#im under the fucking bell jar

[pitchblackveins]

.

[clumio]

THE DEVIL’S CHORD LIVE NOTES/REVIEW‼️

I love Maestro. I would die for them. Thank god

DIEGESIS?????? Big day for liberal arts majors

Everyone is serving CUNTTTTT

Ruby my beloved.

BEATLES FROM WISH. THE FUCKIGN. IVE GOT A DOG….this captures early 60s music so well im going to cry

Ruby and the Doctor are already so joined at the hip I would die for them

This storyline is kinda fascinating…said it before but Maestro fuckin devourssss

“The world is darkening” lol dark crystal reference

SUSAN MENTION ??????????????????????

So when is the doctor gonna mention that he was lowkey The Killer. There’s guilt under there simmering

TRUDY. Ohhhhh Ruby. Babygirl. I love lesbians

I think the most jarring thing about Doctor who episodes nowadays is how glossy they look generally because of the general improvement in camera quality but man I can’t get over it. Noticeable since like 2014 but still

Play that shit Ruby‼️

Oh hi arpeggio laugh. How are you connected to the toymaker mx maestro. Ok can I just say again they are so cunt

Sooooo. Toymaker -> distortion of vision. Maestro -> distortion of sound. Ohh the dots. These bitches are trapped in a fucking tv show for sure

CLAIRE DE LUNE‼️ RAAAAHH

Oh hi wink at the camera okay.

the fucking What. The Pantheon. Ohhh girliepop. “It tore my soul in half” ohhhhhhh. I need to map this out

“I was born in 2004” Ruby being younger than me….bro

What the fuck is happening genuinely ALSO ashes falling from the sky -> snowflakes. Something’s there im telling you!!!!

MX MAESTRO GIVE ME A CHANCE…..Oh you’re the TOYMAKER’S CHILD ?!?!

Again I am fascinated at this being framed as a a reboot of the series because this is not an episode I would show to a beginner. I’m fascinated. Hmmmmm

SAXON THEME? RUSSEL YOU FUCKING LIAR “we won’t be seeing more of the master” SHUT UPPPPPP

“The only thing it can do is take us back to 1963” ohhhhfghfhf the opposite of the first ever season. That’s fascinating

“I thought that was non-diegetic” DIEGESIS MENTION AGAIN?????? Oh girlie i know it’s a joke but oh my god?

“Playing lovesick songs for heartbroken lesbians” okay‼️

OHHHHHH. That’s a classic Murray Gold doctory song OHFHFBCNCNFUCKK HOLD ON THR SNOW+CAROL OF THE BELLS hi ok ok ok.

This feels very exposition heavy in a way that is uncharacteristic

VIOLIN MENTION RAHHHHH. I will ignore the fact that they aren’t doing any bowing or fingering correctly

I need ToddInTheShadows or Sideways to get on this shit expeditiously

Okay musical number?????

Why is that child there.

Boom better fucking deliver

[huniebunny]

First Kiss - Opposite AU! Babette/Howdy

[Warnings: General Foul Language, Bribery]

[Word Count: 762]

[This fulfills my first prompt for Writer’s Month Pride Bingo! Comments and Reblogs are appreciated!]

“C’mon, not even an espresso?” Howdy asked, chewing the end of his cigar in frustration.

“Non,” Babette answered, throwing a puck in her own frustration toward the caterpillar. “Depuis que ton petit cul m'a trompé sur la dernière boisson du diable que tu as commandée, je refuse de te servir jusqu'à ce que tu payes!”

“Next person,” she called, but Howdy refused to move. She glared up at him. “Sortez du chemin, bâtard paresseux.”

Howdy huffed, pulling the cigar from his lips. Babette shoved a plate under the embers before he could burn her countertops. “God, I hate it when you do this–” He muttered. “I’m not moving until you say something to me in a language I can understand.”

“Putain de merde…” The doe rolled her eyes. “Je vais le dire lentement pour que vous compreniez. Pay up, or get–”

“The fuck–” Howdy’s frown deepened on his face, cigar crushed in his grip.

“Out.” Babette smirked when she saw his expression and stuck out her tongue at him. “And be mindful of what you do next. You might get banned.” 

His tongue clicked then stepped aside, digging through his pockets for his wallet. Satisfied, Babette returned to serving other customers, tail wagging slow behind her. However, she’d just put in the last order of the line when her eyes caught something outside her windows. Her gaze narrowed then widened as she gasped then ducked under the counter. Quickly she dug around for her ‘On Break’ sign, shoving it up beside the register.

Caught off guard by her sudden disappearance, Howdy peered over with furrowed brows. He noticed her ears were straight up, one flopped back toward the door. The caterpillar glanced outside, and hummed at the sight of the stranger lurking outside the café. “What’s the issue? It’s just some guy.”

“It is not ‘some guy’, c'est mon ex-amoureux,” she informed in a huff, glaring up at him.

Howdy blankly stared at Babette. The doe groaned, rubbing her face. “Vous êtes inutile– Ex-boyfriend! An annoying one at that. ‘e comes around twice a month, begging.”

He raised his lip in disgust. “Begging for you back? Who in hell wants to date you?”

“I’ll have you know, people would be lucky to keep me.” Babette crossed her arms. Howdy snorted at the idea, earning himself an offended gasp from her.

“If he bothers you so much, why not just tell him that you’re seeing someone?” Howdy asked, rustling through his money before shoving what he owed in her tip jar.

“As if that stopped ‘im before. ‘E ‘as to see me with someone else for him to believe that–” An idea popped into her head and she shoved herself up to her hooves. “Quick, kiss me!”

“What?!” Howdy backed away from the counter. “Now, why the hell would I do that? In fact, why me?”

The doe groaned, tapping her hoof impatiently. “Because you’re only more handsome than my other options by a small margin, and you’re closer,” she informed, then huffed as she realized she’d have to bribe him for this favor. “And you get whatever you want next time, on the house.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Howdy grinned, two hands braced on the edge of the counter as his other two cupped her face and pulled her into a deep kiss.

Both her ears and tail perked up as her body stiffened, but soon she relaxed and leaned into the kiss. Howdy hummed as he leaned his hip against the counter. He released the granite to wrap his hands around her waist and pick her up. She pulled away from the kiss to let out a noise of surprise before she was set back down, sitting on her countertop.

Then the two were at it again. Her arms wrapped around his neck, eyes closed. However a gasp left her as the hands holding her face moved to rub along her ears and brush through her tail. “Ah, ‘owdy–”

The bell over her door chimed, and she was shoved from her momentary bliss. Babette ripped herself from the kiss, looked toward the door, and saw her ex staring wide-eyed back at her. She pushed Howdy away, and pat down her fur as best she could, clearing her throat. 

Howdy fixed his shirt, glancing toward Babette to admire one last memory of seeing her so ruffled. “I’ll let you get back to work, babe. See you tonight.” He smirked at her before turning for the door. However as he passed by her ex, he sent him a glare and snarl.

[flashflashhundredyarddash]

batkids and their relationships with their siblings headcanons. under read more because this got fucking LONGGG

dick

dick is the eldest so he doesnt want to bog down his younger siblings with his problems, but if he DOES, he tends to talk to jason about it

dick and cass start to really begin to bond when Cass shows up to dicks gymnastics class for 3rd-6th graders and then cass shows up all the sixth graders and they get frozen yogurt after lmao

dick and tim are Very much thick as thieves. tim is very much like bruce on the Emotional Suppression scale, so dick just really wants to make sure his little brother is safe and happy ALL the time

Duke and Damian are the only two really permanently at the manor anymore, so when dick drops by he tries to do something with both of them. duke frantically zoom calls dick every other week to help him with his his trig homework. dick shows up to dukes high school graduation with literally the BIGGEST SIGN

everyone insists damian is dicks favorite but he does actually genuinely love all his siblings equally, his relationship with damian is just Very different from the others because of the age gap and being dami's primary caretaker for a year. dick babies dami every chance he gets

jason

would sell Dick to satan for One corn chip

him and cass don't have the greatest start to their relationship because cass is very much Against Killing so it takes a while for jason to warm up to her and earn her trust. now, though, jason is competing with steph by showing cass all the classic American Teenager things she missed out on. steph is currently winning but jason is like 98% positive a crunch wrap from taco bell is going to push him over the edge

tim and jason are currently competing over who can solve the most cases in a month. tim is winning. that won't last long.

jason Loves to Big Brother duke its so embarrassing. duke will get out of school and go to his car and jason is SITTING IN THE FRONT SEAT FRANTICALLY WAVING TO GET DUKES ATTENTION. JASON THAT IS MY CAR. signal has one (1) mission with arsenal and arsenal goes hey did you ask that girl to homecoming yet and duke is like I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU.

Damian is proof that Actually, Little Brothers are Pests. Jason fully believes that he was brought back from the dead PURELY to torment damian and he will fulfill this mission at any cost

cassandra

it actually really upset her when Dick didn't accept her at first. she knows her other siblings really adore dick so his lack of trust was really disheartening. it takes dick a while but once he Actually Accepts that cass is going to be a permanent part of their life and oh, wow, dick you really hurt her feelings he really hyperfocuses on bonding with cass for a couple of months which definitely improves their relationship

she really likes jason!! their relationship doesn't start well but because he's close with steph and tim who are cass's top two favorite people to exist ever, cass is like well i GUESS ill hang out with him more. jason is fun to talk to because he always tries his best to explain jokes and give context to what people are talking about (also tim took her to taco bell already but she didn't tell jason she just wanted to hang out)

cass LOVES tim. they just click okay. tim always seems to know when to give her space and when to push and come closer. Tim's "guest room" is just her room lets be real. tim and cass occasionally get mistaken for twins and Cass Loves it.

duke makes cass listen to metal once and cass loses. her. damn. mind. they bond over music a lot because they both Love Music to a degree the others in their family don't.

damian!! damian is her little brother!!! dami isn't As Hostile to cass at first because he is 100% aware cass has the edge in fighting and respects her. cass likes all of his instagram posts and they have a snapchat streak going

tim

tim Loves dick, dick was his first sibling!! he had Very strong hero worship when he first met dick but it mellowed out when tim got older because wow 17 is really not that cool and mature lol. tim has an open invitation to dick's apartment which he does occasionally take advantage of. tim has more than once scared the shit out of wally when wally comes over and wally is convinced they're being robbed (HA) for half a second. i mean. he's not wrong.

listen. tim understands that forgiving the guy who tried to kill you would be a Struggle for some people and it was! definitely! but also at least he can trust jason to, uh, be open about if he doesn't like tim. which is not an assurance he has with other people. so if the guy who tried to kill him tells him tim is cool now then like. maybe tim isn't that bad or annoying a person? also jason arrested a whole gang and won the cases competition but then it created a power vacuum that the whole batfam had to clean up the rest of the month. thanks, jason.

tim LOVES cass. you know how most of the time theres this empty feeling inside you and you just kind of ignore it because you don't know what will fix it or if you do, you know you can't fix it? cass makes that empty feeling feel a little less empty. they just click. tim always tries to travel with cass whenever she leaves gotham.

tim and duke. Tim is actually the sibling who duke goes to whenever he has questions he doesn't want to ask bruce or alfred about, like, life or vigilante-ing or school or college or whatever and Tim is always like yes!! i love Giving Advice and Solving Problems!! tim and duke and jason fill out their college applications together.

tim and damian. LMAO. ROUGH START THAT'S ALL ILL SAY. at some point alfred goes like fuck it. family therapy. and tim and dami are PISSED. tim and damian get along best when they have a common enemy to work against. their relationship gets much better when damian is older and they actually talk about their feelings like emotionally stunted bats. despite how bad their relationship was, tim will ALWAYS protect damian

duke

very much intimidated by dick at first. dick is so much older and has his own job and friends and life and is very much AN ADULT. dick likes to take duke out to do lots of cool stuff (paintball, lasertag, tech exhibitions, concerts, etc). also, dick PERSONALLY introduced duke to superman and is dating THE FLASH. 10/10 awesome big brother.

was intimidated by jason for 0.5 seconds before jason actually opened his mouth and started speaking. jason is literally. So Embarrassing. which is weird because nobody else really seems to feel that way about jason but duke knows he's 100% in the right here. like yeah jason is also An Adult and does Adult Stuff but he's also at the manor like every other weekend???? and he always complains about bruce but always seems to be in the same room bruce is in????? like okay jason. they bond over literature!! jason and duke and alfred will spend literal hours talking about books and duke loves it. duke is the only one who doesn't think jason is funny and jason gets so upset about it lmao.

cass has this one week where she gets really into photography and by virtue of being nearby (and also not nocturnal), duke becomes her victim subject. duke prints out all the pictures and hangs them up in his room (his favorite is one he took when he stole the camera and took a really bad selfie of them together).

tim is closest in age to duke so duke tends to hang around with him a lot. tim introduced duke to his young justice friends and duke is like yes!!! meta-friends!!!! tim really helps duke out with his powers because tim is always like wow i wonder if your powers would work if we did This? can you see farther than other people? is your visible spectrum of light different than other humans? Bruce does the same thing but bruce is boring about it lol.

damian and duke live in the same house and will be in the same room and just send each other social media posts back and forth. they follow each other on instagram and will, OCCASIONALLY, make tik toks together because they're tik tok fiends. each of his siblings have visited his parents once or twice but damian routinely comes with him.

damian

damian gets a special bullet point to say that it took him. forever to come around to the idea of having siblings. he very much believed that he was Bruce's Blood Son and everyone else were just tagalongs or allies. it took him ages to acknowledge that dick, jason, tim, and cass were his siblings, so when duke came and like a week later damian was like Ah, Yes, this is my brother Thomas everyone else was like dude wtf

listen. LISTEN. Obviously. Richard is very highly skilled. and also Father values him highly. and also Richard will listen to Damian complain about his schoolmates. and also Richard is much more patient with Damian than other members of his family. listen....,,, (all this to say damian kind of fucking adores dick lmaooooo this kid).

Todd is kind of unbearable but damian has been informed this is both a normal feeling when it comes to Todd and also big brothers. damian was an only child for ten years so yes, Father, if Todd attempts to tickle me I WILL break his fucking nose. yes i WILL put money in the swear jar but I want you to know i don't regret it. they always try to sneak up on each other but mostly fail.

DRAKE!!! but no lol once damian grows up and is like I Apologize for attempting to murder you it was wrong and you are just as much a son to Father as I am tim is like UGH i guess its cool since ur being so emotionally mature and all. also im 2 for 5 on siblings trying to murder me so im definitely going to win trauma bingo and damian is like i take it back you are insufferable. When Will My Older Siblings Stop Joking About Their Trauma.

CASS!!! listen. cass is cool. Cass Gets It. They have a special Bond. also damian really likes it whenever cass is home because 1) he gets to hang out and do something cool with cass and 2) he feels significantly safer with cass in the house because Nobody will be able to hurt any of their family if Cass is there. ALSO he tries to call her cain but everyone is like DONT DO THAT and he doesn't want to call her wayne bcus theyre ALL wayne (dick adds it on as a middle name but also Richard John Wayne West-Grayson is just. the lamest name ever so dick needs to reconsider it before his upcoming nuptials)((dick will not reconsider it except maybe whether grayson-west would work better)) and so he tries cassandra but cass is like :) call me cass and damian is like cassandra is more formal and respectful and cass is like :) and finally damian just has to give in.

Duke! him and duke actually live together so they get the Most Bonding Time and have a bunch of inside jokes as a result. (is it bad i wanted to laugh because inside jokes... joker... i'll see myself out). they're eating breakfast together (and also alfred sits with them IM NOT A MONSTER ALFIE'S LIKE 70 NOW OKAY) and duke laughs and bruce is like what are you laughing at, son? and duke is like oh damian just showed me this funny meme and then he shows the phone to bruce and bruce grabs it (both the boys groan) and after WAY TOO LONG is like "i don't get it" and so now duke and damian have to try and explain the comedic intricacy of bob's burgers

[gignikinszz]

anakin is on the train and this dipshit infront of him has been humming christmas songs everyday on his morning work commute for the past week and it’s the middle of fucking august so he’s ready to confront this motherfucker for his crimes against humanity and his eardrums then boom obi wan meet cute

anon. im obsessed 💍💍💍💍 ficlet under the cut xx

i took a few liberties with this, but i hope u still like it :)) modern au, annoyances to lovers but only from anakin's pov, 1.3k. mentions of christmas music and horrible hours of the morning beware

It was 5:15. Five-fifteen in the goddamn morning. It was six in the goddamn morning, and it was the middle of August. The seventeenth of August, to be exact.

The third week, to the day, of Anakin’s personal hell.

Some context: Anakin was on the train, just trying to get to his job at a local bakery, still trying to wake up. He’d been late that morning and hadn’t had time for coffee, and was therefore grumpy. Grumpier than usual. So fucking grumpy.

And that same motherfucker from the past three weeks was singing. Again.

Now, Anakin wasn’t a cold-hearted monster, okay? He wasn’t against singing, not at all. Not even at 5:15 in the goddamn morning on a Thursday. Not even on the train. No, what he was against, morally and spiritually and on all levels (including physical), was the fact that the stranger was singing Christmas music. In August.

Today, it was Jingle Bells, though really, the song should’ve been named Jingle Hell. Overly jaunty, reminiscent of fifth-grade showcases, jarring and horrid, even when sung with a voice as nice as Christmas Music Man’s. A disgusting display of Christmas cheer, absolutely murdering Anakin’s poor eardrums, making him wish for the fiftieth time in the past twenty-one days that his stupid dog and stupider cat hadn’t totally destroyed his earbuds fighting over them, and that he wasn’t too busy (lazy) to go get new ones.

God, he was going to lose it. If he heard one more annoying-ass sing, he was going to—

… you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special…

Last Christmas. The stranger, who always, for some sick and twisted reason, sat directly behind Anakin, was singing Last Christmas.

“Yo, dipshit, can you, like shut the fu—ck.” Anakin choked as he finally got a glimpse of the stranger. “Not up. Um. You can keep singing. Bye.”

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit. He was hot. Oh, fuck. Oh, god. He was so fucking hot and Anakin had just called him a dipshit. And spazzed out. And, worse, told him he could keep singing his awful Christmas music. He’d told the most attractive asshole motherfucker he’d ever seen that he could keep singing Last Christmas. At 5:15 in the goddamn morning. In the middle of August.

Oh, fucking shit.

Anakin spent the rest of that (thankfully not-very-long, after his outburst) train ride in silence, rethinking his life, wondering how someone so hot could be committing such heinous crimes against humanity. It didn’t make sense, at first. The man had looked nice. Or just hot. Anakin didn’t know. He’d been wearing a sweater vest with nothing underneath, showing off his very muscular arms, and he’d had very soft-looking hair. How could someone who dressed like a slutty 80-year-old have such poor taste in music? Have such little respect for Anakin, and Anakin’s eardrums, and the world at large?

It didn’t make sense, but when Anakin talked to Ahsoka, who was opening with him that day, she told him it did.

“You know,” she said, “if he’s really that hot, there’s gotta be something wrong with him. So the universe is fair and shit.”

And Anakin had to agree. There truly was something wrong with the man. Deeply, deeply wrong. Disturbed, even. Not that it made it fair that Anakin still had to suffer every morning. Or that his eardrums felt like they might die.

The next morning, he resolved to put a stop to it, good looks aside. For the sake of both his sanity, and for the world. Well, the world of the train at 5:15 in the morning. It was important to him, okay?

So he steeled himself the next morning. Got up early so he could get coffee and fix his hair, because presentation was important in these sorts of confrontations. Not for any other reason. Anakin also wore his nice work shirt, the one without too many stains, for the impending argument, of course. He would’ve looked his best while telling any asshole to stop fucking singing Christmas songs on the train at ass-o’clock every morning, whether or not they were hot.

Okay, maybe it had something to do with the fact that the guy was hot. Whatever. Sue Anakin for wanting to make a better second impression.

When he got to the train, he felt all wound-up, just waiting for the inevitable. For Holly Jolly Christmas or All I Want for Christmas is You or Chestnuts Roasting on the Open Fire of Anakin’s Burning Hatred for Christmas Songs. Or whatever that last one was called. His knee was bouncing, fingers tapping, heart pounding in anticipation. For the inevitable confrontation, of course.

It began five minutes after Anakin sat down. 5:18 in the morning.

Fucking Spooky Scary Skeletons.

An insult to Anakin’s pride, to his honor, to his family, to the month of August, to Halloween, and to the world at large, that’s what the man behind him was singing. An insult of the highest order, and Anakin had only had one cup of coffee.

So he did something wild, something insane, something totally out of character for him.

He waited.

He waited until the train made its next stop, the one before his, and he moved quickly to sit across the aisle from the man.

“Hey,” he said before he could chicken out. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Hot Asshole turned to look at him slowly. “What do you mean?” He asked, all posh and British and refined, and wow, Anakin was beginning to understand the appeal of those love-hate, enemies-to-lovers, 100k slow burn type relationships. That was hot. Despite, or perhaps even more so because of, the man’s infuriating little eyebrow thing, it was really hot.

“Your stupid music,” Anakin heard himself saying, refusing to back down despite the sight in front of him. “Sir, are you aware that it’s August?”

The man smiled. Pretty, Anakin’s mind supplied. Shut up, he snapped back.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked, folding his hands over one knee, crossing it over the other.

Anakin blinked, slowly, trying to let his brain catch up. “Well, you’re. It’s. That’s a Halloween song,” he said, feeling dumber by the second.

“And?” The man was still smiling, all innocent, and Anakin was suddenly unsure if it was nerves or annoyance making his face flush.

“And, um—well—whoever you are, you’re singing Halloween music. It’s August.”

“I’m Obi-Wan,” the man said unhelpfully. “And I don’t see what the issue is. Spooky Scary Skeletons is about bones. The human body. Personally, I think bodies are relevant year-round, don’t you?”

No, it was definitely annoyance.

“That’s about spooky, scary skeletons. It’s a fucking Halloween song. And even if it was applicable, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been singing fucking Christmas music every day for the past three weeks.” Anakin gave the man his best glare, but it didn’t seem to phase him. On the contrary, he just smiled a little brighter.

“It’s just what’s been stuck in my head,” he said, sounding innocent. “I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

“I—just—I—I want you to go out with me!” Okay, so Anakin didn’t mean to say that. In the slightest. And Obi-Wan was looking at him weirdly, and also, that wasn’t even a good solution to what Obi-Wan was asking, so Anakin opened his mouth to backtrack, but before he could—

“Okay.” Obi-Wan shrugged, smiling slightly. Anakin’s heart did a funny little somersault. “Is this your stop?”

And shit—it was, and Anakin hadn’t even gotten past the initial asking. No time to ask for horrible, hot, annoyingly heart-pounding Christmas Asshole’s number.

But that was fine. After all, Anakin was probably going to have to tell him to sing an appropriate song the next day, as well.

[firaknight]

Today I’m gonna quickly talk about the gifts Adeleine gets on her 16th birthday (see: previous post about Adeleine getting a special bottle from Queen Ripple that allows her to live for longer).

Kirby gives her a Wheelie Scooter and she almost starts crying. Little man basically hands her a pet she can ride anywhere she wants. She names them Camille :)

Dedede gives her a robe like his own (but tailored to fit her) and a cool hammer like his Masked Dedede one! The exception is that it’s lighter so she can lift it (he’s been teaching her how to use one and she’s pretty good at utilizing the weight of it to her advantage!)!!!!!

Meta gives her a funky dimensional cape that works a little differently than his. She can wrap it around herself and disappear for a bit! It doesn’t allow her to warp tho because she’s a little clumsy and could warp wrong and hurt herself! It’s comfy and she likes how tough she looks in it!

Bandee gives her a bandana and a basket of gem apples (the basket is from bumper crop bump!) that have little ribbons tied to the stems! She thinks it’s super sweet and the basket brings back a TON of fun memories for her!

Marx gives her a shard of his wings and she is very shocked. Said shard can grow back. It looks cool and sometimes glows rainbow colors really fast. Serves almost no other purpose besides that.

Gooey gives her a slightly sticky twig he found (the stickiness is unspecified but assumed to be from him holding it with his tongue). Adeleine fucking cries again over this. She keeps the stick in a safe spot in her house and cherishes it despite everyone else insisting that it’s just a fucking stick it’s not that speciAL BUT IT IS THE GOOPY DARK MATTER BUDDY IM FRIENDS WITH GAVE IT TO ME AND I CARE HIM!

The animal friends trio give her a tuft of fur, a pin feather, and a large fish scale respectively! She keeps them in a little jar on the mantle of her fireplace!

Ribbon gives her a bigass chunk of opal she found in Great Cave Offensive (don’t ask how she found it she just scrambled through a tight space and came across it). Adeleine has no idea what to do with it but keeps it on her nightstand because Ribbon is her best friend.

Dameta replicates his sword somehow and gives her the copy. She now owns 2 weapons and isn’t afraid to use them. He’s very proud of his armed daughter and is working on teaching her how to harness the mirror ability of the sword to her advantage.

Daroach came next and he tried to make it a surprise. Adeleine was fitted with a hat and cloak similar to Daroach and was also fitted with a bell sporting the Squeak Squad insignia on it. He announced that she was now an honorary Squeak Squad member and she fucking sobs. Straight up cries. They all jump around loudly singing the Squeak Squad theme afterwards.

Magolor gives her a depleted Energy Sphere (it’s still moving but it’s inactive and cannot power anything) and a Grand Doomer feather he found (how the fuck he survived that is beyond everyone). Adeleine keeps both in a safe place, probably in her room.

Taranza gives her clothes and flowers, as well as seeds for her to plant wherever she wants! He teaches her how to care for the plants and also explains that the leaves can be used in tea! She’s very happy afterwards :)

Susie gives her a small mech similar to the ones Kirby used and Adeleine gets fuckin PUMPED. Bigass metal mech with high defense capabilities that can take things out in just a hit or two is a MASSIVE win for her fragile self. Susie says it’s an apology for being a douche sometimes and she teaches her how to use it! She keeps it stored under the longer roof of her house.

Queen Ripple of course gives her the spring water that will slow her aging.

Adeleine cries a lot that night out of joy :)

[straighttohellbuddy]

When you came around, you were in an unfamiliar room, on what felt like a camp bed. Instinctively you shot up from your spot, hissing as pain radiated across your joints and muscles at the sudden movement, the sensation almost jarring as your wide eyes began to search the room for what possibly disturbed you.

“You’re safe.” The deep voice caused you to snap your head to the other side of the room, taking note of the person resting on the doorframe, arms held out and palms facing towards you. Despite part of your mind almost begging you to relax, to give your muscles a break, you couldn’t. The masked face was one that you didn’t instinctively recognise, sending your anxiety skyrocketing.

“Forgive me for not recognising the room, let alone who you are.” The snapped remark caused his eyes to crinkle in an obvious grin behind the mask.

“Luke warned that you would most likely be disorientated, so I offered to check in every so often and make sure you were okay.” This didn’t ease the anxiety that was bubbling within your gut. Where was Luke?

“So you haven’t been standing there like a creep?” Part of you was mortified at the attitude, almost like someone had overtaken your functions. But the louder part was frustrated, in pain and anxious. A combination that was testing your patience.

“No, I’ve not long come back from the meeting. Sykkuno checked in with you for that.” The name rang bells and a tired memory pulled forward a kind face with dark hair, but you felt confused.

“Wait, how long have I been out?” The almost pitying look he gave you, made your insides twist with discomfort. You didn’t want this stranger's pity.

“‘Bout a day and a half. Luke told us what you guys had gone through whilst getting here.”

You looked away then. Whilst your dreams hadn’t haunted you, your body and mind clearly exhausted, it still felt like you had his blood on your hands.

“Let’s grab some breakfast for you. Doc did a check over on you and you’re on rest and recovery orders for the next two weeks.” The change in subject earned him a grateful look from you. He simply held his hand out to you to help you up off the camp bed, and that was when you realised how much pain you were still in as your knees gave way, his arms catching you before you hit the floor.

“Thanks.” The word was quiet, barely whispered, but he heard it and simply nodded in return. It was easy for him to slowly bring your arm across his shoulders, forcing your body to lean on his as he began to guide you from the room, making sure to avoid any jostling or jarring movements before the two of you finally reached the small kitchen area, his care showing in how he helped you sit down at the small table in the middle.

“Do you want a drink?” It took a second before you nodded, finally realising how thirsty you actually felt now that you weren’t focused on the fight or flight instincts. Very slowly, your tense muscles started to relax, the pain returning with it.

“Please.”

It seemed strange to see someone moving about in such a domestic setting after having lived in tents and under the stars for months. When his back was turned, the mop of dark curls pulled a memory that you'd been shoving away, unwilling to face the reality. But for just a moment, it was Ashton taking care of you.

And when he turned back around, you felt your breath catch in your throat and quickly looked away, willing yourself not to cry as he placed the glass down in front of you.

“I’m Corpse, by the way.” His voice, his name, it shattered the moment of foolishness and you pressed your lips together in a tight smile, trying to get a reign on your emotions but the sob escaped, your hand covering your mouth as tears fell. Corpse stayed quiet.

🧡-🐈‍⬛

S T O P I T IM OBSESSEDDDD we LOVE a reader with attitude, love the mystery of how they got there and where they are, im a sucker for ‘im wary of you even though you’re taking care of me in an apocalypse vs. i’ll still take care of you even though you’re snarking at me in the middle of an apocalypse’, im living for the begrudging hurt/comfort vibes, im living for the hostile-to-lovers implications, im living for this, and for you, and i do hope you write more !! in your own time of course, you’re doing this for free, same as me, same as all of us, so do what makes you happy (it’s so fucking good, a wonderful little snippet, im definitely interested in more, fam!)

[lesbeet]

not to be a nerd but i accidentally just wrote a whole impromptu essay about editing ndjsdksksk im throwing it under a cut bc it's fucking inane and really long but honestly... i just want other people to become as passionate about editing as i am lmaooooo

i also recommend 2 books in the post so if anything at least check those out!

quality books about editing... *chef's kiss* a lot of the basic ones (including blog posts online n such) are geared towards beginners and end up repeating the same info/advice, much of it either oversimplified or misrepresented tbh. but i read one yesterday and i'm reading another one right now that really convey this passion for editing + consideration for it as its own sort of art and i just!!

it's such a weird thing to be passionate about lmao but i AM and i've spent a lot of time the past year or so consciously honing my craft (ik i mention this like 4 times a week i'm just really proud of how much i've learned and improved) and kind of like. solidifying my instincts into conscious choices i guess?

and these GOOD editing books have both a) taught me new information and/or presented familiar information through a new perspective that helped me understand something differently or in more depth, and b) validated or even just put into words certain preferences or techniques that i've developed on my own, that i don't normally see on those more basic lists i mentioned

btw the book i finished yesterday is self-editing for fiction writers: how to edit yourself into print by renni brown and dave king, and the one i'm reading currently is the artful edit: on the practice of editing yourself by susan bell.

the former was pretty sharp and straightforward. the authors demonstrated some of their points directly in the text, which was usually funny enough that i would show certain quotes to my sister without context

("Just think about how much power a single obscenity can have if it’s the only one in the whole fucking book." <- (it was)

"Frequent italics have come to signal weak writing. So you should never resort to them unless they are the only practical choice, as with the kind of self-conscious internal dialogue shown above or an occasional emphasis."

or, my favorite: "There are a few stylistic devices that are so “tacky” they should be used very sparingly, if at all. First on the list is emphasis quotes, as in the quotes around the word “tacky” in the preceding sentence. The only time you need to use them is to show you are referring to the word itself, as in the quotes around the word “tacky” in the preceding sentence. Read it again; it all makes sense.")

and like i said, i also learned some new ideas or techniques (or they articulated vague ideas i already had but struggled to put into practice), AND they mentioned some suggestions that ive literally never seen anyone else bring up (not to say no one has! just that ive never seen it, and ive seen a lot in terms of writing tips, advice, best practices, etc) that ive already sort of established in my own writing

for example they went into pretty fine detail about dialogue mechanics, more than i usually see, and in talking about the pacing and proportion of "beats" and dialogue in a given scene, they explicitly suggested that, if a character speaks more than a sentence or two and you plan on giving them some sort of dialogue tag or an action to perform as a beat, the tag or action should be placed at one of the earliest (if not the first) natural pauses in the dialogue, so as not to distance the character too far from the dialogue -- bc otherwise the reader ends up getting all of the dialogue information first, and then has to go back and retroactively insert the character, or what they're doing, or the way they look/sound while they're giving their little speech

and like this was something ive figured out on my own, mostly bc it jarred me out of something i was reading enough times (probably in fic tbh) that i started noticing it, and realized that it's something i do naturally, kind of to anchor the character to the dialogue mechanic to make sure it makes sense with the actual dialogue

so like. ok here's an example i just randomly pulled from the song of achilles (it was available on scribd so i just looked for a spot that worked to illustrate my point djsmsks)

the actual quote is written effectively, but here's a less effective version first:

“Perhaps I would, but I see no reason to kill him. He’s done nothing to me," Achilles answered coolly.

see and even with such a short snippet it's so much smoother and more vivid just by moving the dialogue tag, not adding or cutting a word:

“Perhaps I would, but I see no reason to kill him.” Achilles answered coolly. “He’s done nothing to me.”

the rhythm of it is better, and the beat that the dialogue tag creates functions as a natural dramatic pause before achilles delivers an incredibly poignant line, both within the immediate context of the scene and because we as the readers can recognize it as foreshadowing. plus, it flows smoothly because that beat was inserted where the dialogue already contained a natural pause, just bc that's how people speak. if you read both versions aloud, they both make sense, but the second version (the original used in the novel) accounts for the rhythm of dialogue, the way people tend to process information as they read, AND the greater context of the story, and as a result packs significantly more purpose, information, and effect into the same exact set of words

and THAT, folks, is the kind of editing minutia i can literally sit and hyperfocus on for hours without noticing. anyway it's a good book lmao

the one i'm reading now is a lot more about the cognitive process/es of editing, so there's less concrete and specific advice (so far, anyway) and more discussion about different mental approaches to editing, as well as tips and tools for making a firm distinction between your writer brain and your editor brain, which is something i struggle with

but there have been so many good quotes that ive highlighted! a lot of just like. reminders and things to think about, and also just lovely articulations of things id thought of or come to understand in much more vague ways.

scribd won't let me copy/paste this one bc it's a document copy and not an actual ebook, but this passage is talking about how the simple act of showing a piece of writing to someone else for the very first time can spark a sudden shift in perspective on the work, bc you'll (or at least i) frantically try to re-read it through their eyes and end up noticing a bunch of new errors -

or she talked about the perils of constant re-reading in the middle of writing a draft, which is something i struggle with a LOT, both bc i'm a perfectionist and bc i prefer editing to writing so i sit and edit when i'm procrastinating doing the actual hard work of writing lmao

it's just this side of fake deep tbh but i so rarely see editing discussed like this--as a mixture of art and science, a collaboration between instinct and technique, that really requires "both sides of the brain" to be done well.

and because of the way my own brain works, activities that require such a balanced concentration of creativity and logic really appeal to me. even though ive seen a lot of people (even professional writers) who frame it as the creative art of writing vs the logical discipline of editing. but i think that's such a misleading way of thinking about it, because writing and editing both require creativity and logic -- just different kinds! (not to mention that the line between writing and editing, while mostly clear, can get a little blurry from up close)

but like...all stories have an inner logic to them, even if the writer hasn't explicitly or consciously planned it, and even if the logic is faulty in places in the first couple of drafts. when you're sitting and daydreaming about your story, especially if you're trying to figure out how to bridge the gap between two points or scenes (or, how to write a sequence of events that presents as a logical, inevitable progression of cause and effect), the voice in your head that evaluates an idea and decides to 1) go with it, 2) scrap it, 3) tweak it until it works, or 4) hold onto it in case you want it later? that's your logic! if an idea feels wrong, or like it just doesn't work, it's probably because some part of you is detecting a conflict between some part of the idea and the overall logic of your story. every decision you make as you write is formed by and checked against your own experiential logic, and also by the internal logic of your story, which is far less developed (or at least, one would hope), and therefore more prone to the occasional laspe

but while ive seen a number of articles that discuss the logic of writing, i don't see people gushing as much about the art of editing and it's such a shame

the inner editor is so often characterized as the responsible parent to the writer's carefree child, or a relentless critic of the writer's unselfconscious, unpolished drivel

and it's like... maybe you just hate thinking critically about your work! maybe you view it that way because you're imposing external standards too fiercely onto your writing, and it's sucked the joy out of shaping and sculpting your words until they sing. maybe you prefer to conceive of your writing as divine communication, the process of which must remain unencumbered by lessons learned through experience or the vulnerability of self-reflection, until the buzzkill inner editor shows up with all those "rules" and "conventions" that only matter if you're trying to get published

and like obviously the market doesn't dictate which conventions are worth following, but the majority of widely-agreed-upon writing standards, especially those aimed at beginners, (and most especially those regarding style, as opposed to story structure) have to do with the effectiveness and efficiency of prose, and, in addition to often serving as a shorthand for distinguishing an amateur from a pro, overall help to increase poignancy and clarity, which is crucial no matter the genre or type of writing. and even if you personally believe otherwise, it's better to understand the conventions so you can break them with real purpose.

so editing shouldn't be about trying to shove your pristine artistic masterpiece into a conventional mold, it should be about using the creative instincts of your ear and your logic and experience-based understanding of writing as a craft to hone your words until you've told your story as effectively as possible

thank u for coming to my ted talk ✌️

[skeletaldarling]

Chase The Fire Away Chapter 3

The Witch’s Corner 

AO3

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Summary: Patton gets too lose to seeing something he’s not supposed to see... and Remus and Logan work in the same bookshop! 

Ship: Lomile, mentioned Sleepxiety, mentioned Roceit 

Word Count: 1423

Warnings: Dark sides, Remus “Duke”, mentioned Deceit, swearing, blood, blood drinking, witches, vampires 

Patton giggled at his phone screen. He was sprawled out on his bed, messaging Remus. 

The Duke: Im not saying id fuck any werewolf I met 

The Duke: Im just saying that its definitely rlly hot

Pancake: Werewolves tho?

Pancake: Not something cool, like a witch? 

The Duke: UM RUDE!?!

The Duke: ARE YOU SAYING WEREWOLVES ARENT COOL?

Patton was smiling so much his cheeks were nearly aching. It was so easy with Remus, everything just felt so right and natural when they were talking. 

The Duke: Actually id probably fuck a witch tbh 

The Duke: As long as they had the hat

Pancake: Right, obvs they need the hat to be a witch 

The Duke: Exactly!!

The Duke: Oh shit gtg

The Duke: Ttyl byeeeeee

Pancake: Byeeee

Patton tossed his phone down on the bed and flopped back onto his pillows with a happy sigh. He looked out the window at the tree and couldn’t help but feel like all those flowers hadn’t been there yesterday. Or this morning. Patton squeezed his eyes shut. He was definitely imagining it. He sat up again and jumped to his feet. Maybe Emile was making lunch. 

When Patton got downstairs he could hear his dads in the kitchen. 

“You can keep going, honey. I feel fine.” Emile said. 

Patton could hear someone make a small inhaling sound, liking they’d been holding their breath before the tap started running. 

“Lo?” Emile asked. “What are you do- shit.” 

Patton reached the kitchen doorway and paused as he saw Logan hunched over the sink, coughing and spitting. Emile moved to block him from Patton’s view. “Hey, pumpkin!” he chirped. “Whatcha up to?”

Patton blinked. Emile’s cheeks were pink and he looked uncomfortable. “Um. Do you want some lunch?” he asked. 

Patton looked at Logan. “Is Pa okay?”

Emile rubbed his husband’s shoulder. “Papa’s fine. He just, um, ate too fast.” 

Patton furrowed his brows. That seemed like a blatant lie. “But-”

Logan coughed once more, louder, and wiped his face on his sleeve. “Dad’s right. I’m fine, Patton.” He rinsed the sink out and stood up straight again, he adjusted his glasses. “I could make us some omelets for lunch?”

Patton still seemed unsure but Logan pushed past it and opened the fridge. “Who wants to help?”

Emile grabbed a frying pan. “Pat, sweetpea, grab the glass bowl please?”

Patton hesitated before taking a deep breath. He was just being stupid. Papa’s fine. He reached up to get the glass bowl and handed it to Emile. They wouldn’t lie to him. 

And there’s no way it was actually blood in the sink. 

+++

“He almost saw you feeding!” Emile paced back and forth, chewing on his thumbnail. “Oh my goodness. What if he had walked in? He knows something’s wrong. He’s a smart kid, Lo. He’ll figure it out and he’ll be so hurt that we didn’t tell him!”

Logan sighed from the couch, his head in his hands. “Emi, please. Just calm down.”

“I can’t be calm! Patton trusts us now, and we’re keeping this from him. How is that fair?”

“Em, dear, we’re keeping this from him to protect him-”

“No, what does that even mean!? He’s not protected, he’s just a kid who doesn’t even know who his dads really are.”

“Emile.” Logan finally stood up and stepped in front of Emile’s pacing route, making Emile flinch at his vampire’s speed. 

Logan took Emile’s hands and set them on his shoulders. He gently took Emile’s hips and tugged him closer. “It’s okay, kitten,” he whispered. 

Emile shuddered as the tears that had been building finally spilled over. “I’m just so worried for him.” He buried his face in Logan’s neck. 

The vampire rubbed his back. “I know you are.” He threaded his fingers through Emile’s hair and kept running his hand up and down his husband’s spine. “It’s okay.”

Emile cried. “I want to tell him.”

“Shhh, I know.” Logan kissed his head. “I know. We will. We can do it soon. We’ll do it soon, I promise.” He swooped down to pick Emile up, cradling him close to his chest. “Let’s get some sleep now, okay? It’s late.”

Emile sniffed and scrubbed his eyes. “Okay,” he whispered hoarsely. 

Logan kissed his forehead and carried him up the stairs, smiling at his husband’s halfhearted protests. 

“I can walk!” He insisted, keeping his voice low enough to not wake Patton. 

“I’m sure you could, kitten, but why walk when you could have your vampire husband carry you?”

Emile kissed him as he was set down on their bed. “I love you heaps.”

“I love you heaps too, Emi.” Logan assured him. “Go to sleep.” 

“Okay.”

+++

Logan hurried into The Witch’s Corner, his arms full of pastry bags and coffee cups. He sped straight to the counter and set everything down. He took a sip from his own reusable takeout cup as he grabbed his boss’s one. He took a second to admire the hand painted designs that were splashed across the cup, Dee’s work. Logan zipped to the back of the shop where Roman was organising a shelf of herb-filled jars. 

“Your tea,” he said. 

Roman glanced up. “Oh, thank you.” He took the cup gratefully. 

“There’s donuts and biscuits on the counter.” 

Roman hummed. “And how’s my son? Still obsessing over his wedding binders?”

“Remy was working at the counter when I got there. Virgil was serving all the customers and they both seemed incredibly annoyed with a florist.” 

Roman chuckled. “Sounds like them.” 

Logan leaned against the shelves and noticed a painting on the wall. “That’s new. One of Dee’s, right?”

Roman glanced over at the canvas Logan was referring to. It was a painting of two black cats, running through a forest, being followed by a colourful, sparkly mist. The witch smiled. “Yes. Dee made it the other day.”

“It’s beautiful.” 

“It is.” Roman sipped his tea and straightened a crystal cluster on a bookcase. 

They were interrupted by the bookshop’s door opening with a dainty little bell chime. “Hi, Roman!”

Roman smiled and headed out to the front. “Hey, kid.” 

Remus bounced over to the counter. “Can I do something cool today?” 

Logan walked over to them and sat down behind the counter. “Cool?”

“I wanna do witchcraft!” declared Remus. “Like you, Roman!”

“Roman’s not a witch,” dismissed Logan instinctively, shooting the older witch a tired look. “Stop feeding him your crazy voodoo lies.” he smirked. 

Remus lit up. “I want to learn crazy voodoo!” 

Roman laughed. “Alright. Maybe later, kid.” He pulled a donut from the brown paper bag. “But for now, you can redo the window display into something cool.”

Remus grinned. That was his favourite task. “Any theme?”

“Well it’s currently centred around dreamcatchers… so I’d say to switch it up we should go with the whole ‘skulls and crystals’ vibe.” Roman teased, smiling at the kid’s enthusiasm. 

Remus was wiggling with anticipation. “YES!” He scampered off to collect various bits and bobs from around the little shop, switching things around and taking all the feathery hoops down from the window. 

Logan shook his head fondly and pulled his book out from under the counter, it was a dusty old thing full of detailed sketches and smudgy faded scrawlings about ancient lore and myths. It took up a solid half of the counter but Logan loved it too much to stop reading through the old beliefs and occasionally jotting quotes down in his journal to do further research later. 

The witch took his donut back to the furthest corner of the shop to finish filing away some new books. Roman finished just in time for Remus to pop back and say goodbye. 

Roman waved him off and flipped the door’s sign to read ‘closed’. Logan was packing away his books. “Anything else you want done before I take off?”

“No, everything’s perfect. Go home, Logan. Give Emile a hug for me.”

“Of course.” Logan smiled and turned the door handle. “And stop telling that kid you’re a witch. We don’t need anyone else to know our secrets.” 

“Oh come on. Remus is a good kid. There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of magic.” 

“Maybe in your case,” said Logan, his smile saddening slightly. 

Roman rolled his eyes. “You’re not any form of bad or evil, Logan. You’re just as mystical as the rest of us and the sooner you figure that out, the better off you’ll be.” 

Logan inhaled deeply and looked to Roman once more. “Goodnight, Roman.”

“Goodnight.”

Taglist: 

@sander-sideblog

[shabba-zams]

I'M NO MANIAC

Hold big regard for kinship, tradition and culture, I could give a lecture

I'm sky high - herbivore, like a turkey vulture I'm a carnivore

Canibal, I mean omnivore coz I love greens, like Popeye And Spinach, I lick bean

Flick flick, root Chakra, keep you grounded, kiss your forehead, illumination

Wham bam, burn incense this instant

Smoke in house, reminisce about my late aunt, Eugenia

Healing from a heartbreak of a love that never happened

Should never happen, wait what just happened?

You a bad bitch, downward doggy, hit it from the back, is that good B?

Meow-moo, look at that arch, Doja, Cat-Cow mi amor

Heart's aching, beneath I'm hurting although surface looks perfect

Instantly regretting the mistake I made, egghead getting laid

I was broke, couldn't think straight, Im still great, it's just that I hate

Constantly stressing, hope you not late, I'm Wylin, red fox

Sorry mate, don't put me on the spot unless we hot box

You a hot mess, you burn, guilt trip, in hell I burn, 12 stroke soul snatcher, soul searching,N2O, inhale, I burn, I'm trippin

My goodness, Zulu goddess, Tsonga royalty in her DNA, your highness hello, hi, my love I profess

Pussy power tricking, that tightness, finesse crazy like madness, she drippin

Her cookie jar I'm Double dippin, like yes ya, I praise ya, I'm smitten

You praise Ja, pet name for your small pussy... Poor lil kitten

Obsessed With fitness, admire her loyalty, I stay under her spell

First We gel, then repel, we then rebel, plz say you could not tell I fell for you girl!

I confess, your strange quirks remind me of my old ex

Guardian angel, I see your halo, okay bye! In darkness you my star

Naledi always shine bright, never dim light, eyes can adjust right?

No girl, tell me how could I not fall for you girl?

If I see you all day and night? Medicate then meditate

Last and first light I see you, it's hard to wake me up, ICU

Namaste, send u love and light. Hugging u gud nyt then imma go unless it's midnight, my pants is tight right and u hug me tight tight cutie, in my ear, QTip, u whisper get the light, deep throat  gimme the green light, tonight you looking so tasty

It's not right, lockdown got me all thirsty, see, I'm nasty

I'll eat you out, gimme a big tip, face chair, take a sit please

Gangsta champagne, notorious bubbles I sip sip, are you pleased?

You a tall glass of sexy B, I mean u sassy B, sexy beast I gotta drink, drunk

In love with your positive energy, you love the inner me and you know I'm not the enemy, I love you

Juju, like bad energy, shoo shoo, telling me to go, I don't go

Feeling ur feng shui imbalance, tryinna find balance, yoga

So much green in my blood stream, feelin like Hulk or Yoda

I'm 1 with the force, a gulf stream directing ur flow, go

Heavy flow that weigh a ton, period. I go deep, you flow deep like the Nile, you lovin it

Tid bit in denial, plz don't judge unless you take a 9 mile walk if the shoe fit

Wise mentor, needed to blow off steam, oh no you make me sing, I never meant to...

I'm spiritual, Ultralight beam, living the life of Pablo, green

I see no light, stuck in the dark, this don't feel right

Fight what I feel, fight! I know you like what I write, right? I'm still Steve like Biko, because I write what I like

You're spiritual, Ivy crown it'll be alright, fight!

Where you been? Spiritual journey, Wrote you a song of love, don't panic, it's platonic agape kind

You're kind, im sorry, please forgive me, God bless us

Never meant to sex ya, sext ya, yes ya I never meant to

Hurt ya, my day 1 let me be in your team, I'm your hype man and you my wing man, who knew, man?

I'm a new man, never wanna be in u ma'am, that's Truman, like Harry

Like Harriet, You talk truth ma'am, ur woke now, mental slavery chain breaker

Lead, take leash, give me my freedom, Tubman. Ass like Baartman, I'm joking, I'm through man!

Is it true man? You got a new man?

I'm glad you found uThando & Peace!

I see your glow in the dark , I watch you grow, from head to toe

Lock down, No sexercise, just exercise, oblique workout, body shaping up, you shake shit up

Look down, fvck shit up, I fantasize under the mistletoe, kiss kiss that phat pet peeve,

I mean the size of that cameltoe, kiss kiss like it's NYs Eve

Family Feud like Steve, We lip lock, she bad bad like Eve

Stuck with you like gridlock, bad bitch my ride or die!

The love you show, I dunno who to tell that u just ring my bell

Blue balls, plain torture, ungshaya ding dong, that just rings wrong

Playing mind games like ping pong, saw my dp then ask for my dick pic like "Big Z u got big dick print"

I tell her to quit playin and show her it's just resting, I'm a grower

Picture a Big black gun in your hand, click glock

Lick big black cock in my hand, and get a big tip

Love your big tats,small tits, nip slip, vrm vrm, you own me like pinkslip

4 play lick clit, that pink pink

Big lie like, just the tip, truth is I just wanted to hit twice, then dip twice like, dip dip

Double Pussy grip, like grip grip

Our late night tap dance routine like

Double tap like, tip-clit-grip-grip, skip, tip-clit-grip-grip

Sending mixed signals, wearing no bra, black tank top, Grey gym pants, exciting my BBC then saying NO BRA!

Apple bong is crack bong, big flop wearing your pink flip flops, I need a drink,J walk drunk, hit, bong, bang, drive, buy smoke, fly, sky, high five, YouTube The Fives, whats the matter? GBV

All lives including those you call low lives matter, no 1 deserves murder.

Deep chats kid, Katt Williams crack me up, have a break Kit Kat

I'm a lil sad but real glad u not mad at me brick brack, red fox

Need my quick fix, Red on Netflix like Raymond, cross you off my hitlist, at least at last, the blacklist, NBC

No chick flicks miss, unless you aiming to get this, BBC

I don't aim, shoot shot once and don't miss, easy, ABC

Cupid tryinna shoot me dead but misz, shit shot, no Mrs, thank God

Thot thought she a hot shot coz she smoke pot, no BS she not hot

Cold as horse shit that's not hot, bust a nut, I might not

I'm a lit lad who thinks they a big bad, Wolf, with a sick head

You heard? Sometimes it's hard when u in my bed, think with other head instead like getting head

Play dead after I beat meat, you knock-knock, I'm cumin, you come in, your bad timing is not charming

I see myself in you, pun intended, idea planted in my head

For real tho, I see your hoeish ways, long gone are my hoeish days

Sometimes I think u poison like Ivy, I'm batman, no avengers

Scavengers, a mad woman and a bad man, Savages in our own league

First punch throwers, they hate us, crack bong hitters, they not us, we avenge us,

You lead, I school ya, screw ya, liquids in ur insides like IV

Drip drip, said fuck it, big deal, do u even care how I feel? Bad state of mind, took shrumz, now I'm havin a bad trip

Craving a road trip, cruze down memory lane, replay bad clip, is it weird that I loved that silhouette video? Press play

Get liquid withit

Going toe-to-toe, I kill and bury Big Trill, made my 1st mil

Then blew it, dead lyricist, I'm just a ghost writer

I see changes, a stoner girl turn to a rave girl as the nyt ages

I once told her, trust the rock of ages like John

Serial killer with rage on Pages, I was angry at God like Sean

Now i'm easy like solving for X- Kid'o,

That's annoying, ward off tiny mosquito

Go against me, that's a non starter, kiss my ass lips

I talk shit, no stutter or slight lisp like L-Tido

In the city of gold its all or nothing, that's a no brainer

No brain huh? Black lip bastard, faith like mustard seed

Don't call me bastard, transform to Luke Cage then hit rib Cage like

Nicholas, can't stop me like an urban legend... Ghost rider

I sound fictitious like ghost busters, but I'm quite real like Klingon

I stick like glue, here's a clue:

Day of the week: Monday

Feeling: baby Blue and itchy

Scratch my balls I'm jiggy, sweet melanin black queen like B

Fluent in your love language B, catch 22, paradoxical

Hypocritical, stereotypical, philosophical.

[imagine-lovebug]

hey can i get a blurb where peter gets webshooter liquid in your hair and starts to get embarrassed and apologizes all flustered?

(A/N) - im so sorry it’s taking me so long to write these. But I’m having fun! Maybe I’ll make these a permanent thing and then do longer fics on the side?

You’re doodling in your notebook at the back of Mr. Cobbwell’s chemistry classroom when your phone buzzes beside you. You flip your phone over to see who messaged you, to see an Instagram message from p.parker.

You lift your eyes from your phone screen and scan the classroom, only to see none other than Peter Parker looking your way from a couple lab tables to your right. He motions you his phone under the table and you grab yours, going to check his message. You’ve never talked to him before, so you’re confused on why he’s trying to talk to you now, in the middle of Mr. Cobbwell’s lecture. Instagram loads the DM page to show his text.

p.parker: Could you do me a favour?

You’re even more confused now. 

(Y/N): Um, maybe. Depends. What’s up? 

p.parker: You’re sitting closest to the chemical cabinet. Could you try and get me some Salicylic Acid?

You glance at the front of the room to see the teacher working with the Bohr Model on the board before looking to the cabinet beside you. Why the fuck would Peter need some weird acid you’ve never used in class before? How does he even know it exists? Your eyes scan over the dark glass bottles, reading the names of different chemicals, trying to find the right one. 

p.parker: It might be labelled C7H6O3

You huff, turning to him and typing 

(Y/N): Why can’t you just come over here and get it yourself? I doubt he’d see you.

Peter shrugs his shoulders and just gestures for you to keep looking. After a minute or two, out of the corner of your eye, you see a bottle on the second shelf behind a few other compounds. The label isn’t completely visible, obscured by the glass containers before it, but you can see ‘Acid’ written on the end of the label, so you go for it. You stand up from your seat as sneakily as you can to unhook the cabinet doors, reach for the acid, and grab it before anyone, other than Peter, sees you. You click the cabinet closed and put the glass jar on the seat beside you right before Mr. Cobbwell turns around to lecture to the class. 

(Y/N): Okay, I have it. Salicylic Acid. How tf am I meant to get this to you tho?

p.parker: Just toss it to me

You look at him incredulously before responding

(Y/N): Dude, its in a glass bottle. And I don’t have a good throw.

p.parker: Don’t worry. Trust me, I’ll catch it.

You are worrying. And you do not trust him to catch it. But, after glancing at the front to see if the coast was clear, you turn back to him with the bottle in hand and throw it in his direction. Well, you’d definitely underestimated how much power you had to use because the dark bottle is approaching the floor by Peter’s backpack fast. Before the glass shatters against the linoleum, however, Peter leans across in his seat and wraps his hand around the neck of the bottle, saving it. Your eyebrows furrow, eyes widen, and mouth drops in shock of how he caught that and he chuckles at your expression. 

p.parker: Told you I have a good catch. Thanks for getting that for me.

You like his message and flip your phone over again, trying to refocus on what’s happening at the front of the room. Almost an hour later, the bell rings and the lunch period is starting, but you don’t exit the classroom as quickly as you usually do. You decide to pack up slowly and walk over to Peter, who is still working at his lab table, the acid you’d retrieved for him sitting in the open desk drawer beside him.

“Uh, hey,” you say, hesitantly. He looks up at you and smiles. “Hey, (Y/N). Thanks for helping me earlier, I really needed it.” You nod and send a smile back his way, rocking back and forth on your feet. You peer into the drawer to see a bubbling white substance in a beaker balanced on a hot plate. “Um, so, what are you making? I thought we weren’t allowed to make stuff without Cobbwell’s assistance,” you question. 

“Uhhh, it’s just an experiment. Mr. Cobbwell lets me do experiments after school all the time by myself, but I really needed to make this today and I’m busy this afternoon,” he stops talking momentarily, taking the time to stir the weird experiment. When he pulls the stirrer out, the substance sticks to it and creates a long, spindly chain that doesn’t disconnect even when he keeps pulling. 

“Shit!” He exclaimed, plunging the stirrer, and the long polymer chain connected to it, back into the beaker before pouring some clear liquid from another beaker into it.  “So, this one,” he gestures to the clear stuff he just added, “is a binding agent that will make the… experiment… more pliable.” You hum, completely confused by what he is doing, but somewhat mesmerized as well. You take a moment to look up at Peter’s face, eyes covered by the plastic goggles, and you take in his appearance and you realize that, actually, he’s pretty cute. He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours, and smiles. A blush spreads over your cheeks and you look away from him towards the door to the hallway.

Then something hits the side of your head, clinging to your hair and a little to your cheek. You look back at the beaker, which has bubbled over, and Peter’s running his hands through his hair.

“Shit, (Y/N), I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking and it just… splattered everywhere! It’s never done that before! I’m so so sorry!” He keeps apologising as you raise your hand to your hair, pulling it away with the warm, sticky, web-like substance stuck to your face, hair, and hand now. You try to wipe it off with your other hand and your fingers get stuck together.

“Peter, what the fuck is this?! Get it off me!” He starts rummaging through his backpack and eventually pulls out a squirty water bottle with a piece of masking tape on it labelled ‘web dissolvent’. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats, “please put your hands out.” Once you do, he squirts the dissolvent onto your skin. “Just rub your hands together and it’ll ball up like a putty.” You do as he says as he squirts the liquid onto his hand. He raises his hand to your cheek, holding your jaw gently and using his thumb to manipulate the webbing on your cheek. The scarlet blush on your cheeks deepens and spreads further down your neck, but you don’t stop him. 

Eventually, you’re completely de-webbed and Peter is standing in front of you awkwardly. “Sorry about that,” he apologises, for probably the millionth time. “It’s fine. It was kind of funny, to be honest. I’m just glad we got it all off.” He smiles sweetly at you before spotting a tiny bit more on your cheek. 

“Actually, um, you still have… a little bit…” he gestures to your cheek, “there.” You wipe your hand across your cheek but obviously didn’t get it. He chuckles a little and steps closer to you, his chest almost pressing against yours, and reaches his hand up to pluck the tiny bit of webbing off your cheek. “There you go,” he says quietly, but doesn’t step away. You look up at him, biting your lower lip, and he looks down at you, his hand still on your cheek. You go to press yourself up on the balls of your feet to kiss him, his hand already travelling from your cheek to your jaw to pull your lips to his, but before you can Ned pops his head through the door.

“Pet– Oh. I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” You pull yourself away from Peter reluctantly, grabbing and fiddling with the straps of your backpack out of awkwardness. “Uh, no, you’re good Ned. I gotta get going anyway,” you say and head towards the door. Before you step out, however, you turn around to look at Peter.

“Uh, message me, K?” you say, before basically running down the hallway.

Send in Blurb requests

[lumiereswig]

fun game, merci @lumiereandcogsworth​

rules: answer the questions about your favorite ship (all time or current) then tag 10 people to do it too!

Ship and fandom: PLUMIERE y’all know this already

Moments:

What were their first impressions of each other? lumiere shot through the kitchen door like a rocket and caught a tidy brown coat with a persnickety manner (an enemy! a friend?), and a silent black coat with slender, careful hands (ahh, a quiet comrade), and a roaring presence at the stove (better steer clear of him, sacre)—and then, behind them all, just for the briefest flutter—a piece of white lace, and dancing brown eyes, and a giggle from behind a slim little hand. and for one second, the world stopped and he saw the future.

plumette’s first impressions are [here].

A moment you think that both/one of them will remember forever about each other? for lumiere: plumette going still in his hands. for plumette: waking up to see bright blue eyes—not gold, but blue, and human—right there, within her arms.

A moment you think that both/one of them wishes hadn’t happened: lumiere wishes he could save his darling from the whole curse, the way it wakes her up—even now—shaking, murmuring, “I can’t feel my legs—Lumiere, my love, I can’t feel my legs.” plumette wishes she could save him from that white-hot agony that takes him sometimes, the way he sweats in the night, turning over to her and kissing every inch of her back, whispering you’re alive you’re alive you’re alive

What is Their Moment for you? SMOOCHES post-curse, pre-curse, banging their metal & porcelain chins together in vague attempt at smooching during-curse

Life Questions:

Marriage? If yes, who proposes? i feel like plumette proposes!! !  ! probably while lumiere is half-asleep and not prepared for the Unexpected Romance™ of it all (later he insists they do it properly and he has a big ruckus proposing to her, with roses and candlelight and a string quartet and a ring-as-big-as-ostrich-eggs. all that rubbishy nonsense they both ADORE)

Children? If yes, if one had to stay home with them, who would do it? home is where your work is if you’re a fucked up family-staffperson like plums&lums, so most of the time (if they’re busy) adam or cogsworth ends up as de facto babysitter. who knows how they got the 2 grumpiest ppl in the palace to willingly read ‘the wee ickle hamster’ to their baby girl seventeen times before bed but somehow they managed

Housing? Where do they live together? pre-curse, they have separate rooms. (cogsworth was an idiot and insisted on this. does it stop them? noPE!) little sad servanty rooms, thanks pre-curse adam!! ! !  but post-curse, fuck all that, they move into a fantastic suite together in the fashionable wing of the palace & give cogs the spare bedroom. (sometimes when he can’t sleep him and his teddy bear mysteriously end up there)

Pets? Do they get a pet together? weirdly yea no. plumette has an affinity for cockatoos and sometimes lumiere picks up weird lil animal friends, like honestly where did that howler monkey come from, but no real ‘pets’ yea no

Person A & B…

Who would kill/remove the spider and who would leave it under a cup and leave the room? plumette is SCREAMING and lumiere is SCREAMING and cogsworth is holding BOTH OF THEM while they’re SCREAMING

Who sings all day long and who gets so used to it they don’t even hear it anymore? lumiere is like constantly making up new show tunes, at times very loudly and if ppl bring this up to plumette shes like wha?

Who can cook a gourmet meal for two and who can maybe use the toaster? neither can use a toaster, they both set fire to the thing within minutes. lumiere is the cook and plumette is the one eating peanut butter out of the jar at 2 am!  !

Who wakes up before the sun rises and who would sleep in until 2pm if they didn’t have an alarm? they are both monstrously late sleepers

Who is more affectionate/touchy? lums is more physically affectionate. plumette is more cooing & verbally affectionate

Who wears the other’s hoodies/shirts? lumiere tries on plumette’s stays when he’s being particularly vain. and once plumette wore lumiere’s waistcoat and breeches to a fancy dress ball and belle’s bisexuality was REALLY showin’ lemme tell you

Who said i love you first? lumiere. (ive written about this. im a sucker for my own canons)

tagging: @sweetfayetanner @theteaisaddictive @vlleneuve @tinydooms @batbobsession

[d0ll-part-s]

i can’t write, and the thing i want to say is something angry about how i can never lie down comfortably and something shakespearean about how an addiction to it being bitter cold out will make you sick at heart, but it doesn’t come. instead i underline the saddest parts of the bell jar and stolen poetry books as if that will make it real; still i sit sideways, write backwards, suffer incorrectly. i am dissonance, there’s no way to pull me into tune.

cryptic diary entries from the early hours of the morning end up cut and pasted into poems like old-fashioned ransom letters written in words extracted from magazines. this isn’t writing. this is puking my sadness up, my illness out, it’s disgusting, it’s inconsistent, reflective.

all this year has taught me is that im bad at first aid and sticking to correct dosages. the grotty bandages and empty blister packaging in the bin under my desk fucking laugh. i should know better by now, but all the wrong memories take.

i chug medicine until it makes me a different type of sick. i am not well, i haven’t been well, i wont be well. i am tense in every sense of the word.

and there is something in that about staring into a fire and blinking until you’ve restored order again. the thing i want to say is something about one morning finding that your hands can feel the air on them and it’s heavier at some parts than others, and how you feel that all day. sometimes its about recognising but not registering anyone around you, living in a greenhouse full of ghosts. or maybe its just about being really fucking sad, but secretly; so private that sometimes you cant make yourself feel anything at all in case it all comes dribbling out like the fetid sludge from the broken tap in my bathroom. it’s about so much nothing that you don’t know what to do with it.

i always find it funny how the iv in my hand hurts worse than the soreness of the surgery causing me to need it. my fingers twitch in my sleep.

i don’t get any better than this. i don’t get any better. i don’t get better. i fight it.

i.k.b

[knybits]

- ̗̀ peonies, white roses and camellias ̖́-

hoooooooo boy guys youre all in for SUCH a ride :)) this is 5k words long so i broke it up into 2 parts!! also, this was LARGELY inspired off of the flower shop and tattoo parlor au that @thunderandrainclouds wrote (im linking it here!) and i thought “why not just write the au but with all our ocs” LMAOOOOO 

she also drew some art, so i hope youll give her art work some love bc it LITERALLY SENDS ME ALL THE TIME 

Akiko is my oc

Chiyo belongs to @thunderandrainclouds

Miyuki belongs to @kny-writings

so without further ado, please enjoy! 

Part One || Part Two

“Have you heard? There’s going to be a new shop across the street,” Akiko says, looking out the window at the construction team that’s pointing at blueprints. 

“Hah? Why the hell should I care?” Sanemi snaps, not bothering to look up from his client. Akiko rolls her eyes, directing her attention away from the busy scene outside and instead to her two co-workers, whom she hates with a passion. 

The ever so quiet Giyuu that once snuck up on her, tapped her shoulder, scared the shit out of her, and made her fuck up on a client. 

Sanemi, a royal asshole that can’t control his temper and snaps at Giyuu and herself. 

Yup, Akiko is living the life at her job. 

Unfortunately, the three of them are the best of the best, and they get clients from all over the world. 

What with Akiko’s talented eye for precision, Giyuu’s incredible watercolor designs, and Sanemi’s bold sense of style, their names are well known by other tattoo artists. 

It’s such a shame they all hate each other. 

Well, maybe Giyuu has no hate in him, but tensions are high. 

At any rate, a few more months pass, and Akiko is able to tell that the new store across the street is a flower shop. There are colorful buckets lining the outside of the store, and the windows are big and tall to allow for sunshine. The two stores line directly parallel from each other, and Akiko catches sight of three people that constantly walk in and out of the new shop. 

She doesn’t even realize she’s looking at one particular guy until he turns around, and their eyes meet. Akiko blinks once, twice, then she quickly turns away from the window of her parlor. 

It’s the next day that Akiko actually meets someone from the new store across the street. 

The bell to their parlor rings, and Akiko looks up from her phone to tell them that they’re still closed, only to see that Giyuu is already at the counter. 

“Hi! Sorry to just walk in, I read your sign I swear. But we’re your new store neighbors!” A bubbly voice says, and Akiko finds herself look at a pearl haired girl wearing a light green apron with a small batch of flowers in a small mason jar in her hands. Her white short sleeved shirt allows for Akiko to see her muscular arms, and she’s impressed by the size. 

Giyuu makes no move to talk, only blinking stoically at the girl. Akiko can’t help but find this odd. 

Sure, he doesn’t talk much, but he would at least greet customers or visitors. 

Her smile turns a bit wry, she looks nervous in Akiko’s eyes, and she awkwardly places the jar of flowers on the corner of the counter. 

“Uhm, anyway, there are two other workers over there, and if you ever want to stop by and say ‘hi’ you’re more than welcome to!  No pressure or anything,” she mutters a quick ‘fuck’ under her breath, twiddling with her thumbs. 

“Yeah, I’m Takenaka Chiyo, and uh… yeah, I think I’m gonna leave now so… bye!” Chiyo jets out of the store, the bell ringing a final time, and the store is quiet again. 

Sanemi walks into the store a few minutes later, an eyebrow cocked at the odd sight of Giyuu and Akiko staring off into the same general direction. 

“What? The fuck you guys lookin at?” 

Giyuu bursts into a fit of red, and both Akiko and Sanemi’s jaws drop. 

---

It’s been a week now, and Akiko finds herself looking out the window more often. 

She hates it.

Why? 

Because she’s looking out of the window to stare at some burgundy haired guy that works at the flower shop. 

He wears a forest green apron that reminds Akiko of a Starbucks employee, and Akiko can see that he also wears hanafuda earrings. There’s also a scar on his left temple, but she finds herself drawn to his bright smile every time he gifts a child a small daisy. 

She’s getting caught more often now though, and it’s embarrassing as hell for her. She tries to play it off nonchalantly, but she can’t help the quick blush that spreads across her face. 

“Oh my! How cute! Did you get these from across the street?” A lady gushes once Akiko is done with her tattoo and is ringing her up at the counter. Akiko turns her attention to the batch of wisteria, peonies, camellias, and white roses. 

Akiko smiles at her customer, handing back the change and replying, “Yeah! Our store smells a lot nicer ever since they’ve come into town,” she laughs, and the lady laughs with her. 

“Well I think it’s a nice touch to the store. Perhaps you’ll get a discount and can have more flowers in the parlor?” 

Akiko glances over at the window, catching the burgundy boy looking at her, before flicking her eyes back at her client with a polite smile. 

“Y’know? I couldn’t agree more!” 

---

“Sanemi go across the street and pick up some flowers I ordered.” 

“HAH?! Why me?” 

Akiko and Giyuu hold up their tattoo guns, continuing to scroll through their phones on a lazy Sunday before chiming in, “We have clients we’re waiting for.” 

Thank god Akiko found out she could purchase the flowers online. 

Otherwise she would have stayed staring out the window and sent in a telepathic order. 

Sure, she wants to walk over and say ‘hi’ to her store neighbors, but she also doesn’t want to meet the burgundy haired boy. Her heart might not be able to handle his smile up close. 

Sanemi glares at the two lazy asses before stomping over to them, his own tattoo gun in hand.

“Fuck that. I have clients too. Akiko you go,” he points his gun at Akiko, and on instinct she lifts her gun to point it right back at Sanemi. 

He’s giving her the nastiest glare now, and Akiko glares right back at him, slowly standing from her seat to square him up. 

“Wait, guys,” Giyuu makes the mistake to point his gun in their general direction, and the two whip their tattoo guns straight at Giyuu within a snap. 

And now Giyuu can’t help but actually point his gun at Sanemi out of feeling threatened, and Akiko slowly slinks back to her work area to grab another gun. 

The two other idiots do the same, grabbing another gun while moving back and forth between each other and glaring menacingly. 

“Put the fuckin gun down you brat,” Sanemi snaps at Akiko, one gun pointed at Giyuu and the other at our golden eyed protagonist. 

She scoffs, “You first, twat.” 

“Guys maybe we should stop before customers walk in-” 

“KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!” 

“YOU HAVE YOUR GUNS POINTED AT US TOO DUMBASS!” 

“How cool! What do you think is going on?” Miyuki smiles, resting her chin on her hand as she leans over the store’s counter to look through the window. She’s watching the three world famous tattoo artists and their stand off, and to say she’s interested is an understatement. 

Chiyo looks up from the register, squinting her eyes at the scene then tilting her head to the side. 

“Are those… Real guns?” 

“Do I call the cops??” Tanjirou suddenly shows up, quickly putting down the watering can in his hand to pick up the store phone, only to be stopped by the two older women. 

“Put the phone down,” they chorus without moving their gaze from the window. 

“Miyu, are you recording this shit?” 

“Do you take me for a fool?” 

“I- I really think we should call in some law enforcement to make sure no one dies…” 

“Oh wait? Oh? Tea? They’re putting their guns down- THEY’RE UP AGAIN!!” 

“This is gonna go viral.” 

“Guys I don’t think-” 

“OH SHIT ABORT ABORT! OLD MAN IS WALKING OVER!!” 

Miyuki scrambles to turn her phone off, shoving it into her apron pocket as Tanjirou scrambles to pick the watering can up again and rushes to the back of the store to hide. Chiyo, for reasons unknown, ducks under the counters and sits there, so Miyuki is left to defend the fort. 

She picks up a random rag, wiping the counter and making sure she doesn’t look into the eyes of an oddly hot hell beast, finally hearing the bell chime. 

“Hi! Welcome! How can I help you today?” Miyuki goes for a smile. 

There’s a crash and a bang from the back of the store, a miserable, “Ow…” then Chiyo popping up from the counter to dash back and check in on a certain baby. Needless to say, the store isn’t making the greatest first impression. 

But Sanemi pays the incident no mind, shoving his hands into his pockets before nodding his head back to the tattoo parlor. 

“I work there, and one of my stupid co-workers bought some flowers from you guys.” 

Miyuki can’t stop staring at his toned chest, which he so brazenly displays with the top half of his silk black shirt popped open. The shirt is tight fitting too, and Miyuki is about to ascend, her mind repeating ‘NICE’ on repeat like some mantra. 

“Uhh, yeah, lemme go get that,” she mutters under her breath, then stumbles to the back of the store. 

When Sanemi gets back to the tattoo parlor with another small batch of flowers, Giyuu looks up from his work and Akiko swings her legs off a nearby chair. She stares at him quizzically, in no way used to seeing him with a light blush on his face. 

“What? You embarrassed you scared the flower fairies?” Akiko scoffs, and Sanemi moves to slam the jar onto the counter but stops himself, setting it down gently instead. 

Now Akiko knows something is up. 

“She kept me there longer than she should have. Rambling on and on and on about flower language and what the flowers we ordered means and the colors and stuff. God she’s annoying,” Sanemi snaps, and Akiko raises a brow and the newly budding love. 

“Yeah, sure Romeo…” 

“CALL ME THAT AGAIN AND I’M CARVING AN ‘L’ ON YOUR FOREHEAD!” 

---

Akiko almost drops her tattoo gun and through her foot when she sees sunshine boy walk through her parlor doors. 

She’s just finished up with a client and rather than setting the gun down onto the metal tray, she starts to cough on her own spit and freaks out a bit. 

Sanemi and Giyuu look over at her, and she discreetly mouths at them to casually ‘fuck off’, before helping her client to their feet and assisting them to the counter. 

Sunshine boy is accompanied by his oddly attractive friend, but they wait patiently while Akiko quickly explains the steps for aftercare while ringing her client up. She’s quick to notice that she better hurry up though, since sunshine boy’s friend looks to be a bit… energetic. 

When her client leaves, Akiko tries her best to smile at her two customers, shutting the cash register door with a clank. 

“Hi! How can I help you guys today?” 

Sunshine boy looks apologetic, gesturing to his friend, who looks around the store at the examples of what he can possibly get tattooed onto himself. 

“Sorry, uhm, my friend Inosuke has been wanting to get a tattoo for a long time, so I thought this would be the best place…” 

Akiko starts tapping into the computer, spelling out Inosuke’s name before frowning at the screen. 

“Sorry, but did you guys make an appointment?” 

“Huh? Why would we do that? Just draw a boar on my arm,” the Inosuke guy stands before Akiko now, his arms buffer that the Chiyo lady Akiko met a few weeks ago. Akiko raises a brow, and sunshine boy quickly rallies his friend back. 

“S- Sorry! I didn’t know we had to make a reservation. We’ll just go now-” 

“Hold up,” Akiko raises a hand, clicking through the computer to check her schedule for the day. When she sees that she’s all clear, she looks up from the screen with a smile. 

“It’s your lucky day. I can squeeze your friend in,” Akiko says, but sunshine boy looks distressed. 

“No, that’s okay! We can schedule a real time and date and come back, honest!” He says, but Inosuke rolls his eyes and starts to waltz over to the chair that Akiko’s previous client was sitting on. 

Akiko smiles at sunshine boy’s abrasive friend, not too bothered by this attitude since Sanemi is leagues worse, so she turns to sunshine boy and winks. 

“Consider this a store neighbor special.” 

Wow. 

When has Akiko ever been this smooth? 

Akiko tunes out her embarrassed thoughts, shoving aside the last 20 seconds to get out her sketch pad and asking Inosuke what he wants. 

“A BOAR!!” 

“You’re gonna have to give me more to work with. Else you want me to ink Peppa on you.” 

So Inosuke rolls his eyes, and Akiko’s pencil dances across the pad of paper. She works quickly, listening to Inosuke ramble on about how cool boars are and how he used to live with a bunch of them when he was a kid (this mildly worries Akiko). 

By the end of it, Akiko’s drawn the head of a boar with sharp tusks, and Inosuke marvels at her drawing, claiming it to be badass and worthy enough to be inked on his arm. 

Even sunshine boy looks impressed, softly clapping for Akiko from his seat across she. 

Akiko ignores her subtle blush, deciding to get to work as she fills up her tattoo guns and swabs the arm that Inosuke wants inked. Then she quickly redraws the boar onto her ipad, gets it printed out, then applies the art onto Inosuke’s arm. 

“Is it done already?! That’s fast!!” 

The sudden buzzing noise from Akiko’s tattoo gun makes Inosuke jump a bit, and his face pales enough for her to notice. Even sunshine boy takes note of his friend’s alarm, and he offers his hand with a smile. Inosuke turns the offer down though. 

But once Akiko starts to get to work, Inosuke becomes oddly quiet, eyes trained on the flowers on the counter with the sound of buzzing clouding his mind. 

Akiko looks up from her work to glance at sunshine boy, who is watching with wide and curious eyes, and their gazes meet once again. 

She decides to strike up a conversation while she has his attention, flickering her eyes back down to make sure she isn’t messing up then casually saying, “I never got you name.” 

He blinks to snap himself out of his concentrated daze, flushing a bit and scratching at his cheek. 

“Oh, sorry! We’ve been store neighbors for months and I never properly introduced myself. I’m Kamado Tanjirou.” 

Akiko smiles to herself, “Finally, I can call you something other than sunshine boy,” she chuckles. 

Throughout the rest of the conversation, Tanjirou remains red in the face and Akiko busies herself as to not flush red too. Of course, the minute she puts down the tattoo gun, it’s over for her. 

hhhh so for some last minute notes, ill,,, explain a few things :) 

that tattoo gun scene? yeah think of that one episode from the office. cant picture it? literally type “the office showdown gifs” into google and bam, a live action of the scene. 

this was such a joy to write!! and i cant wait for you guys to read the next part! this was like,,, the set up of the ships so :) 

a huge huge thank you to mari and chuu for letting me use their ocs!!!!!!!! check our their blogs guys, theyre so so nice and such a joy to collab with :,,) 

[turtle-steverogers]

Rumble (1/2)

mmmm greasers and socs we stan

also its like 1:40 so uh yah be gentle ik my writing ain’t thriving rn

warnings: homophobic slurs, heated make out seshes, uhhh knives/stabbing, bad 1 am writing im sorry

ship: sprace

word count: 2600

-

Electricity coursed through Race’s veins as Spot reached up, tangling his fingers in his blonde curls and tilting his head, deepening the kiss even further.  Race hummed, tightening his grip on Spot’s waist and pushing him further against the wall, smirking against Spot’s lips when the breath of a moan escaped him.

It was thrilling, the leather of his own jacket combating the blue boiled wool of Spot’s letterman one.  They weren’t supposed to be doing this, the long standing rivalry between the Greasers and the Socs holding strong.  But Spot Conlon and Racetrack Higgins had never been known to stick to the status quo.  

It had started as a heated fling.  Adrenaline riding high after a particularly intense rumble one evening led them to Race’s dingy bedroom, where they had spent the night on his mattress, words scarce and breaths heavy.  They’d played around like that for a while, stealing kisses when no one was looking, holding teasing eye contact across classrooms.  It drove Race crazy, though.  He wanted more, his passion for Spot giving way to love, care for the Soc worming its way into his stomach and seizing hold of his heart.

This internal conflict, however, was quickly resolved when Spot had pulled him into the boy’s restroom between periods, leading him into a stall and kissing him gentler Race could have imagined.  He’d whispered his love onto Race’s lips, insisting that they become something closer than what they were.  

Race had agreed, but they had a reputation to uphold.  For as long as anyone could remember, they hated each other.  A childhood bond breaking awfully when Spot’s dad got a decent job and moved their family to the other side of town, instilling a jarring pretentiousness within Spot and damaging his friendship with Race.  

So, although the hateful feelings had ceased, the snide remarks and nasty sneers remained ever present when they were in public.  It was a painful mask to wear, biting names at each other and digging into known insecurities for the sake of their act.  It worked, though, because no one suspected a thing.

Race ducked his head down, pressing a bruising kiss to Spot’s neck, allowing his teeth to graze the skin.  He began to suck a hickey into the sensitive area, but stopped when Spot nudged him away.

“Mm, the last one just faded,” he breathed, watching Race through lidded eyes.

Race just smiled, “All the more reason to leave another,” he kissed Spot briefly, reaching around to grasp Spot’s ass, squeezing it playfully, “gotta let everyone know you’re unavailable.”

Spot narrowed his eyes, though there was no hint of malice in them, “Fine, but if you’re gonna leave one, go lower.  Bumlets noticed last time.”

Race swallowed, alarm spreading through his veins, “Did he ask you anythin’?  What’d ya tell ‘im?”

“Relax,” Spot said, easily, playing with the curls at the nape of Race’s neck, sending a jolt down his spine, “Told ‘im I made out with Sarah Jacobs.”

Race’s eyes widened momentarily before he cracked a grin, a laugh forcing its way out of his stomach, “Sarah Jacobs?  That David kid’s sis?”

“That’s the one.”

Race snickered, “Did Bumlets buy it?”

Spot shrugged, “Guess so, he was off my ass after that.”

Race whistled, “Does Sarah know you two apparently made out?”

“I told her I needed a cover,” Spot said, looking mildly uncomfortable, “But I didn’t say what for.”

“Did she ask?”

Spot shook his head, “Just went with it.”

“Good friend,” Race said, nodding approvingly.  His eyes flicked down to Spot’s lips, “Now where were we?”

Spot laughed, leaning in to kiss him, “So eager.”

“Yeah well,” Race fisted Spot’s jacket, tearing it off his shoulders and making Spot gasp, “You’re irresistible.”

Race left their little escapade with Spot’s jacket still held loosely in his grip and a bounce in his step.  The sun was completely set by the time he ventured back to his neighborhood, wandering down the street freely until he came up to his house.  

“Where were ya?”

Race froze, the blood draining from his face as he turned to the side, shoving Spot’s jacket behind his back.  Seated on the rickety armchair that had always resided on the front porch was Race’s brother, Albert, arms crossed at his chest.  He wasn’t wearing a shirt and a pair of their other brother, Jack’s, old pajama pants hung casually on his hips.  It was obvious that he was about to go to bed.  

“And what did you just try to hide from me?” Albert pushed, raising his eyebrows and nodding to Race’s arm, which was still behind his back.

“Mind your own business,” Race snarled, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

Albert studied him for a moment, his gaze landing on Race’s hair, “Why is your hair all fucked- oh my god,” his expression changed from one of skepticism to pure shock, “You’re hookin’ up with someone, ain’t ya?”

Race spluttered for a moment, feeling his blush deepen, “No,” he sounded entirely unconvincing.

Albert smiled, hopping up with way too much fervor for Race’s liking, “You are! Who is she?”

Race grit his teeth, eyes shifting away from Albert.  He couldn’t lie to him- he’d never been able to- but he couldn’t tell the truth either.

“No one,” he mumbled, “‘M goin’ ta bed.”

He hurried inside, briefly glancing down the hallway to where he could see Jack reading on their ratty sofa, before bounding up the stairs.  He slammed his bedroom door, locking it behind him and slumping down on his matress, kicking off his shoes along the way.  He wriggled out of his jacket and jeans and pulled his blankets up to his chest, tucking Spot’s jacket under his head, breathing in the comforting and familiar smell.  

He allowed it to lull him to sleep, calming his nerves as he was pulled under.

XXX

“Higgins, where’d ya get those jeans?”  Race set his jaw, fighting the urge to smile as Spot’s voice entered his auditory, “Did your mother buy them for you?  Oh wait,” Spot clicked his tongue, “Guess she can’t now that she’s what, six feet under?  If you could even afford to get her properly buried.”

Race turned towards him, noting the apologetic undertone in his voice, “Nah, got them from your parent’s closet when I was visiting your mom last week,” he leaned against his locker, “I must say, she’s really brilliant when she’s-”

Spot lunged forward, slamming him against the locker and biting his lip to keep from laughing, “Don’t you dare speak about my mother like that, Higgins,” he growled.  Race had to give him credit, his acting was brilliant.  

“Or what?” Race countered, reluctantly shoving him back and taking note of the small crowd that had circled around them.  Spot pretended to flounder for a moment and Race took the opportunity, “You Socs are honest pussies when it comes to fights,” he scoffed, “Suck my dick, Conlon.”

Spot’s eyes flashed and he grabbed Race’s ear, yanking him down to his level and whispering, “Better meet me out behind the school after last period,” he pulled away, raising his voice once more, “And that’s a promise, Higgins,” the crowd around them hooted, obviously expecting some sort of threat to be fulfilled, “Watch your back.”

Race watched him leave with his posse, letting his guard down.  Faux fights with Spot always instilled some sort of excitement in him, the lie a fast wave to ride.

The school day crept by painfully.  Race sat restlessly in his classes, bouncing his leg vigorously as he watched the clock tick excruciatingly slow.  He was out of his seat, backpack slung haphazardly on his back the moment the bell rang, He walked faster than strictly necessary to the back of the school, where Spot was already waiting.  A cigarette hung lazily from his lips and he looked up as Race approached, plucking it from his mouth and holding it out in a silent offer.

Race took it blindly, pulling a deep drag before chucking it to the ground and stepping on it as he moved forward, pinning Spot to the wall and pressing their mouths together.  The taste of the cigarette melded between them, adding a certain heat to their already intense session.  Spot gasped against his lips, whining when Race reached down, unzipping his fly and unbuttoning his khakis.  

“Aye, Conlon, there you-”

Spot drove Race away from him, fumbling to fix his pants as Hotshot approached, looking both confused and furious.

“What, are you two fucking or something?” He barked, rounding on Spot, “Thought you wanted nothing to do with this Greaser scum.”

Spot seemed to regain his composure, “I don’t,” he said, voice low, “He came onto me, I was just about to beat the shit out of his faggot ass.”

Race winced, mentally forcing himself to remember Spot was pretending.

Hotshot frowned, nose scrunched in disgust, “Yeah?  Kinda looked like you were enjoying it.”

Spot rolled his eyes, attempting to shoulder past Hotshot, “Whatever.”

Hotshot grabbed his bicep, holding him in place, “You two really wanna prove your little rendezvous wasn’t what it looked like? Be at the lot tonight at sundown.  Shouldn’t matter what happens if these little fairy flings are fake.”

Hotshot threw Spot to the ground, spitting next to him before leaving.  Race watched him go, making sure he was out of sight before reaching down a hand to help Spot up.  Spot shook his head, his chest heaving as he hoisted himself to his feet.

“We could run,” Race said, “Leave before tonight.”  He was trembling, certain that his face matched Spot’s pale expression.

Spot looked like he was having some sort of aneurysm as he backed away, “No, I, uh-” he sounded breathless, scared, “I gotta go, I’ll see you...tonight, yeah, uh.  Be there,” he finally looked at Race, “Please.”

Race shook his head, dumbfounded, “Spot, we don’t have ta-”

But Spot was gone, footsteps echoing as he ran in the opposite direction.

XXX

Race sat on his mattress, nausea turning in his stomach as he watched the sky change through his window.  There was probably homework he could be doing, but what did it matter if he was just going to be killed this evening.  Rumbles were unpredictable; a nasty throttle of blood and animosity.  It was rare that anyone actually died, but that didn’t stop the worst possible outcome from crawling into his brain.

These things were huge, large sums of both sides turning up for each one.  Race usually liked them to a degree, finding the exhilarating atmosphere entertaining, but that was when he wasn’t the center of the conflict.  Now, it was just sickening.

“Aye, if you’re coming to the rumble, we should get goin’ now.”  Jack peeked his head into his room.  

Race forced himself to look at his older brother, trying to smile as convincingly as he could.  He hadn’t told Jack and Albert that he was a key contender in the rumble, just that there was one.  Though, in hindsight, he should’ve refrained from talking about it at all- not that it would have stopped them from finding out.  Word gets around fast.

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” Race said, clearing his throat and scooting forward to pull on his shoes, “Al comin?”

“You know the kid,” Jack leaned against his doorframe, holding out Race’s jacket for him, “Could never pass up the chance ta watch a fight.”

Race choked out a laugh, though it sounded more like a whimper, “Yeah,” he flinched as his voice cracked.

Albert was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs, shoes tied and jean jacket on, “C’mon guys, the sun’s settin’!” he exclaimed, reaching out and pulling Race out the door, “It’s gonna start soon.”

With each step Race took towards the lot, it felt like he was approaching his doom.  He wanted nothing more than to curl up with Spot and find comfort in their closeness, but he couldn’t have that now.  Besides, Spot was clearly mortified, there was no way he was up for cuddling right now.

The mass of people in the lot was visible even from a distance, already divided seamlessly into two sides.  The three boys approached, naturally fusing into the side that housed the Greasers, blending in with the hoard of rowdy looking boys.  Race’s eyes scanned the other group, immediately finding Spot at the head of the crowd, clad in his favorite red sweater.  He was jeering at someone from the Greasers, though Race could sense the apprehension emanating from him.  

He tried to blend in, staying purposefully towards the back, but it was no use.  He made piercing eye contact with Hotshot and felt the blood drain from his face as the Soc’s face morphed into one of triumph.  He shoved his way to the middle of the split and held his fingers to his mouth, whistling loudly enough to gain everyone’s attention.  Race looked back at Spot, who was staring at Hotshot, lips parted slightly.  

“We’re gathered here this fine evening,” Hotshot began, his tone innocent, but eyes fiery, “Because I had the pleasure of witnessing something extraordinary,” he had everyone’s apt attention now, “See, I was walking after school, looking for our favorite shorty here,” he yanked Spot out of the crowd and Spot grimaced, looking like he wanted to disappear, “When I found him behind the school,” he paused for affect, “Pants unbuttoned and tongue down the throat of-” Murmurs were already rippling through the crowd, “Racetrack fucking Higgins.”

Race shut his eyes as he felt every head turn towards him.  Somewhere to his left, he could hear Albert mumble, ‘what the fuck’, along with a few confused hoots from other people.  He wanted to run.  He wanted to grab Spot and skip town and pretend that none of this was happening- that they were okay.  But his feet were glued to the spot.

“Now, I’m sure it was a simple misunderstanding,” Hotshot spoke again, “Seeing as it is common knowledge that these two cannot stand each other,” Race gasped as someone pushed him to the middle, “I’m sure this little debacle can be cleared up.”

Race opened his eyes, sucking in a breath when he realized how close he was to Hotshot and Spot.

“You two hate each other, yes?” Hotshot hissed, leaning in close to him.

Race nodded vigorously.

“Prove it, then,” Hotshot jabbed, producing a switchblade from his back pocket, “Stab him.”

Race choked, “Stab Spot?  You want me to stab your best friend?”

Hotshot laughed, “He’s not my best friend,” he said, “Not as long as he’s okay with kissing on other men,” he pressed the knife into Race’s hand, “Now go.”

Race stared at the blade, turning it over in shaking hands before flipping it open.  He could feel the crowd watching him with baited breath and he spared a glance at Spot, who was watching him with desperation written on his face.  Race focused his eyes, making a split second decision.

He lunged forward, tackling Spot away from Hotshot and pinning him to the ground, driving his knee into his side.  He flipped open the knife and held it between them, watching as Spot’s expression calmed.

“I love you,” Spot murmured, breaths evening out, “Do what you have to, it’s okay.”

Race drank in his expression, bathing in the warmth of his rich brown eyes and cherishing the beauty in his hard features.

“I love you, too,” He muttered back, “I’m sorry.”

He took a deep breath, plunging the blade into his own stomach.

-

nnng yeah im gonna write a pt 2 dw dw we’re not jus leavin it there

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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[kylorenpunk]

Well I challenged @masonjar828 to do this ask meme like 200 years ago and he challenged me back but I’ve been busy so here we are. 

200: My crush’s name is: don’t have one. men suck. 199: I was born in: Mickey Mouse’s lair aka Orlando 198: I am really: trying not to make a self deprecating joke rn 197: My cellphone company is: Not being disclosed bc I don’t need stalkers 196: My eye color is: brown 195: My shoe size is: 8. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be taller than I am bc of that shoe size 194: My ring size is: Uh no idea. Maybe 9? 193: My height is: Five foot three inches 192: I am allergic to: A couple of antibiotics but that’s it  191: My 1st car was: 1995 Honda Accord. RIP Goldeen. 190: My 1st job was: Technically I was an assistant for an occupational therapy clinic that paid me under the table. My first paid job was a pool attendant for a hotel.  189: Last book you read: My professor’s shitty textbook.  188: My bed is: currently unmade.  187: My pet: doesn’t exist. Bro is allergic to the entire animal kingdom 186: My best friend: I have multiple and love them all very much  185: My favorite shampoo is: Just recently bought a new shampoo from OGX (coconut curls I think?)  184: Xbox or ps3: xbox 183: Piggy banks are: Not a bad concept. I have upgraded to using mason jars to save money  182: In my pockets: Not wearing pockets atm. Usually I only carry my phone tho 181: On my calendar: Is a bunch of doctor’s appointments 180: Marriage is: Fantastic with the right person 179: Spongebob can: ??? do whatever he wants? idk what op was thinking 178: My mom: is great and shouldn’t have to deal with my shit 177: The last three songs I bought were? I haven’t bought music in over two years. Spotify is my life. 176: Last YouTube video watched: I watch so many a day that I forgot what I last watched.  175: How many cousins do you have? 5 on paternal side. 3 on maternal. But I’m hispanic so it’s def more than immediate family  174: Do you have any siblings? 1 and he’s a pain but I love him 173: Are your parents divorced? nope. fun fact. I used to think divorce was normal as a child and wondered when I would get a second set of parents.  172: Are you taller than your mom? No I’m like 4 inches shorter 171: Do you play an instrument? is mayonnaise an instrument 170: What did you do yesterday? future job training and watched my brother [ I Believe In ] 169: Love at first sight: Lust at first sight  168: Luck: kinda 167: Fate: sure 166: Yourself: a lot more than I used to  165: Aliens: why not 164: Heaven: in a way 163: Hell: sure 162: God: the catholic in me says yes 161: Horoscopes: yes and no  160: Soul mates: tough question. 21 year old me would have said yes. 23 me is on the fence. Maybe for other people but I don’t really believe it for myself.  159: Ghosts: I love ghost walks so I hope they’re real 158: Gay Marriage: Of fucking course 157: War: No 156: Orbs: Isn’t this the same as ghosts? 155: Magic: No  [ This or That ] 154: Hugs or Kisses: Either one has it’s benefits 153: Drunk or High: Never been high so I guess drunk  152: Phone or Online: they mean the same thing now 151: Red heads or Black haired: dark hair 150: Blondes or Brunettes: brunettes 149: Hot or cold: hot  148: Summer or winter: summer 147: Autumn or Spring: spring 146: Chocolate or vanilla: depends. rn I want vanilla 145: Night or Day: day 144: Oranges or Apples: oranges 143: Curly or Straight hair: doesn’t matter. I feel more myself with straight hair tho 142: McDonalds or Burger King: mcdonald’s  141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: milk  140: Mac or PC: pc. Apple is a peice of shit.  139: Flip flops or high heals: heals 138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: this is a weird question 137: Coke or Pepsi: depends on whether it’s a can, glass or on ice 136: Hillary or Obama: lol was this made in 2008 135: Burried or cremated: not sure. i wanna say burried tho 134: Singing or Dancing: I’m bad at both 133: Coach or Chanel:  neither 132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: who 131: Small town or Big city: small town 130: Wal-Mart or Target: target  129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: ben stiller 128: Manicure or Pedicure: pedicure. my hands never last 127: East Coast or West Coast: east  126: Your Birthday or Christmas: christmas bc I can see my family 125: Chocolate or Flowers: flowers 124: Disney or Six Flags: six flags despite the fact that i’ve never been 123: Yankees or Red Sox: I don’t give a shit about sports [ Here’s What I Think About ] 122: War: dumb 121: George Bush: dumb 120: Gay Marriage: I’m hoping for a day where the LGBTQ+ community is no longer discrimated against 119: The presidential election: dumb 118: Abortion: No woman should be denied a right to abortion  117: MySpace: yeah this was made in 2008 116: Reality TV: dumb 115: Parents: great wonderful  114: Back stabbers: dumb 113: Ebay: useful 112: Facebook: kinda useful 111: Work: a necessity 110: My Neighbors: I don’t talk to them 109: Gas Prices: could be lower 108: Designer Clothes: I don’t care 107: College: a scam but education is worth it 106: Sports: depends on the sport 105: My family: great wonderful 104: The future: idk [ Last time I ] 103: Hugged someone: yesterday 102: Last time you ate: when I started this thing 101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: last month 100: Cried in front of someone: Two weeks ago 99: Went to a movie theater: going tonight 98: Took a vacation: three years ago. going soon tho 97: Swam in a pool: I don’t even remember.  96: Changed a diaper: never 95: Got my nails done: a year and a half ago 94: Went to a wedding: a year and a half ago 93: Broke a bone: never 92: Got a peircing: three years ago 91: Broke the law: probs when I was underage drinking 90: Texted: yesterday [ MISC ] 89: Who makes you laugh the most: all of my friends 88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: free food and family 87: The last movie I saw: toy story 4 86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: starting my career job 85: The thing im not looking forward to: taxes being taken out of my paycheck 84: People call me: Karina, Kari or Rina 83: The most difficult thing to do is: let go of someone in your life 82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: nope 81: My zodiac sign is: cancer 80: The first person i talked to today was: no one. Update my boss just called lol 79: First time you had a crush: 1st grade lmao 78: The one person who i can’t hide things from: myself 77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: uh recently I think  76: Right now I am talking to: Romantic? no one Normally? No one lmao  75: What are you going to do when you grow up: I’m grown but I’m not disclosing my job on here 74: I have/will get a job: already have one 73: Tomorrow: I’m working 72: Today: I’m cleaning 71: Next Summer: No idea 70: Next Weekend: no idea 69: I have these pets: no I don’t 68: The worst sound in the world: styrofoam 67: The person that makes me cry the most is: my mother 66: People that make you happy: family and friends 65: Last time I cried: Thursday 64: My friends are: cool great wonderful 63: My computer is: working 62: My School: I’m graduated 61: My Car: I need to wash today 60: I lose all respect for people who: have no respect 59: The movie I cried at was: toy story 4 58: Your hair color is: brown 57: TV shows you watch: Sabrina, jane the virgin 56: Favorite web site: twitter 55: Your dream vacation: new york 54: The worst pain I was ever in was: wisdom teeth 53: How do you like your steak cooked: medium rare 52: My room is: a mess 51: My favorite celebrity is: chris evans 50: Where would you like to be: on vacation 49: Do you want children: yes 48: Ever been in love: three times. Ironically only one was with someone I actually dated 47: Who’s your best friend: I have multiple 46: More guy friends or girl friends: good mixture of both 45: One thing that makes you feel great is: makeup 44: One person that you wish you could see right now: a few 43: Do you have a 5 year plan: hell no 42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: not a physical list 41: Have you pre-named your children: kinda 40: Last person I got mad at: no disclosing 39: I would like to move to: the smokey mountains 38: I wish I was a professional: MUA [ My Favorites ] 37: Candy: lifesaver gummies 36: Vehicle: hondas 35: President: obama 34: State visited: TN 33: Cellphone provider: ATT 32: Athlete: n/a 31: Actor: i can’t choose 30: Actress: cant choose 29: Singer: can’t choose 28: Band: currently little mix 27: Clothing store: rip charolette russe 26: Grocery store: publix is the only acceptable floridian answer 25: TV show: jane the virgin 24: Movie: high school musical 23: Website: twitter 22: Animal: meerkat 21: Theme park: busch gardens 20: Holiday: halloween 19: Sport to watch: soccer  18: Sport to play: none 17: Magazine: n/a 16: Book: eragon 15: Day of the week: friday 14: Beach: n/a 13: Concert attended: hannah montana? 12: Thing to cook: beans 11: Food: rice 10: Restaurant: taco bell 9: Radio station: n/a 8: Yankee candle scent: n/a 7: Perfume: anything fruity 6: Flower: rose? 5: Color: pink or blue 4: Talk show host: ellen 3: Comedian: n/a 2: Dog breed:  black lab 1: Did you answer all these truthfully?  wouldn’t you like to know