managed to make it to the "present" of 40k was due to a series of accidents that allowed that particular scrap of nowhere to slip beneath everyone's notice.

But here's the thing: we didn't really need that excuse. Every time we see maps of Tau space, it's always zoomed in to such an extent that it looks much bigger than it is... because, unlike every other faction, you can't have a full map of the galaxy that only focuses on the Tau, because it's always just a pinprick.

My personal favorite of these maps is the one from the 5th edition rulebook, but it's common with all of them.

To put this into better perspective: Tau space is almost always described as a sphere about 300 light years in diameter, which is roughly the same size as "The Bubble," the cluster of human worlds centered around Sol, in Elite Dangerous.

And that, right there, is why the Tau should be interesting, at least to me. They represent what could exist in the hidden parts of the Warhammer galaxy that slips beneath everyone's notice because SPACE IS BIG. The Imperium of Man may technically cover the entire breadth of the Milky Way galaxy, and "hold" a million worlds... but there are 100 BILLION stars, and even more planets besides, in a galaxy that stretches 100 thousand light years from end to end.

That is A LOT of Outer Space that could hold any number of secrets and weird alien species that nobody would know about until somebody accidentally stumbles on them.

The Tau could have - should have - been a jumping off point, allowing Games Workshop to make the setting feel even bigger and far more strange than it already does. The Tau could've been the template for introducing "pocket empires" to the setting: smaller xenos armies that people could use in skirmishes, but without entertaining the illusion that they have the military projection power to stand up to the other factions on an appreciable strategic scale for an extended period of time.

And yet...

It fees like Games Workshop consistently misunderstands what should make the Tau interesting. Every new codex, every new edition, it feels like we get more and more of GW trying to be like "No, no! The Tau can definitely stand toe-to-toe with the Imperium of Man! They build tall rather than wide, and are ABSOLUTELY a threat to the Imperium, we promise!" when in reality the only reason the Tau are even still here is because the Imperium always has bigger problems to deal with.

There was the bit I mentioned earlier, where the Tau were initially saved after they discovered fire due to a mixture of freak warp storms and the Age of Apostasy causing the records to get lost. The Damocles Crusade ended in the Imperium's withdrawal because of the imminent arrival of Hive Fleet Behemoth. The Third Sphere Expansion was only successful because Failbbadon Abbadon launched the 13th Black Crusade at the same time on the other side of the galaxy, blew up Cadia, and split the galaxy in half with the Cicatrix Maledictum. Every single time the Tau do anything, a much bigger threat always shows up, and causes everyone to forget about the Tau until they inevitably go back to poking the monster.

Like, I know it's GW doing this, but sometimes it feels like Tzeentch is secretly pulling strings behind the scenes to specifically ensure the continued survival of the Tau, for no other reason than simply because the Changer of Ways thinks its funny.

And that's not even talking about how they've slowly morphed into The Gundam Faction.

Like, it used to be that the Tau Empire was supposed to be this big conglomeration of many different alien races all working together. And there are token mentions of that in the 9th edition codex, with a big list of names largely devoid of context. But as soon as you see these guys in action on the tabletop, it's immediately clear what they're about. You only ever see Tau, and you only ever see Big Robots.

Which... it's not bad, the model range looks great, don't get me wrong. But it still feels slightly disappointing, when you think about what we could have had.

I love Warhammer 40k.

But I also hate Warhammer 40k.

Because I see all this potential... and, inevitably, I see it squandered.

And it frustrates me to no end.

[bokutokoutarou]

alex babe congrats on hitting 1k!!!!! u r on ur way to becoming the greatest showman with this litttt circus 🤪im rLY excited for ur match-up!!!so i’m here requesting one for myself if that’s aite 🥺 im 5’8 (giaNT), i play ultimate frisbee & netball. i change my hair colour tOO frequently and currently it’s purple 💜 big dick energy bcos of my height & im quite independent and alpha but actually im an emotional softie on the inside that cries at every lil thing 😩 (-con’t in pt2!) - 🥞anon

(con’t from pt1 of 🥞) -pronoun: she/her -mbti: fluctuates between enfp and infj (im always ~ 50/50 E/I) -always clowning myself (throwing away my cash, embarrassing drunk stories, getting my nose punched during moshing, shattering my phone screen bcos a volleyball landed on it....) even tho i look unapproachable with my rbf 🤡 -im majoring in political science right now so tbh i like to analyze every little thing and im a nerd for history 🥺 tq so much for doing this!!!!i luuuuv u💛💛 -🥞 ((((omg im so sorry but can i ramble a little bit more🥺🥺))) -i’ve been getting tattoos every yr since 18 and now i have 6 over 3 years (my attitude towards it changed from “it must be meaningful” to “whateverz it’s just cute” HHAHHAH) -i do tarot cards!! im quite an intuitive person and it’s a good practice that allows me to reflect -so yeap im a mess of everything, a typical aquarius HAHAHHA astrohoe -🥞 anon who is v sorry for being an annoying lil shit who spammed u with 3 paragraphs 😭😭

omg u are such a clown and ILYSM for it 🥞 anon!!! i’m so glad ur apart of my circus🤡🎪

your first mini matchup is...

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

AHSHSHHSHS THIS IS LEGIT THE BIGGEST COMPLIMENT EVER I LOVE THIS MAN SO MUCH

bokuto’s so forward and outgoing that the fact that u have a rbf does not deter him at all from trying to befriend u

it legit didn’t take long for u two to get together bc u guys are a clown match made in heaven and that’s a fact

u two both look tough on the outside but are emotional softies deep down, so when one of u goes into an emo mode, the other one does too and it’s a MESS

r.i.p akaashi bc u two are a whole circus and his life is gonna get a hell of a lot harder oops

bokuto would totally be ur partner in crime, and u would both clown urselves TOGETHER

just imagine the crackheadedness, the complete clownery of ur two braincells combined...i stg u and bokuto would be a combined disaster and I ENVY IT

okay so pls PLS play frisbee with him bc he’d love it so much!!

he’d kinda be trash at it tho bc he’d get too hyper when the frisbee would get close to him (but don’t tell him that or he’ll go into emo mode lmao)

he’d highkey think ur tattoos look so cool, and he’d be inspired to get some bc of u (u’d have to recommend the place to him tho bc he went to one once w/o telling u and he had to get a coverup bc it was a mess oops)

since u dye ur hair frequently, u’d totally try to mimic his hairstyle by dying ur hair all black and having it fade to a nice silver, but u’d clown urself bc the hairdresser would mess it up and make u look like a skunk agbzhshsh

but hey, that’s another story to tell. and expect many more bc with bokuto, there’s always something disasterous and fun waiting to happen

ur second mini matchup is...

LEV HAIBA

an ICONIC TALL COUPLE

okay but fr fr, even if i didn’t see ur height i still would have put u with him because the clownery in this relationship is a whole VIBE

lev would lowkey highkey be intimidated by ur rbf at first, but one day he straight up approached u and started a convo about how cool ur hair was

babie was SHOCKED when he found out that u were a clown just like him, so definitely expect some more clownery now that he’s in ur life

you’d highkey dare him to try and get into a baby swing and he’d actually fit bc he’s so skinny, but he wouldn’t be able to get out so you’d have to call emergency services to help him ahsjsjsjsjsj

ngl, he’d actually be really good at ultimate frisbee bc his arms are long af and he’d be able to reach it in the air easily, and he’d totally drag u to the park to play it with him

kenma wouldn’t be intimidated by ur rbf at all, so he’d totally diss lev by saying:

“congrats — ur better at ur girlfriend’s sport than ur own”

also, everyone in the school refers to u both as the “tall couple” even though ur not even remotely as tall as him

if u ever rant to lev about political science or history, he won’t understand a single word ur saying bc he has zero braincells left, but he’ll just nod along and listen to u bc he thinks it’s adorable when u ramble about it

pls give him a tarot reading omg! he’d highkey be so into it and u’d totally get him into astrology

don’t make him give u a reading tho. i stg he’d clown it up so badly and predict some whack end of the world shit lmaooo

u two would be so fun and chaotic, but also so soft for each other and it’d be cutest thing ever aaah!

sidenote: i saw ur third ask late so i added hcs about them now!

[thisisthepartwhereyou]

BEASTARS MINI-STORY #3: “The Pitfalls of Thin Walls pt. 3” by JCL

We're back in Sebun's apartment. Raika looks surprised and bewildered. RAIKA: "Wow, I didn't see that coming!" Ebisu on the other hand looks a little shocked. EBISU: "How can they talk about having kids? They're basically kids themselves!" ZAGUAN: "You think Haru is pregnant with his baby?" Eugen shakes his head at this notion. EUGEN: "The way young people carry on these days, I wouldn't be surprised." Bogue on the other hand nods and looks intrigued as he continues to take notes. BOGUE: "I can see it right now: The hidden condo full of playful little wolf-rabbits. Little... I dunno, what would be the therm, 'wunnies?'" -- Haru begins to cheerfully rant while Legosi looks weirded out. HARU: "There's so many pretty flower names for girls you know. *HIC!*" LEGOSI: (She's not poisoned.. She's DEAD-DRUNK!) HARU: "Rose, Hyacinth, Violet, Daisy, Jasmine, Lily... The list goes on!" Legosi tries to inernally calculate how this could've happened. LEGOSI: (But HOW?! I mean I had some sake in the soba, the way grandad always makes it, but...) Haru begins to pout and begins to scratch her chin in a pondering manner. HARU: "Not a lot of names for boys though, that might be a problem... Hazel? Nah, that's such a typical rabbit name..." LEGOSI: (Wait a minute...!) He grabs Haru by the shoulders in order to gain her full attention. LEGOSI: "Haru, focus. If I poured 1,5 dl of sake into the kind of small cups you have at your family's house, how many cups would I fill?" Haru looks confused; warped scribbles of matemathical equations and numbers holding martiniglasses dance around her head. HARU: "... How many?" She then laughs and gives Legosi a playful slap on the arm. HARU: "SILLY! I can't drink that much! I get tipsy from just one cup, six would just slay me!" Legosi looks horrified. -- Fina facepalms. FINA: "Ooooooh now I see what is going on. You can have liquor in yakisoba right?" The rest of the guys look confused. MUGI: "Yeah?" FINA: "I think that Legosi has made a classic mistake that can sometimes happen when you cook a meal for a smaller animal: He didn't take their different size proportions into consideration." The other guys still look confused. EBISU: "I don't get it." FINA: "It's simple: Lets say he made a meal with proportions adapted for a larger animal like himself, with alcohol." Explanatory illustrations pop up behind Fina as she details what she means. We see a chibi-version of Legosi standing next to a stove, pouring the contents of a flask of sake into a wok containing yakisoba. FINA: "Within those proportions, that amount would have virtually no effect on him." Chibi-Legosi proceeds to eat from a bowl of the same yakisoba. He seems completely unaffected. FINA: "But give it to an animal who has a smaller body to process it, that amount might just be much more potent, and make-" We then go over to a Chibi-Haru who eats from the same kind of bowl. She seems unaffected at first. BOGUE: "That poor little bunny more drunk than a skunk on junk outta some trunk!" Chibi-Haru turns red, puts the bowl on her head and starts to dance drunkedly back and forth. We cut back from this illustration and return to the gang in Sebun's apartment. Zaguan shakes his head sympathetically. ZAGUAN: "Poor Haru, poor Legosi. What bad luck!" -- We're back in Legosi's apartment. Legosi looks incredibly guilty, while Haru looks a little stunned. LEGOSI: "I am so sorry Haru! I didn't mean for this to happen!" HARU: "Oh... So that's why I feel strange..." Then she points and laughs at Legosi. HARU: "Haha, you idiot!" Legosi doesn't seem offended though; just sort of relieved that Haru seems to take this in stride for now. LEGOSI: "Don't worry about it, I'll fix this somehow...!" He gets up in a panic, unsure of what to do. He freezes though as he suddenly hears a voice coming through the wall. EBISU: "Make her some coffee!" -- The gang in Sebun's apartment stares daggers at Ebisu, who is holding down his beak, having realized that he thought WAY too loud just now. Fina hisses at him under her breath. FINA: "Idiot...!" Ebisu looks panicked, but then he suddenly spots a coffee jar on a nearby table with the brand Walker's Instant Coffe printed on the side and gets an idea. EBISU: "W-Walker's Instant Coffee, the brew for every couple!" He then proceeds to sing like it's all part of a commercial jingle, set to the tune of "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round". EBISU: "Dun-dun-dun, just make her some! Dun-dun-dun, just make her some... He gives the others an imploring look. They get what he's trying to do and joins up in his singing. EVERYONE: "Dun-dun-dun, JUST MAKE HER SOME!" -- Legosi hits his fist in his open hand, completely buying into that it was just a commercial playing next door. LEGOSI: "Coffee, that's a good idea!" He turns around and goes over to the sink, where he grabs a percolator. He opens it and proceeds to fill it with water from the tap. LEGOSI: (And I who thought this kind of stuff only happened in mangas or bad fanfics...!) He suddenly gets a shocked expression though. He turns his head back and looks down to see that Haru has walked over and grabbed his tail. She is proceeding to snuggle with it like it was a stuffed animal. HARU: "I've wanted to touch your tail for the longest time! Heeee it's so warm and fluffy! It's like a steering wheel cover in the winter!" Legosi gives Haru an imploring look. LEGOSI: "Haru... Could you please not touch my tail?" Haru looks up at Legosi in drunken confusion. HARU: "Why? Is there poop on it?" LEGOSI: "NO... Because it is making me a little uncomfortable." HARU: "Oh... Okay." Haru lets go of his tail, looking a bit dissapointed, while Legosi breathes out in relief. LEGOSI: "Phew... HUA!" Legosi looks shocked yet again. It turns out that Haru's attention has moved away from his tail and onto the second best THING. Though we don't see exactly what she grabs, as she is off screen. HARU: "I've wanted have my hands on THIS for the longest time too...!" Legosi looks like he wants to die. LEGOSI: (I AM IN A HELL OF MY OWN MAKING) -- Fina has a little blush on her face. FINA: "I suspect her hands found something else to fondle..!" Zaguan looks a little uncomfortable. ZAGUAN: "Maybe this is getting a little too private?" Bogue on the other hand seem to writing things down in a notebook. BOGUE: "Maybe, but you can't deny it's total gold!" -- Legosi is now carrying Haru in his arms towards his mattress, while she sings a tonedead rendition of Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You". HARU: "And aaaaah-ah-ha-ha *HIC!* Will alwaaaaays love uuuuuu-" Legosi looks anything but enthused by Haru's musical aspirations. LEGOSI: "Haru please... My neighbors will hear you...!" At this, a text bubble with a large sweatdrop spawns from the wall behind them, illustrating the neighbor's sense of irony. Legosi proceeds to put Haru down as carefully as possible. He leans down and gives her an assuring smile. LEGOSI: "Just lie down here for a while. You'll be back to normal in no time." He's about to rise up, but Haru grabs him by his t-shirt. HARU: "Hey... " LEGOSI: "Hm?" She has a come-hither sort look in her eyes. HARU: "... You're not gonna leave just yet, are you?" LEGOSI: "I, um, well...!" HARU: "There's a pretty girl lying underneath you, intoxicated and vulnerable... It hasn't crossed your mind, has it? *HIC!*" LEGOSI: "Wha-wha-what are we talking about?" Haru raises her other hand and proceeds to caress Legosi's cheek. HARU: "To take advantage of the situation. Full and complete, ADVANTAGE." Haru speaks the last of this line with such a low voice, that it is obvious to everyone except the completely stone-deaf that it is an invite. -- Most of the gang in Sebun's apartment has gone red in the face, the exception being Raika and Zaguan, who looks relatively calm. Fina begins to speak in a nervous and high-pitched voice. FINA: "Oo-ho-ho-ho-kay, maybe we should stop listening now!" Raika waves this away though. RAIKA: "It'll be fine, we all know Legosi. He's too much of a gentleman." Zaguan nods at this. ZAGUAN: "Agreed. He would never do something so clearly amoral." -- Legosi grabs Haru's hand and gently (but firmly) removes it from his cheek. LEGOSI: "You´re drunk Haru, of course I wouldn't!" -- Raika smiles and points at the wall. RAIKA: "See? He's a regular Gregory Peck!" The others look a bit relieved. -- Haru suddenly sits up and looks Legosi straight in the eye, a sudden sharpness appearing in her gaze. HARU: "What if I said I'm not as drunk as you think, and I'd like you to?" RAIKA: "OH HOT DIGGEDY DAMN!" Both Legosi and Haru turn their heads to look at the wall. The sudden outcry is then followed by a loud acapella-styled jingle. EVERYONE: "DUN-DUN-DUN! JUST MAKE HER SOME!" HARU: "What the hell?" Legosi's large, muscular arm moves past Haru's face. She looks up, and Legosi appears to be leaning in to kiss her. Haru swallows, thinking that Legosi is about to accept her invitation. But then we see that Legosi was merely reaching for the pillow next to his mattress, which he places behind Haru. He sits back and gives her mature look. LEGOSI: "I'd say you're still drunk, and it would still be wrong." He then grabs her with both hands and pulls her back, putting her head down against the pillow with a gentle, yet strict, care.   LEGOSI: "Now lie back, while I make you some coffee." He stands up and walks back to the sink. Haru looks a bit annoyed, kind of like a kid that has been sent to bed early because she wouldn't eat hear vegetables. HARU: "... Fine." -- The gang in Sebun's apartment looks relieved beyond belief, almost collapsing from the whole ordeal. RAIKA: "The force is strong in that one..." -- TEXT: LATER, AND ABOUT 5 MINUTES BEFORE SEBUN COMES HOME. Haru and Legosi are now sitting next to each other on the mattress, both holding a cup of coffee in their hands. Haru is much more sober now and looks ashamed. HARU: "I am sorry." LEGOSI: "Don't be. It was my fault to begin with." HARU: "But I acted like a complete idiot... I fondled your naughty bits and asked you to take advantage of me...! God I must be so screwed up!" LEGOSI: "I... Think everyone does something they normally wouldn't do when they've had too much to drink. Or in your case, eat food filled with booze." Haru gives Legosi a sad look. HARU: "But I made you uncomfortable. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Not when you're so nice to me... It's frustrating you know, cause it seems like I can't do anything for you. I just want to do something for you in return and I don't know what..." Legosi blinks. He puts a hand on Haru's shoulder. LEGOSI: "Haru... You know why we can't go too fast. Our instincts tell us one thing, and that is either to eat or get eaten, and we don't want either to happen." HARU: "I know... But our heads and hearts, they want us to do nice things to each other, because that's what people do when they care about each other. I mean, you work so hard to make this work, and now you're making me dinner too? It just doesn't feel fair somehow... It's kind of like Christmas when you exchange gifts; you feel guilty when you don't have anything to give back." Legosi stares at Haru. She sighs, gets up and proceeds to pace back and forth. HARU: "I know it's stupid, but I just feel bad about not having given or sacrificed enough compared to you. I mean you dropped out of school, you're covered in scars, you work your butt off in a restuarant and get involved in all kinds of shady stuff, all for me. Meanwhile, I just keep going to school, I have a good relationship with my family, I don't have any problem with money and I'm not even bullied anymore! I mean be honest with me, doesn't any of that bother you?!" As she turns to Legosi with a frustrated expression, she suddenly trips over the carpet and almost falls over. Legosi reacts with lighting-fast reflexes and catches her. She looks up at him, and he gives her a serious look.   LEGOSI: "It doesn't bother me a bit. What kind of person would I be if I wished my girlfriend's life sucked? You make me feel good, just being you. Coming to visit me, letting me come to visit you and your family, talking to me, looking at me with no fear... You don't have to feel oblidged to sleep with me because I cooked you a meal. This isn't a third world country you know." Haru blinks, then gets a shy expression on her face. She looks away with a wobbly smile and begins to run her finger across Legosi's forearm. HARU: "Hey... Since when did you start to act so adult?" Legosi smiles in response. LEGOSI: "I'd say you're rubbing off on me, and I like it." -- We're back in Sebun's apartment, where the whole gang seems to be nearly moved to tears. Ebisu is rubbing some away as he speaks. EBISU: "That guy is my fricking hero...!" Bogue on the other hand is biting into his notebook with tears running down his cheeks. BOGUE: "I'll have to dedicate my next book to them. They are so inspirational!" Fina smiles with a proud look on her face. FINA: "Gregory Peck can throw something old over himself." All of them look up though as they hear the door opening. TEXT: SEBUN IS HOME -- Haru's ears suddenly flickers. She appears to have noticed something, and she moves her hand up to her nose. She sniffs it and then gives off an amused little giggle. HARU: "Nope, it's still here." LEGOSI: "What is?" HARU: "The smell. I think I was mistaken earlier. It wasn't the apartment. It's probably coming from you." Legosi looks embarassed. LEGOSI: "Oh..." Haru grabs his big hand with her two small ones, takes it to her face and presses her nose against his fingers. HARU: "Don't worry about it." She looks up, and her eyes meets with his. They got more tenderness in them than the entirety of "Love me tender." HARU: "I like your smell..." Legosi blushes heavily and swallows. LEGOSI: "..." (Her touch, her eyes, they're so full of warmth) He grabs both of her hands in his, and begins to lean down closer. Haru looks up. LEGOSI: "Haru..." HARU: "Hm?" She sees in his eyes that there's something Legosi wants; coincidentally, the same thing that she wants. Her eyes begin to glitter with anticipation. HARU: (Really? Now? Is he finally ready, so that we can... we can... finally ki-) She raises her head, he lowers his, they both ready their lips and are about to proceed when: SEBUN: "LIKE HELL YOU CAN!" The sudden, loud voice coming from next door startles them both. Especially Haru, who jumps up and grabs Legosi around the throat. Legosi on the other hand gets so surprised that he trips backwards to the kotetsu, which he violently crashes into.   -- Their screams and the violent crash is heard next door, turning into the exact same scene at the end of part 1. SEBUN: “… Did you say.. That Legosi was making her dinner?” -- We see the disastrous result of the crash in Legosi's apartment. He is sitting in the wok atop the collapsed kotatsu. Both he and Haru, who is lying atop of him, are covered head to toe in yakisoba. Legosi looks tired. LEGOSI: "You know what, maybe we'll just go out and eat next time." Haru looks like she's in a murderous state of mind. HARU: (I am gonna kill that woman next door...!) TO BE CONTINUED...

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Maybe your missing alcohol rant is mine, in which case...1/2 you wanted rediculous opinions on alcohol, i have you. Champagne and red wine are both disgusting rotten grape juice. Tasting your alcohol is overrated and you should let me drink my 5 alcohols, tastes like sweetness and joy but will get me drunk as a skunk in 3 glasses, in peace. Beer is disgusting and I don't know why anyone drinks it, it either tastes like puke which has had resentment and hated played into it or

2/2 or someone pissed in a bottle, watered it 3/4 the way down and fermented it. Alcohol is there to get you drunk! Let me enjoy my fruity drink that will get me trashed! Stop asking me to drink shitty things because you think they make you more adult! I am 28 years old goddamn it and making me feel bad about my alcohol choices are not going to make me want to sleep with you! All that to say, fuck champagne

YES!!!! YES!  Beer and champagne both taste like rotten pointlessness, and maybe I’m just a tannin-sensitive bitch or something (coffee and I are Not Allies) but red wine is SO BAD, red wine is for COOKING BEEF and NOTHING ELSE, if you hand me a glass of red wine I am going to assume that you have made a horrible mistake and respond in the same way as if you had handed me an entire glass of soy sauce.

[re666less-pup]

Micah is a piss whore and we all know it~

It all started during one night of partying at camp, Beaumont waltzed over to a knocked out Micah and let a hot stream of piss soak Micah’s face and chest when the man was drunk as a skunk as he lay in his bedroll, Bill who was walking by started laughing hysterically at the scene. “Micah~.” Beau sang out loud, trying to get him to wake up, Beau started to point his exposed cock at Micah’s crotch. Soon the stream stopped but Micah was still out cold. “You’re no fun.” Beau grunts in disdain as he puts himself away and walks over to his tent to go lay down in his cot. “Wha-who the fuck pissed on me?!” Micah screamed when he finally woke up, soon stomping footsteps were heard approaching Beaumont’s tent, and angry and red-faced Micah stormed into the tent, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! pissing on me in the middle of the night? Is that entertainment for you?!” Micah ranted shuffling back and forth, “At least someone enjoyed it.” Beau said as he pointed to Micah’s crotch where a hard outline of a small cock was showing through prominently, Micah covers himself with his hands as his face turned beat red.

Beau licks his lips with a smile, “What did you do to me?” Micah said in a harsh whisper, “Nothing, I just pissed on you. But it seems like you’ve been fancying that for a while now, judging by how your little prick acts to being belittled and showered on with my piss.” Beaumont said darkly, getting up he grabs his gun belt and walked out of the tent. “W-Wait, you can’t just fuckin’ leave me here!” Micah called after Beau when he exited the tent as well, “Follow me then.” Beau threw behind his shoulder. Micah hurried after him and soon fell in step with the 6’6” man, “Where are we even going?” Micah said bitterly, “The lake, to play then to clean you up.” Beau replied scratching the side of his face. “P-Play?” Beau smirked at his response. When they reached the lake Beau instructed Micah to strip out of his clothes, “Can you look away?”

Beau scoffed, “No. Now, strip.” The man said in a stern voice, Micah blushed as he began to strip, the fact that Beau is forcing him to get out of his sticky clothes made Micah’s little dick stand up on its own. Beau smirked at how tiny the man’s dick was, “Nice pea shooter, Micah.” The man scratched the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed, “Stop making fun of me you, asshole.” Micah shot back as he pointed at him with a boney finger, Beau held his smile when he came closer to the man, “On your knees, Micah.” Beau commands, grabbing him by his dirty blonde hair and yanking him down to kneeling position. “Take my dick out.” Beau said to the man, Micah swallow nervously as he unzipped Beau’s pants to grab his hard cock and pull it out. Micah needed to hands to fully grab the man’s cock, even then the head was poking out still. “Now, open your mouth.” Micah did what he was told, opening his mouth a little, “Wider, boy.” Beaumont said as he stuck 2 fingers into the man’s mouth, prying it open even more.

“Just like that, Micah.” Beau crooned, letting a stream of warm piss fill Micah’s mouth, when it was full he made the decision to swallow large gulps of piss. “Mm, you look good like this, Micah. You should do this more often.” Beau said with a smile before he aimed his cock at Micah’s little prick, it stood at full attention as the dark shade of purple engulfed it. “You wanna cum don’t you?” Beau teases, “Y-Yes, let me cum, please.” Micah whined like a pathetic little slut, Beaumont stopped the stream before shoving his entire cock in Micah’s mouth, he chokes and coughs around the man’s cock. “There ya go. Take it, boy.” Beau grunts as he harshly throat fucked his new piss whore. The man came in an instant as soon as Beau’s cock went into his mouth, thin ropes of clear cum spill out of Micah’s little dick. He began to gag so much he threw up on Beau’s cock, “Fuckin’ whore.” Beau growled darkly, the man struck Micah across the face and shoved his mouth on his cock again. Making him gag again.

Micah threw up on himself once more when Beau’s cock stabbed his trachea, forcing Beau to pull his cock out again, “Fuck Beaumont, S-Stop.” Micah whines after spitting out the vomit that remained in his mouth, Beau flashes with anger not a second later, his grip in the man’s hair got tighter before he threw him into the shallow end of the lake, “Get cleaned up, you fuckin’ blue ballin’ whore.” Beau commanded as he cleaned off his cock with his canteen of water before putting himself away, as uncomfortable as it is. Micah quickly cleaned up with the water of the lake, getting out of the water, he shudders from the cool air that hits him. “C’mon, grab your clothes.” Micah did what Beau said without thought, Beau walked ahead of him back to camp. The other men of the camp laughed when they saw Micah, he looked like a drowned rat. “Have a nice bath, Mr. Bell?” Arthur asked mockingly, making a blowjob motion with his hand, “F-Fuck you, cowpoke.” Micah scowled at the man who sat on his cot, Beau swatted Micah’s chest, “Get Dressed, we’re going to go raid an O’Driscoll camp.” Beaumont said, grabbing his rifle from underneath his cot. Micah came over to Beau’s tent after getting dressed in his normal outfit, “Ok, I’m ready to go.” Micah mumbled as Beau walked past him, the man waltzed over to where St. John is and climbed atop the large horse, Micah doing the same with his own horse. “H’yah!”

[zodiacal-dust-and-curls]

I already know the answer to this but, which Bo Rhap boy is your favorite, and why? Pls be specific

Gwilym Lee, 

The man has utterly taken over my life and I’m not upset. Like not even a little bit. 

Let’s run a list, shall we. 

His talent. He clocked EVERYTHING while interacting with Brian and brought it all to the screen. When you watch the videos of them together, you can literally see the way Gwilym is studying him. It’s unreal. 

His sense of humor. Please dig into his twitter a bit or just read his comments on insta. F*cking hilarious. (This isn’t even the best one, it just has a pic of him that I like)

The Voice. I feel like enough is said there. Like I even like it in the video with Cardy B in jail in Tokyo (i think?) where he sounds drunk as a skunk. 

He’s just like really pretty. He checks off all my aesthetic points: Tall ✔ Blue eyes ✔ Dark hair ✔ Pretty bearded or clean shaven ✔✔. My mom says it’s because I like pointy/angular boys. But whatever mom. He’s too pretty to ignore. 

Lastly, he is utterly unattainable due to a commitment to his lovely fiancee. Which is amazing and I wish them the best in life. 

Thank you for asking an allowing me to rant. I appreciate it. 

[fuckyeahererifanfic]

Hi! I've been watching Snk for a little more than 2 months now, but I totally fell in love with Riere/Ereri ❤️ Can you please recommend a few fics in which Levi or Eren is drunk and gets flirty with the other, love confessions... ANYTHING really 😂 Thank you so much! ❤️

There miiiight potentially be some already in the [alcohol] tag, but some in there might also be angst, so make sure to read the summaries and tags!

The Not-So Direct ApproachSummary: Levi runs his mouth when drunk. Of course he rants about his pretty new recruit Eren Yeager with his pretty eyes and pretty nose and pretty unfair height.     Unfortunately for him, it’s all on tape.

Drunk DialingSummary: It’s not Levi’s fault that his phone stored names alphabetically and that his best friend’s and his secret crush’s names both start with the same two letters.

Trip and Fall in LoveSummary: Eren drunkenly confesses that he thinks Levi is really hot after a photo shoot.

UnexpectedSummary: Eren shows up at Levi’s house in the middle of the night drunk as a skunk.