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with-love-from-hell · 2 years

Text

5 Sides of Human

{Part seven}

Genre: Mixed

Character profiles for the Mc’s featured in this series

WC: ~4k

CW: swearing, anxiety, depictions of anger and verbal aggression, sarcasm, joking about poop, SUGGESTIVE, some hurt, self-deprecation, Storm has a stutter but I am not depicting it with written word consistently, pining, spoilers for season 1&2!

Part six <<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>> Part eight

©️ artwork commissioned by @vivi8bit ©️

“W-wait a second! Satan, I-” Mammon yelped, being pulled down aggressively from the crater he had created in the ceiling. As he collapsed onto the floor, covered head-to-toe in blaze-orange dust, the classroom erupted into a fit of laughter.

“Mammon, what the hell is wrong with you?” Satan hissed. “You could have killed Storm!”

“Eh?!” Mammon whipped around with worry enveloping his entire expression, nearly falling over himself in the process. “Where is she!? Is she okay??”

“Lucifer’s taking her to the infirmary.” Satan sighed, crossing his arms in frustration. “I mean seriously though, are you that much of an idiot? Storm never mixed a potion in her life and yet she knew better than you.”

“She hasn’t even been back for a full 48 hours and Mammon already injured her.” Belphie sighed. “You’re really gonna be in for it when Lucifer comes back.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Of course you didn’t.” Belphie rolled his eyes. “You were just trying to impress Storm by acting like a genius, which we all know you’re not.”

Mammon’s face burned behind the orange hue painting his cheeks. He turned his head away, mumbling under his breath. “I ain’t tryn’a impress nobody...’specially not S-Storm...”

Satan shook his head. “No, you totally were. What did you think would happen? She would fall head over heals for you just because you could grind some ingredients into paste better than anyone else?”

“Wait a minute,” Sarah grinned evilly, “you really do have a crush on Storm, don’t you, Mammon!?”

Mammon scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “No I don’t! S-she’s just some lousy human, just like the rest of ya!”

Sarah leaned forward, now much more interested in the developments of today’s class. “Ooh, you gotta spill. Have you asked her out yet? Or dropped some hints that you want to...you know...” Sarah raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh please.” Vivi rolled her eyes, scribbling on the corner of her lab report. “We have all already seen him following her around like a duckling and staring at her when you think no one is looking. Plus, you wouldn’t shut the hell up about her before she even got here.”

“Ha, yeah. You think she hasn’t noticed by now, Mammon?” Belphie snickered before nuzzling his head back into his folded arms.

Mammon’s blush darkened as he tried to mumble out an excuse. “W-well! She’s at least nicer to me than you guys! So yeah! It makes sense that I get along better with her...at least a little bit- I mean, uh- no, that’s not what I meant. I meant to say-”

“I’d hate to intrude on your riveting conversation,” the professor remarked coldly, standing behind Mammon with an angry aura wafting off of him. “But I’d like my class to get back to order. Since all of you are so keen on making small talk, I assume that means your project is complete and you can help Mammon clean up this room.”

Before any of them could protest, the professor dropped two arm-fulls of cleaning supplies around the group. After sparing annoyed glances at the 2nd oldest, they all cleaned the room under the watchful eye of the professor.

“Why does Diavolo want Storm here?” Beel pondered aloud after seeing Storm enter the Student Council Chambers, tailing closely behind Lucifer.

“You’ll find out in time. Take your seats.” Lucifer snarled, clearly still annoyed from the chaos that took place earlier today.

“I suppose with all of the brothers and Storm here now its time to get started!” Diavolo grinned. “I call this officer’s meeting to order.”

“We will be discussing plans for the school festival today.” Lucifer noted, scribbling words quickly onto the parchment in front of him. “First though, we must select a leader for the committee.”

Mammon groaned. “Hard pass.”

“Don’t worry Mammon.” Levi snickered. “There’s no way you’ll end up getting chosen.”

“Especially not after today.” Satan chuckled, eyeing the remnants of orange dust still visible under Mammon’s collar.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to-”

“Maybe we should just draw straws like last year. That’s the most reasonable way, right?” Now fully ignoring Mammon, Satan sat up in his chair, looking poised.

“But Beel got it last year, remember? And we all know how horrible that turned out...” Asmo sighed, remembering how Beel had managed to consume all of his stage make-up for his singing performance.

“Don’t remind me...” Beel sheepishly sank in his seat, fiddling with his large fingers.

“Agreed. We cannot have a repeat of last year’s festival- especially with such important guests in attendance.” Diavolo glanced toward Storm, giving her a warm smile. “We’ll do something different this year. Instead, I am going to be appointing the head of the committee myself.”

The brothers all collectively groaned, each not wanting the task pushed onto them.

“With that said...Storm, I assume I can count on you to fill that role?”

“Me?” Storm blinked back her surprise, darting her eyes across the brothers to try to convince herself she had misheard. “Why me?”

“Because I want it to be you.” Diavolo beamed at her as she nervously avoided his gaze.

“B-but...I’m not sure I’m cut out for something like that...”

“Surly you are joking.” Lucifer stated pointedly. He shook his head after being met with her confused, unblinking stare. “Your entire job in the human world was event planning, was it not? In addition, you are innately well organized, and have an incredible ability juggle multiple tasks- so much better than anyone in this room,” Lucifer paused, clearing his throat nervously, “...myself included.”

Storm was surprised at the sudden praise, almost wondering if she had heard him correctly.

“Well, it’s decided.” Diavolo folded his hands in front of him, his smile growing larger as he met Storm’s eyes. “I look forward to seeing what you can do.”

“Ya hear that? That’s the spoiled royal in Diavolo speakin’.” Mammon murmured quietly under his breath.

“Maammonnnn...” Lucifer growled, eyes shining a dangerous red as he glared across the table at his younger brother.

Mammon cleared his throat, averting his eyes from the eldest. As if to look at something passing overhead, he began staring at the ceiling, whistling to himself.

“Storm...” Diavolo lowered his voice, attempting to comfort her anxiousness. “There’s no need to overthink it. Just do your best.”

Storm nodded, still uncertain in Diavolo’s confidence in choosing her. She looked among the brothers, many of whom looked simultaneously relieved that they didn’t get the task assigned to them, and excited to work under Storm’s command for the festival preparations.

“Now then, your first task will be to prepare something for the student council to do in the festival. Just like any other student organization or club, we participate in our own event at the festival. Last year, we hosted a talent show. But the question for this year is what exactly we are going to do.” Diavolo tapped his pen on his planner, tilting his head to rest on his fist. His eyes shimmered as he watched Storm’s eyes shift to him, seemingly taking his words in carefully. “I’d like to hear the best ideas at our next meeting, Storm. Naturally, you are welcome to bring in ideas from the human world. The rest of you are welcome to discuss your thoughts with Storm, but she will be presenting what she deems the best of what you all come up with.”

The brothers began excitedly chattering amongst each other, already debating their ideas credibility. Diavolo dismissed the meeting, noting that the festival leadership was all that was needed to be discussed at the meeting. The brothers began packing up their belongings, trying to already bombard Storm with their ideas for the festival. Before Lucifer could qualm their erratic behavior, Diavolo stopped him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

“By the way, Lucifer.” Diavolo leaned down, murmuring the words in a volume only he could hear. “It seems we are one officer short today, aren’t we?”

Lucifer’s face drained in color and he immediately glanced around the room, taking stock of who had showed up. Diavolo was right- Belphie was nowhere to be seen.

Diavolo chuckled. “Perhaps Belphegor had more pressing business to attend to? He has been getting closer Fern- maybe their forgetfulness has rubbed off on him...”

Lucifer swallowed hard, feeling a mixture of shame and frustration bubble in his chest. How could he not have noticed that Belphie had not shown up? Maybe if he’d been less focused on his excitement of Storm being there...

“Well then, I’ll be off.” Diavolo patted Lucifer’s shoulder. “Take care, everyone.”

Lucifer gritted his teeth as Diavolo strolled out the door. The room was tensely quiet; the increasing feeling of impending doom for the youngest brother rising steadily.

“So...Belphie missed the meeting without giving any notice...” Lucifer growled, slamming his portfolio closed without care. “I cannot believe he would embarrass me in front of Diavolo like that. Does he have a death wish?”

Storm approached, picking up some loose parchment that had fallen on the floor. She handed the papers to him hesitantly, flinching when he snatched them from her hands and shoved them into the portfolio. “Do you really think he’d just decide to skip? Even if Belphie didn’t want to come, he would have at least known it would piss you off, right?”

Lucifer sighed angrily. “Even if so, I wont let it go unpunished.”

Storm gave him a sympathetic look as he collected his belongings. “I’ll go find him.”

“No,” Lucifer shook his head. “I want my brothers to go find Belphie. He isn’t your responsibility, Storm. Who I want you to find is Fern. They definitely have something to do with this.”

“What?!” Mammon’s jaw dropped. “Ya can’t be serious?”

Satan scowled. “Why us?”

Lucifer clenched his fists, fighting the urge to yell with Storm standing right in front of him. “Either you find him and send him to my office, or you’re all skipping dinner tonight. Do I make myself clear?”

The group groaned, sulking out of the council chambers. Storm followed behind at Lucifer’s side, trying to think of a way to calm him down. She thought for a moment about holding his hand, but suppressed the idea after seeing how tightly wound his fists were. She figured he would have to sort this out on his own, rather than try to convince him to go easy on his brothers.

Lucifer parted ways after crossing the threshold to the chambers, storming off to his office further down the hall and slamming the door behind him. As the search for Belphie and Fern began, each brother peeled off from the group, insisting they had better things to do than worry about the whereabouts of the youngest brother. All that remained was Beel and Storm, left to find the pair on their own.

“Storm, I can’t miss dinner tonight. I’ll die.” Beel whined, holding her hand in his. “Can we search for them together? If we find Belphie first, I’ll help you find Fern! Please, Storm!!”

Storm chuckled, patting his hand reassuringly. “Relax, Beel. I was going to help look for him anyway.”

Beelzebub gripped Storm into a tight embrace. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

She smiled, hugging him back. “Of course, Beel. Let’s get searching.”

“Hey, Belphie.” Fern yawned, rubbing their eyes sleepily. “What time is it?”

“Dont know. Dont care.” Belphie rolled over, nuzzling his head into their shoulder. “Gonna go back to sleep now. Night.”

Fern felt around for their DDD. “Didn’t you have a council meeting though? Lucifer’s gonna be pissed if you’re late again.”

Belphie scoffed. “Since when do you give a shit about that?”

Fern finally found their phone, shooting Belphie a pointed glare. “Since you blamed me for you being late the last time and pissy older brother hung me upside down from the ceiling with you for 3 hours.”

Belphie snickered, remembering how Fern had screeched at the top of their lungs about needing to be let down use the restroom. It wasn’t until threatening to shit on Lucifer’s desk that he finally allowed them down.

Fern looked at their DDD, seeing it was well past the end of the class period they shared together. “Looks like we slept through class.”

Belphie grunted in response, turning over again to cling to a large pillow. Fern shook their head snuggling back into place next to him. They wouldn’t have imagined becoming so close to the youngest given his calloused demeanor upon their first meeting, but after learning his thirst for chaos was just as strong as theirs, the two became nearly inseparable. They rested their head on his back, basking in the moment until a loud buzzing from underneath the mountain of pillows caught their attention.

“Belphie, that’s your phone.”

The sleepy demon merely groaned in annoyance, pulling another pillow over his head.

“Hey! You Punk! What if it’s important!” Fern poked Belphie’s sides, causing him to squirm.

“Don’t care.”

“Belphie, come on.” Fern scowled, getting a middle finger in response. “Fine, I’m gonna answer it and pretend to be you.” Fern lowered their voice into a mocking tone to how Belphie usually talked. “Look at me, I’m Belphegor. I like to fart in my sleep so much that one time I trusted one that I shouldn’t have and got caught by Lucifer when I tried to wash the evidence away in the kitchen sink.”

Belphie’s eyes snapped open and whipped the pillow off of his head, glaring angrily at Fern. “Hey! I told you that in confidence!”

Fern stuck out their tongue, accompanying the action with a loud fart noise. Quickly, the once peaceful nap escalated into a wrestling match, with insults thrown back and forth at the other, including Fern calling Belphie a “Little poopy diaper boy” and Belphie calling Fern a “Snot-haired freak.” The wrestling match ended with Belphie staring down at Fern, both breathing intensely and the tension growing thick between them.

Ultimately, the phone was left unanswered.

“It’s no use.” Beelzebub whined as he and fern crossed the threshold to the House of Lamentation. “I’ve tried texting him and calling him and he wont answer me.”

Storm rubbed Beel’s back in an attempt to sooth his anxiety. “Don’t worry, Beelie. We’ll find him.”

Beel whined once more, uncertain of if they would actually be able to find Belphegor. Missing dinner would not be good, and would ultimately land him in more trouble after destroying the kitchen on a hunger rampage. What’s more, it put his favorite human in harms way; the fear of losing control over his gluttony ringing like an alarm bell in the back of his mind.

“He wasn’t anywhere at RAD in his usual sleeping areas, nor in the unusual ones. He wasn’t in the park...so he has to be here, right?” Storm tapped her chin thoughtfully as Malice ran into the corridor to greet them. “So...if I were Belphie...Where would I go to nap if I wanted to ditch school early?”

Beel paused for a moment, ruffling the fur on Malice’s head. “Well, the two places he would usually be napping would be in our room, or in the attic.”

Storm nodded. “I’ll check the attic, you check your bedroom.”

Beel fumbled with his hands, nodding slowly in response. As Storm turned to leave with Malice in tow, Beel grabbed her by the wrist. “Storm...What if something bad happened to him?”

Storm’s eyes softened, taking his large hand in hers. “I’m sure he’s fine, Beel. Don’t worry.”

Beel gave her a weary smile, still unconvinced, but accepting of her optimism. The two parted ways, going to search the areas where they hoped the youngest brother would be.

It took some time for Storm to finally reach the attic, having to pause and stretch out her back a couple times due to the lingering pain from having fallen on her back one too many times over the past few days. After stopping to catch her breath at the top of the spiral stairs, she quietly peered into the attic. For a moment, a flashing memory of releasing Belphegor from his confines played in her brain, the consequences of which lead to her demise. She shook the memory away as she moved forward, trying to forget the incident that she still had lingering nightmares about from time to time.

Storm breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Belphegor curled up in the mess of pillows and blankets. Clutching him for dear life was Fern, who’s hair looked like it had been whipped through a tornado. Their shirt was missing, as was Belphie’s, causing Storm to raise an eyebrow.

“Hey, Lovebirds.” Storm called, teasingly. She prodded Fern with her foot, earning a groan in response.

“5 more minutes...” Fern murmured, nuzzling their face into Belphie’s hair.

Storm smirked. “Fine, but you guys are only gonna prolong your suffering. You’ve really pissed Lucifer off, ya know?”

Belphie’s eyes snapped open, and he shifted his awareness to Storm. “What do you mean?”

Storm sighed, shaking her head. “You missed the council meeting.”

“Oh...Shit...” Belphie groaned, sitting up and stretching. Fern reluctantly got up as well, grumbling about how Lucifer was a “wack ass.”

“Seriously, guys. He’s pissed.” Storm noted, her tone more serious. “Were you both literally just up here screwing around?”

The two furrowed their brows, before sharing a confused glance. Upon seeing their disheveled state of dress, their faces fell, becoming embarrassed after having been caught after their recent activities.

“W-we weren’t doing anything...” Fern tried to defend themselves, throwing on their shirt. “We were just trying to nap...comfortably.”

“Right...” Storm nodded, rolling her eyes. “Well...napping then? You really think that’s a good excuse to skip out on class and student council meetings?”

“Duh.” Belphie scoffed, rising to his feet. “My last class was advanced Seductive Spellcraft. Do you know how much energy that takes out of me?”

Storm shook her head. “Well, have fun with the consequences then.”

“C’mon, Stormy.” Fern pleaded. “Don’t be a narc.”

Storm ignored Fern’s begging, pulling out her phone to text Beelzebub that she had found the pair. Immediately after, she texted Lucifer, informing him she had found Belphie in the attic. Having just gotten home, he requested she bring him down to the common room to face punishment.

“Come on you two, let’s go.” Storm motioned for them to follow, being met with groans. Storm crossed her arms, the pair clearly having no intention on moving. Putting her foot down, Storm decided to assert herself for the benefit of the rest of the family. She invoked the power of the pact, the purple mark on the back of her neck. “Belphie, grab Fern and follow me to the common room. Now.”

“Wait, Storm!” Belphie tried to stop himself, but the pact was too strong. He tossed Fern over his shoulder, following Storm down the stairs to the common room. The entire way down, the two shouted their protests, trying to get Storm to relinquish her pact power. Fortunately, the two were still too groggy to know that Fern could have used their own pact to over-ride her invocation.

“Thank you for the work you continue to do with my brothers, Storm.” Lucifer handed her a demonus glass, finally able to rest after the hellish day he had. The bottle rested on the table, as if to signal an empty glass could be refilled if she would only stay with him.

Storm smiled, taking a sip from the glass. “It’s no problem. I’m glad you agreed that extra chores was a better fit for the both of them rather than hanging them from the ceiling again. ”

Lucifer returned her smile, settling in next to her. “I suppose I can’t have Fern threatening to defecate on my belongings again. They’re so unpredictable that I believe they may attempt it.”

Storm laughed heartily, causing Lucifer’s heart to flutter in his chest. They continued to talk about her time away and the behavior of his brothers since her absence, how they’ve each been doing in the time spent apart, ideas for the student council’s activity in the festival, and things that had been planned out thus far for the festival. After a few drinks, the conversation moved into a comfortable silence, the noises of the others moving about the house- filling the space between them. He slyly shifted his arm behind her on the sofa, questioning whether to drape it over her shoulders to see how she would respond.

“It’s nice being back here.” Storm sighed, tracing figures on the seat of the couch. “I missed you guys a lot.”

“Despite the problems they seem to always be involved in?” Lucifer smirked.

Storm giggled. “Yes, despite all of the chaos. I love being around you all. It makes me feel like I have a normal family.”

Now it was Lucifer’s turn to laugh. “Oh, my dear Storm. We are far from a normal family.”

“Yeah I suppose so. But it’s not like my other family was normal either. This is definitely preferable, even if I keep getting thrown into walls.” She smirked back to him, finding joy in her ability to relax and be playful after the past few days.

“While that may be true, I feel as though your willingness to get involved in my family drama results in more pain than it’s worth sometimes.” He chuckles, “I’d be damned if I didn’t have you around, though.”

“Well, I try my best to be useful. I don’t have much else to offer other than that.” Storm gave a small laugh. When Lucifer didn’t give any response, she turned to him. His face was now twisted into a concerned frown- drastically different from the playful smirk he dawned before.

“Storm...” He sighed, shaking his head. He almost didn’t want to entertain such a ludicrous thought. “You don’t actually believe such a thing, do you?”

She was taken aback by the question, used to using the deprecating humor against herself, or having it used against her, and laughing along with it. She chewed her lip. “Uhh...I mean...I guess? I’ve never really found anything else about myself worth praising.”

Lucifer furrowed his brow, finding himself feeling angry at who in their right mind would convince her of such a thing.

Storm shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “Uh- well...It’s not like, that huge of a deal. I’ve made my peace with it, and I like doing things for others, so-”

“Storm.” Lucifer stated sternly, placing his hand delicately on her knee. “You have worth beyond what people can use you for.”

Storm blinked, her eyes widening in surprise. “I-”

“I’m not finished.” Lucifer noted, squeezing her leg delicately. “I could go on for hours about the things that I admire about you. While your willingness to help in stressful situations is one of those things, I assure you that it is definitely not the only thing worth feeling fondness over.”

Storm looked away, only for her cheek to be captured by his palm. He turned her face back toward him, inching his face closer to hers. She felt her heart rate increase, as he stared into her eyes, seemingly trying to find something to say. Lucifer ran his thumb across her cheek slowly, narrowing the gap even further.

As their lips met, Storm felt her heart skip a beat in her chest. For someone who was standoffish about his feelings earlier in the day, he seemed to be laying his heart on his sleeve now. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the building tension between the two, but the stress of the world seemed to fade away into the ether- leaving only their hearts behind, beating in-sync.

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thewritetofreespeech · 3 years

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Could you write something where the reader has been friends with the letterkenny hicks for a long time and the reader and darry don’t realize they like each other but everyone else does?

Pairing: Daryl x f!reader

Another beautiful day at MoDean’s 3.

“MoDean’s 3.” Wayne announced before tapping his shot glass on the bar with the other’s before gulping it down.

“It’s good to have a bar in this town again.” Daryl stated.

“Can confirm.” Katy agreed.

“Hope this one doesn’t burn down like the last two. MoDean’s 4 just sounds like a bad post trilogy sequel.”

“MoDean’s 4: the MoDeaning.” Squirrely Dan added from his seat beside him at the bar.

“MoDean’s 4: MoDean MoProblems.” Katy added after that.

“MoDean’s 4: And this time, it’s personal.” Wayne added even further. Lowering his voice from its already gruff timber.

“MoDean’s 4: One for the Road.” The group all turned to look over their shoulders to see [Y/N] walk in and gave a resounding friendly hello. “You bums started without me.”

“We waited as long as we could.” Katy replied as she leaned in to take her half hug.

“But the tank was low and you had to fill up?” [Y/N] teased. To which everyone chuckled. “Sorry. Chorin’ ran long.”

“Well why didn’t you give me a call? I’d helped ya out.” Darry offered, seeming genuinely upset they didn’t call.

“Nah. That’s ok. She’s finished now. Didn’t want to bother anyone.”

“It wouldn’t have been a bother.” Darry insisted. Picking at the label on his beer now.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” They replied with a smile. Lingering for a minute before turning to Katy. “Hey Kit-Kat, order me a Gus & Brew when Gailer comes back around? I’m gonna cop a squat before I cop a squat at the bar.” Katy gave a small salute as [Y/N] headed off to the restrooms. A low, quiet grumble following them.

“Hey Darry, what’s that thing you’re always sayin’ about birds landed on your bottom lip and what not?” Wayne asked.

“ ‘If you don’t tuck in that lip, bird’s libel to come poop on it’.”

“That a boy.”

“So why the long face Darry?” Katy asked. As if she didn’t know.

“It’s nothin’ it’s just…..well….this may come as a surprise to ya’ll but I sorta have a crush on [Y/N].”

“Darry, the only surprise here is that it took you so long to say it out loud.”

“Well what do you mean Katy?”

“I mean Darry,” she stated, “you’re about as transparent as saran wrap.”

“I am not.”

“If yous was an award-winning Amazons original series, you’d be Transparents.” Squirrely Dan added.

“I am not!”

“You know what, if you were a Canadian rock band from Ottawa, you would be Amos the Transparent.” Wayne chimed in.

“Ok. Maybe I do put the B in subtle from time to time, but I’ve been pretty cool about this.” The looks around the bar from his friends told Daryl that that would be a hard no. “Well…if I haven’t been that subtle, then it doesn’t matter cause she must know and isn’t interested. She’s probably into nicer guys. Like Wayne.”

“Well I appreciate the compliment bud, and I’m not gonna lie to you I have thought about it.” The plaid bespoke hick replied. “They’re right easy on the eyes. And a hard worker. Plus they’re an animal lover, and as Mrs. McMurray always says there’s a special place in heaven for animal lover. But I wouldn’t do that to ya there bud.” He said before taking a sip of his beer.

“Thanks good buddy.”

“In any case,” Katy chimed in. Knowing their time to have this little chat was running short. “You’re about as dumb as you look if you don’t think they have the hots for you too. Could not have been puttin’ out clearer signals if they had flair guns.”

“Well I take offense to that Ms. Katy. I don’t think I’m as dumb as I look.”

“I thinks you’re actually quite handsome there Darry.”

“Thanks Squirrely Dan.”

“Oh my God! Beset on all sides!” Katy shouted. “I love [Y/N]. They’re my best friend. But you can’t be softballin’ it in with them. You gotta be direct. If you wanna make a move, tell them. Get after it Darry while the gettin’s good.”

“Yeah Darry. Either shit or get off the pot. What’s the problem?”

“I thought I did.” [Y/N] replied to Wayne’s rhetorical questions as they came back for the tail end of the conversation. “Hey. Where’s my beer?”

“I’ll uh…I’ll get it for ya [Y/N].” Daryl said. Jumping up from his seat with grace of a newborn deer.

“Oh…thanks Darry.” They replied. Tucking their hair behind their ear.

“Get these guys a fuckin’ puppers.” Wayne muttered.

“Seriously…” Katy muttered back. Although both siblings secretly rooting for their besties.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#letterkenny #letterkenny wayne #letterkenny daryl #letterkenny dan #letterkenny katy #letterkenny squirrely dan #letterkenny scenarios #letterkenny imagines #imagine #scenarios #random fandom #letterkenny x reader

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teddy-bear-surprise · 3 years

Note

hi!! how are you? i seen your post about wanting to write headcannons or blurbs and i didn't know if you wanted them to be birthday related but osbddkndjdd staying up until exactly 12 am with peter and once it hits, the reader gives him a bunch of kisses & let's him now how happy she is to be with him!!!

This story is also available on AO3 and Wattpad!

Hi! Thank you so much for the request, I'm doing great today and I hope you are too <3

MASTERLIST

Title: Midnight Birthday

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: None (they joke around about poop and farts, which makes me sound immature, but I promise it’s funny and not like serious)

Context needed: Y/N

I deviated slightly from the prompt on accident, but I hope you enjoy it :)

Your phone rang loudly for the third time, prompting you to finally pick up. Normally, you would ignore everyone’s phone calls, but you realized that Peter was the one calling you. You had set a special ringtone for him, just so this wouldn’t happen, yet he still had to call multiple times just to get your attention.

“Hey, Peter! Sorry I didn’t pick up before… You know how it is, right?”

Peter chuckled on the other end of the line, “Yeah, I know. We should really come up with a better system for you. I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if there was an emergency and they had to call you. I know you can’t see me right now, but just the thought gave me goosebumps.”

You heard him shudder, “I’m sure you’re very goosebumpy, Spider-Kid.”

“Hey!” He asserted jokingly, “You know that I prefer ‘Spider-Man’, you know that. And don’t be mean to me! I’m over here calling to invite you out to dinner and this is what I get? I am beyond hurt. I will never recover.” Peter emphasized each word as sarcastically as he possibly could.

“Oh, get over yourself drama queen. Spider-Boy, Spider-Kid, Spider-Man, it’s all the same thiiinnggggg. Just take the compliment, hun. In thirty years– when you’re all old, wrinkly, and a Spider-Senior –you’ll be missing the days when people called you Spider-Kid. Now, what were you saying about dinner?”

“I said I wanted to invite you out to dinner! Were you not listening?”

You rolled your eyes and wished he could see your face right now. “I got that part, genius. I meant like what kind of dinner… Y’know, Where? When? The details, Pete, the details.”

“Oohhhh, that would make sense.” He laughed quietly, shaking his head at his own stupidity. “I was thinking that we could go to that restaurant you love, you know the one you were talking about the other day… Ummmm I think it was called Sveleka? Right? So we could go there around 7…”

Peter’s voice trailed off as he tried to remember the details of his plan and you cut in. “It’s Veselka, but that would be great, Pete. I’ll see you there at 7, love you.”

You hung up the phone before Peter even got a chance to reply. Your phone skills were rudimentary, to say the least, and it always got you into trouble. Luckily, Peter understood your bizarre hatred of phones and phone calls, allowing you to talk to him without worrying too much.

You knew that his birthday was tomorrow and you had developed a plan of your own. It was supposed to be a surprise, and the last thing you were expecting was for him to ask you out to dinner the night before his own birthday. In a way, it made you appreciate him even more, knowing that he loved you enough to randomly call you and ask you out to dinner. But now, thanks to his unexpected decision, you only had two hours to rearrange everything before meeting up with him for dinner. You stared at the giant teddy bear sitting on your bed and sighed. Even though your plan was technically easier to carry out now, you felt a twinge of annoyance about having to modify your schedule.

Originally, you wanted to sneak into Peter’s apartment, along with May’s help, and surprise him with a giant teddy bear that said “I love you” when you hugged it. Ideally, you would get there right at midnight, as the night turned from August 9th to 10th, and show him that you cared. That you cared about his birthday, his happiness, and his wellbeing.

You shook away the thought and positioned the teddy bear so that it looked like it wanted to give you a hug. In between its warm, fluffy arms, you placed a small box. This box was technically Peter’s real present. It contained a small, circular locket with one half of a glass spider and a key. In the very same box, you included a long handwritten note telling Peter how much you loved him and how proud you were of him. Once you rearranged the box and bear to your liking, you began to get ready.

The closet of your apartment was minuscule, as was the whole place, and the limited space had led you to develop a very limited wardrobe. Your outfits only consisting of basic black pieces, one dark green jacket, and three pairs of shoes. Peter always joked that he loved how your closet all looked the same, claiming that it made it easier to find you if you ever got lost in a crowd. You both knew that was far from true since everyone in Manhattan loves wearing black, but you appreciated that he was so kind about your unconventional fashion decision.

You grabbed a simple, long black skirt and a silky black tank top, changing out of your pajamas. It might have been five o’clock in the afternoon, but pajamas stayed on until you left the house. That was just the rule. While you fixed your hair and makeup, you began to worry that Peter would figure out your plan. It was a slightly irrational thought, especially since he was socially inept and on multiple occasions forgot when his birthday was. Still, the thought plagued your mind until the moment you were ready to leave.

As you walked to Grand Central station, you texted Aunt May, letting her know that the plan had changed. May had been the biggest supporter of you and Peter’s relationship from the start. Honestly, she was the only one you could trust because she was the only one who could keep both your and Peter’s identities a secret. You hopped onto the Six heading downtown, hoping that she would reply before your service completely cut out.

You: Hi, May. Peter invited me out for dinner at the last minute so we might have to rearrange a bit.

May: This is why I told you to make plans with him ahead of time, so we wouldn’t run into any bumps like this.

You: I know, sorry. I wasn’t expecting him to do this.

May: I was kind of expecting it… I made a bet with myself that he would do this and it looks like I won!

You: You bet on us?? Is this like a reoccurring thing???

May: Definitely not. That would be immature. I’d never do that.

You shook your head at your phone, laughing at how obvious it was that May bet on your and Peter’s relationship. To you, May was like a second mother, or just a really cool aunt. She seemed to understand how to be just serious enough, but not stiff. Not to mention that she was ten times nicer and more supportive of you than your actual mom.

You: I’m gonna pretend that the last part of the conversation never happened. But what I wanted to tell you was that I’m going to meet Peter for dinner around 7 at Veselka so I won’t be able to go back to my apartment and then to Peter’s in time. I just left the bear at my apartment and I’m thinking of asking Peter to go home with me after we eat, what do you think?

May: Sounds like a solid plan, kiddo. Good luck, and please don’t let Peter eat too many of those sauerkraut pierogies this time, he was gassy for two days. It wasn’t fun.

You: Thanks for the gross heads-up, May. Byeeee

You got off at Astor Place and walked in silence towards the restaurant. You were looking at the ground, head hanging low, when Peter called out to you from across the street.

“Y/N, hi!”

You looked up at him and smiled at the goofy boy waving at you. “Hi, Peter!”

Jogging across the street, you made eye contact with him. He held out a hand towards you, helping you onto the sidewalk, and embraced you. Peter kissed the top of your head softly and gave you one last squeeze before letting go.

“So, I guess we’re both early then. I gotta say that I’m shocked, Parker. I wasn’t expecting you to get here before me.”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises.” Peter winked at you.

---

The two of you merrily ate your dinner, with Peter threatening to instigate a food fight more than once. You talked about anything and everything, by the time you two were ready to pay the bill, it was almost 11 and you were stuffed.

Peter rubbed his hand on his stomach, poking at it, “I think it would be physically impossible for me to eat any more. Like I would just spchwoooo,” he mimicked an explosion with his hands, “explode.”

“I’m just glad we didn’t order any of those sauerkraut pierogies, May said they made you all gassy last time. I don’t even want to know what would have happened if you ate those and the stuffed cabbage.”

“What?! May said that? I never get gassy. Ever.” Peter lowered his voice, “I’m literally superhuman, it takes more than some sauerkraut and cabbage to mess with this iron stomach.”

“That’s not even close to being true. You had explosive diarrhea after that burrito two weeks ago, and don’t blame the food, you were the only one out of the three of us who got sick. Did you forget that May and I had to take you to the hospital? Because I don’t think that counts as an ‘iron stomach’.”

The two of you argued about stomachs, diarrhea, and food the rest of the way to your apartment, stopping every few minutes to point out airplanes flying overhead. You insisted on walking home so you could arrive almost exactly at midnight. Plus having Spider-Man by your side was basically a guarantee of safety, even in Manhattan. Peter held your hand the whole time, swinging it like a smitten teenager. After walking nearly fifty blocks, you arrived at your apartment. You noticed that Peter seemed hesitant, only lightly resting his foot on the first step leading up the building.

“C’mon, let’s watch a movie or something. I don’t want you to leave yet.” You pouted and tugged on Peter’s hand, pulling him up into the doorway.

“Well then, I guess I’m not leaving.”

---

The two of you were cuddled on your small couch watching Buzzfeed Unsolved, Peter’s favorite show, but you weren’t paying attention. Every few seconds your eyes would dart up at the clock, waiting for the hour hand to strike 12. Peter was entranced, never letting his attention deviate from the screen, and he didn’t even notice that you weren’t looking at the TV. The minutes went by slowly and you were counting down the seconds until midnight, gripping onto Peter’s arm. He thought that you were just scared by the prospect of unsolved murders, not that you were anxiously waiting for his birthday.

The last second passed and the clock struck 12, you immediately jumped out of Peter’s embrace and turned to him. Peter sat up in shock, confused by your sudden movement. You took the opportunity to straddle him and grab his face.

“Happy birthday, My Love.”

You peppered his face with sweet kisses and his eyes widened. His body softened under your touch as a feeling of love and happiness filled his heart. Peter snaked his hands up your thighs, letting them rest on your hips, and squeezed softly. You gave him one last kiss on the lips and rested your forhead against his.

“I have a surprise for you, Birthday Boy.” You lifted yourself off of his lap and held your hand out to him.

Peter took your hand and followed you obediently, curious to see what his surprise was. You opened the door to your room, revealing the large stuffed bear and its matching box. Peter let go of your hand and excitedly ran towards your bed.

Before he could say anything, you began speaking, “I know it’s not much, and I know you probably thought that I’d have like a trail of rose petals in here or something like that. But I wanted to show you that my love for you isn’t just about our physical relationship, my love for you i-is emotional and wholesome. I love you, Peter Parker. I truly love you and I’m so happy that you’re mine. I mean, every morning I wake up, I remember that I’m dating you, and that makes me the happiest person in the world.” You reached over to the box in Peter’s hands, “So, Peter Parker, will you accept this key?”

You opened the box and Peter’s cheeks glowed red. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he nodded his head.

“Yes! I love you so much too. I- Thank you,” He paused, “Oh no. Wait, I don’t have a key for yo–”

“Pete, this is your birthday present. I wouldn’t expect you to give me a gift on your birthday, silly.”

He rambled energetically, “You’re right… I’m still going to get you a copy though. Oh my gosh. I love this so much, and is this a spider because I’m Spider-Man?! Where’s the other half? This is so cool!”

You held up your matching locket, opening it to reveal the other half. “Yep, it is because you’re Spider-Boy. The best superhero in town. And, don’t throw away the little note at the bottom. Well, don’t open it now, but if you ever need a reminder of how much I love you, just read that note.”

Peter held your hands in his and pulled you down, both of you crashing into the giant teddy bear. The second you fell onto it, it blurted a freakish, distorted “I love you”, scaring both of you. You jumped up and looked at a wide-eyed Peter.

“Y’know, maybe we don’t need the bear. I don’t really want to be on the next episode of Unsolved.”

You laughed at Peter’s joke, pushing the bear onto the ground and kissed him. His soft lips tasted like the blueberry dessert you shared and his skin was as soft as butter.

You pulled away, foreheads resting together once more. Peter whispered, “Thank you for giving me the happiest midnight birthday, darling.”

#peter parker #cute peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #happy birthday peter parker #fluffy fanfiction #fluff #MCU #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #midnight birthday #teddybearsurprise

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platypanthewriter · 3 years

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Unless...? Ch. 7

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Steve Harrington wants to be best friends with Billy Hargrove. He wants to marry him--as friends--so they'll always be together, and he's going crazy, trying not to be weird about it, and scare Billy off. Also he's in a band, and they run a bar.Billy's buckling under an onslaught of friendly Harrington flirtation. Also he's just been hired as the new bartender. For Day 2 of Febuwhump, "I can't take this anymore."

Steve talked Billy’s ear off for hours—rehearsal wasn’t until the afternoon—and listened to Billy on speaker, making himself granola and yogurt, a protein shake, and doing his workout.

“S-sorry,” Billy grunted, lifting weights, and Steve felt heat all across his face again. His hands had gone all sweaty, like Billy was some—like he was an older, cooler kid at school that Steve wanted to impress. Which was stupid, Steve told himself, because Billy was a normal dude, living in a grotty apartment with carpet the color of used diapers.

“...whatcha doing,” Steve asked, considering going for a run, since he couldn’t settle.

“Triceps,” Billy huffed, and Steve couldn’t help picturing Billy’s arms, the way they strained the tight sleeves of his jacket. “Uh,” Billy panted. “Play me something?”

“Oh, uh, sure, okay,” Steve laughed, because he hadn’t been sure what to talk about, and he’d been wondering whether to hang up.

“You...driving back Monday?” Billy asked, as Steve opened his guitar case, and considered what to play.

“Nah, I got rehearsals,” Steve said distractedly, and then realized as he started tuning that Billy’d been quiet a while. “...hon?” he asked, and then bit his lips together, flushing, as something crashed on Billy’s end, and he yelped. Steve winced, grimacing. “Sorry.”

“Am I your honey now?!” Billy asked, snickering. “Y’know…” he said, and Steve relaxed, a little, because he could hear the smile. “—for somebody who’s always worried he’s too much, I feel like you’re never around.”

“Well, you left, shithead,” Steve pointed out. “You skipped out on our damn slumber party.”

“I thought I’d see you in a few days, asshole,” Billy shot back, laughing. “Didn’t know I was signing up to be, like, a band widow.”

“I thought maybe you’d want some space, I told ‘em I’d stick around a while,” Steve admitted, laughing.

“I don’t want space from you, moron,” Billy hissed, and Steve let that settle over him, soaking into him like water on a dried out sponge. He could feel himself getting soft and gushy, and his eyes went a little blurry.

“I—I’ll tell ‘em I need to wrap it up,” he said, kinda hoarsely. “I’ll, um. I’ll be back. Soon. After next weekend maybe?”

“I mean, do what you need to do, it’s your job,” Billy muttered, but he sounded kinda pouty, and Steve laughed.

“You know I’m only here ‘cause I was scared of scaring you off,” Steve told him, and Billy sighed.

“You’re not gonna, moron,” he said, and Steve pushed that into the back of his head to think about later, and dove into practicing songs for their wedding, until Billy was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“So next week,” Steve said, finally, as Billy’s panting giggles petered off. “You marrying me?”

“Jesus,” Billy mumbled, muffled-sounding, and Steve remembered he’d said he was curling up on the couch.

“You don’t gotta,” Steve told him, seriously. “I won’t—I’m not gonna be mad or anything, I know you don’t—want to, as much, uh, as I do—but if you do want to, I wanna—I wanna plan—make some plans, y’know. Um, make it—make it nice.”

“Make it nice,” Billy repeated, sounding less grouchy than usual, and more in shock, and Steve wanted again to just load everybody Billy’d ever dated into cement shoes and then a dump truck, and tip them into Lake Superior.

“Yeah, nothing super fancy, I mean, but a cake, maybe some friends?”

“...friends. Wait, your friends?” Billy asked, sounding disbelieving.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to tell Robin she was right the whole time, I’m gay for you and I love you. I mean, it’s half true.”

“...half true,” Billy said, sounding strangled.

“I mean,” Steve said, feeling his cheeks heat, again, and rubbing his face. “It’s just—it’s not like we’re really marrying for taxes, right. I—I gotta love you to wanna marry you this bad.” Billy made a weird noise on the other end, and Steve winced. “Uh,” he said, grimacing, “—so I thought I’d just—just tell her she’s right, you know? Tell the band and everybody—okay, you’re right, I do, I do love him, we’re getting married, bring us presents?”

“...you wanna tell everybody you’re bi and invite them to the wedding,” Billy repeated blankly.

“Well, here’s the thing,” Steve said, pacing around. “It’s logical, okay—”

“It’s logical,” Billy repeated, and Steve hissed.

“Ssssht! Look, I know this dude who can perform weddings, alright? We can do it somewhere nice! Nicer than the courthouse. Have Jonathan take some photos.”

“Photos,” Billy whispered, and Steve groaned.

“I want photos! We’re gonna look nice!”

“...this…” Billy said, into the silence, and took a shaky breath. “Steve, this—this sounds like a real wedding.”

“Well, yeah, you told me to get a license and shit, right, it is a real wedding.”

“No, I mean,” Billy said, and then paused. “...I—I mean it sounds real, like you—like you want to—to be married—”

He cut off, and Steve waited, and then blew his cheeks out in frustration, and took a deep breath. “We don’t have to,” he said again, shutting his eyes. “You say the word and I’ll just—I’ll drop it, okay, I promise. I won’t—I won’t call you husband anymore—”

Billy made a wheezing noise, and Steve waited to see if he’d talk, but he didn’t.

“Billy. Just tell me if I’m—being too much. I’ll back off, I promise.”

“You’re not too much,” Billy said instantly, and Steve swallowed, grabbing the phone with both hands, and wishing he was holding Billy. “You’re not, you—you’re fine, uh. Just. Are you...sure. I’m what you want.”

“You’re exactly who I want,” Steve growled. “If you don’t wanna wedding I’ll just keep coming to see you, and—and I’ll keep annoying the shit out of you at work, and dragging you over for slumber parties, and when one of us drinks too much we can stay together so nobody falls down any stairs, and…”

“...hugs,” Billy sighed, and Steve flushed, nodding.

“And when you’re having a shitty day I’ll pick you up again and carry your muscled ass around until you feel better,” he promised. “Wish I was doing that.”

“And you want me to sleep in your bed,” Billy said, flatly, but Steve was ready for that sticking point.

“I’ll order a couch I can sleep on,” he said quickly. “Or we can move somewhere with more rooms. Two people paying rent, right? We can get something nice.”

“...we should just up and buy something, then,” Billy laughed. “All your rockstar money.”

“Okay,” Steve said instantly, and Billy made a weird choking noise. “No, shut up, listen, it makes sense, right, we’ll be together, we can have our own place. I can soundproof a room to practice in.”

“...picket fence and a dog,” Billy laughed, unevenly, and Steve wished violently that he could grab the dumbass and squeeze him until he stopped freaking out.

“You want a dog, you get a dog,” he said quietly. “You can have five. Ten.” Billy was quiet on the other end for a long time, and Steve bit his lips together. “...up to you what you want, okay?” he said finally, and heard Billy take a shuddery breath.

“Gimme a chance to tell my sister,” he said, and Steve bit his lips, nodding. “Let her...try and talk me out’ve it. Or she’ll punch me in the head.”

“Okay,” Steve laughed, his stomach falling a little.

“A-and then—fine. Not—not this weekend. N-next. Weekend. She’s not gonna talk me out of it, so. Let’s,” Billy said hoarsely. “Let’s—let’s do it. A-a wedding. The whole—the whole works. If you—if you’re willing to give it to me, I’ll take it. Fucking—moron not to take it. Gimme—everything.”

Steve yelped a laugh and covered his mouth, his vision going blurry. “Jesus,” he whispered. “Holy shit, yes. Gonna—gonna sweep you off your feet. I gotta—I gotta go, I gotta plan our wedding—”

“Okay,” Billy said, laughing too, kinda wet and sniffly, but still a laugh, and Steve couldn’t help giggling too.

“I’m gonna make you so goddamn happy,” he threatened. “You’re not gonna know what the fuck hit you.”

“Says you,” Billy snorted. “Maybe I’ll make you the happiest moron alive—”

“You will,” Steve breathed, and Billy made a strangled choking noise again, yelled ‘fuck you, Harrington’, and hung up. Steve flopped onto his back on the bed and screamed until the neighboring rooms banged on the walls. “Holy shit,” he panted, wiping his eyes. “Holy fuck.”

He dialled Robin.

“Hey there, heterosexual white male,” she answered, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m gay and you should come to our wedding,” he said, and she actually paused, for a second.

“...bi?” she suggested, and Steve grimaced.

“Um, whichever. I’m marrying Billy for, um, fucking reasons. I’m gonna suck his cock. I’m telling the truth now.”

“...for some reason that makes it feel like you aren’t,” she said slowly, and Steve groaned.

“We will be having butt sex,” he tried, and she was quiet for a while.

“What’s going on,” she said finally.

“You were right,” he tried, frustrated. “I was wrong, I—I am marrying Billy for—for totally normal reasons, you’re my friend, you have to come!”

“...totally normal reasons,” she repeated.

“Normal, uh, absolutely normal gay sex reasons,” he hissed. “You were right, it’s gay sex reasons. Gonna—gonna let him put his, um, his dick, uh, up my poop chute.”

“Oh my god,” she wheezed, cackling. “Steve, what the fuck is going on?!”

“Up my...ass?” he corrected uncertainly, and she laughed harder.

“Steve!”

“Yessss?” he hissed, aggravated.

“What the actual fuck? What are you even—”

“You said it was obvious!” he growled back at her. “You were right! I give in! I’m gay and I’m gay-marrying Billy and we’re having gay dog babies! You were right and you have to come to my super gay wedding!”

“...gay dog babies,” she said, sounding mystified.

“Look, are you coming, or what,” he huffed, and she made a weird muppety honking noise. Because they’d been friends a long time, he could imagine the exaggerated face she was making. He glared at the wall. “You gonna miss my wedding?”

“No?!” she sputtered. “I just—you sound like a cartoon, what’s even happening?!”

“I’m marrying Billy,” Steve said, again. “Weekend after next. I want—I want it nice, y’know, I want pictures and...things.”

“Awww, you’re such a dork,” Robin laughed. “When?”

“Help me get everyone there, d’you think, like, Saturday morning would work?”

“Cake for breakfast,” Robin said thoughtfully, but then sighed. “It’s a long drive, man, how early?”

“Oh,” Steve said, grimacing. “What about afternoon? After lunch?”

“There is gonna be cake, right,” she said, and he nodded as he answered.

“‘Course. You think I’m gonna marry my man without cake?”

“That sounded more real,” she said thoughtfully, and Steve rolled his eyes. “I’ll get Jonathan and Joyce up there. You know Dustin is gonna actually kill you.”

“He’ll have to fight Nancy,” Steve said grimly. “She’s gonna break my neck. I’m kinda afraid to tell her, honestly, she always said she’d be my Best Woman.”

“I sure don’t wanna do all that planning,” Robin said, “Though the bachelor’s party sounds fun. I know this is a bizarre idea,” she said, laughing, “—but like. You could wait.”

“I don’t want to,” Steve said, registering a little whine in his voice, and Robin cracked up laughing. “What if he changes his mind,” Steve muttered, like a totally reasonable adult, and she laughed harder.

“You could just bone him,” she suggested.

“Ah,” Steve said, grimacing. “Yeah, um. That’s—I am, um, just, like, really...horny. And he’s, uh, he’s saving himself for marriage. So, um, we gotta. We gotta tie the knot, to, uh, to do the do. Do the butt. Stuff.”

Robin whooped with laughter. “Now I know that’s not true,” she snickered, and Steve had a horrible image pop into his head of Billy taking dates home.

“...oh,” he said. “Is—is he—has he been—”

“He’s not cheating on you,” she groaned, laughing. “But he got around before you swept him off his feet, y’know. And he wasn’t married before, moron, you think he got a divorce or something from that asswipe? He was living in sin.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve said, sighing with relief. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Come back tonight and shove him over the bar before he dies of horniness,” she suggested, and Steve’s dick twitched, like that was even anything he should be imagining.

“Ungh,” he said, around something in his throat.

She groaned. “You two are giving me blue balls, and that’s weird in so many ways.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, trying not to imagine grabbing Billy by the collar and pushing him against anything, while Billy laughed and licked his lips. Billy was so much heavier than anyone Steve had dated, solid and strong and warm, and Steve felt a pang of loneliness, sitting there on his motel bed.

“I’m just saying,” Robin sing-songed. “I mean, if you really wanna marry him, good for you two, but like. Don’t be surprised when Dustin fills all your shoes with Jell-O, keys your car, and puts dye in your showerhead so it looks like The Shining when you turn it on—”

“Holy crap,” Steve mumbled, grimacing.

“Nancy’s gonna probably ask you shit like ‘when did you first know you were in love with him?’” Robin asked, her voice sugary.

When he made fun of my Youtube channel for hours, Steve thought, sighing as he remembered Billy sitting on the bar, singing along.

“...anyway, I’m marrying him,” he mumbled, huffily. “You can come if you want.”

“Oh, I’ll be there,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t miss your gay butt sex marriage for the world.”

“If you’re nice,” he hissed. “There’s gonna be cake if you’re not an asshole.”

“Maybe I’ll eat cake and then tell him how dumb you sound,” she said thoughtfully, and Steve winced.

“No, don’t, don’t tell him it sounded like I...didn’t want to, he’s already freaked out.”

“...hrm,” she said. “Did you sound as stupid saying it to him?”

“He said yes,” Steve pointed out, because he wasn’t sure.

“What the fuck did you even say? Put a ring on it for ass access?”

“No!” Steve yelped. “No, jesus, I just said I wanted to.”

“Hrrmmm,” she said. “This sounds deeply suspicious, and I’m not sure why.”

“It does not,” Steve told her, huffily, and she snorted a laugh.

Telling his bandmates went better. Steve kept it simple—‘Come to our wedding! There’s cake!’—and when they started to tease him he just agreed with everything they said until they stopped talking.

Finally, he called Billy again. “Do you still want Captain America and the Winter Soldier on the cake,” he asked anxiously, because everyone was laughing at him, and he was starting to want to just elope. “I mean, they’re friends. Just friends. And we’re pretending that, um.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Billy muttered. “Yeah, sure, Steve, with you to the end of the line.”

“We could get something else if you want,” Steve said lamely. “I’ve seen, um, sometimes they have Hot Wheels. Get you a Camaro.”

“Y’know I never thought I’d say this, but I think the superheroes sound more like a grownup wedding cake, let’s go with them,” Billy said, obviously trying not to laugh, and Steve both wanted to shove him, and pull him into a hug.

“Love you,” he said, automatically, and Billy made a squeaking grunt noise, like a large truck trying to brake on a hill.

“...don’t break me before the wedding,” he muttered, and Steve realized if it was a real wedding, he’d make a joke there, something like ‘oh no, I’ll save that for after’.

He smacked his hand over his face. “Um. Everyone’s, uh, coming. Jonathan’s—he’s gonna take pictures. Of us. Everyone.”

“With our action figure cake toppers,” Billy said, snorting a laugh, and Steve winced a little, because he didn’t want his wedding to Billy to be stupid, something people laughed at.

He swallowed hard. “Um, yeah.”

“...you still there?” Billy asked, and Steve nodded, then realized that wasn’t helpful.

“Uh,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Billy laughed. “You changing your mind already?”

“No!” Steve yelped. “No, no, I’m not, I just. I—want to.”

“...but?” Billy asked quietly.

“Everyone I know is an asshole,” Steve said frankly. “I thought they could, y’know, maybe be happy for me, but apparently they’re pricks, so—”

“You know you’re marrying one of those pricks,” Billy said, like Steve wasn’t aware.

“I know I’m marrying my favorite, and everybody else can go fuck themselves,” Steve muttered, and Billy laughed.

“Well, you change your mind, you let me know,” he said.

“Maybe I’ll let them have cake if they promise to bring rad presents,” Steve allowed, relaxing a little.

“If not, I’ll throw them out for you,” Billy promised, and Steve’s heart warmed with the image of Billy carrying a yelling Robin over his head out the door.

He brought up the Costco cake-ordering website, and to his horror, there was nothing brand-name on it. “Billy,” he said bleakly. “There’s not even Spiderman.”

“We don’t want Spiderman anyway,” Billy said reassuringly, “—what would we do, have one of us be Doc Ock? Two lawfully wedded Spidermans? Send me the link.”

Steve copied and pasted it in as a text, staring at the puffy dinosaurs and soccer balls. “...it says some lady returned a dinosaur cake because she thought the shape of the visible feet made up the number 666,” he mumbled.

“...there’s a princess clown cake,” Billy snickered, and Steve imagined himself wedded with a clown cake. Perfect.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Maybe I should just get a plain white one. Maybe there’s a cake supply place where I can get a little groom and groom.”

“I’ll get a little Bucky and Steve if you want,” Billy said, laughing.

“Nah, it was dumb,” Steve said, sighing. “I just—”

“I’ll get them,” Billy promised, and Steve laughed, his smile going a little goofy, but he let it, because it wasn’t like anybody was there to see.

“...really?”

“Yeah, really. I’ll get my best guy his little superhero toys. I got this.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughed. “Fuck. Love you, man, seriously.”

“...they gotta be on eBay or something,” Billy muttered distractedly, and Steve listened, grinning at the wall.

He decided it wasn’t so bad if the wedding was a little silly, as long as he got to marry Billy Hargrove, in the end.

The cake was easy—the lady paused for a long second when he said he wanted to put Bucky Barnes and Captain America in a heart, and then she suggested some stars as well. The little yard by the bar where they performed was public space, and the owner said it would be empty in the afternoon. He checked the weather, and it wasn’t even supposed to rain.

Billy drove back out on Friday, and Steve looked out mid-performance to see him dancing with a red-headed woman. The song ended, and Steve tried not to long to be her—not that it wouldn’t be weird to suddenly have boobs and get talked down to at job interviews, but it seemed, for a few minutes at least, like it’d even out if he could have Billy pull him onto the dance floor with a soft smile and an arm around Steve’s waist. His eyes stung a little thinking about it—Billy liking it when Robin teased them about being a couple, instead of going tense and grim, Billy smiling when Steve held his hand, instead of looking down at their linked hands like Steve was doing something bizarre.

Billy wanting to stay in Steve’s hotel room, and next to him in bed.

The thought of what Steve might have discovered had Tommy not ghosted him reared its ugly head again, and Steve swallowed it back, lowering his gaze to his guitar to check the tuning during the applause. It wasn’t like he’d actually leaned in and tasted Tommy’s panting mouth, he told himself. There was nothing concrete he should have told Billy—and Billy didn’t mind him, mostly, as long as he didn’t push too hard.

Maybe he wouldn’t even have liked it, he thought guiltily, and he was tying himself in knots for no reason at all. It was probably weird, kissing somebody with...stubble, and a muscled chest, and broad, warm shoulders. Somebody with a cock in his pants. The idea of a dick up his ass had always made Steve wrinkle his nose a little—everything he’d read said it took a while, right when things started heating up, and sometimes people hated it, and he’d already done his time in that didn’t-know-what-he-was-doing-in-bed phase already.

He grimaced, remembering Mandi, who’d had to stop a kiss, cough, and tell him not to choke her with his tongue—and then he couldn’t help imagining Billy—Tommy—a man—stomping out on their wedding night, because Steve was so awful at ass sex. Billy’d left when Steve was just too weird the week before, with the suits and the thongs and everything.

Steve wondered, suddenly, if he’d been so bad at handjobs that was the reason Tommy had left, and he had to bite back hysterical laughter onstage.

When he glanced up again—a few measures into a song he was performing entirely from muscle memory—Billy’s head was tipped back laughing, and Steve jerked his attention back to his guitar again to avoid thinking about kissing along his fiance’s adam’s apple. Steve focused on the music, singing with gusto, and once the set was over, somebody smacked his back and said, “You were great once you woke up, man.”

Billy waved, and Steve waved back, automatically, trying not to stare at where Billy’s arm was around the woman’s shoulders—and then with a swell of relief that hit him like a tall wave, he registered her Camaro tattoo that matched Billy’s skateboard, and realized, light-headedly, that she was Billy’s sister. Billy was frowning a little, and Steve grinned easily back at him. Billy watched him warily, and Steve pointed to his ring finger and kissed it, then watched Billy nearly disappear into the shouting crowd, his red, smiling face obscured by his hand.

By the time Steve got off the stage, put his guitar in its case, and figured out the next day’s practice, Billy and his sister were gone. There was a text on Steve’s phone with the address where they were having dinner—a Korean barbeque place, open until 3am. It was nearly one.

When Steve showed up at the restaurant—his heart pounding, and his palms sweaty, because Billy obviously listened to his sister, and he’d probably call the whole stupid plan off if Steve couldn’t win her over—he had an edible bouquet and his nicest shirt on.

Billy was already at a table, and as Steve walked closer, he could hear a woman’s voice saying “No, come on, I’m not saying that. I’m kinda worried you feel the need to be drunk introducing me to him—”

“Hey, babe,” Steve cut her off, leaning around the corner of the booth to kiss the side of Billy’s head over his ear, since he had his head in his arms. “How you doin’?”

Billy groaned. He smelled of tequila, and his sister levelled a deeply suspicious glower at Steve.

“Nice bouquet,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “That from a fan?”

“No, it’s for Billy,” Steve huffed, and Billy raised his head to blink woozily at the skewered pineapple flowers. “Didn’t figure you’d wanna juggle driving flowers home in a hot car. At least you can eat these.”

“Hrm,” said his sister, frowning at Steve.

“You okay?” Steve asked Billy, and he nodded, rubbing his face and groaning into his fingers.

“...get something in my stomach,” he muttered. “Drinking on an empty stomach.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, wondering, as he exchanged glances with Billy’s sister, if he should come clean.

“I’m gonna hit the can,” Billy said, lurching to his feet, and Steve scrambled out of the booth to let him pass.

“So this is all happening kinda fast,” Billy’s sister said crisply, and Steve blinked at her. Her frown was darker than her brother’s.

“...I guess?” he said, cautiously. “Once he finally said yes, I didn’t wanna wait until he changed his mind, kinda?”

“...finally?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“I mean, I told him I’ll stop asking if he wants, and nothing changes, I’m not gonna be mad or anything, I’m not—he said he doesn’t feel, like, pressured,” Steve said quickly, clutching at the menu.

“...how long you been asking?” she muttered, glancing towards the bathrooms.

“...almost as long as I’ve known him,” Steve admitted, wincing. “I can see why he didn’t take it serious—”

“...how long is that,” she said, raising her eyebrows, but she was starting to look entertained instead of worried.

“...months?” Steve mumbled. “He got hired after Christmas, right? I think I first asked him in...oh, maybe May or June?”

“...so an October wedding isn’t a huge rush,” she said, relaxing back against her seat with a sigh. “Jesus, Billy. I thought he met you, like, last week. How’d you even...you’ve been long-distance this whole time? He gonna quit his job and move out here? Has he been driving out here to meet you this whole year and he’s just telling me he was in the neighborhood?!”

Steve realized he was a very well kept secret, and waved his hands. “No, no! I work at the same place he does! I’m just here for a couple weeks. I live a fifteen minute drive from him. Usually.”

“...huh,” she said, thoughtfully. “So he’ll keep his job? That’s cool, I think he likes it a lot.”

“I’m gonna go check on him,” Steve said, realizing it had been a while, and also that she was starting to grin with delight, and it kind of made her look like a shark.

Billy was leaning against the sink with his back towards the mirrors, rubbing his face.

“You okay?” Steve asked, sidling around to see his face, and he nodded.

“...yeah,” he mumbled. “I just—I, um,” he cleared his throat, wiping his eyes, and Steve stepped closer.

“You wanna hug,” he asked, just to be sure, and Billy laughed.

“God, yes,” he whispered, and then oofed as Steve yanked him in, squeezing him tight around the shoulders and waist, and nuzzling into the curls at Billy’s neck. “Fuck,” Billy breathed, relaxing against him. “...missed this.”

“You can always have one,” Steve told him, sliding a hand up through the hair at the back of Billy’s head to cup the nape of his neck. “Tell me and I’ll drive out. Just—drop everything. ‘Kay?”

“Shit,” Billy sighed, shakily. “...kinda feel like I’m lying to her, letting her think we’re like...romantic,” he said thickly, “—but this is enough. Right? Fuck. Long’s you don’t get bored.”

“Not gonna get bored,” Steve said, cautiously. “...you, um. You...mean that? Thought maybe you were...y’know, second thoughts. When I saw the tequila shots.”

“No, no, no no no,” Billy mumbled, pushing him back so their faces were a couple inches apart, and Steve could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Uh,” Billy said, wiping his eyes again, and then cupping Steve’s face earnestly with both hands. “Thought I...thought I’d marry somebody...wanted to kiss me,” he slurred, and Steve winced.

“I can kiss you if you want,” he offered, his skin heating feverishly. “If—if you, uh, if you...want me to, I can—at least at the wedding—”

“Nope,” Billy said, brushing his thumbs over Steve’s cheeks, and grinning, a little. “See? You—you’re enough. Somebody...loving me. Loving me that much, you—you’re not too much. You’re just enough, Steve.”

“...I’m...enough?” Steve whispered back, the words hitting him a little harder than he expected. He took a long, shaky breath, staring into Billy’s red-rimmed blue-grey eyes.

“You’re...perfect, perfectly...dumb, perfect...Steve,” Billy stumbled over his words, frowning in concentration, and licked his lips. “You’re ‘nough. Be happy f’rever with my...Steve. You don’t gotta do...anything. Nothing diff’rent. Jus’ right. Not too much.”

“...okay,” Steve whispered back, swallowing. His eyes were stinging, his vision going blurry, and he sniffled, reaching up to rub his nose as Billy’s warm thumbs wiped under his eyelashes.

“M’ so lucky,” Billy mumbled, yanking him into a tight hug again. “Lucky I met you. Lucky you’re...Steve. Thanks, Steve. Don’ change.”

“...sure, man,” Steve choked out, his lungs jerking a little as he tried to breathe. “Love you too,” he whispered, as Billy squeezed him tighter.

#Harringrove #Unrelenting idiocy #Also hugs?#Steve doesn't know he's bi AU #Billy is about to die of gay feels AU

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brandstifter-sys · 4 years

Text

Kopi luwak

Word Count: 1115 (Ao3)

Pairing: Dukexiety

Characters: Remus, Virgil, Roman

Rating: T

Warnings: Food mention, violence mention, swearing, remus-grossness

Dukexiety Week: Day 4 - Coffee (shop) Virgil is a tired barista, but sometimes interesting people come in. Like the wily snack who came in with a regular and friend, Roman.

@dukexietyweek

---

Virgil was used to strange requests at work. The occasional mocha latte without the espresso drove him up a wall—that's just chocolate milk! Of course nine times out of ten it was just a parent trying to appease their kid, which was something he could understand. There were people who wanted ungodly amounts of espresso in their drinks. There was one time an old man wanted 'just coffee' which would be fine except there were some simple options he could have been a little nicer about—"dark roast or medium roast?—dark roast tastes stronger, that's all—do you want regular, half, or decaf?—Sir, I would rather be sure that I don't give you anything that could cause heart problems—it's a precaution I take with most everyone—Would you like milk?—no sir, if you want I can offer you a pitcher so you can add what you want."

Difficult people loved the cafe during his shift and he had no idea why. It was quiet for the first time in forever, and he was busy wiping down the equipment when two people came in. One was a regular, and a pain in the ass, Roman, but at least he was patient. The other person looked like him, but with a mustache and a less preppy style. He wasn't half bad.

"Virgil, my darling storm cloud!" Roman sang as he approached the counter. Virgil forced a smile at the dramatic dork in his stupid Hawaiian shirt and loafers. At least the other guy cringed for the both of them.

"Hey, Princey, the usual?" Virgil asked hopefully. Roman shook his head, nearly sending Virgil into cardiac arrest. A medium coffee, ⅔ regular, ⅙ half, and two shots of espresso with almond milk and three strong pumps–not two, not four–of caramel, topped with whip, chocolate syrup and caramel sauce. If that specific wasn't what he wanted, it was usually worse!

"I would like it on ice this time. No need to fret," Roman said apologetically. He knew he was needy.

"Will that be all?"

"Do you have any cat poop coffee?" the other guy asked loudly. Roman cringed and inched aside. The other guy, who was in a studded vest, neon green Tripp pants, and a spiked collar, moseyed up to the counter and leaned on it, showing off the tentacle tattoo on his arm and his studded bracelet. He was really cute.

"Does this hole in the wall cafe look like it could afford to sell kopi luwak to you?" Virgil asked far too sweetly.

"No, not really, but they've gotta have some funds to hire a snack like you!"

"Remus!" Roman yelped, "No flirting with my exhausted friends! Virgil doesn't need your brand of indecency!"

"So that's what this version is called," Virgil grumbled, letting his smile fall.

"Yup! I'm the sexy version of this loser!"

"I'm the version Mom loves."

"Ouch," Virgil winced.

"She sure does! Who doesn't like having a dog instead of a kid!?"

"She certainly prefers having a kid to an edgy little bitch!" Roman retorted. Remus flipped him off and turned his attention to Virgil.

"Since you don't have any kopi luwak, and I doubt you're on the menu, what would you recommend for a trash disaster who needs low caffeine?" he purred and fluttered his lashes.

"Some kind of herbal tea, iced and sweetened."

"Sweetened? But you're the kind of eye candy that could rot my teeth! You can have them if you want."

"Just what I need for my collection," Virgil droned sarcastically, completely dropping his customer service schtick. Roman winced, well aware that the customer service voice was the only thing keeping them safe.

"You have a collection?! You should definitely show me before dinner!"

"Are you asking me out?"

"Yeah! Glad you caught on!" Remus beamed. Roman's face fell. Remus was pushing it and he knew that if his idiot brother kept this up, Virgil would spit in their drinks or worse, mess them up.

"I'm working, try ordering something instead," Virgil responded with a teasing lilt to his voice that was so slight Roman missed it.

"Okay, a medium iced tea—your favorite!"

"So one iced caramel staircase and a medium iced Scary Berry tea with lemonade, sweetened. Anything else?"

"Your number."

"Not on the menu."

"That will be all, Virgil," Roman said hurriedly and paid with a card. Virgil shrugged and motioned to the end of the counter.

"When you said you wanted coffee, you never told me there'd be a snack behind the counter!" Remus giggled while they waited.

"I swear if you pissed him off with that stunt and he messed up my coffee because of it, I will kill you."

"You don't want to go to jail for murder," Remus cooed and batted his lashes. Roman growled and grabbed him by the vest.

"If you get me kicked out of the only coffee shop in town that manages to get my order right every time, you'll wish it were a simple murder."

"Iced staircase for the murderous princey," Virgil said and slid him his drink. Roman cautiously took a sip and relaxed. Remus didn't ruin him.

"And an iced Scary Berry for the skunk," Virgil said and slid Remus his drink. It was blood red and bubbling slightly. Remus took it with a bright grin and took a sip. Okay now that was good!

"Ooh now I know I have to come back! Thanks Scare Bear!" Remus cheered. Virgil leaned over the counter on his forearms and stared at Roman, waiting for something.

"Oh, right! Thank you Virgil! How could I forget to say that! No matter, farewell!" Roman rambled and dragged his brother out of the shop. Remus could have sworn Virgil winked at him as they left.

"Mom doesn't want us home before dusk. I was thinking about maybe visiting that one store—"

"Where to next?" Remus asked between long sips. Roman shrugged and walked along the main street without much thought.

"With the lingerie and the—?"

"Yes, that store. Patton has a birthday coming up and I thought it would be a good place to find a gift for my sweet kitten."

"Gross!" Remus laughed and shoved him lightly. He held up his cup and stumbled when Roman shoved him back.

"Holy shit!" Remus shrieked, causing Roman to spin in a panic. He didn't push him that hard! But Remus wasn't hurt, far from it. He was cradling his cup with glee.

"What is it?"

"I got his number! And he drew a scary bear on it!" Remus squealed, "He actually gave me his number!"

"There's a first time for everything," Roman shrugged, secretly thrilled for his trashy little brother.

#dukexietyweek2020 #sanders sides #dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #food mention tw #swearing tw #sandyscribed

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surviveschool · 5 years

Text

things people might not tell you about college

real talk!!!

when searching for a roommate, similar interests don’t necessarily mean you’re going to click. 75% of the people i know are not close friends with their roommates even if they have similar interests, and some of the people i know have major problems with their roommates despite similar hobbies/interests. look for similar living habits and ethics.

you probably will not be the smartest kid in the room anymore. if you were at the top of your class in high school and you’re attending your dream school, be prepared for this. if you’re the smartest one in the room, you’re in the wrong room.

if you don’t pay attention to what you’re eating, it’s likely that your eating habits will get messed up. whether this is eating more often or eating less, almost everyone i know is not eating three solid meals a day. this is in part due to money and food security, but if you can afford to, please pay attention to your meals so you are getting enough nutrition.

get used to pooping in public. if you live in a hall-style dorm, you’re not going to have a bathroom to yourself. even if your dorm is suite-style, you’re still sharing that bathroom with other people. and if you like to stay on campus to do homework, you’re going to have to go the bathroom in a public area. you just gotta do the deed.

speaking of bathrooms, find the good bathrooms on campus. i know where the good bathrooms are and i go there because there are some Nasty ones.

your schedule first semester is probably FINE. i personally do not recommend trying to take the most rigorous first semester schedule possible. first semester is a crucial time to make friends. college can be a shithole, but just having people there who are going through the same shit can be very helpful. also, you might need some time to get adjusted to college life. it can be nice to have time to explore the surrounding area, college organizations, college services, etc. important note: studying is not the only important thing about college!!!!

you’re going to see a lot of people crying. your roommate will probably cry at some point. your friends will probably cry. you might too. i definitely had a meltdown at some point. it’s okay to express your emotions! and it’s okay to feel bad! what kind of support other people need can be hard to figure out, so it’s more than okay to ask them what you can do rather than try to assume.

carry a water bottle.

if your school has a big campus, your backpack will make your back hurt. i made a post on lightening up the backpack load here.

ratemyprofessor is key! an interesting class with a bad professor makes the class shit. avoid bad professors if you can.

you might be sad for the first semester or two. i think people often look forward to college as if it’ll solve their problems or as if it’ll be fun, especially if they had a rough time in high school. it’s definitely possible to have a wonderful, joyous first year. but a lot of people i know do not have that experience. that’s okay. you’re not alone.

you might change a lot.

your relationships with your friends and family will most likely change. if you don’t try to keep in touch with your friends from high school, it might be a while before you talk to them again. in terms of your parents, it might be weird coming back during breaks and having to listen to them again. you guys are going to be straddling a weird transition period between dependent minor and independent adult.

the dining hall food will start to suck. but you still have to eat. eating is important.

you need to keep a budget. even if you don’t have many expenses, you should keep a budget to get into the practice of managing your money.

there are a lot of opportunities on campus if you just look for them. things that might be available: studies that pay subjects money, subsidized concert tickets for students, electronic loans from the library, workshops on digital literacy for free, woodworking workshops for free, workshops for free in general, restaurants that give you a discount after a certain time of night, lectures, symposiums, research positions, free ice cream, free merch... there’s a lot going on.

signing up for listserves can be a good way to find out about things.

the people who introduce themselves on the welcome page for your graduating class aren’t representative of the class. i was very sad before college because i thought that everybody at my large university was a blonde sorority girl who said “froomie.” while there’s nothing inherently wrong with that, i am decidedly Not that person and i was afraid i wouldn’t be able to make connections with others. you will find your people if you look for them, and sometimes even if you don’t.

college might be lonely. it’s not uncommon to feel unable to get emotionally close to the people around you. while you may be hanging out with them a lot, sometimes that emotional bond takes a while to form. sometimes party culture can make non-partiers feel excluded from being social and making friendships. it can sometimes be hard to manage the transition to college. reach out for help.

on a related note, i made a post about managing college from an emotional stand point.

don’t be that college kid who doesn’t tip. if you can’t afford to tip, you can’t afford to eat out. it’s really that simple.

discipline is really important. when you only meet two or three times a week, for some classes if you mess up once you’re behind for the rest of the unit until the midterm (particularly true for STEM courses or courses with cumulative material). discipline is a skill that you can hone over time.

your professors are probably nicer than you think. try not to be afraid to ask them for extensions or help. in fact, DO ask them for help! they are doing this job because they like to help undergrads.

it’s not as hard as you might think. you got this!

#studyblr #college #university #studyblr tips #appblr #original #500

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lostboysfound · 2 years

Text

21. The Dawn of The Daughter-in-Law

With shoulders like a soldier and arms for the army, The Daughter-in-Law stands six feet tall silently on the stage.

Looking like a babushka wearing a babushka The Hostess had made, she looks afraid, out of place, awkward too.

This misfit doesn’t fit in among all the misfits. Instead of mousey, she’s more moosey -- graceless and a big klutz.

“Girl! That mop ain’t no damn microphone stand! Finish mopping the stage then start on the dance floor.

“Boy! Looks like you’re dressed like Carol Burnett. Your cleaning lady look? Designed by The Hostess?

“Man! So, you must be this season’s project like I was a while back. Trust. Gerald understands.

Spring cleaning’s an all-day obligation and a staff expectation without any exception, except for a condition The Hostess presented for consideration that Gerald protested and raised an objection.

“Getting next-of-kin as a surrogate is such fucking bullshit!

“When’d we get an option to delegate? I never heard that rule!

“How come management can discriminate so The Hostess can skip?”

“The Daughter-in-Law’s trying to make some cash,” Frat Boy says dusting cobwebs from the rafters above dance lights, speakers, and some fog machines.

“The Hostess pays for taking out the trash,” Frat Boy says from the ladder as he answers. “Why not try and be niche to her as she cleans?”

“Cleaning this place gotta be nicer than changing a diaper.

“Hey, last night someone shit in the shitter. Help her plunge the crapper.”

“People pooping in public is pretty shitty,” Frat Boy tries to kid with The Daughter-in-Law as he shows where to find the cleaning supplies.

“Guess you don’t find my toilet humor that witty. Get it? ‘Toilet humor?’ What? No smile? Ah-ha! You think I’m cheezy the way you roll your eyes.

“But seriously, you’ll get used to lots of crap. Never saw this much poop working at straight bars. It’s the coke. Or the curse. Or maybe the cure?

“Sorry. Falling out of my mouth onto my lap... my worthless English degree. This is how far it’s taken me. Potty poetry for sure.

“There’s toilet cleaner under the sink. In the back. Take a sniff. Remind you of Pepto Bismol? Funny how this poison smells like medicine.

“Tried eating some once after a panic attack. I wasn’t trying to be suicidal. Lost school friends who said I was too feminine.

“Didn’t want to kill myself, just not be myself. Don’t think that teens understand the difference. Didn’t want to be what I was becoming.

“Some sissy faggot gay-wad who hated himself, a scared altar boy praying for forgiveness for some sins he wasn’t even committing.

“First puberty then this damn sexuality that comes with denial, anger, bargaining and depression before your drivers license.

“Then of course God further fucks with your dignity and creates a disease for more suffering. So much crap coping with His wrath in silence.

“Fifteen’s middle age if you’re gonna go before you’re thirty.

“Suicide or plague in your future, so might as well party.”

-K.C. Sharpe

This is the twenty-first of forty lyrical passages from Lost Boys Found. Inspired by true stories, this historical fiction celebrates gay clubs in Middle America right before the AIDS crisis peaked in the 1990s.

21. The Dawn of The Daughter-in-Law introduces the young mother of The Hostess’s granddaughter as Frat Boy shares his experiences growing up gay in the 1980s.

#lost boys found #lgbtq #poetry #lgbtq poetry #queer poetry #gay history #1993 #kansas city

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hope-for-olicity · 6 years

Link

Love this list!

-wear the lipstick you want to see in the world

-moisturize your fuckin’ neck

-instead of looking in the mirror and attacking yourself like one of those 90’s-era-child-bullies, be the Danny Tanner in your own life and reaffirm how fuckin’ flawless you are, Michelle! Find something you love about yourself every day. And remind yourself of that every day.

-order the exact thing you want on the menu. Don’t split it. Eat the damn mac&cheese and don’t beat yourself into a blood orange over it.

-treat yourself to one of those fancy coffees and sit down somewhere and read a book and savor the whole damn experience

-buy yourself super sexy panties and wear them on your bed while you binge on Netflix, ass out

-say NO to things you don’t want to do, like going out or getting brunch at 10am

-I know it’s winter but take some time out of your day to show some lovin’ to your feet

-move around a bit. Treat your beautiful body like the temple it is and let it wiggle

-instead of comparing yourself to somebody else, how about don’t -buy the 15 dollar bottle of wine for just you

-tell yourself you like your flaws until you start believing it

-all you gotta do is chop up a bunch of veggies and sautee ‘em with garlic and olive oil and then you can shut up about how much garbage you’re shoving into your maw

-take a minute to be alone and think about it

-just put the drink down and deal with your shit

-go to bed 30 minutes earlier than the time you usually say you’re going to bed, even though that means you’re going to sleep 2.5 hours earlier than normal

-stand up for yourself. When you hear some stupid-ass comment or some passive-aggressive junk, look that person in the eye and call them out on their shit.

-put the phone and the computer in another room for at least a little while

-clean up the space in your room so you don’t feel like you’re suffocating in the only place you can feel normal

-so you’re single SO FUCKING WHAT, this is what you need to tell yourself

-yo, girl, it’s okay if you’re not pooping normally take some vitamins and fix that. Take some vitamins!

-GO! Go get up right now and chug a glass of water like the Thor you are

-find out your bra size. Try on all different kinds of outfits and find the best shapes for yourself and wear those all the damn time

-do your laundry before it gets nuts Pompeii pile on you

-feed the friendships that make you feel immortal

-try not to put all the blame on you

-try not to put all the blame on yourself

-wash your face before you go to bed

-stop focusing on how you want to change your body. Being healthy is not about looking a certain way, it’s about feeling a certain way. So change the habits you find unhealthy and focus on living a bit longer, not looking a bit different.

-Remember it is okay to love yourself and work on doing that every day.

#self-care

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austinpanda · 3 years

Text

Dad Letter 050921

9 May, 2021

Dear Dad--

A bit of excitement this morning, Zach said a ruby-throated hummingbird flew up to our living room window and looked in, as if to say, “You haven’t put the feeders out yet, assholes, and I’m going to have to speak with your supervisor.” Zach later said he was tempted to pelt down the hallway and scream the news at me (the quarantining has left us in a very easily-thrilled state) but for the fact that I was in the bathroom doing my morning glory at the time. But I trust his sighting; it’s not like some other bird is going to fly up, so tiny, and hover at the window, and you’re going to mistake it for a ruby-throated hummingbird. If it’s wee, hovering, and ruby-throated, it’s a ruby-throated hummingbird. I didn’t think they’d be around this early because the mornings are still cold as hell here, and our heat is still kicking on. But we don’t seem to be going below freezing any longer, and I guess that means the hummers are back!

I grabbed my hummingbird feeders (all two of them), rinsed them off and filled them with nectar in about five minutes, and hung them on their hooks outside, and now I’m just waiting. It doesn’t seem to matter that I have a job, I’ve been fully vaccinated, and, in a way, I’m about to get my whole life back; hummingbirds are still cool as fuck. I still haven’t captured a closeup photo of a ruby-throated one yet; that’s my next wildlife photography goal.

So, yeah, not to bury the lede, but I got my second Covid vaccination on Tuesday. Woke up at 5:00, in the car by 5:30, parked at WalMart by 5:45, first in line for them to open the doors, first in line at the pharmacy check-in window. The same pretty black woman with long flowing hair tinted cobalt blue gave me my shot as gave me the first one. I thanked her for giving me my life back, and waited in a chair for a few minutes to make sure I didn’t experience sudden and irreversible death syndrome, then went home to enjoy the day off work. I ended up having a milder reaction to the second shot than I did to the first one. After the first Covid vaccination, it felt like many angry large guys had punched my arm. After the second shot, it felt like just a single large guy had punched my arm.

And that’s...it, then? That’s the whole of my experience with Covid-19? Still have to wear masks in public and at work. Perhaps the Chinese buffet will reopen soon!

Oh, because Zach also got his second vaccination on Friday, we felt it was time to have a social event again. A plan formed between us and plant scientist guy and his husband, and we agreed to meet inside their place for a lasagna that Zach would make. We hung out several times last year, but we always stayed out of their house because of quarantine, and just enjoyed the use of their nice patio and back deck. This time, though, for the first time, Zach and I were to come over and go inside their house for a meal without anyone wearing masks. (They’ve both been vaccinated for a little while now.) Zach prepared the lasagna, and because of his anxieties about screwing it up and making everyone hate him, he started making it that morning, and worked on it all day. He puts so much love, and so much thought, and so much effort into his culinary projects! The lasagna ended up being very good, and everybody ate more than was good for them. (Except me, I ate exactly the proper amount.)

We ended up being there for well over three hours, and for some reason, despite it being fun, it feels like an accomplishment, too. I suppose we were worried whether, after a year of quarantine, our ability to engage in persiflage and small talk would have atrophied to the point of withering away completely. It did not! And the reason we clicked with these fellows and took such delight in their company last year became the same reason why we clicked with them and took such delight in their company yesterday. They’re ridiculously fun to be around. I shall try not to sound too snotty here, but dangit, Zach and I are smart, and the hilarious sarcasms and lovely, twisted, bitter observations that we use to entertain ourselves, as we travel through life, are entertaining to the plant scientist guy and his husband, just as theirs are to us. I feel more at ease when I can use my whole vocabulary, and whenever I use a word with plant scientist guy (His name is Bryan.) that he doesn’t know, it bugs him, and he’ll look it up, and he’ll tell me that he did so. (In the life of an English major, there are few confections that taste as sweet.) The last time it happened was when I used the culinary term “mise en place” to describe Zach’s lasagna preparations.

Bryan and Andrew have a nice house, and they have some lovely cats, and they just got a bargain on a new TV that’s larger than the state of Rhode Island. I think Andrew said it was 75 inches across, or some such. I’d really like to see what Close Encounters looks like on a TV that big. They assured me I could play it if I brought it over. I think they said they got it for half price, and that’s good, because otherwise it would have cost more than a squadron of F-35s from Lockheed Martin.

And holy shit, almost forgot, they’re giving us their dining table. I’m not sure how it came up, but they mentioned they wanted to get rid of it, and I happen to want a nice dining table, and this one is much, much nicer than anything I could afford. (This would be their table that we ate the lasagna off of yesterday.) And there’s a reason why I want a nice dining table! Actually a few reasons. Firstly, they’re good for eating off of, and I don’t have one yet. Second, when I got hired by the casino, they said they were going to give me a $500 bonus for signing on. (It would have been $1,000 if I’d been hired full time, but for the moment, I’m doing this job part time.) Now. Let us get in the Way Back Machine and set course for Chicago, about 1997 or so. I had been living in Austin and working for Progressive for about a year at that point. Stacy and I decided to fly up to Chicago to visit our high school friend Karen. And while we visited Karen, she took us to the Chicago Art Institute. And while we were at the Chicago Art Institute, we ate at their McDonald’s. And when we ate at the McDonald’s, we sat on ...these chairs.

These chairs! They were shaped like a standard-issue chair, just like one you’d describe if an alien asked you what humans sit on. Four legs, square seat with a comfortable groove for your fat American ass, straight back with a few vertical slats, only these were made entirely of brushed aluminum. The whole thing was very sturdy, and kind of gorgeous to look at--as chairs go--and I loved how easy it was to move around because it weighed almost nothing, because it’s aluminum! I’ve always wanted some chairs like that. Well, you can get those shits on Amazon.com for $200 a pair. I’ve never spent the money on them because I want four of them, which would be $400, and technically, I don’t need them, or a table, to be able to eat food. But when I found out I was getting the $500 signup bonus at work, I thought I might use it to get four of those brushed aluminum dining chairs and a table. You can see my problem: If I only have $100 left over for the table, the table will be cheap, and shoddily constructed, and made from dried pasta, and it won’t last very long. Gotta spend at least $250 if you want a decent, grownup sized table.

But not any more, now Bryan of the Plant Sciences and Andrew of the Soil Sciences (they were obviously made to go together) are going to give us their dining table. It’s a big heavy wooden affair, and it’s circular, about 48” across, which is a good size, and the circle splits down the center and pulls out so you can add a leaf that makes the table EVEN BIGGER, enough for 6 people if needed. And Bryan is such a fucking Rasputin that he’s only going to give it to me on the condition that I NOT give him any money for it, just because that makes my bourgeois skin crawl. I had to plead, “Shit, let me at least give you the hundred for it!” Nope, he practically promised to poop on it and set it on fire before he’d accept money for it. Oh, and he wants to refinish the top so it looks newer. Oh, and he wants to volunteer his SUV to transport it to our house. Needless to say, in front of a table full of guys, I almost cried yesterday. I regret that they’re trying to eat healthy, because now I want to bring them a different thank you pie every day.

So, when the casino gives me the $500, I’ll order the chairs. (This is adulthood, isn’t it? Getting excited about furniture.) And whenever the table appears, I’ll have a great dining room setup. And we can keep the table round most of the time, and make it large and ovular for special occasions, like Thanksgiving, to make extra room for the food. Needless to say, this is a watershed moment in my personal journey.

In short, everything is going mostly okay! More details next week, all my love to you both!

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fuck-customers · 6 years

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I work at a store where the baggers are trained to handle sanitation duties. Since one of my coworkers who was the primary cleaner left our store for bigger and better things, I was the one who was left in charge of most of the AM cleaning shifts. No big deal, really, I don't mind the cleaning itself, it gives me a break from going out in the heat to grab carts or something.

Or at least, I didn't mind cleaning. Until recently. Before, my only complaint was that it takes me 2.5 hours MAX to clean when they schedule me 4.5 hours to do it all in. Now, I've been getting a lot of more awful experiences. I like to think the area I live in is full of intelligent people. But apparently they like to prove me wrong again and again. Here is where it starts to get pretty #unsanitary so viewer discretion is advised folks.

In order to clean the restrooms, I'm required to put up a sign that says, in big bold letters, "CLOSED FOR CLEANING." The chemicals that I use to clean are 100% safe, but we have had lawsuits in the past where customers will see the cleaner, well, cleaning, spraying down surfaces and whatnot, and the customer does some sort of gymnastics to slip and fall on whatever damp surface is there. So, no customers allowed while things are wet. I can only lock the door on the single-toilet family restroom, so the only thing keeping the doors closed for the men and women's restrooms is my hope for humanity.

A MULTITUDE of times, while cleaning the men's restroom, I have had men who are old enough to be my father (or even my grandfather) come in, see my cleaning cart, lock eyes with me scrubbing a toilet and then say "I'll only be a minute." No. Get out. I will ask them as politely as humanly possible to leave and tell them the exact location of a separate bathroom to use. They'll either whine something along the lines of, "But I really gotta go!" OR, they will completely ignore me and say "I don't mind ya watchin'!" Like sir, you are at least 40 years old, you are way outside the window of opportunity where it's acceptable to mope like a cranky toddler when you don't get your way. Use the restroom that is literally ten feet away or shut the fuck up.

I even recently told a gentleman "I'll just be another minute if you don't mind waiting." to which he responded by getting as close as possible to me, towering over me, and saying "Alright. One minute." and not moving a muscle. Like it was a fucking challenge. I nearly lost my cool and almost let a "are we really gonna do this?" slip, but I was firm when asking him to leave again so I could clean.

Honestly? I get it. It can be frustrating to wait to use a restroom. Sometimes you really gotta go, sometimes there are things like medical issues that make peeing all the more urgent. But if that's the case, tell me! If you gotta pass a kidney stone right fuckin now, please do tel me! If you've got a UTI that burns like the sun, bitch tell me I will let you come in! The only time I will say no is if you're a dick or if I think you could risk bodily harm by coming in!

The women's restroom isn't really bad, but a lot of times, if I ask a woman to wait, they'll get a bit catty. I once had to deal with urine on the floor and I was handling the mess as quickly as possible when there was a knock on the door. I opened it, and a woman said "I've been waiting here for five minutes," and immediately I had to stop my eyes from rolling to the back of my skull. "How long are you going to take?"

My response was something along the lines of "Oh, there's a bit of a mess in here, I should be another few minutes or so. I just don't want anyone slipping and getting hurt, sorry! There's another restroom right next to this door you can likely use if it's not occupied." The woman's response was to call me an ugly bitch, a stupid cunt, a few other unsavory things, and finished it with "You could've said that nicer." She also began to threaten to tell my manager and get a customer complaint in for me.

Like alright ma'am. Go complain to my manager that I was, uh, doing my job? Instead, let me just have you walk right in here, slip on pee, and bruise your tailbone because you cant hold it long enough for me to clean literal human piss off the floor. I was so upset from being insulted that I had to go cry in the employee's restroom across the store for about half an hour before I could get back into the swing of things.

Though, the thing I think is the absolute fucking worst is when I have to clean up poop. I make less than $10 an hour, I do not make enough to merit cleaning poop off the floor multiple times a week. It's typically the men's restroom, because for whatever reason dudes don't understand that shitting on the floor is socially unacceptable behavior, but also because they tend to clog our toilet so fucking hard.

We have literal signs up all over the men's restroom asking customers not to flush anything down the toilet besides toilet paper, and still at least once a week I have to plunge a flooding toilet because someone decided that they needed to have the biggest dump of their life and use half the huge rolls of toilet paper we have.

As of today, I've formally "registered interest" in being promoted. because despite having years of customer service and management experience and every higher up knowing i have more experience than all our customer service staff combined, I was hired as a bagger and have stayed a bagger since.hopefully I'll be moved up to at least a cashier so I won't have to deal with having to use my gloved hands to lift a turd off a floor ever fucking again.

#submissions #fuck customers #happy ending #fuck retail #embarrassing #submission

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writing-royza · 7 years

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Two Hundred and Forty-one - Coat, 3.0

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! Hope you all had good weekends, and that you have good week ahead of you! I don’t have much more to say; I’m pooped, so it’s gotta ve bedtime. Enjoy!

I do not own FMA.

Two Hundred and Forty-one - Coat, 3.0

She held it out before her, waiting as he slid first one arm and then the other through the sleeves before she let go. Shrugging the rest of the way into the coat, Roy turned, tugging the lapels into place. “I’m not even sure I’m going to need this,” he muttered, half to himself. “I mean, it’s warm enough that I probably don’t.”

“Probably, but it’s more for the sake of appearances.” Gently easing his hands aside, Riza reached up to check the knot in his tie. “The only reason I don’t have a coat is because it will be one more thing to get in the way if I need to move quickly.” She smiled. “And I don’t think you or I want that.”

“Fair enough.” He curled one finger under her chin, flashing a knowing smirk. “But aside from appearances… you’ve said yourself that you like to see me wear it.”

Pulling away, she started for the door, speaking over her shoulder. “Of course. And is thinking you look nice so very wrong?”

“Didn’t say it was wrong.” Catching up, he pressed a swift kiss to the side of her forehead before the door could open. “But between you and me, you’ll always look nicer.”

———————-

The late-night streets of Central were slick with rain, though none fell from the sky any longer. Cloud cover and light from the street lamps banished any hope of stars, but the moon occasionally made brief partially-obscured appearances. The two of them walked slowly through the nighttime air, for once not in any hurry or with any particular concern.

“My mother always told me I’d wind up going to more of these things the higher I rose in the ranks,” Roy was saying. “She didn’t say anything about how stuffy people would be.” Reaching up, he ran his fingers through his combed-back hair, tousling it to fall over his eyes as it usually did. “I get within five feet of some of the worse ones, and start feeling like I can’t breathe.”

“At least you have subjects of conversation in common with most of the men there,” Riza pointed out. “Gracia is the only military wife I’m capable of talking with like a normal human being. Before they find out I’m there as an adjutant or bodyguard, most others want to talk about what charity they’re working with the year, or what schools they’re sending their children to.” Her lip twisted just slightly. “After they find out who I am and what I do, they tend to leave me alone, and I’m perfectly all right with that.”

Roy nodded sympathetically. “I can see you not wanting to talk about donations to the Refugee Fund. Soldiers assisting Ishvalans tends to draw strange looks.” His mouth twitched in a smile before he could stop it. “You could always talk about which school you sent Hayate to,” he suggested, tone helpful and full of restrained humour.

A smile tugged at Riza’s mouth. “Somehow I don’t think obedience school is what they meant.”

“I don’t know…. You provide for him, give him a home, food, water, a place to sleep and a roof over his head…. You take him to the doctor, play with him….” He nudged her teasingly. “You’re sure you didn’t adopt a child instead of a dog?”

Riza reached out to nudge him back, but Roy caught her hand, their fingers weaving together comfortably, swinging gently between them as they walked, continuing to compare notes on their party experience. The clouds moved to cover the moon again, and this time, they did not allow it to reappear.

Both of them looked up as they felt the first telltale spits of rain. Roy eyed the sky warily. “Uh oh….”

Riza’s gaze dropped to the street, almost entirely devoid of traffic and most other pedestrians. “Still six blocks to go, and I don’t think there’s much chance of an open taxi passing by,” she said grimly. “We might want to move double time.”

“Can you move double time?” he asked doubtfully, eyeing her clothes. “In a long dress and high heels?”

“I could fight in these shoes if I had to. And I told you I’d move faster without a coat.” Stepping out ahead, she tugged gently. “Come on; just make sure you can keep up.”

“That I can keep up?” Roy echoed, in mock indignation. “If you’re so concerned about it… let’s even the odds.”

He caught up in a pair of steps, thanks to his longer stride, and caught her around the waist, literally sweeping her off her feet and into his arms.

“Roy, what —“

“Problem solved.” He grinned impudently, though it was short-lived as the rain became slightly heavier. “…Right, you said double time.”

It was another block before the rainfall began to worsen even further, and Roy stepped into the sheltered entry alcove of a store long closed for the night. “I give up,” he said, setting Riza back on her feet. “It’s just a late summer shower; shouldn’t last too long.”

Riza nodded, her eyes on the street, arms folded over her chest as the breeze cooled the raindrops on her bare skin. “Somewhere, there is a duck out in this that’s very happy, but I’m happier to stay out of it.”

A moment later, she half-jumped in surprise Roy’s coat was draped around her shoulders. “If I’d known it was going to rain, I would have insisted on you wearing a coat,” he chided gently. His hands rubbed along her upper arms, generating warmth as he pressed a kiss to the back of her head. “Can’t have my Lieutenant catching her death of cold from something as weak as a bit of rain.”

Riza glanced back, giving him a mock-dubious look. “I see. And what excuse will you have when the same happens to you because you gave your coat to me?”

He shrugged carelessly. “Shouldn’t be a problem, because I don’t intend to leave this spot until the rain stops.” His eyes came back to her face, then dipped to take in the rest of her. “…You said earlier tonight that you like the look of me in the coat… but I’d be lying if I said you didn’t cut a pretty picture in it too.”

She laughed softly at that, turning partway toward him as she reached up to pluck at the shoulder seam resting partway down her upper arm. “Maybe if it were actually my size. I’m practically swimming in this.”

“Even swimming in it, you look good.” He stepped up beside her, turning so they were face to face. “And it’s even more endearing for a man to see a beautiful woman wearing his coat.”

#fma #fmab #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #royza #royai #fma fanfiction #royai fanfiction #snap shots

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moony-balloons · 7 years

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Oh hey yeah I was gonna make a “what is up with me lately” post so here it finally is! Under a cut bc I don’t know how long it’s gonna be.

So! Firstly, I have a job. I work full time as a cashier at a grocery store, a major chain one BUT it’s part of a smallish franchise owned by a dude who is very nice and community focused, and we’re treated very well so no complaints on that front. I didn’t -actually- want full time for “I have no energy as it is and will not get anything done towards finding a Degree Relevant job if I am spending literally all of my energy at my current job” but my parents were not real receptive to that? So when I was interviewing and the manager asked me if I wanted full time or part time I said I’d take whatever and they put me on as full time bc boy howdy do they need people. Also honestly tbh I don’t mind making that full-time dough, could use the money to build my savings back up and start paying down my student loans faster / buy myself some of the things I’ve been putting off for forever and a day bc “well it’s not ESSENTIAL and I don’t have a job so lol”. I’ve been there for around..... 6 weeks? 2 months? Somewhere in there, and the Exhaustion from working on my feet 8 hours a day every day is reducing as my body gets used to it so I may be able to start getting things done again, aside from the small organizational irl things I’ve been picking away at bc those just make my life and my brain and everything feel cleaner. Clean is good yknow? And my mom’s house is pretty cluttered (less cluttered than her parents admittedly so step in the right direction, but lordy) so wanting my room to at least be neat is nice.

But yeah, on the topic of getting things done for job searching? The troubles I’ve been having, as always, are that I feel like 1) I need to do Everything Right Now bc I want to get a job that utilizes my degree, but that is overwhelming, so I feel like 2) I should take things a bit at a time bc that is the solution to things being overwhelming but that is Not Good Enough Or Fast Enough bc I should be there Now so as a result of those two things clashing I often just end up doing nothing? Which is even worse than moving too slowly, but? With the fact that I don’t have a clearly quantifiable end point in mind with my “I gotta learn x, y and z languages/skills well enough to be able to get a job” goal, I always feel like I am wasting time when I chip away at it bc, oh, maybe THIS skill isn’t important and my time would be better spent learning THIS instead, or maybe no one even does things THIS way anymore and it’s dumb to even learn it bc I will have to learn a different way anyway. Or other such nonsense and basically what I am getting is that my attempts to learn these things keep failing in part bc I am too damn vague and I can’t feel like I am making progress towards my goal if I can’t quantify what my goal IS, or at what pace I “should” be moving towards it. So I plan to try and.... set things up more like as if I was in school? Like give myself deadlines and homework and reading assignments and shit lmao, and see if that works. I also have to remember what the therapist said when I was speaking to him a while ago when I was first starting medication, which was.... I was having this same issue, and he asks me why I feel like I’m not moving fast enough and it’s because I feel like more is expected of me, by both my family and by society in general, and he’s like well basically fuck what they think, you move at whatever pace you can (in much nicer terms obv lmao). And I gotta like, write that on my forehead in sharpie bc that is the thing to remember, getting there more slowly than someone else is fine if that is what I am capable of and it sure as shit beats giving up and never getting there at all.

But I did have a mental health slump recently bc, well, it doesn’t feel great to have a bachelor’s degree and still be doing retail stuff, and getting turned down by countless actual tech jobs in the meantime. Being rejected by the most recent one hurt the most because it was one of those “oh we’re looking for more of a personality fit than a skills fit!” type positions, and it was an internship (a new position they were still in the process of working out even what that entailed, but even so) and they liked my personality and invited me to take a skills test...... and I didn’t complete it in time, and they were basically like uh yeah we’re gonna pass. Like, not looking as much for a skills match but my skills disqualified me anyway. And then on top of that! The weekend before last I went to help my grandpa put in his new air conditioner (he still uses the kind you have to mount in a window) and he had a nice snide comment about “6 years at [school] and all you can say is, do you want fries with that” which, A, 4 and a half years, thanks, but also B, can you not??? He’s very much of the opinion that college is a waste of time and computers are on their way out and have overstayed their welcome and I should learn a SKILL (anything that doesn’t result in physically building something with your hands is not a skill in his book) bc only people with SKILLS are useful/valuable/etc. I know that he’s wrong about that and that his “if it wouldn’t help you in the apocalypse then it’s dumb and not worth knowing” attitude is not anywhere near the norm, but the fact that it echoes the insecurities I already have about myself re: being dumb and useless just made it REALLY hit home. Bc like...... idk. I can combat my own bad things I think about myself with, well yeah, you have depression and are definitely not as bad as you think you are, you’re just looking at yourself with poop-tinted glasses bc mental illness. But if someone ELSE says it, well, clearly they must be right! Which is dumb af but that’s what my brain does. BUT after spending time with my very pissy grandpa I went over to my dad’s house and got to pet my dog a lot and Dad made burgers on the grill which was excellent (my stepdad considers himself a grillmaster but honestly tbh keep this a goddamn secret but I like my dad’s burgers better) and they showed me the house they bought, which has 4 bedrooms and would theoretically have space for me to stay with them should I ever need it, unlike their current house which is small af and causes some inconveniences if I end up having to stay the night lol. Also the new house has a fireplace and a loft area above the living room which I am SO sure their cats are gonna love.

Artwise I’m in a similar spot to where I am career-wise, which is “I would love to do a fancy finished detailed thing but I definitely won’t have the energy to actually do it to my satisfaction so I should work on just practicing little things but that is not good enough and I have to be able to do awesome cool things right now” and the fact that I don’t have a good, comfortable drawing space doesn’t help. I keep meaning to work on it and I do believe that in bits and pieces, I will, it’s just one of those things where I want to draw and then if I do start, I immediately hate it and want to stop, and lately haven’t had the energy to push through it. XD Just weh.

#basically just mentioning my job and my mental state regarding that #rambly for sure so don't feel obligated to read!

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thebibliomancer · 7 years

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Essential Avengers: Avengers #112: The Lion God Lives!

June, 1973

I love Vision in the back. He looks like he’s trying to go ‘Shoo cat, shoo!’ And Black Widow looks like she tried to take a swing at an actual lion. Good hustle, Natasha!

So we start the story with Mr. Umbala, a journalist. He just found an African deity. He’s going to win all the Pulitzers. Not gonna have room to hang his hat what with all the Pulitzers he’s gonna have.

If he doesn’t get human sacrificed first. Which he does.

But a pertinent point is raised first. If the gods of Asgard or Olympus are real and still hanging around, why not other gods from other cultures?

Anyway, Mr. Umbala is super dead now.

Four days later, Avengers Mansion. Black Widow is moping a bit.

Maybe its because Iron Man keeps flirting with her.

But its at least slightly because she doesn’t have anywhere to live because her house is in San Francisco but if she goes there she might run into Daredevil or Hawkeye and she does NOT want to face them right now. Not until she has a chance to think through her life.

But Avengers Mansion has a lot of guest rooms and Jarvis has one made up for Natasha. And its a nice room. Nicer than Natasha’s house even. Being an Avenger comes with some perks.

Scarlet Witch shows her to the guest room and Black Widow comments that Scarlet Witch is acting more girlish recently than she remembers. Not sure what specific indicators she’s picking up on but whatever. Wanda answers its because she’s much more in love these days.

Anyway, yeah, its nice digs. Wanda is sure Natasha is going to like being an Avenger.

Black Panther happens to overhear and thinks that she probably will, if she doesn’t have any outside pressures on her.

Because T’Challa has been receiving more and more insistent telegrams from Wakanda insisting that he actually come back and do his actual job of ruling. Perhaps Black Widow joining the team means that he shall leave it.

Meanwhile, a big angry mob.

Right in front of the mansion. And specifically angry at Black Panther. The leader is one Mr. Umbala, who you may recognize from earlier in this post when I declared him super dead. And he tells the mob to break down the door because the Black Panther shall avoid his people no longer!

The mob starts flooding into the mansion. Black Panther insists that there’s no need for destruction, he was just coming to talk with them.

But how will he talk with lead in his teeth? And then one of the protestors shoots Black Panther.

Thankfully, Captain America was right there to put his shield in the way. And bullets know whats what because the bullets yield to this shield.

The Avengers try to force the protestors back outside but they insist “No more hangin’ out in the U.S. when Africa needs him! Either he goes home or he dies!”

You protestors and you Englehart are aware that Africa is not a single country, right? And that probably many countries in it would not welcome the king of Wakanda interfering with them?

They do manage to get everyone on the front lawn, with T’Challa insisting that none of the protestors be hurt. He feels he owes them a talk. Maybe he can work out whatever is troubling them.

This sentiment lasts about five seconds when a bunch of them dogpile T’Challa and he throws them all off. Now he just wants answers. What is this all about?

Mr. Umbala tells Black Panther not to rail against his followers. He is the one T’Challa must deal with. The one T’Challa must follow.

Black Panther starts to say that he follows no one but stops and bows down to Mr. Umbala.

Just how Mr. Umbala thought he would. And the reason why he bent the crowd to his will.

It is now clear to the Avengers that Mr. Umbala is not what he seems. Although I’m pretty sure the readers beat them to that conclusion. What with Mr. Umbala being super dead.

And obviously when the Avengers get in Mr. Umbala’s way, he reveals his true final boss form. He is really...

THE LION GOD! Liege to the king of beasts and all who worship him! Lord of the veldt and the vast churning jungle!

Yes. Like the one on the cover and the one Mr. Umbala got sacrificed to. I guess Vision isn’t the only one who wears people like meat suits.

Oh and the crowd is still under the Lion God’s control so they rush to punch the Avengers on his say so. Although they are also pretty psyched about having a god on their side. Makes things more fair, y’know?

Except no. As soon as the Avengers are distracted, the Lion God vanishes with Black Panther as his prisoner.

Leaving the formerly angry mob to sort of awkwardly disperse.

MEANWHILE, THOUSANDS OF MILES AWAY, A MYSTERIOUS WOMAN CALLED MANTIS AND SHADOWY FIGURE!

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

The Shadowy Figure tells Mantis that Hawkeye ragequit the Avengers over his fragile ego being bruised. This comes as very welcome news to Mantis. Mantis feels her soul once again fulfilled. Mantis has long missed that feeling. Mantis talks in the third person.

Anyway. Mantis says this news means that fate has given these mysterious two the means through which they will join the Avengers.

And the shadowy stranger fervently agrees. But those three panels are all you’re getting for now. Just a taste.

But don’t worry. There will be all the Mantis you could want on Friday the 5th.

Somewhere else, Black Panther wakes up captive to... THE LION GOD!

And Black Panther evidently recognizes this THE LION GOD. Because Black Panther is a good Black Panther and his studies of THE PANTHER GOD would have included the panther’s sole rival.

No, not the white ape. Geez. Obviously the lion.

According to THE LION GOD, the panther and the lion have warred throughout all of history. Representing agility and stealth versus power. But it appears that the panther seems to have won by half-assing it.

THE LION GOD always appears when summoned but his followers have dwindled in number. Possibly because of all the human sacrifice. Meanwhile, THE PANTHER GOD is shy or lazy and has never appeared and whose followers multiply.

But with secrets that Black Panther knows, THE LION GOD will destroy the followers of the panther and reign supreme.

Black Panther advises the Lion God to go spit in the ocean.

But also, the Lion God can control minds. Why not get the secrets that way? Apparently its a god thing. The Lion God commands respect, not slavishness.

So if T’Challa won’t share his doom secrets nicely, the Lion God will use his totem-stick (MOST POWERFUL OF HIS WEAPONS) to kill the Avengers.

Meanwhile, the Avengers.

They’re kinda lost. See, they’re not afraid of fighting gods. They’ve fought gods before. But those were gods they knew something about. But none of the Avengers have learned jack about African mythology so they’re completely in the dark here.

Even Thor doesn’t know much about African mythology.

Asgard has mostly been concerned with the northlands. Other than that and learning about Olympus, Asgard cared so little for Midgard that they rarely ever attempted to explore more of it.

They sent Cap to check to see if SHIELD has any information but...

Overall this is kind of funny.

Just goes to show, a little more regard for other cultures won’t just broaden your horizons. It may help you fight a god.

For the lack of anything better to do, Black Widow suggests that they go scour the city or the world or whatever it is that Avengers do (usually watch television news, I think).

In her experience with Daredevil, action leads to reaction from their enemies.

Problem being that they don’t know if the Lion God even cares enough to confront them. Plus, “scouring the Earth is a drag.”

Thanks for the work ethic, Iron Man.

Still, playing the waiting game doesn’t sit right with Natasha and Scarlet Witch concurs.

Iron Man instantly complains that girls always gotta side against the boys.

Is this why they only usually have one girl on the team? The male Avengers are so fragile that they think women plot against them if allowed to congregate?

Then the Lion God shows up with Black Panther by burning a hole in the roof.

And he makes his intentions pretty clear by telling Black Panther that this is the last moment he’s going to see the Avengers alive.

So Thor charges forward and demands a cool GOD VS GOD fight.

He does not get one.

He throws Mjolnir, the Lion God dodges with Lion Speed, and then zaps Thor with the totem-stick and knocks him the hell out.

So, sure, their friend god just got knocked down but that doesn’t mean the Avengers aren’t going to try.

So now its Vision’s time to shine! He goes and does the thing he always do! He goes intangible so he can’t be totem-sticked and then shoves his hand into the Lion God’s chest.

Except it doesn’t work for a very important reason. See, the Lion God is possessing a host body. And while Vision just fisted the transformed host body, the actual god spirit split off and now he totem-zaps the Vision’s tangible hand.

And now Black Widow jumps forward. Except the Lion God doesn’t want to fight a girl. See, he’d probably rather a bunch of girls go out and kill stuff for him? But what it means in this scenario is that instead, he summons a bunch of lions to attack Black Widow.

So he can focus on the warriors. God, you’re such an asshole god Lion God.

Black Widow agrees with my assessment. Anyway, she also climbs the wall and uses her Widow’s Line to yank the lioness into the lion. This makes the lions angry at each other and they start to fight.

Wanda runs over to check on Vision but she’s not going to forget her responsibilities. So first she blasts the Lion God with all her stored power.

But while she checks on the Vision, she doesn’t notice one of the lions creeping up behind her.

With the Lion God distracted, Black Panther makes his move. He uses one of the mansion machines to bust his cuffs and joins in the fight by WRESTLING A LION.

Lion God said that panthers only fight with cunning, unable to match lion strength but T’Challa puts a lion in a full nelson. And just. Wrestles that lion into submission.

Dang. That is one pooped lion. Or possibly dead. Avengers haven’t shied away from just breaking animal necks.

Meanwhile, Iron Man knocked out and/or killed the two lions Black Widow had distracted.

But there’s still the Lion God to deal with. And yeah, nobody was really engaging him or keeping him busy. So he blasts Iron Man, Black Widow, and Scarlet Witch in quick succession.

He’s actually pretty pissed off. He wanted to break T’Challa’s spirit but instead he just made Black Panther feel better about himself.

So now, he’s escalating. He’s gonna kill all the Avengers. He’s going to level the mansion. AND AFTER THAT? He’s going to level the world!

Because when gods have temper tantrums, they reach intensities mortal man only dream of. In nightmares.

And finally Thor gets back to his feet. All the Avengers fighting lions and Black Panther running from zaps gave him time to recover. And he decides to skip right to the big guns.

He summons up a big storm outside and has a lightning bolt blast the Lion God’s totem-stick right through the giant hole in the ceiling that the Lion God put there.

Just goes to show. Sometimes a flair for drama can work against you and/or you should get a divine totem-stick made of non-conductive material.

The Lion God screams and just vanishes. Thor assumes that the Lion God has been destroyed.

He’s not too broken up. Dude was trying to kill them. Avengers do sometimes kill. Y’know, if they have no other choice or if its a dinosaur or a god.

The rest of the Avengers regain consciousness. They may have been dead possibly but blasting the Lion God undid his magic. I guess.

But whatever!

Iron Man congratulates Black Widow on a great first mission as a permanent Avenger. She’s going to fit in real well around here!

On a long and eventful run with the team!

Except not.

Natasha learned some things in this single issue. First: she’s too much of her own woman to feel entirely comfortable working with a lot of people. More of a do-it-yourself type. Although apparently not too much of her own woman to date Daredevil and let him dictate her life.

But speaking of that, her second revelation is that once you know where your heart lies, you have to follow it. And seeing Wanda run to the Vision when he was hurt settled her doubts.

If the Avengers truly need her, she’ll stay. But she would rather go back to working with a single man, a man she can understand. A Daredevilish man.

Black Panther tells her to leave with their blessings. They recruited her to fight Magneto and they fought Magneto. It was cool. Besides, he also learned a thing today.

Evil can originate anywhere and strike anywhere. He can’t limit himself solely to Wakanda. He has to be able to fight it on any part of the globe. So he’ll remain an Avenger!

And I guess the Wakandan people are shit out of luck. Their king has important punching business and he can’t possibly rule them.

Big day for revelations, I guess.

Wish we could have kept Black Widow and Black Panther though.

Anyway, the Lion God watches from high above and laughs. Not destroyed after all, just diminished. A god cannot die by force (pretty sure that’s not true. Thor would have died pretty well against the Midgard Serpent if Hela hadn’t made him undying to torture him) and when he recovers his power, he’ll return for T’Challa wherever he is.

So that’s going to come up again.

But not next time. Next time is going to be something... unique. And weird. And probably tasteless. But definitely memorable.

Hey, if you like this cool Avengers liveblog, consider following @essential-avengers. It is where I’m going to put them all.

#Avengers #the Lion God #Black Panther #Black Widow #Mantis #and all the rest #Essential Avengers #Essential marvel liveblogging #Black Panther wrestles the shit out of a lion #its pretty cool #Thor needs to network more #technically this is Mantis' first appearance #but its only three panels so forget that

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