#somebody begged him to take off his suit or sum

[stainedlilac]

Played around with a lot of red!

REDBUBBLE-PRINTS-COMMS-ETSY

[hailing-stars]

@febuwhump day 9: buried alive 

BURIED ALIVE

“So, while we’re just hanging out in the bathroom,” says Tony. Peter’s head hangs over the toilet, and he shuts his eyes tight, willing Tony to stop talking. “I thought we could chat.”

“Maybe that can wait,” says Peter, dryly, and miserably. “Until, I dunno, I’m done puking my guts out.”

“It’s waited long enough. Besides, you never call me back, and you won’t talk to your aunt.”

OR

Peter's guilt over a recent run in with Mysterio literally makes him sick.

BURIED ALIVE flashes in neon letters across the screen, the techno theme music plays, and Peter’s eyes glaze over. He’s officially entered The Zone, and there’s no pulling him out of it until his character dies or he achieves the highest honor, a score enormous enough to knock MQB off the hall of fame.

His hand clutches the joystick, and his fingers glide across the buttons, and he can feel Ned staring at him, but it doesn’t distract him from the current mission.

It doesn’t help him, either.

This game ends exactly the same way every game before it had, on level five, when he’s only points away from taking first place away from MQB.

He sighs, and reaches a hand in his pocket, searching for more tokens but finding it empty.

“Shit,” says Peter. “I’m out of tokens.”

“Again?” asks Ned. “How many times have you played this? Exactly?”

“I dunno, not that much.”

Ned doesn’t look like he believes him. He looks worried, and Peter tries to shove the annoyance he feels deep, deep down.

He wishes people would stop looking at him that way. Like he’s just one fall away from breaking and shattering in a way that’d leave his pieces uneven and unfit to be put back together the correct way, the uniquely Peter-way.

“Maybe we should do something else,” says Ned. “Go to a movie, or pick up that limited edition Star Wars set?”

It’s tempting, and Peter wants to go, wants to be anyplace but this arcade, going to war with himself over a some stupid high score on some arcade machine. An environment without all the flashing lights, screaming children, and annoying game music would be a nice change in pace, but he can’t.

He has to stay. Until he’s won. Until he wipes that name off the charts and replaces it with his own.

“I need more tokens,” says Peter, as a way of answer. He hopes the way his voice sounds like a zombie will go ignored.

He walks past Ned, and heads towards the token machine, dodging running, shouting kids on his way. He fumbles around with his wallet, until he finds the credit card Tony had given him for emergencies. Not for the first time, he swipes it at the token machine and receives a hundred new chances to defeat his enemy.

If that isn’t an emergency, Peter doesn’t know what’s supposed to make that list.

When he turns, he comes face to face with Ned.

“Dude,” he says. “Maybe you should take a break. Have you even eaten dinner yet?”

His stomach growls at the mention of food, and his eyes automatically drift towards the restaurant installed into the arcade. He supposes Ned has a point. He can afford to stop his gaming long enough to scarf down some pizza.

“Yeah, okay, good idea.”

Relief washes through Ned’s features, and Peter’s stabbed with guilt. It attacks him from all angles.

He’s guilty for worrying his friends, and his family, and guilty because he doesn’t know how to stop. He’s guilty of the wave of crime overtaking Queens now that Spider-Man has abandoned it, in favor of standing still at an arcade game.

Guilty for that thing he doesn’t allow himself to think about.

Most of all, he’s guilty, because instead of working towards wiping away the current charts on BURIED ALIVE, he’s sitting at a table eating pizza, wasting time.

*

Drops of sweat trickle down his forehead, and a shiver runs through his body.

And he tries ignoring it, the way his stomach is heavy, and cramping, and the way his body is just begging him to take a seat, close his eyes, or more pressing, run to the bathroom and shove his head in a toilet.

But he doesn’t, because he can’t. Because he’s just so damn close.

When game over flashes across the screen, he slams his fist down. He considers what might happen if he didn’t hold back his strength, if he just destroyed the machine right then and there.

“Peter?”

He stared at the screen., refusing to look away.

“You’re not looking so great, kid.” Tony’s hand comes up from behind him, and presses down on his sweaty forehead. “Yep, that’s a fever.”

“Mr. Stark,” says Peter. “What are you doing here?”

“Ned called me,” he tells him. “He was really worried, and so am I.”

Tony wipes the sweat off his hand and into the insides of his suit jacket.

It’s the first time in awhile Peter takes his eyes away from the screen, and the room blurs. All the flashing, neon lights merge together. All the kids, teens, parents combine into one collective shout that threatens to make his ears bleed. The arcade tilts, and the knot in his stomach is pulled tighter.

“I need to get outta here,” says Peter, a shake in his voice.

“Then come on,” says Tony.

He grabs him by the arm, and leads him through the jungle of prize hungry children, beeping game machines, and parents trying to ignore it all.

Fresh, cold air hits Peter’s face when they step outside the door, and he breaths it in, then he bends over and pukes in the on the sidewalk while strangers watch in disgust, while Tony rubs his back, and while the paparazzi snaps photos of Iron Man comforting some poor, sick kid.

*

“So, while we’re just hanging out in the bathroom,” says Tony. Peter’s head hangs over the toilet, and he shuts his eyes tight, willing Tony to stop talking. “I thought we could chat.”

“Maybe that can wait,” says Peter, dryly, and miserably. “Until, I dunno, I’m done puking my guts out.”

“It’s waited long enough. Besides, you never call me back, and you won’t talk to your aunt.”

It just figures. That there’s so avoiding it now. That there’s not even a proper distraction to keep him from the things he’s not trying to think about.

That day comes back to him and hits him with full force, as if were angry Peter had been suppressing it.

His memories are pulled backwards to Mysterio’s twisted game. That dull, grey day the fishbowl guy taunted him with a devastating choice, save May fall from a skyscraper, or save a stranger from suffocating six feet under the earth.

His failure flashes across his mind.

He’d thought he could save both, but he’d still made the decision to go after May first. Once she was safe on the ground, he had bolted to the burial site, only to dig up a man who was already dead.

He’s selfish, and he’s sad. All this bad will stirs his stomach enough to force his head back in the toilet to throw up some more.

Tony rubs his back until he’s finished with his gagging. He puts the toilet lid down, and flushes, and he leans against the toilet, weak and wanting the pain in his stomach to ease so he can sleep and not exist for awhile.

So he can continue avoiding the conversation Tony keeps trying to force him to have.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” says Tony. “That fucking psychopath created that situation to fuck with your head.”

“But I’m Spider-Man,” says Peter. “I should’ve been able to deal with it, without - someone dying.”

“Can’t save them all, kid. No matter how hard you try.”

It’s as if Tony’s words bounce off him. He hears them, but he doesn’t. They don’t sink in. He won’t allow them to, and it’s as if Tony hadn’t spoken at all.

“Suppose I deserve this,” says Peter. “Feeling this way.”

He isn’t sure if he means the stomach cramps, or the guilt, or both, but the alarm that flashes across Tony’s face only makes the stabbing pains worse.

“You only deserve good things, Pete,” he says. “I don’t know how to convince you to believe it.”

*

When he opens his eyes the next morning, his stomach is peaceful, but his memories are hazy. They exist, just vaguely.

And it’s better that way, really. Puking and crying on the bathroom floor while Tony held him and told him it would be okay weren’t exactly his finest hours. Peak teenage embarrassment that he hopes will go forgotten, or at least unmentioned, in future conversation.

He’s ready to crawl and hide under the covers when the guest room door creaks open, but he stays visible when he sees it’s just his Aunt May walking through the doorway, carrying crackers and a mini bottle of Sprite.

“I hear you had a rough night,” she tells him. She puts the sick people snacks on the nightstand. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better.”

May’s face folds into disbelief, and Peter releases a breath, realizing there’s no avoiding it anymore. Not after last night.

“I’m sorry, May.”

“About what?”

“About Mysterio.”

She sits on his bed, and takes his hand. “From what Tony’s told me, you’re tired of hearing it, but I’m going to stress again that that wasn’t your fault and you will not accept responsibility for what some demented man cooked up in his free time, okay?”

“But May -”

“If someone asked me to choose between my own life and somebody else’s,” she starts. “You know I would choose theirs. We’re Parkers, and that’s what we do, for better or for worse, but if someone forced me to choose between a stranger’s life and yours? Peter, that’s not even a choice, it’s an instinct.”

“But May I should’ve -”

She squeezes his hand, and cuts him off, a second time. “You have to let this go. You weren’t being selfish, and you did everything you could’ve done. It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill anybody.”

Her tone leaves no room for argument, so he doesn’t try. He lets her hug him, and even hugs her back. He even feels a little lighter now that he’s been ordered to move on.

*

Tony’s idea of helping is to throw money at it. He goes to the arcade and pays them a ridiculously large sum of money for the BURIED ALIVE game machine.

It’s sitting in the workshop when Peter arrives for their lab hours, along with giant hammers and other tools of destruction.

“I think they do this in therapy,” says Tony. “Something about getting it all out. Healthy destruction. All that.”

“They let you break things in therapy?” asks Peter, apprehensively taking the hammer from Tony.

He’s gotta admit, he’s warming up to the idea of letting Tony pay for a therapist, even if he knows he only said it for that very reason.

“Sure,” says Tony. “Why not?”

Peter stares at the game. The thing he’d been using to distract himself from his misery. The thing he’d become obsessed with as a way to relive the past, take some control. Of course, getting the highest score would’ve never brought back the man Mysterio killed, but obsessions weren’t exactly rational.

“I have a better idea,” says Peter.

They spent the next few hours taking the game apart, piece by piece, and then, and until late in the night, they use the parts to build a new, better game. Something that Ned has to come over and help them program. Something with a less morbid topic.

And Peter starts to think better, feel better.

There’s something cathartic about taking apart the horrible things and turning them into something new. It’s a breath of fresh air. It’s a sense of hope, for himself, that eventually he’ll be able to take May and Tony’s reassuring words and believe them.

[allmidaddies]

woke up in 1.

Summer had arrived and that meant weddings, weddings, and more weddings. It wasn’t normally like this, it was just that everyone that you had ever crossed paths with in your entire life had decided to get married that summer.

 Well, everyone except Mat it seemed. Which you were grateful for because it meant that you had another single soldier to drink with at the open bar at each of these events.

The two of you had been out in New York over the past four years, arguably the worst place to find love. Or even anything remotely close to love. You had dated people on and off over the years but they all ended more or less the same way. The flame died as quickly as it had sprouted, they had too many cooks in their kitchen, or your personal favorite, Mat ran them off before the second date. He claimed that as your best friend he would be able to determine whether or not the guy was right for you and apparently none of them had been deemed worthy enough because they were almost always sent running for the hills within a matter of days of meeting Mat.

 In Mat’s case, he spent so much time on the road that anything more serious than a casual hook up that never went more than three nights was considered too much of a commitment. You couldn’t blame the kid though to be fair. He was always honest about his intentions from the very beginning and was as gentlemanly as one could be in a situation like that. You still encouraged him to try dating but he always brushed you off and changed the topic before you could even realize he was changing the topic.

 But this summer you were grateful that he had never bothered to take your advice because it meant you could drag him along as your date and he could take you as his, effectively silencing any relatives or old friends from asking about your relationship status. At least, that was the hope. The coming weekend was a trial run to see how the rest of the summer may unfold.

 A long time friend of yours, and a training buddy of Mat’s, was getting married on Saturday at a lake house outside of Vancouver. It meant that both of you were invited to not only attend the wedding but stay in the guest house with a few other friends. Which is what Mat was “helping” you pack for currently.

 You rifled through the collection of dresses you had acquired in preparation for the wedding season ahead. Mat had done nothing but chirp you for how much money you had spent on the different options, all followed by him bragging on how he hadn’t spent a single dime.

 “In my defense, you already own more suits than I own dresses” you argued, sifting through your closet in search of the particular dress you were wearing the coming weekend. Mat was stretched out on your bed and had been chirping you since you let him inside.

 “Yes but my suits are investments. What are you going to do with all of these dresses after you wear them?” Mat asked, tucking his hands behind his head as he leaned against your pillows.

 “Maybe you’ll have to invite me to more events with you and I’ll have excuses to wear them,” you smirked, finally pulling the one you’d been looking for and zipping it into a garment bag.

 “Stop trying to trick me into a date,” Mat teased. You rolled your eyes as you began pulling other clothes to pack for the weekend.

 “You should be so lucky as to date me.”

 Mat laughed, the sound echoing off of the walls in your room,

 “I would be a lucky guy. But you said I’m too annoying to do more with than friend zone. If I remember correctly.”

 You bit the inside of your cheek, the conversation that led to that flashing through your mind. You had only been teasing, and maybe slightly drunk as well, when you told Mat that he was in the friend zone. It was somewhat of a truth but more than that it was a lie. Mat was your best friend and you didn’t want anything to ruin that. However, it was hard to deny that Mat was practically the unit of measurement that you used to evaluate every guy that you dated. You compared everything in a prospective mate to Mat. Their hair, their style, their laugh, their intelligence, their charm, their smile, etc. And nobody ever measured up. At least not completely. Sure, you’d been on dates where the person on the other side of the table had a degree in something ridiculously hard like chemical engineering that surely had more literal intelligence than Mat. But it was never the same and it was never the whole package.

 It continuously baffled you that Mat hadn’t found the love of his life yet. How could someone so charming and successful have such a hard time finding someone who was the perfect match? He certainly had no shortage of beautiful women in his life. You often wondered if maybe he had met the one already but he was so focused on hockey that he didn’t even notice.

 “That’s rather unfortunate for you,” you quipped, swatting Mat’s hand away as he kept removing items of clothing from your suitcase.

 “Actually I think in this case it is rather unfortunate for you. I would make a great boyfriend,” Mat shrugged.

 “Except for the fact that you don’t want to be somebody’s boyfriend,” you laughed. Mat could only grin up at you, knowing you were right. He really wasn’t looking for a girlfriend at the moment. There were too many other stressors for him with contract negotiations and wondering whether or not he was going to need to be packing up his apartment in New York in the next few months.

 Just as you added a pair of folded sweats to the suitcase Mat pulled them out again, making you groan in annoyance.

 “I swear to god it’s like having a toddler,” you muttered, finally moving the suitcase to the floor while Mat laughed.

 “I just don’t think you need to pack sweats. It’s supposed to be 85 all weekend and we’re going to be at the lake.”

 “You also think I don’t need to pack this shirt to sleep in? Or any of my underwear?” You asked, hands on your hips as you gestured towards the other stack of clothes Mat had pulled from your suitcase.

 “I’m not opposed,” Mat smirked, earning him a smack in the face with a throw pillow.

 It was nothing new. Mat’s teasing. He made it clear to you that he found you attractive. Whether it was complimenting how your ass looked in certain pairs of jeans or hyping you up on your Instagram, Mat was open about how hot he thought his best friend was. And it never bothered you, it was nice to feel appreciated. Especially on days when you weren’t feeling your best. Mat was always there to remind you of how beautiful he thought you were.

 “Have you even started packing?” You asked, reorganizing everything in your suitcase so you had room for your makeup.

 “Nope,” Mat sighed, “But I know that I’ll need my suit and my swim trunks. And that’s about it.”

 “You’re going commando?” You teased. Mat grinned down at you,

 “And lucky for you we’re sharing a bed so you’ll have easy access.”

 Because you and Mat had announced that you were going together, your friends had put the two of you in the same room. Which undoubtedly meant you would be sharing a bed. Which, you had only ever done on extremely drunk occasions where you were afraid Mat would throw up in his sleep or Mat thought you might try and sneak out to hook up with the latest guy who had hurt your feelings. So, sharing a bed while sober would be an experience to say the least.

 “It’ll be a struggle but I think I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself,” you winked at Mat as he sat up, watching you tuck the last of your things into your bag.

 “I really should go pack, huh?” Mat sighed, clearly not wanting to engage in the responsibility.

 “Well, considering it’s now almost 9:30pm the night before we need to leave,” you held up your phone for him to see the time, only for him to let out another groan.

 “Hey, you said it won’t take you that long,” you teased. Mat stood up, grabbing his keys from your dresser and slipping his phone into his back pocket.  

 “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? I’m picking you up at 9.”

 You nodded, glancing at him over your shoulder as he opened your bedroom door,

 “Please pack something to sleep in!”

 “I’ll consider it!”

 ~

 The area where the wedding was taking place was gorgeous. Driving up to it you drove along miles of tree lined roads. You had completely zoned out of the conversation that Mat was having with Tyson in the front, too busy staring out the window to pay them any mind. They’d spent the entire drive singing to the Mamma Mia soundtrack, reminding you exactly why you should have never shown them that movie. Definitely ruined it for you.

 “We’re almost there can we please put something else on? I’ve been so patient,” you whined, leaning forward against the center console and pouting up at Tyson who was controlling the aux.

 “What! You don’t like being serenaded by us?” Tyson asked, mocking offense as he clutched his chest.

 “Not for two hours,” you muttered under your breath, reaching for his phone and successfully snatching it from his hands. Tyson reached for it but you sank into the backseat and scrolled through his Spotify to find something else to listen to for the remainder of the drive, grinning victoriously.

 “Please play Nickelback!” Mat begged from the driver’s seat.

 “God no!” Tyson leaned back against the headrest.

 “I’ll allow it,” you smirked, poking your tongue out at Tyson as he glared at you.

 “This is why you’re my favorite,” Mat caught your eye in the rearview mirror. Tyson muttered something under his breath that you didn’t catch over the sound of the song but whatever it was earned him a smack on the arm from Mat.

 You furrowed your brows, looking at Mat again but he just shook his head, an easy smile on his face as he started singing along to Rockstar.

 When he finally pulled in the driveway of the wedding venue you gasped, sliding over to the window and watching the house come into view.

 “Oh my god!” You breathed, “This is stunning.”

 “She’s already getting ideas,” Tyson teased, jutting his thumb out at you. Mat couldn’t help but laugh, knowing he was going to be hearing about it all summer. You had always fantasized about your dream wedding. The details were always changing but he knew that you had a Pinterest board full of inspiration and there was no doubt in his mind that come September you would have an album on your phone with pictures captured from the weekends of celebration.

 “We’ll see who’s teasing who when it comes time for you to get married and your fiance is stressed because you have no input on the wedding, Josty,” you chirped, tousling his hair as Mat pulled in to park. Tyson barely had time to swat your hand away before you were unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out of the car. The boys watched as you ran down the pathway that led to the dock.

 It was still only mid-morning but the sun was already high in the sky, reflecting off of the still water and making it glitter. Even with the surrounding houses and properties it was still quiet. There were a few other cars in the driveway but you knew that there were only a handful of people apart from the bridal party that were staying in the house.

 You were so lost in thought, admiring all of the views around you that you didn’t hear Mat’s footsteps on the dock behind you until he was right there, arms scooping you up.

 “Mat no!” You shrieked, immediately clinging to his neck. If he was going to throw you in then he was going to be right there with you. Mat stood on the end of the dock and held you over the water, smirking down at you,

 “I’m not that much of an asshole.”

 You scowled,

 “I wouldn’t put it past you Barz. You’ve done far worse to me.”

 Mat threw his head back laughing, thinking back to the times he’d accidentally made you trip into a mud puddle, or has thrown up on your shoes after drinking too much, or the time he gave you a black eye after not warning you that he was popping the bottle of champagne.

 “I won’t,” he grinned, turning and setting you down on your feet, “At least not yet.”

 You steadied yourself on his shoulder, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes.

 “I don’t know why I ever thought to trust you,” you teased, letting him pull you back towards the house so you could get your bags.

 It didn’t take long for you to be donning your bikini and for your friends to be pouring you drinks. You had a feeling you were going to be drunk until the next morning, knowing the crowd you were with.

 “Tyson if you don’t put sunscreen on you will burn, I don’t care that you have a ‘base tan,’ you’re going to look like a lobster if you don’t,” you scolded, trying not to laugh as Tyson flopped face first onto the bed in yours and Mat’s room.

 “But it makes my skin so sticky,” his words were muffled by the comforter and you rolled your eyes, taking the opportunity to squirt sunscreen onto his back. Tyson shrank into the mattress, whining about how cold it was.

 Mat emerged from the bathroom, now in his swim shorts, eyeing you as you crawled over the bed to kneel beside Tyson.

 “I feel like I am walking into something I shouldn’t be.”

 “You are,” Tyson said, causing you to roll your eyes, “We’d like a little privacy please.”

 “Tyson shut up,” you continued rubbing sunscreen on his back while Mat pulled his suit from his bag and hung it in the closet.

 As soon as you were done with Tyson he was jumping up from the bed and all but sprinting out of the room.

 “Don’t get in the water for thirty minutes!” You shouted after him, Mat chuckling beside you.

 “He didn’t hear any of that,” Mat laughed.

 “Useless,” you scoffed, grinning up at Mat. You pretended like you didn’t notice that he was now shirtless, golden tan and firm chest staring right back at you.

 “You’ve been working out,” Mat smirked as you stood up from the bed, eyeing you as you bent down to pick up your discarded clothes off of the floor.

 “I have to keep up with you somehow,” you winked at him, reaching for the door when he caught your elbow.

 “Ah ah ah,” he clicked his tongue at you, “You do me and I’ll do you.”

 A brief moment of confusion washed over you but then you realized he was holding the sunscreen bottle in his hand. Unfortunately that moment didn’t go unnoticed by Mat, who was grinning like a cheshire cat,

 “What?”

 “Get on the bed,” you narrowed your eyes at him, not wanting to let him win this one. Now it was Mat’s turn to swallow thickly, cockiness wavering slightly as he let you push him onto the mattress.

 By the time you were fully lathered in sunscreen you were sweating, and it wasn’t from the sun beating down on the lake. There was no ignoring the feeling of Mat’s muscles underneath your fingers and the suggestive comments he kept throwing in your direction. You should be used to it by now but some days he could wind you up tighter than others. The part that made it worse was that you now had to watch him parade around all day in his swim shorts and then crawl into bed with him in the evening. Well, that and the fact that he could say all of these things in passing and then any comment you threw his way only made him stutter for a second and then he was over it. You wished you could deflect the same way, but you couldn’t help it. You were the one daydreaming about finding the love of your life and with Mat possessing so many characteristics that you were looking for, it didn’t take much for him to invade your thoughts.

 You picked your drink up off of the nightstand and headed down the hall to join everyone else outside. Mat was slow to follow you, saying he’d catch up with you in a minute.

 “Took you long enough,” Tyson teased, grinning when he saw you walk out onto the porch.

 “Stop being an instigator,” you muttered, shoving him playfully before leaning into your friend to give her a congratulatory hug.

 “I have the perfect guy for you to meet, Y/N,” Jasmine beamed at you. Tyson raised his eyebrows beside you but you didn’t notice, you were too busy giving Jasmine the same reaction.

 “Oh really? You’re playing matchmaker for me at your own wedding?”

 “Mhm and you can’t stop me because I’m the bride,” she grinned.

 “You know I have a date, right?” You appreciated the fact that she was thinking of you but it felt inappropriate to be pursuing someone when you had promised Mat that you’d be in this together. At least...that’s what you would tell everyone else.

 “Mat doesn’t count,” Jasmine rolled her eyes, “Unless of course you have something you’d like to share with the group.”

 Tyson stifled a laugh, covering it by taking a drink of his beer. You felt your skin get hot as you rolled your eyes. At that moment, Mat emerged from the house, looking more relaxed and calm than he had when you walked out of the bedroom.

 “Hey, congrats Jas,” Mat grinned, interrupting the conversation. You glared at Tyson, having not missed his quiet chuckle. He held his hands up in defense but couldn’t manage to wipe the smirk away.

 “Thanks Barz, hey let me run something by you,” she grinned and you bit the inside of your cheek, suddenly interested in the drink you were holding.

 “What’s up?”

 “So I’ve got this friend who I think would be perfect for Y/N, you don’t mind if I introduce them at the wedding tomorrow, right?” Jasmine asked, feigning innocence as she looked up at Mat.

 “Why-” Mat began to ask but he stopped himself, shaking his head and forcing a smile, “Yeah, I don’t care. I’m not her gatekeeper.”

 You took a long sip of your drink. Tyson cleared his throat, patting your shoulder and nodding towards the grass,

 “Let’s go play cornhole.”

 Your shoulders sagged in relief, barely glancing in Mat’s direction as Tyson pulled you away.

 Mat watched the two of you walk off before looking down at Jasmine.

 “Who’s the friend?”

 Jasmine smirked,

 “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 Mat scoffed, knowing exactly what she was insinuating,

 “Yeah. As a matter of fact, I would. You know, considering she’s my best friend and all.”

 “Oh right, best friend, nothing more, never thought of her as anything other than that,” Jasmine teased. She was pushing his buttons and she knew it but she’d known Mat just as long as you had and wasn’t afraid of his stubbornness.

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mat ran his fingers through his hair, staring out at you laughing with Tyson.

 “If you really don’t have a problem with me introducing her to my friend I’m going to do it,” Jasmine said, “But if you do, just say the word and I’ll have your back Barzy.”

 ~

 That evening after everyone else had crawled into bed in preparation for the following day, you hung back and made yourself a cup of tea. You tried to be as quiet as possible, turning off the stovetop before the kettle started to whistle. There was no noise from the city to drown you out so you felt as though your movements were amplified, echoing off of the high ceilings. The sun had long since set but the sky was clear and all of the stars were out so you wandered out onto the back porch.

 It was slightly chilly so you were glad you had packed sweatpants, but apparently Mat had also pulled your hoodie from your suitcase so you stole one of his before making yourself comfortable on the deck.

 It didn’t take long for company to join you in the form of a very tired Mat. He was holding a mug in his hands, pressing it against his bare chest to feel some sort of warmth since you had nabbed his hoodie.

 “Thief,” he muttered, voice deep and gravelly, clearly indicating that he was in need of sleep. It had been a long day of drinking and time in the sun, making everyone tired. Mat’s voice was particularly rough because he’d been out on the boat with the guys for the better half of the day, attempting to wakeboard, shouting over the roar of the engine.  

 “I had packed one but somehow it’s not in my suitcase,” you looked at him knowingly, sitting up and wrapping your arm around his shoulders while he laid down on the bench, head resting against you.

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mat hid his smirk behind his mug.

 “What are you still doing up? I thought you’d be dead asleep by now,” you noted. Mat grumbled,

 “Yeah well the bed is lonely without you.”

 “Not even one night in and you’re already clingy,” you teased, Mat reaching out to mess your hair in response.

 The two of you fell quiet, admiring the stars and secretly hoping you’d see a shooting star. Mat had Jasmine’s words running through his mind, wondering if he should say anything to you. He tilted his chin so he could look up at you. The moonlight was making your skin glow and while you had your glasses on he could tell that your eyes were glittering in the night.

 “Are you excited to meet your potential suitor tomorrow?” Mat teased, deciding to rip off the bandaid. You snorted, looking down at him,

 “Not really.”

 Mat’s ears perked up.

 “Why not? I thought you were on the hunt for the love of your life?”

 His tone was teasing but he was dying to know the answer, now fully invested.

 “I don’t think the love of my life is Jasmine’s college friend who works as an accountant. No offense to people who work in finance but I’ve never met an accountant with a personality,” you sighed.

 Mat laughed loudly, earning a shush from you before he woke the entire house.

 “But I don't know. I mean, maybe I’ll let her introduce us. There’s no harm...right?”

 Mat shrugged, not having much to say to that.

 “I just don’t want to waste my twenties with the wrong person. And I don’t know I guess I always envisioned I’d meet someone in a more romantic or interesting way,” your hands found Mat’s hair and you began threading them through his locks.

 “I think a wedding is a pretty romantic place to meet someone,” Mat countered. You hummed in agreement,

 “I just always thought by now I would have met someone and we would be well on our way to falling in love and thinking about starting a life together.”

 “You have time left,” Mat said gently.

 “I know,” you sighed, “But it would be nice to have that security I guess. Maybe I’m going about it all wrong, thinking about it too much.”

 Mat gave you a look that said, ‘duh, you think about it way too much.’

 “Hey,” you frowned, “Just because you don’t think about it at all-”

 “I think about it,” Mat defended, laughing.

 “Mhmm, sure.”

 Mat stared up at you as you continued to look out over the water. Before he realized what he was doing he was speaking out loud, prompting your attention.

 “How about this?” He sat up so he could look at you properly.

 “Mat, what are you plotting?” You laughed, halting your movements and raising your eyebrows at him.

 “What do you say we make a deal?” Mat asked, cocking his head to the side.

 “About what?”

 “If neither one of us is married by the time we’re thirty we’ll get hitched,” Mat shrugged. You threw your head back laughing, not thinking he was serious. You dodged the hand that swung out to hit your shoulder, catching his wrist.

 “Hey!”

 “Don’t laugh,” he whined, though his own laughter was spilling through his words.

 “You’re not serious,” you giggled, trying to suppress your laughter, “Besides thirty is still young.”

 “Well yeah but if you’re thinking kids and stuff you don’t want to wait too long,” Mat said.

 “Oh so we’d have kids in this deal?” You teased.

 “I want kids,” Mat was leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, “And I know you want kids.”

 “Mat you can’t be serious about this,” you laughed airly. Mat cracked a smile but it didn’t reach his eyes,

 “It’s just a back up plan. I’m not saying you’re not going to find the one somewhere down the road, but if we find ourselves in the same situation in the next ten years then why not?”

 “You’re my security?” You smiled softly, feeling your heart swell just a little bit.

 “Yeah,” Mat grinned, “I’ll be your security. Besides, I wouldn’t mind putting a baby in you. I think you’re going to be an awesome mom.”

 “You’ve thought about this,” you teased, watching Mat blush. He had thought about this. More times than he would care to admit. He had seen you through every phase in your life and he had never thought to imagine going through marriage or starting a family without you. But, he knew that there was a guy out there waiting for you that could give you things he couldn’t. Like stability and time. Not to mention far, far less stubborn. So if being your backup plan, or plan b, was the best he was going to get then he’d settle for that. Because it meant he wasn’t totally out of the race.

 “Unless of course you’ve already got yourself a back up?” Mat joked. You rolled your eyes,

 “Yeah, actually Tyson asked me yesterday.”

 Mat laughed,

 “I knew it.”

 “Do we shake on it?” You asked, a smile on your face. Mat couldn’t control his smile as you stuck your hand out to him.

 “Only if you want to.”

 “If I’m going to have a back up plan it should be a pretty damn good one right?” You shrugged. Mat chuckled, nodding.

 “Besides, we’ll still be dating other people, well-you’ll be hooking up with other people and I’ll be dating,” you teased, Mat rolling his eyes, “There’s no harm in it. Right?”

 “Right,” Mat affirmed but he didn’t believe it.

 No harm in you finding someone else to fall in love with that wasn’t him...as if.

 “So how was it?” Jasmine teased you, bumping your hip as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. You glared in her direction, too tired and uncaffeinated to be having this conversation.

“Don’t give me that look,” she smirked, settling onto the barstool across from you.

 “I know it’s your wedding day and all but I reserve the right to not comment on the subject,” you lifted your chin at her, giving a smug smile. She laughed, throwing her head back and making her bun flop to the side.

 “I’m serious Jas!” You whined, rolling your eyes.

 “At least tell me it wasn’t awkward or anything right?” Jasmine asked, sipping her own coffee. You purse your lips, thinking back to the night before when you and Mat had finally crawled into bed.

 After the two of you shook on your agreement, you stayed out on the porch for another hour or so. Until Mat’s mug was cold and he had goosebumps all across his arms. You felt a little guilty for having taken his hoodie but you wouldn’t have had to if he hadn’t been such a pest while you were packing. By the time you were getting into bed you were so exhausted that you didn’t have the energy to worry about the fact that it was the first time you were sharing a bed with Mat sober.

He had asked if it bothered you if he slept in just his boxers, swearing up and down that it was totally okay if you wanted him to keep his sweats on. You told him it was fine, especially considering all you were wearing was a pair of underwear and a large t-shirt. Just because you were sleeping with Mat didn’t mean you were going to change what you wore to bed. He wasn’t that special. You had opened the window, letting the cool fresh air in, in preparation for the unavoidable heat that came with two people sharing a room. The last thing you wanted was to wake up sweating because Mat was a human radiator.

“It’s cold,” Mat frowned, still having not totally warmed up from coming inside.

“You’re such a baby,” you rolled your eyes, making yourself comfortable under the covers.

“I think my balls are in my stomach,” he muttered under his breath. You grabbed the pillow on his side and smacked him with it across the stomach, nearly knocking him back.

“Hey!”

“Just get into bed if you’re cold,” you laughed, “Standing there in your boxers isn’t going to make you any warmer.”

Mat said something you couldn’t make out under his breath as he slid underneath the comforter. You reached over and turned off your lamp, the whole room going dark. Just as you fluffed your pillow and got comfortable on your back, Mat was scooting up beside you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, biting back your laughter.

“You’re warm and I’m cold,” Mat said as if that explained everything, “Now cuddle me before I get hypothermia.”

“You’re not going to get hypothermia in the middle of summ-”

“Y/N.” Mat’s tone was flat and you knew you weren’t winning the argument.

“Fine,” you huffed, “But I’m the little spoon.”

Even in the dark you could tell he was smiling down at you. The bit of lumination from the window was making his eyes sparkle and you cursed him for still being attractive when he was grumpy.

You shifted onto your side and Mat curved his body around yours. Almost too perfectly. His arm wrapped around your waist and pressed his chest against your back.

“Fuck,” he laughed quietly, “Your feet are ice cubes.”

“They’re always like that,” you hummed. Mat nudged your feet away from his own,

“How are you not cold but your feet are like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You should honestly get that checked out, you probably have low iron,” he continued.

“Mathew if you don’t shut up in the next ten seconds I will make you sleep outside with no blanket, then we’ll see how cold you are,” you snapped. Mat chuckled, nuzzling his face in your neck.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

[helpinghanikan]

Inter-species relationship

X-men x Reader

Sum: Relationships come in many forms, with those that are powered and those that aren’t.

AN: little, teeny-tiny one shots because classes are starting soon and I gotta get ready

Charles Xavier:

           Behind the powers, behind the suits and the missions and the X-men themselves there is a school. A school with actual students that need an actual education. Which in turn needs actual teachers. Which is where you come in.

           Andy was one of your students, Andy was a bright student and Andy was a little shit.

           “This is fucking shit,” It was Lily’s voice, but it didn’t come from her.

           “Andrew…” Your chalk sat down, turning to face him with a ‘are you serious’ look.

           Andy didn’t have the most impressive power in the school. He was a mocking bird, a watered-down Mystic who can only change his voice and prints. Not enough to warrant a super suit, but enough to be taken advantage off. Several nights spent behind bars and handcuffs before his mother got to Charles’s school.

           “Lily said it.” Andrew says before you completely turn around.

           Lily is done, staring to the ceiling like she’s hoping for God to take her from this misery.

           “The least you can do is learn how to lie better. Or pretend to be someone who can do it.” One perk of being a one of it’s kind private school was the amount of sass you’re allowed to dish out. Anything short of cussing out a kid was green lit, within reason.

           Among the small chuckles from your students there was Andrew. And his little smile that turned into a smirk.

           “Of course, Miss.” Your name came from Charles voice but out of Andrew’s mouth.

           Later on, Charles was trying to hide a smile behind his hand. Pretending that he was reading the paper in front of him and only half listening to your rants.

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

Erik Lehnsherr:

           Accidents happen in prison all the time; from suicides to miscounts of prisoners, no prison is perfect.

           So, who can say how that metal fork was mixed with the plastic?

           It was either the recent surge of sympathy for mutants, or just plain stupidity that Magneto was still alive. Leashed and caged in plastic in an equally non-metal prison. Millions in tax payers money ruined by someone infected with sympathy.

           He only stared up at you, like he was expecting a kick to the face.

           And you stared back, pretending that the fork suddenly floating wasn’t anything new. It’s only when you take several steps back, does he stop staring.

           Floating fork dents and presses, a thick needle pressed into a lock neither of you saw. Watching the neck restraint come undone, although silent, was the loudest sound.

           It was your turn to stare at him, expecting violence when he only walks past you.

           “I’m only giving you now to leave,” He says, jerking his head towards the door you had entered.

           “You’re welcome, I guess.” You said while walking away. Probably only getting a few second head start.

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

Raven/ Mystique:

         The smallest bit of blue lays in the palm of her hand. It spreads into the flat of the fingers, and onto the thumb. Skin that was entirely her pressed against your own. Follow up the arm and into the green eyes and you won’t find her there.

           Instead you see a man, a stranger created from hundreds of faces passing by each day.

           It was only in the confines of your apartment that she was your entire blue rose. Grabbing her hand and begging her to come with you, pulling her with you towards the door. As though the door frame was a machine, changing your love into the stranger the world would accept.

           At least twice a week you sat on your bench with a different person. Lovingly holding each of their hands in the same way each time. Head resting against their shoulder without a change of pattern.

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

Peter Maximoff:

         He never outright said it, but everyone knew that Peter was always different.

           He had class across the school? Didn’t matter, he was always there. Already stealing whatever snack you were trying to hide away.

           School work? Done in the time it takes for your book to be pulled from the bag. It was almost never right, forcing you to watch him do it painstakingly slow.

           It was something that no one bothered to tell anyone else. Something that was just a trick of the mind and not worth mentioning. After months of these tricks happening and then only one you’ve ever said anything to was Peter’s mother.

           “You have to trap him,” Ms. Romanoff said when you mentioned it. “I used to hold his hand everywhere, until he was about thirteen. It’s like a leash or something he can’t break out of.”

           At no point was the question asked but the answer was clear.

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

Hank McCoy:

         There is two moods when sleeping next to Hank: Cuddling into a comfort you can only dream of buying in stores. And mentally planning your funeral after you die from heat-stroke.

           It’s an amazing thing to watch someone you love gain confidence. Seeing Hank stand taller then before, voicing his opinion instead of exiling himself to the lab. All this while in blue, too. There was no way you’d make him feel bad by explain that he was gonna smother you one of these nights.

           It seemed he already knew. Every night you visited he would try and sleep on the farthest part of the bed. Curling in on himself while you did the same on the other side.

           It never lasted long. Both Hank and you were natural cuddlers. In the haze of sleep Hank reaches for his natural state as the big spoon. A branch of fur reaching around your middle and a bear of blue pressing into your back. In your own world of sleep your head is controlled by another. Lifting for the other branch to find it’s place under your neck.

           A heat stroke in the middle of the night is just a cross you have to bear.

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

Jean Gray:

         She was already slightly an outcast amongst outcasts. Coming full circle and into your arms after running into each other on more then one occasion.  

           The only way you’d ever make her situation worse would be through a visit. Just like now.

           Only Scott seemed to notice when Jean suddenly stopped talking. Her eyes slightly widening and the brisk, but fast, walking she made towards the front door.

           You’re standing in front of the gate like a tourist. Looking up and down at the paper with a hastily scrawled address Jean hadn’t thought you’d actually use. She walks towards you with quick strides and flowing hair in your direction.

           “Hi!” You wave at her.

           “Hey, what-what are you doing here?” She asks, jogging the last few steps.

           “Sorry, you mentioned you weren’t doing anything today.” You say when she reaches you.

           “No, it’s fine. Just-just like, call first.” She looks beyond the gate towards her school.

           Scott stands at one of the balconies. You watched for too long and another two of her fellow students come out. One even waving in your direction. A gesture you returned.

           “The school isn’t really the best place for us to meet…” She says moving her head like she’s trying to convince herself.

           “Because of your-.” Your hand makes a wiggly motion next to your head. “little trick and whatever?”

           “It’s not-I don’t have a little trick.” Jean says.

           Your eye-brow raise and head tilt stopped her from trying to defend herself any further.

           One of the fondest memories shared was of the first real date. The one where Jean could answer every question you threw at her, about yourself and otherwise. She remembers the glee in your eyes when she’d pretend to think really hard and then answer with supreme confidence. You remember how it took you a few minutes to realize her gift. Back then it was just a theory. One proven fact after several incidents in your following interactions.

           “Babe,” You say. “You aren’t exactly subtle.”

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

Logan/ Wolverine:

           “Stop moving,” You scold.

           Flat of your palm presses against his forehead, pushing him back onto the little table. He could easily push against your own strength but instead he falls back. Landing with a grunt as though he was mortally wounded.

           “Hank treats me better than you do.” He comments, wincing when you made another incision.

           Your medical know how was the smallest bit above average. Panic watching YouTube videos after the first time he asked for “a little help”. You still had yet to learn about pain killers.

           “Go to Hank next time, and then you can take all his beer, instead.” Using tweezers, you press into the skin. Taking hold of the bullet in his skin and pulling it outward.

           In normal cases bullets aren’t removed from wounds unless there’s a surgery. It took a little convincing from Logan’s side for you to remove the bullet the first time around. Come the second and your forcing his leg onto the table to dig out the bullet deep in his thigh.

           “It’s not my fault they appear in my hands. Almost like somebody is handing them to me.” He says.

           It’s impossible to not cringe when his body sews itself back together. It’s better to hop up and head to the fridge then to watch it happen. Grabbing one of those brands that taste, in a word, icky and bringing it back. The skin was back together by the time you sat down again.

           “Only because I don’t know where to buy morphine yet.” The beer is next to his head. A medical reason, not a reason of love.

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

Kurt Wagner:

           One of these days you will last a day without getting a heart attack. Today is not one of those days.

           “Sorry, I’m sorry!” Kurt exclaims, trying to stop you from already screaming.

           It doesn’t matter the skin tone or look of any person. Someone suddenly appearing right next to you will always be scary.

           He’s done this before, appeared right next you and being surprised by your reaction.

           “It’s fine,” you say holding his shoulders as though he was the one who had been screaming. “Just, back up a few steps next time.” It’s a condition he always forgets and is never important enough to fuss about.

           He smiles in that “I’m sorry” way and takes your hand.

           It’s only a heart beat until Peter is at the door frame. Kurt still holding your hand like an elementary school couple. Peter’s arms were crossed and was tsk-ing at the entire scene in front of him.

           “Who taught you guys how to sneak in?” He asks.

[littlemissvincentvega]

what about a smut with orange where you’re one of the dogs and all of y’all are at a hotel for a heist and you guys sneak into each other’s rooms 👀

YAAAAY thank u honeeeeey i love this ideasklasjdlkcasj. ive done ti as if the hotel is the target also reader is mrs blue bc he’s irrelevant x jokes but also yeah

hope u n joy!! 💖💖

It’s a stupidly cold evening in California, and you & the boys have just checked into your hotel. The morning ahead is one of importance– Joe had sent you all on a mission to clear the place of any petty cash you can get your paws on. But that was for tomorrow. Of course you’d been given fake IDs to use, provided by the Cabots, and you tuck yours into your inner pocket. “I can’t wait to freshen up,” you sigh, walking alongside Mr. Pink, talking more to yourself than him. He answers you regardless.

“I don’t blame ya, you look like a rat’s asshole.”

“Thanks, Pink.”

Brown snickers and runs to keep up with you, beginning to walk backwards in front of you, facing you as he speaks. “I think you look pretty as ever, Blue,” he remarks.

“Well, thank you, sweetie, at least somebody’s got some manners around here,” you smirk, elbowing Pink gently. He rolls his eyes.

Orange hadn’t said a word, but he hadn’t heard the exchange. He’s trailing behind alongside White & Blonde, taking in the beauty of the hotel– he thought it was a shame there might be blood spattered about the following morning. Anything could happen where Blonde was involved, all of you knew that. But Eddie always insists he’s trustworthy, just a little haywire at times, so you guys have to go along with it.

All of you pile into the elevator, Pink stepping in last (everyone had shoved past him, including Brown). He watches as White presses the buttons for the second floor and frowns a little. “Is it absolutely necessary for us to take the fuckin’ elevator? To the second floor?”

Orange narrows his eyes at him slightly. “Nobody said you had to join us. Take the stairs if you’re that bothered.”

“No.”

You & Orange share a look and suppress a laugh as the elevator doors close. It’s a really tight squeeze, but you won’t complain– being tightly squeezed with a bunch of handsome thieves? Not something to complain about, not in your books.

A quick twenty seconds or so later and you’re on the second floor. Orange had nudged you on the way up to watch him. A playful twinkle is in his eye and you’re excited to see what shit he’s going to pull. Sure enough, as the elevator doors ping open once again, he kicks Pink out by the ass and hits the ‘close doors’ button, causing an eruption of laughter in the shaft. “Asshole!!” Pink splutters– if there had been an opportunity to kick the shit out of Orange, he would have taken it in a heartbeat.

“Orange!!” you giggle, slapping his arm. Blonde seems to have found it the most funny– he’s bent over double, clutching his knees. The sad sight of Pink scrambling about on the floor had really gotten him. 

Orange has a grin wiped across his stupid face, hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. “What? He deserved it.”

“I mean, true–”

“He did deserve it, Blue,” Brown points out, still giggling.

You sigh in defeat, smiling. “Fine! Chill, you guys.”

-

Dinner rolled around and the six of you had met up in the restaurant area for a nice meal (on Joe, of course). Nice meal meant a nice meal, so all of you had gotten a little dressed up for the occasion. You’re in a black velvet dress that hugs you in all the right places, accompanied by some little pearl earrings and black low heels. The boys are in their usual suits & ties, all looking incredibly handsome (what’s new?).

Being the dad of the group, Mr. White had spoken to the front-of-house man and requested a table. You all trail after him and, before White could get there, Orange helps you into your seat like a true gentleman. “Thanks,” you smile, watching as he sits beside you.

To sum dinner up, it really had just consisted of Pink squinting at his grazed elbow and bitching about it, Brown forgetting what the fuck he was droning on about, Blonde smoking like a chimney, White scolding Pink and Orange? Well, he had been stealing glances at you when he wasn’t joking with you about dumb shit. The two of you had been sharing giggles every single time Pink brought up his elbow and sharing looks of disbelief every time Brown forgot what he’d been saying. It’s safe to say it was a fun dinner. Amusing.

-

Orange stands in front of the bathroom mirror, hands clutching the sink as he frowns into his own eyes. “Just… just go there, tell’er you’re bored, ask to watch TV with’er,” he hisses at himself. “Don’t pussy out, just do it, don’t think, do.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing his floppy fringe off of his forehead, mulling it over. 

-

You’re just standing watching TV with your toothbrush in your mouth when there’s a knock at the door. Who the fuck could that be?

With a sigh, you saunter over and, toothbrush poking out the corner of your mouth, tentatively open the door. “Blue– oh, shit, are you busy?” It’s Orange.

“What does it look like? No,” you laugh, almost relieved that he’s in his pyjamas too. He seems the most sane out of the guys, and you enjoy his company– not to mention the eye candy. “One sec– come in,” you tell him, skipping to the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste foam into the sink.

After rinsing your mouth out, you return to the room and sit on the bed, patting in front of you. He obliges, eyes glued to the TV. “What’cha watchin’?” he asks.

“Some western, I don’t know.”

He fiddles with the duvet and your eyes narrow just a little bit at him. Not in suspicion… rather curiosity. “Why’d you come here?” you ask, hugging a pillow in your lap.

Orange shrugs. “Bored. Wanted nice company.”

“You’re worried about the heist tomorrow?”

He presses his lips together. “A little.”

“It’s normal, you don’t need to be,” you assure him with a smile, shifting to lay on your back then pressing a poke to his arm. “You only live once, right? Go crazy. We’ll be fine!”

His eyes drift down to your chest as you poke him. You’re in your pyjamas, true, but they’re baby pink satin booty shorts & matching strappy top. It’s a nice view for him, that’s for sure. A slight smirk grows on your lips as he snaps his gaze back up to your eyes, cheeks turning pink. He hopes you didn’t see, but he knows you did. “Enjoying the view, Mr. Orange?” you tease, sniggering quietly.

Orange hesitates for a moment– he could die tomorrow. So right now he could be a pussy and apologise or he could see where this takes him. The second option seemed better. “Uh-huh.” A childish grin appears on his lips upon realising you approve of him looking.

“Wanna see more?”

His brows arch and he runs his tongue along his upper lip at the thought. “I mean– yeah?”

You giggle at his nervousness and promptly lift your top up, gauging his reaction– it’s priceless. His eyes widen and inhibitions take over as he moves his hands to grope your breasts, palms grazing your already-hard nipples. “They’re just as I imagined ‘em,” he chuckles, a few strands of his fringe flopping over his eyes. 

That oh-so lovely feeling of your pussy beginning to arouse becomes apparent as his cold palms tease your nipples, getting them harder, sending shivers through your body. “Mm,” you breathe approvingly, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a desperate kiss. Orange quickly melts into it, nose buried into your face beside your own.

“Is this… allowed?” he grins against your lips, going in for another kiss before you get a chance to respond– he’s joking, anyway, you can tell. Joe doesn’t need to know about this, and Eddie sure as hell doesn’t, along with the rest of the guys.

A few more kisses and you gently push him away, motioning for him to lay on his back. He does so, and you straddle him, beginning to slowly grind against his semi-hard cock. “You wanna know something, Orange?” you grin, enjoying the way he’s ogling at your tits.

“Mm?”

“I’ve wanted us to fuck since Joe hired you.”

You feel him harden at that fact beneath you, and he grins. “Feeling’s mutual, babygirl.”

“Good,” you breathe, snaking your hands up & down your torso, pinching your nipples and letting your tits drop, gauging his reactions. “You like?”

“I love.” You know he does– his cock’s giving it all away. God, how had it taken this long for you two to actually do something as simple as kissing? 

Eventually, the teasing had become too much for the both of you, evident by the wet patch you have going on down there. “Get on your back,” he pipes up, unusually dominant in his tone. It’s exciting to hear him like this– he’s generally quiet in exchanges with everyone else.

You stare at him in silence for a split second before answering, “Yes, Daddy,” and laying on your back where he points. Smirking, Orange gets up off of the bed, stroking himself through his pyjama bottoms at the sight of you. You watch as he removes his shirt, letting it drop to the floor, and does the same with his bottoms– of course he’s not wearing any underwear, and you practically drool at the sight of him. He’s hung. 

“You like?” he teases, mimicking you from before, and you giggle, nodding.

“Uh-huh, I love.”

That’s all he needs to hear– he steps in front of you, and you spread your legs in the air for him, bending your knees. Your pussy’s aching for him. He lets his fingertips trail over your inner thighs, gliding once over your wet patch. An involuntary whimper escapes your lips as you gaze up at him desperately, begging for his cock with your eyes. “I know what you want,” he smiles softly, taking your pyjama shorts in his hands. You straighten out your legs so he can slide them off, and he lets them drop to the floor, marvelling at the grool stuck to your thighs. His cock twitches at the sight and he promptly lines himself up, your knees bent once again. “I’ll pull out.”

You nod, feeling your clit throb for him, and he slowly pushes himself into you, letting out a groan of relief. His left hand is firmly holding your waist, right hand gripping above your left knee as he begins to steadily fuck you, working up a nice pace for you both. “You like it, baby? You like when I fuck you?” he taunts, eyes half-lidded.

“Mm–”

“Good,” he interrupts, voice low and sexed-up. Groaning, Orange leans forward and presses a rough kiss to your lips, still fucking you. He’s into it and you can tell he’s imagined it a hundred different times. 

You whine against his lips as he deepens the kiss– it becomes less patient and more sloppy, breath mingling in a frenzy of lust. “Daddy,” you squeak in between kisses, running your fingers through his mop. “Oh, Orange..”

“S’Freddy,” he growls into your ear, not giving a fuck anymore. He wants to hear you moan his name– fuck Joe’s rules. “Name’s Freddy.”

Your clit tingles at the fact that he’s just given you that information– it doesn’t seem like much but if Joe ever finds out he’d go ballistic. “Freddy,” you breathe, chuckling out a smile, “you’re– you’re a good fuck.” You can’t help but stumble on your words they’re so truthful, and he snickers along with you, standing upright again.

“So’re you, babygirl,” he smirks, pausing briefly to speak his words before starting to fuck you again, admiring the way your tits jiggle with every thrust. He’s going harder now, fringe flopping over his face as he looks down at you. His eyes are practically devouring you– they’re completely different to normal. Determined, dominant and lustful. “Thaaat’s a good girl,” he praises, voice still low, and you whine at him in contentment.

You’re completely under his spell, on your back on the edge of that bed, legs in the air, taking his cock, him holding you in place. And he’s under yours. You can tell by the look in his eye and the smirk on his lips, though even moreso by the grunts he’s producing. “Baby,” he groans, running his thumb along your lip, letting you suck on it. “I’m close.”

“Mm, me too, Daddy,” you whimper, continuing to suck on his thumb. He likes that, and shifts his hand so you can suck on his fingers while he watches. 

His thrusts get a little slower but deeper, more determined, and he takes his fingers from your mouth and brings them down, rubbing your clit. “Tell Daddy it feels good, baby.”

“It--” you shiver, itching to cum, “--it feels amazing, Daddy..”

“Mm, good.” Freddy watches your face closely, and the corners of his mouth turn up as you begin twitching, orgasm fast-approaching. You let it wash over you and grip the duvet, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it, quickly pulling out to dump his load on your stomach, marvelling at the way you squirm. He grunts through his own, lazily jerking himself, squinting down at you. 

Laughing a little nervously, he lets himself gently collapse beside you, propping himself up with his elbow. “Well, uh-- that was nice,” he comments, letting his fingertips trail down your side.

You roll over to face him, shifting to lay more comfortably on your side. “It really was, Mr. Orange,” you tease. His lips spread into a rather embarrassed grin-- he can’t believe he fucking told you his name. 

“Don’t tell--”

“Joe? Freddy, if I tell Joe, he’ll demand to know just how the fuck I found out... then we’ll both be in trouble,” you laugh. It’s a laugh of sincerity, and it reaches your eyes. He can tell-- a relieved exhale escapes his lips, accompanied by a smile of the same feeling.

“Thanks.”

You lean over to press another kiss to his lips, pushing him onto his back, hoisting your leg over one of his. A smile, and you pull away just a bit. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m (Y/N).”

He blinks and smiles. “(Y/N),” he repeats, nodding ever-so slightly. “S’a pretty name, baby.”

“Thanks,” you beam, pressing a warm kiss to his cheek.

-

An hour or so later (you’d spent a little while in bed cuddling, droning on, just talking about life) and he’s standing in your doorway in his pyjamas once again. “So, uh, Blue...”

“Mm? Orange?” A smirk.

He laughs, ducking his head, hair flopping in his face, then looks at the ceiling. “I forgot what I was gonna say now.”

“Good, ‘cause I have a question, Mr. Orange.”

“Yeah? Go ahead.”

You smile, looking off to the side. “I was thinking-- we could make this a regular thing. Spend a night like that together before the jobs Joe puts us on,” you trail, rocking on your heels a little.

A lightbulb appears above his head and he nods, laughing again. “That’s what I was gonna fuckin’ say-- I just forgot, you distracted me. Callin’ me ‘Mr. Orange’.” Another chuckle, and he nods again. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

You pull him in for one last kiss, him gently rubbing your waist. “G’night, Freddy,” you whisper.

“Night, (Y/N).”

With that, he disappears down the hall back to his own hotel room, collapsing onto his own bed to think about the night’s events. Jesus-- maybe the criminal life was for him after all. Maybe he’d have to fuck over the LAPD. Who knows...?

[irondad-defensesquad]

It’s okay to be afraid

Fandom: MCU

Rating: T

Relationships: Miles & Peter

Characters: Miles Morales, Peter Parker, Aaron Davis; CAMEOS - Jefferson Davis, Rio Morales; MENTIONED - Ben Parker

Summary: Peter saves Aaron Davis’ life once again and meets his nephew. Part 1 of the Miles in the MCU series.

Word count: 1,965

Also on AO3!

A/N: Decided to post this fic here as well! As mentioned above, it’s the first part of a series; to sum things up, Miles in the MCU is pretty much what the title says - a take on Miles Morales in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Here, he’s about nine years old while Peter is a teenager. Most elements are based on Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, though, with one thing or another from the comics.

In total, there are five stories planned; for now three have been posted on AO3. It might be canon divergent by the fourth, though.

Well, I hope you like it as well! The other two stories will be posted shortly :D

WARNINGS: Murder attempt, blood and injury, and past character death

--

“Miles… you’ve gotta get out of here…”

That day was supposed to be a fun one. Miles had a great time hanging out with his favorite uncle Aaron, the two spending time at the latter’s home until they decided to go outside and get some ice cream not far from there. Aaron was possibly the best person to go to when his father was busy with police officer business.

But now he’s facing a horrible jerk, who isn’t physically built, with a gun in his hands and his shot uncle in front of him, their ice cream cones having fallen and melted.

They were heading back home when some creepy dude arrived threatening Aaron about something weaponry-related – which is crazy, Aaron wouldn’t get involved in those things anymore, having changed after leaving jail – and now Miles is frozen, hasn’t moved since the moment he heard the trigger and the yell his uncle let out. Aaron is on the ground and his shoulder is bleeding so much, he only sees red. Miles’ stare shifts from the criminal to his uncle and the red in his white t-shirt multiple times.

“Miles,” Aaron calls him again and his voice is so weak that more tears fill the kid’s bright brown eyes. “Please…”

He winces in pain. Aaron’s are almost closing, and he isn’t breathing well, and he’s in so much pain; yet he’s trying to get his nephew out of there before he can, too, get shot.

Seeing as though the kid isn’t reacting, the criminal heads towards his uncle, who struggles to protect himself. He hears the trigger again, and Aaron yelps silently as he shrinks and—

“No!”

Before Miles realizes, he’s standing between Aaron and the thug. The latter, at first, is surprised; but now a twisted smile forms on his face, sending shivers down the boy’s spine.

“Miles, no!” Aaron yells. “Get out of here!”

“You better listen to him, kid,” The shooter warns. “Go home before things get ugly.”

Miles pants and doesn’t shrink at his threatening tone, nor at Aaron’s weak yet protective protests. The boy knows he’s trembling and won’t stop the tears from falling, but rather than running away and leaving his uncle to die, he steps towards that monster and takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I-I won’t let you h-hurt him!” Miles speaks up, voice more vulnerable than he meant.

The guy laughs. “Wow, trying to be a superhero?” He eyes him with a smirk. “Alright then, I’ll start with you.”

He points the gun at him with no remorse whatsoever. Miles doesn’t move, like a deer caught in headlights. He can hear his uncle screaming behind him, begging him to go, but Miles won’t take his eyes off the weapon that is ready to take his life.

“Pretty brave of you, kid,” The guy says, not sounding like a compliment to his ears. “Too bad you wanna die for that prick.”

He pulls the trigger.

 But then he hears a voice yelling from the distance.

“Hey! Go pick on somebody your own size!”

He notices a white substance thrown right at the thug’s face, whose scream is muffled. Although he’s not sure what’s going on anymore, the black-haired boy can distinct the red and blue swinging around until they kick the criminal right on his face. The colors form a familiar suit, a red spider symbol illustrated on the back, similar to the hoodie he’s wearing.

“Karen, call 911,” The voice is… higher than Miles expected from the actual Spider-Man.

It doesn’t take long for the hero to turn around and rush to the boy and his uncle; he notices the white eyes widening at the sight of Aaron, which causes Miles to realize he has not made any noises since Spider-Man arrived.

“U-Uncle Aaron!” Miles cries. “Uncle Aaron!?”

Spider-Man places his fingers on Aaron’s neck, muttering, “Karen, vitals”; he would have asked who this Karen is in another situation. Seeing as his uncle isn’t answering him, he begins panicking.

“Please,” Miles sobs. He turns to Spider-Man with pleading eyes. “P-Please, you have to help him!”

The hero seems to be… taken aback, taking a few seconds to reply before Aaron lets out a pained noise.

“Help is on the way, he- he’ll be fine,” Spider-Man assures. “How about you, buddy? Are you hurt?”

Miles shakes his head in silence, for now not caring about himself – Aaron is bleeding in front of him and there’s nothing he can do but wait. What if they don’t get there in time?

“It’s going to be okay,” Spider-Man insists.

Miles stares back at him. He knows the hero has saved Aaron once, so he… he tries to believe him.

--

Sirens are heard in a span of minutes. Soon enough, they are echoing in the empty alley and several police cars arrive, as well as an ambulance. Peter calls for them and takes the unconscious thug to the cops while the paramedics make way to Aaron Davis and his nephew.

Although he’s not showing it, Peter can’t help the shock in his chest upon seeing the same guy he interrogated when he was searching the Vulture, injured this way. Worse yet, he wasn’t expecting to meet the guy’s nephew in such horrible situation – one that the brown-haired teen has unfortunately gone through nearly two years ago.

He did see what happened. The boy stood up for his uncle, knew he could die, but wouldn’t leave like Davis was ordering him to do. It was horrible, seeing such a young boy get almost killed like this. Peter offers himself to accompany the boy, seeing as though the others can’t reach his other family members. Apparently, his father is a police officer but isn’t patrolling in the region that night and his mother is out to work, too. Until they arrive, the young boy is dealing with everything on his own; it’s the least Spider-Man can do.

Of course, this means he can’t take off his suit – so he’s pretty much at the hospital, as Spider-Man, at the waiting room. He can feel weirded out glances at him every now and then, but he doesn’t give them any attention with the worried sick boy beside him. The latter hasn’t said anything since the authorities came in. Peter knows, looking at the kid, that he’s feeling guilty. The teenager is no stranger to that feeling, which has not yet faded, no matter the tremendous progress he’s made since Ben’s death. Nightmares of that night, his uncle’s blood in his hands are still vivid and traumatizing to Peter. He’s talked about it with May and Tony and does feel less ashamed of his struggles.

It doesn’t mean that it’s stopped hurting.

And with that little kid there, worrying over his uncle, it’s bringing the pain back inside the hero’s chest.

Peter hasn’t talked to him the entire time, knowing to give him space; but he doesn’t want the boy to blame himself. He’s so young, too young, to deal with this much pressure already. On the other hand, it can be admirable that he wanted to save his uncle, in front of a scary, armed criminal. Even if he could have been killed himself.

The younger boy is staring at the floor, his feet barely touching the ground. His cheeks are still stained with tears, even though he’s no longer crying. Peter can’t help his sorrowful glances; though he partly wishes he can take his mask off so he can get closure, but he’s unable to, when there are plenty of people in the waiting room.

Still, Peter doesn’t think he can leave this in the quiet.

“You, um,” He tries to say, sounding more awkward than he expected. “You doing okay?”

That’s a stupid question, he thinks soon after. The boy doesn’t appear to be annoyed, though. Instead… he shakes his head and whispers, “He got hurt… I couldn’t protect him…”

“No way, you were really brave! I saw you standing up for him—"

“No, I wasn’t! H-He would have still killed him, because I couldn’t- do anything. I just… froze,” Fresh tears threaten to fall. “Maybe if I weren’t so scared…”

Peter sighs sympathetically. “Hey, that’s- that’s nothing to be ashamed of. If… If that makes you feel better, uh… I get afraid pretty often when fighting crime.”

The kid looks at him in surprise. “You do?”

Peter nods. “Yeah. It’s completely normal – everyone is afraid, even, like, Iron Man. But even when you were scared back there, you tried your best to save your uncle. You did what you could; and it’s not your fault that he got hurt, it’s always the bad guy’s, got it?”

The boy contemplates his words and, finally, nods, no longer looking so defeated. Peter admits he still needs the advice, having gotten it from Tony many times before. It’s a good reminder, and he hopes the kid gets it one day, too.

“You were a hero back there,” Peter tells him, smiling; he hopes he notices it underneath his mask, though. “You’d be a great Spider-Man – you just need the webs!”

He notices the dark, yet subtle blush creeping in the other’s cheeks as his bright eyes look down at his own red and blue clothing, a non-licensed Spider-Man hoodie (unofficial since he's not a worldwide hero like Iron Man, but he's flattered regardless).

“You really think so?” The boy asks.

“Of course, buddy. You did great.”

Finally, Peter appears to find a small smile revealing itself. Soon, the nurse tells them (while sparing a weird glance towards the hero) that the patient is doing fine and will be recovering for the rest of the night, given the blood loss.

Minutes later, he hears a panicked couple arriving – and then he also meets the parents, who greet their son in a tight hug. They enter Aaron’s room while Peter stays outside. He peeks a bit, seeing the boy hug his uncle with joyful tears, which brings a smile to the teen’s face. Deciding to give them privacy again, he turns around and texts May to let her know where he is, so she doesn’t worry too much about him on patrol.

Eventually, he hears the door opening and finds the boy again.

“Hi again,” Peter greets him warmly. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s okay, just tired. He… told me to give you something.”

“Oh yeah? What-?”

Before he can even finish his question, small arms wrap around his waist. Peter lets out a heartwarming, quiet laugh and returns it, ruffling his black hair.

“Thanks for saving us,” The kid says once they let go of one another.

“Sure thing… hey, what’s your name? Silly me, I didn’t even ask.”

The boy smiles bright. “I’m Miles.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Miles.”

Miles’ mother joins them briefly, too, thanking him for saving her son and her brother-in-law. Peter catches his father giving him a quiet thanks while looking... very serious, as if silently warning him he's got his eye on him.

“It’s okay,” The kid assures him, possibly noticing the shiver. “He says he doesn’t really like you but he doesn't mean it.”

Peter laughs nervously. “Yeah, okay.”

With his mother gone back to the room, the teenager approaches Miles again.

“It was great knowing you, Miles, but I should get going; my job here is done, but it only begins in other places.”

He offers his hand to the boy, who gratefully shakes it with a smile.

“Good luck out there,” Miles tells him.

“I’ll see you around, Spider-Man,” The teen winks at him, resulting in Miles’ eyes widening in awe and grinning brighter, if that’s even possible.

Peter sprints to the nearest window and so he webs into the night with a huge smile that no one sees.

--

Read Part 2 of the series!

[movedyourchair505]

Napule Nights - trentasei

Jade meets Penny and David, as promised. Thanks to Elana for always figuring difficult stuff like this out with me x

- chapter navigation -

x

In all of the underground space of the headquarters, the conference room was the lightest one Jade had seen yet, still looking around and scanning her surroundings, but she was barely picking up on anything, her initial determination to not lose track of her sense of detail gone up in smoke as soon as Alexander had decided to seat her at the opposite end of the table, staring straight at him, yet there were several chairs and people in between, and in protest, she'd leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms in a way that drew attention to nothing but her chest, the lace top of her silvery pink dress not covering any more than actual lingerie would have, lace trailing down into a satin skirt, additional lace on the sides drawing attention to the skin of her thighs.

She watched him at the other end of the table, balancing his cigarette between his fingers and taking the occasional drag, the smoke veiling his gorgeous features for no longer than a second each time it left his lips, yet she couldn't help herself from staring, forever drawn to stare due to the complexity of his face, the simplest movements exciting, the way he scrunched his nose up in disgust ever so slightly, exposing the distaste for something someone else at the table said. She could tell he was purposely not looking at her, his dark eyes resting for longer than in mere passing on everyone but her, but he had her full attention, not a single movement unnoticed by her, her fingers aching to touch and adjust his hair that he'd slicked back in a rush earlier, and it was threatening to fall out of form now.

On the car ride to the headquarters, she'd been completely unable to keep her hands off him, the constant ache she had for him only intensified after they'd almost been late because he hadn't been able to deny her when having been woken up with her sat on top of him, teasing him, and only having waited for him to wake up to lower herself down on him, but as soon as he'd been aware, as soon as the sleep had lifted from his mind, he'd flipped them, refusing even that early to let her dominate him, and had instead fucked her into the mattress in return, hard and fast and in a way that left her insatiable, her frustration only increased when he'd cautiously seated her at the other end of the table, opposite him and far away, his words too weak to be a threat. “I can't 'ave yeh distractin' meh, yeh're too fookin' frustratin'. If yeh wanna beh in this meetin' yeh 'ave teh be'ave.”

The hint of a challenge that she knew he was well aware of and had strategically used against her was the only thing that kept her the way she was, that kept her from actually making an effort to distract him, and he was as much of a distraction himself, so much so that despite having insisted on being part of the meeting, despite her best efforts, Jade could barely focus now.

Half of his arms were exposed, the sleeves of his peach coloured shirt rolled up and contrasting his tanned skin, the jacket to his matte black suit hung over the back of his chair. The mark she had left on his throat was still visible, beautiful and making sure everyone knew she'd been there. She was desperate to sink her teeth into his skin again, make him moan quietly the way he hadn't been able to suppress, toy with his chain and make his jaw tense the way it did now as he listened calmly to one of the suggestions a man to her left made.

Alexander took another drag of his cigarette before crushing it in the ashtray before him, his glance passing Jade as he looked around and his heart jumped when he saw that she was still looking at him, seemingly not intending to break her stare any time soon.

When his eyes met hers, even if it was just for a moment, the intensity made her shiver, excited her and she pressed her lips together, biting the inside of her cheek as she felt a dull throbbing ache between her legs as soon as she'd allowed her mind to wander, pictured him rising to his feet and making her crawl towards him, grabbing her by the throat and forcing her down into position on the table, everyone else watching or leaving, she didn't care, she just needed him, felt her underwear dampening from the sheer thought of feeling him inside her again, her eyes fluttering shut for no longer than a second, but of course that he'd seen, the smug satisfaction on his face when he licked his lips leaving her determined to concentrate the lust she had for him to the inside for now.

Each time he spoke, his deep drawl either surging through the silence or cutting off someone else, the authority in his low voice had her reeling, wishing he was close to her, wishing he was taunting her, telling her she was his, telling her he loved her.

“Jade” he hummed, the way he said her name snapping her out of it as much as it made her wish she was making him moan it. “Wha' do yeh fink?”

She swallowed hard, her jaw tensing and she sat straight in her seat, lifting her chin. Bastard.

“About what?” She asked reluctantly, ultimately more frustrated with herself than him because him and her both knew that she could help if she actually paid attention, and she couldn't help but be annoyed that she was wasting this chance. She wanted to spite him as much as she did the men around the table regarding her sceptically, as if she was somewhat inferior, their gazes alternating between her face and the bruises around her neck, most failing to stop there.

Alexander licked his lips, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement as he couldn't help but feel pleased with himself for having caught her, he loved watching her beg him to fuck her as much as he liked her to beg him to help with the business, and he knew that it would have been wrong to tell her based on her wandering mind that she shouldn't have been in the meeting, but the simple question was worth the tease now, despite the matter being more than serious, and once he'd had his fun with the expression on her face, he spoke again. “I've sent out sum of our best men teh track down Mancini. I 'ave not yet decided specificleh wha' teh do wif 'im.”

She swallowed, silently grateful that he hadn't intended to completely humiliate her in front of everyone. “Is it wise at all to track him down?” She questioned.

He raised his eyebrows, her question catching him by surprise. “Jade” he said. “He 'urt yeh. Look wha' 'e fookin' did teh yeh.” His gaze was insistent, and she knew what he was trying to tell her, he should have seen it coming.

“But I'm okay” she said, the look in her own eyes softening and she wished she could touch him, squeeze his hand, stroke his hair or touch his shoulder to soothe him. “Don't play into Alfonso's hands that way, please. Not for me.”

He let his eyes wander, looking at the men that had advised him as well as his father well before. “Gentlemen?”

“If Mancini had touched my bird that way, I'd be out there searching along with the others” one of the men to his right stated.

Jade tensed. “They only did this to get a rise out of him” she said, shaking her head, now it was her looking around hopefully around the table, searching for someone that had common sense. “In a time like this, offense is the wrong move.”

“I don't know how much your bird knows, Turner, but with the state of the business, she might have a point” another man said, raising is eyebrow at his superior.

Turner's jaw locked, a hard swallow followed that made his throat strain underneath the mark, then he rose to his feet. “Weh'll take a vote tomorrow” he said, adjusting his rings as he looked around at the other men. “Dismissed.”

Jade rose from her seat the moment the first man opened the door, crossing the room with few quick steps and adjusting her white fur coat, her heels clicking on the ground and her body relaxed visibly when he turned to her and gave her a look of disbelief. “Alexander, don't do this” she said, pressing her lips together as she drew his jacket from his seat and held it out for him.

“Wha' were yeh finkin'?” He asked.

She pursed her lips, walking around him to adjust his collar over the jacket. “You asked my opinion, baby” she said, smiling as she reached to brush his hair back, feeling him relax right into her touch, breathing out slowly, but his eyes widened again when he looked at somebody over her shoulder, yet with a slight tug on his hair she had his attention again. “What?”

“I swear if one of them fookin' looks at yeh again...”

“Hey, hey” she said, shaking her head. “I wanted to be here, Alexander. Let them look.”

His eyes grew wider. “Let them-... Jade, I...” He sighed, once again soothed by the way she ran her fingers through his hair.

“I'm all yours” she said, pressing herself close to him, purring with satisfaction when his hands came down on her hips. “And I'm just trying to help.”

“Well, yeh didn't fookin' be'ave, did yeh? Yeh still work for meh.”

A smile spread across her lips now and she tilted her head slightly. “Mmm, what are you going to do, baby? Fire me?” A deep sense of satisfaction spread inside her when she saw the corner of his mouth twitch and he rolled his eyes.

She hummed, moving her hand slowly up his chest and underneath his shirt, scratching lightly at his shoulder, the light in his eyes drawing her in hopelessly and she leaned in, yet jumped instantly when she heard the door click, the groan of annoyance vibrating in Alexander's throat only making her want him more.

“Si?” He asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly at Helders.

“I'm sorreh, boss, yehr father wants teh see yeh.”

Alex tensed, his jaw clenching and with a sudden shift, his face was expressionless. “Then please take Jade 'ome” he sighed, stepping back and adjusting his jacket.

“Actualleh” Helders said. “'e's requested teh see yeh bof.”

Jade's eyes widened and she turned to look between the two, Helders' face now expectant, Turner's with shock written all over it. “When?” He asked, swallowing hard.

“Reyht now, boss” Helders stated. “Yehr parents are 'avin' lunch in the citeh and they want yeh teh join them. They're waitin'.”

Jade was speechless for a moment, her heart racing with the sudden fear that she'd messed up because they'd asked for her to come along specifically. She looked worriedly at Alexander, tense and desperate to hear his decision, unsure what she would have preferred, but there was not a single moment of contemplation, without another word, his hand came down on the small of her back and before she knew, they were following Helders out of the office and down the corridor towards the doors.

“A-Alexander...” she said. “Maybe I should change?”

“There's no time” he stated, his face cold and he nodded for her to get into the car as Helders opened the door for her, Cook on the other side opening it for him.

“I'll be two seconds...” she said hesitantly, desperate to catch his eyes with hers as they sat beside each other in the backseat. “You know I won't take long.”

Her heart stopped when his eyes finally snapped up. “Jade, there's no time. Weh can't let them wait.”

She swallowed hard, diverting her gaze and adjusting her coat. It wasn't like she had never been judged for the way she looked before, harassed and mistreated, and she knew that nothing they could say, not even Alex's father could even scratch the surface of her confidence. But what would undoubtedly bother her was their judgment of her transferring to Alexander, because as sure as she was that he stood by her and his decision for her, it would build up his own stress and would set back any progress he'd made with the business during the past few days, and she hated the thought of it, hated to be the reason of causing him unnecessary difficulty, not that she wasn't worth it, not that she didn't enjoy him sticking up for her, but he already had enough to deal with as it was, she'd already added enough, and she was determined to for his sake behave in a way that would solely benefit him.

She stayed silent for the rest of drive, hated the way the situation brought her back to a tension between them she had almost forgotten about now, and she breathed out shakily with relief when she felt his hand searching for hers between them on the seat, his long fingers intertwined with hers instantly as he gave a light squeeze, his jaw tense as she finally looked up at him, her mouth opening, but before she could speak, the car came to a stop, Helders and Cook stepping out and opening the doors for them.

The moment Jade set her second heel down on the pavement, Turner was by her side, linking his arm with hers and giving a nod to the two security guards in front of a restaurant Jade only knew because a very decadent client had once taken her there to impress a few business associates, and she gathered the white fur across her chest and her bare shoulders, knowing that even though she looked and felt better because of her choice of clothing, she could have chosen something just as sexy that would have been more appropriate, although she couldn't help the satisfied smile that spread across her lips when a few heads turned as they entered, as interested in her as they were in the man whose arm she was now attached to, and she hummed when he drew her closer to his side, the gesture enough to fuel her confidence and strengthen her intentions.

“Jade?”

She prepared herself for an order, instructions to act a certain way, she'd gotten used to it by now, it was always the way whenever entering a room, men whispering to her, hushed demands to follow before reaching the table. But not Alexander.

“Yeh look fookin' incredible, il mio amore.”

She bit down harshly on her lip, her whole body shuddering and she squeezed his arm, there was no time to respond, let alone sink down on her knees and worship that incredible man the way he deserved, but she certainly wasn't going to forget the look in his eyes, forced herself to focus as they came to a stop.

“Figlio.”

“Padre.”

Neither his father stood as Alexander pulled a chair back for Jade, nor did he even acknowledge her at first and she held her breath, sitting down hesitantly, then turned her head as he walked around to greet his mother, leaned down to kiss her cheek and she rubbed his back gently. “Mamma.”

“Ciao, cucciolotto.” His mother smiled, shifting in her seat and waiting for her son to sit down before her eyes finally made it to Jade who was glad for the distraction, the intensity of the older man's stare an instant intimidation she hadn't expected, and while she'd always respected his name, was well-aware of where he had taken his family name, she had never been this overwhelmed, reputation and face combined sending shivers down her spine. “Jade, si?”

Jade nodded slowly, taking a deep breath before she drew her coat from her arms and hung it over the back of the chair, soothed only by the way Alexander's hand came down on her knee, a gentle squeeze following. “Si” she said, swallowing as she could feel two unfamiliar pairs of eyes on her, relieved when Alexander cut in.

“Why did yeh need teh see us bof?” He asked.

His father's face remained unchanged and his eyes searched behind them, then snapped at the waiter, holding up two fingers before he lowered his hand and looked back at his son. “Yeh are aware that you are not yet the owner of me business, aren't you, Alexander?”

Jade felt oddly out of place, despite the ease of which she was able to win anybody over, she was well-aware that this was not the moment to make use of that skill, instead she focused on Alexander, the way he swallowed, visibly distressed.

“I am aware” he said slowly, licking his lips.

“And are yeh aware that this means I am still watching yehr evreh move, figlio?”

Alexander pursed his lips. “If this about the men I sent out teh find Mancini...”

“It is, yeh alreadeh risked so much by sending out more men than yeh were allowed to find Alfonso's other base, and now yeh're doing exactly what he wanted teh achieve in the first place?”

The way his father tensed had him leaning back slowly, his body tensing with a matchable anger and sense of frustration, he had nothing to say for himself, no way to justify himself. “I might call it off” he said quietly.

“Oh, grazie a Dio” the older man muttered, but there was a mocking tone behind his voice that Jade recognised only too well. “I thought yeh'd lost all sense because of this girl.”

Alex's jaw tensed, his lips pressed together for a moment to compose himself before he was able to give a collected response. “It were actualleh Jade's idea.”

“It's also because of her that yeh risked so much in the first place, bello” his mother said, her voice much softer, but her words only made it harder for Jade to stay quiet, yet she'd vowed to behave, to go along with whatever Alexander wanted to do, though admittedly, it was getting increasingly harder. “And now yeh've moved her into yehr place...” she continued. “Yeh've not done that since...”

“Adriana.” His father's voice was firm, the look on his face more frightening than anything Alex himself could have been capable of.

Alexander bit his lip, glaring back at his father. “And yeh think I dun't kno' tha'?” He snapped. His fingers were shaking, he'd been meaning to keep Jade from being a part of a conversation like this, afraid all along that it would only drive her away and yet there she was, sat by his side and allowing them to talk about her as if she wasn't even there, her fingers cupping his on her knee, and he was only momentarily distracted as the waiter placed a glass of martini in front of them each and he took it thankfully, his fingers closing around the cold glass and he down it all in one, licking his lips. “Scusa.”

His father gave a respectful nod before his face turned cold again. “This is not just about her though, Alexander” he stated, his eyes dark as he looked at his son. “I thought I could trust yeh teh take over the business soon, but now I'm not so sure. Yeh have made decisions that I could not predict, yeh are losing focus, yeh are falling deeper and deeper into this feud wif Alfonso, yeh're getting distracted...”

“Padre” Alex interrupted, shaking his head, eager to explain himself now that he had something to say for himself. “At this point, Alfonso is a greater threat teh the business than yeh fink. And if 'e takes wha's mine, I will not let 'im get aweh wif tha'...” His jaw was shaking and he swallowed hard, a shaky breath escaping his lips as Jade squeezed his hand. He was desperate for more, knew that she would be able to soothe him with a few simple touches, and he was struggling to compose himself. “I joost refuse teh beh disrespected.”

“Alexander, yeh've disappointed meh.”

His mother sat straight, looking at her husband. “David.”

Jade had been biting her tongue, had forced her hand that was interlocked with Alexander's to stay still, but her other hand was shaking, she was struggling hard to keep still and when she saw the look on Alexander's face, she couldn't contain herself anymore. “Stai zitto!”

It was like a moment of slow motion in which all three pairs of eyes fixated solely on her, more so than throughout the entire conversation, and she was trembling, a fear rushing through her that she could not remember feeling last. She was going to regret this, but there was no going back now, and she used the moment of utter shock on the older man's face in front of her to continue. “He has done nothing to deserve that” she snapped.

“Scusi?”

She bit her lip. “Alexander has been working more and harder than I've ever seen anyone work, without exception. He upholds his name and lives up to it, furthering the business and all the while trying to establish a maintaining superiority over another business that makes all of this a whole lot harder. He shuts down any disrespect towards your family name, and this is what he gets?” Her lip was quivering, she couldn't hold herself back, not even the touch of Alex's hand on her thigh, nor the warning gaze his mother gave her could stop her now. “People on the street are afraid of you for the wrong reason, clearly.”

Alex breathed shakily, not daring to take his eyes off Jade, staring in awe, and he was as worried about his father as he was fascinated by the beauty beside him. He didn't have it in himself to apologize for her, because why would he, why would he apologize for something he had never dreamt of having but now realised he couldn't live without?

To Alexander's surprise as well as Jade's, his mother spoke first, leaning forward and extending her hand to Jade who took it rather hesitantly, her heart jolting as she felt the warm squeeze. “I just want teh say...” She glanced to her husband who she could tell was conflicted, fuming even, yet trying to stay calm and she shook her head. “No, David, she's reyht” she said decisively before looking back at Jade. “Gioia.”

Jade's eyes were wide as she looked back at the woman in front of her, was almost holding her breath again, her fear merging slowly into curiosity, she was truly lost for words now, managed merely incoherence. “I-I … scusa, I just...”

“No, there is nothing to apologize for, bambina, not when yeh are speaking up for me Alexander like this.”

A shaky breath escaped from her throat and she could only feel Alex's hand resting on her thigh, refusing to look away from his mother now, she was taken aback, could hardly comprehend what was happening as the woman nodded towards Jade's drink and she lifted it at the same time as she did hers, giving a hesitant nod when she cheered with her and downed it all the same as Alexander, quick and rushed to ease her nerves.

“Allora” she nodded. “I think weh're done here.”

Alexander rose to his feet, needed no telling twice and Jade missed is touch for just a second, watching him walk around to kiss his mother's cheek before he placed the fur coat over Jade's shoulder, his hand found the smell of her back and he nodded to his father, the heat of his hand searing through her dress as he led her away.

“Alexander” she whispered, pressing herself to her side, her fingers shaking as she clung to his arm. “I'm so sorry.”

He lifted his eyes, the softness of chocolate and everything he'd ever admitted to her in his eyes threatening to bring her to her knees. “Dun't yeh dare, doll” he said, reaching to brush her hair back gently from her face. “They like yeh.”

[moolovesyou]

Cherry Chap-stick |  Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

 A/N: I’m back at it again, I still suck. This was originally an Eddie x reader, but I changed it ‘cause it didn’t feel right.

Plot: Richie and Y/N have been friends for a long time, the trashmouth never saw the feelings the young girl had for him until it was too late. His only recollection of her being the Cherry Chap-stick she used to paint a smile on her face. Based on “Hold On” By Chord Overstreet.

Genre: wANT SUM EDGY ANGST? YOU GOT SUM HEREeeee!

TW: Suicide attempt (I’m not romanticizing it, I would never.), swearing?

+Y/N = Your Name+

+L/N = Last Name+

+N/N = Nick Name+

Loving and fighting

Accusing, uniting

I can't imagine a world with you gone The joy and the chaos, the demons we're made of I'd be so lost if you left me alone

“Hey, Tozier!” Y/N, called after Richie, jogging towards him and the rest of the boys.

“Hey, L/N!” He waved his small hand, smiling at the girl.

“Ah yes, my favorite couple finally reunited!” Eddie exclaimed, wrapping an arm around both of them, standing in between them.

Richie chuckled. “In your dreams, Eddie.” He shook of Eddie’s arm and walked to Stan and Bill. Y/N’s smile faded and she looked at the grass.

“Hey, you alright?” Eddie’s face contorted into confusion. “I was just joking..”

“Yeah Yeah,” Y/N sighed. “It’s nothing.” She reassured him with a that grin of hers. The smile that was always on her face, it suited her well. Her lips were always covered in her Cherry Chap-Stick.

But those who smile the most, are hurt the most.

“Hey, guys. I won’t be able to come to the quarry tommorrow...I’m....” Y/N hesitated. “Busy. Bye...” She waved, grinning at them. She walked away, pulling out her Cherry Chap-Stick, squeezing it in the palm of her hand.

“I’m going to go catch up on her, I’ll try and convince her to come with us!” Richie chirped, jogging towards Y/N. 

“Go get your girl, Rich!” Stan shouted, resulting in Richie flipping him off.

“Don’t call me Rich, dipshit!” He let out a soft laugh, finally catching up with Y/N. Hey, N/N, are you sure you don’t want to come with us tomorrow?”

Y/N sighed. “Yes, Richie. I can’t I have to take care of some stuff.” She smiled at the boy, admiring his features.

“What do you have to do, huh? I can help!” Richie walked in circles around the girl, begging her.

“You could’ve helped before...” She muttered.

“What?” Richie stopped walking, furrowing his brows.

“Ah! Nothing, j-just that you don’t need to.” She smiled. “Want some chap-stick?”

“Ew, no! DO you know how many diseases can be transmitted by sharing chap-stick?” He pouted in disgust.

“Mm, nope! And you’ve been hanging around Eddie for too long!” Y/N giggled. “Just keep it.” She placed the chap-stick in the palm of his hand, lingering for a bit, before letting go. He stared at her confusingly.

“Bye, Rich!” She waved, walking away with her head down. 

 Richie’s heart skipped a beat at the name, it was different when she said it. He smiled at her as she walked away. He didn’t know what this feeling was, but the way he admired her gave him a clue.

 ‘Just walk up to her house, and help her out, maybe confess to her your weird feelings? No, Richie! You idiot!’ Richie thought to himself as he biked to Y/N’s house. ‘Why didn’t I ask Bill for advice?’ He let his bike drop, as he knocked on the girl’s front door.

 After a while of silence, he twisted the knob, to his surprise it opened. “Hello?” he called out. The bathroom door had light illuminating from the bottom, he walked towards it. “Y/N, it’s me Richie.” He knocked.

You locked yourself in the bathroom Lying on the floor when I break through I pull you in to feel your heartbeat Can you hear me screaming "please don't leave me"

“Y/N?” He twisted the knob, it was locked. “Y/N!?” He slammed across the door multiple times, before it broke open. Y/N was sprawled out on the floor, an empty bottle of pills besides her, some pills scattered on the floor. Her skin was pale as a sheet of paper. 

Hold on, I still want you Come back, I still need you Let me take your hand, I'll make it right I swear to love you all my life Hold on, I still need you

“Holy shit, Y/N!” He caught on and crouched besides her, he took her limp hand in his and checked for a pulse.

“Y/N, WAKE UP! STOP PLAYING WITH ME!” He shook her, not wanting to believe the truth. Richie used all his strength to carry her out the door, yelling for help. The Loser’s were riding around the street when they heard Richie.

“BILL! GUYS! HELP! CALL SOMEONE! SOMEBODY!” He yelled at them as they biked faster towards him and Y/N, tears cascading down his cheeks. Bill put Y/N on his bike seat and immediately started biking away, Mike and Stan were trying to calm down Richie.

“NO! Y-Y/N MIGHT BE GONE!” Richie struggled in the grip of both boys, trying to chase after Bill and her.

“Richie, calm down! We might have time!” Mike nervously reassured him.

“Might!” He breathed heavily. “Y/N!”

A long endless highway, you're silent beside me Drivin' a nightmare I can't escape from Helplessly praying, the light isn't fadin' Hiding in the shock and the chill in my bones

 Stan and Mike embraced Richie into a tight hug, letting him cry into their shoulders.

“Shush Richie, it’s going to be okay.” Stan patted his back, more sobbing escaping Richie’s mouth. The two boys started tearing up as well, whether it was the sight of Richie like this or what had happened with Y/N.

They took you away on a table I pace back and forth as you lay still I pull you in to feel your heartbeat Can you hear me screaming, "please don't leave me"

 Richie took the chance of their vulnerability, running towards his bike and hopping on. Quickly pedaling towards the direction Bill was going to. Stan and Mike took a quick glance at each other's tear stained faces before dashing to their bikes and chasing Richie down. 

The only thing going through Richie’s mind is, why? Why did such a perfect human do this? What was she going through to make her do this? Richie couldn’t bear thinking of the possibilities of what could happen, his eyesight becoming blurry from the tears masking his eyes.

Hold on, I still want you Come back, I still need you Let me take your hand, I'll make it right I swear to love you all my life Hold on, I still need you

 He let go of one handle on his bike, reaching for his pocket. Richie took out the Cherry Chap-Stick Y/N had given him the day prior. He squeezed it in the palm of his hand, praying to whatever god that was out there that Y/N would be okay. He pulled the small tube of chap-stick up to his lips and kissed it.

‘I’m not giving up on you, N/N.’ He thought, pedaling quicker and quicker.

I don't wanna let go I know I'm not that strong I just wanna hear you Saying baby, let's go home Let's go home Yeah, I just wanna take you home

‘Why, Y/N?’

Hold on, I still want you Come back, I still need you

++++

hope this didn’t offend anyone. also, if you’re having suicidal thoughts, please don’t commit to those. You may think that nobody cares about you, but people do. and if you die a part of them dies as well. And what about the future people you would’ve met that would’ve made you feel better, happier? Don’t let your negative thoughts get to you, you’re great. And if nobody else loves you, I love you. <3 xx

[mottlemoth]

Re: Mycroft saying please. When powerful men beg it is hotter than the sun.

There’s a lot of reasons I fell for Mystrade. 

I like how their differences match up as tight as jigsaw pieces. Openhearted bravery, and emotionless logic; a man who clearly once owned a motorbike, and a man who takes time each morning to match his pocket handkerchief to his suit. Mycroft delegates; Greg rolls his sleeves up. 

Mycroft is, in a word, difficult. Greg is easy. 

I like the emotional quality of the things they share - a certain weariness, a touch of impatience, a force of will. 

And I really like that when you put them together, it’s not at all obvious who’s coming out on top.

In every sense of the phrase.

These two are decisive, intelligent, successful men - committed professionals, used to being listened to, used to a certain level of respect.

I fucking love that.

It reminds me of the whole reason I fell so hard for slash fiction. 

A romance between two heroes? Yes please. I don’t want to read about one heroic bell-end and a suitably accommodating love interest, who’s only there to reflect back at him how heroic he is. I want to read about two people, who both deserve my adoration as a reader, and the things that they do together. 

I like reading about characters who have weaknesses and cracks and flaws, but are strong enough to do something about it - and strong enough to look out for someone else on the way.

I love reading stuff where two men manage to fall in love while remaining as the men they were. Slash couples shouldn’t be crammed into some creepy “I’ll be The Man, you be The Woman” parody of that heterosexual fairytale we’re all so forcefully told is the only possible True Love.

It’s not. 

And Mystrade is so awesome for illustrating that. 

Isn’t it fascinating that Established Relationship stories are so easy and plentiful in our pairing? Because we all know it works so well. 

All those “I had a terrible day at the office” stories work because that’s the kind of thing two real, rounded people do in an actual relationship. 

Here’s the thing. 

Mycroft and Greg, as characters, both contain a huge amount of strength and weakness. Mycroft in particular runs the full gamut from “I am the power of the British nation” to “oh shit, I absolutely cannot cope”. 

And yeah… I like it when he begs.

Because that’s the utter joy of most slash pairings. Two decisive, intelligent, successful people who can occupy the entirety of the emotional scale in their own right - from way up on high, “I’ve got this, we’re going to be okay,” all the way down to, “I need you to help me, I am not okay”. They can occupy that scale around each other, transform each other, drag each other up from the dirt - kicking and screaming if necessary. But there’s movement. There’s dynamism.

And that’s really sexy.

And it means more to us as readers. 

That’s all of our lives, right? One day you’re leading the front line attack. The next you’re curled in a ball somewhere. We’ve all done it. And we’ve all known what it feels like when someone reaches down for you and says, “I’m strong today - because yesterday, you dragged me up here. Now you’re down there. So get a hold of my hand.”

I like when powerful men beg because there’s not actually any such thing as a powerful man.

Society has tried convincing us of it for years, and it’s not true. We’re constantly fed these Hollywood blockbusters and TV shows and cultural myths about supposedly Powerful Men who blow up the helicopter, get the girl and save the day.

It’s unrealistic. It’s boring. 

It doesn’t mean anything to us. 

I’d much rather have the story about two blokes who try their hardest, feel like shit sometimes but don’t give in, get hold of each other, and together become more than the sum of their parts.

Who wouldn’t rather have that?

So yes, he’s The British Government - and yes, he can have people dragged off into limousines - and sure, he could probably have the whole world moved an inch to the left if he wanted…

But now and then, he needs somebody to say, “I know you’re not alright. Just show me that you’re weak, and I’ll give you my strength.”

That gives me shivers.

That’s why I like it when Mycroft says ‘please’.

[clubpenguinkiller]

all my copypastas up to date

Copypastas You don’t have to be a parent to understand the horror of walking into a room to discover that the baby crawled out of his crib and onto that pottery wheel you forgot to turn off. And while the baby is spinning around and around, the dog is sitting there all calm, like a person, gently using his paws to fashion the baby’s soft cartilage head into something a little more modern. It might be the classic tale of bad parenting, but let’s see where the dog is going with this. somebody once trolled me, successfully rickroll’d me im not the sharpest n00b in the thread… just took another one of my signature “dust baths” it’s like a regular bath only i roll around in a bunch of dust and sand and start screaming when it gets in my mouth and eyes. anyway don’t trust the government Oh, purple-moustached clever Waluigi. Thou art such a genius when it is thy time to attack Mario and Luigi! How thou attach springs to thy shoes, know I not! Why dost thou not have thy own video fame? Art thou enraged that thou dost not have one? Why dost thou fight the Mario brothers? Thou art negative and wicked when shooting fireballs at thy green plumber, thy foe! Why art thou always cranky? Art thy purple knickers in a knot? Perchance Alvin Earthworm annoyed thou with his Youtube video. Why art thou so tall and slim? Perchance a Power Flower fell in you mouth when thou wast a baby. Why dost thou wear a purple suit? I like thy violet outfit for its unique hue. Shouldst thy brother Wario and thou fight so repeatedly? Is Bowser the Dragon-turtle you fiendish companion? I dost wonder what it wouldst be like to be friends with Bowser and thou. Dost thou own the Vicious Petey Piranha Flower? Dost thou like the kind Princess Peach? If thou couldst own a Yoshi wouldst thou? Thou art so sly and crafty our slippery Waluigi. Dost thou fight Geno the Explorer dangerously? Why art thou not in Super Smash Bros Brawl? Perchance thou art sad for being excluded from that rough game. Why art thou so nimble when thou escape the police? Thy symbol is an upside down L. Oh, thou art sneaky, secretive and tricky, mine own Waluigi! Ohhh my god. Ohhh ,y god. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh THERE IT IS THERE IT IS. THERE IT IS. OH MY GOD. EAYEAYEYAYEAHEYAHEY EYAEAAAAAAA YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA YEAAAAAS. I FOOUND IT. I FOUND IT. I FOUND IT. I FOUND IT. YEAH. YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. I FOUNDI IT FINALLY!!!!! YEAH!!!!! OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD I FINALLY FOUND IT. OH MY GODO. HOH MY GOD. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. TAKE A LOOK AT HTIS EVERBODY. A LIVE SHINY PONYTA IN MY LEAF GREEN VERSION. I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS. I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS. I FINALLY GOT IT. OH MY GOD my heart is beating 100 miles per hour. i was listening to my favorite band once again. Sum 41. No Reason. Live in Ontario 2005. after 25968 encounters I HAVE FINALLY GOT IT OH My god corre al gol, lo va a patear yyyy GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoOoOoOoOoOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!! GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL GOL!!!!!……QUE GOLAZOOOOO!!!! *churns butter very quickly I hope my last words are "see you in hell" spoken to my grandchildren at age 99 right before I cut out my tongue and live another 401 years 私は究極のミームだ I love everything about you Boy, do I love chicken strips. Sometimes, when I’m home alone, I’ll take some chicken strips fresh out of the oven and rub them in my scalp. It doesn’t do much for my hair health, but I like the way they feel running through my strands of hair. The flakey coating, smooth white meat, and warmth. Yum. stuffing your face as usual. I gotta have a good meal Garfield, you fat cat. You are so big and fat. Why are you so fat? I eat, Jon. it’s what I do it’s time to kick odie of the table dont do it garfielf, that’s our pet dog odie you’re going into orbit, you stupid mutt GAAAAARRRFIIIELD!!! time for a nap. I’m a cat who loves to snooze (echoing) garfield you lazy cat I hate alram clocks I’m am hungry I want some lasaga you’re eating us out of house and home, GARMFIELD enough with The Chit Chat let’s get some grub going GRUB TIME… where Are the 3-cheese pizzas I ate those food where Are the tacos shells ? I ate those food where did all the hamburger helper go *brup* You’re such a bad kitty that’s it I’ve had it with you that does it I’m done that’s the last straw grarfileld Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb In the shape of an "L" on her forehead Well, the years start coming and they don't stop coming Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running Didn't make sense not to live for fun Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb So much to do so much to see So what's wrong with taking the back streets? You'll never know if you don't go You'll never shine if you don't glow [Chorus:] Hey now you're an All Star get your game on, go play Hey now you're a Rock Star get the show on get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shooting stars break the mold It's a cool place and they say it gets colder You're bundled up now but wait 'til you get older But the media men beg to differ Judging by the hole in the satellite picture The ice we skate is getting pretty thin The water's getting warm so you might as well swim My world's on fire. How about yours? That's the way I like it and I'll never get bored. [Chorus 2x] Somebody once asked could I spare some change for gas I need to get myself away from this place I said yep what a concept I could use a little fuel myself And we could all use a little change Well, the years start coming and they don't stop coming Fed to the rules and I hit the ground running Didn't make sense not to live for fun Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb So much to do so much to see So what's wrong with taking the back streets You'll never know if you don't go You'll never shine if you don't glow. [Chorus] And all that glitters is gold Only shootin' stars break the mold http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=uU_eaXsPxOY "You'll never stop me!" I shout, running away. My body transforms into a small bee, and as I fly off, I turn around and shout, "You can't stop me! No one can stop me!!" I hit a glass door and fall to the floor. As I lay there, withering in pain as my small bee body dies a slow death, I whisper, "But I never said nothing could stop me." My body looses all movement as my lifeless corpse lays on the cold floor. A single tear runs down your cheek as you whisper, "Godspeed, honey man." HAPPY fourth of July! Hello! My name is Jeremy Frederick Wilson, but you can just call me… Bombittyboo! I know, yet again, I have not been dedicating, enough time to my vlog. However, today, I’ve created a new interpretive dance and poem routine! I hope this is the climax, the outcome, of all my creative juices, since my last interpretive dancing vide which was from over a year ago. Well anyway, this poem is in the format of an english sonet. I hope you really like it, and I hope you like it as much as me. Again, HAPPY fourth of July! I hope you all celebrate it carefully, and wisely! Well, here goes nothing! I hope you enjoy it! Oh so, so many years before today, our founding fathers with their many signatures, sculpted the greatest nation, as some say, one that too this day, still grows, and matures. This, our home. This, our country that we love. That we still celebrate, July fourth. The men who made us completely free of… British tyranny. Which reined south and north. Free from this! We join together in bliss. To honor all those, who came before us. But we do not just sit and reminisce. We look to the future, as we discuss. The bright prospects of our nation so dear. Which much proceed with strength, and lacking fear. Hey guys its Sam hi here with more tips for your everyday life, helping you out, bringing you wisdom. Hey im 27 I’ve been there I’ve done that I’ve been around the block. This next tip has to do with relationships. Love, romance, whatever you wanna call it. I’m gonna give you a surefire way to get her, your special someone, wrapped around your little finger. I mean they’re gonna be just.. Ooohh thinking about you all day. Here’s how you do it. You have to awaken the motherly instinct. You have to get your sweetie, your sweetie pie, to awaken her biological, uh, genetic motherly instinct. and it’s very easy to do. I’m gonna show you how to do it. Kay? You ready? Here we go. (gets on hands and knees) Mommy! Mommy! (smacking lips)Baby Sammy want milk! (slurping) Gimme milky! Mommy! Mooommy! Mommy mommy!! Mom! Mommy! Mommy Sammy want milk! (slurping) Baby Sammy hungry! Baby Sammy Hungry!! I want milk!! WAAAAAAH!! Gimme milky! Gimme milky! Gimme milk! Wah wah wah!! Baby want milky! Here comes the baby! Baby Sammy hungry! (crawling) Baby Sammy want milky! (approaching) Gimme milky!! Gimmy milk! Here I come! I want milk!! GIMME TIT MILK! GIMME TIT MILK!! BABY SAMMY WANT TIT MILK!! BABY SAMMY WANT TIT MILK!!! BABY SAMMY WANT TIT MILK NOW! GIMME THE TIT MILK OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯＯ I came here to have a good time but I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now. It’s a metaphor, see? You crave that mineral, but you don’t give it the power to have an extra hour with the ball pit. Oh sad frog, if only there was someone out there who loved you, but my anaconda don’t noot noot unless you talk dirty to me and make me squart across the room. Even if the girl kissed the boy, your fave is problematic – John Green is the zodiac killer, Luigi is giving the death stare, and it’s actually blood orange. Free him! Not all starter kits are for stealing her look, but sometimes you have to eat Lay’s chips during peach time and submerge unnecessary color palettes in bluespace, covering them in text posts for the aesthetic. I told my bae to come over because my parents aren’t home, but girls don’t like boys, they like the selfie olympics. the way they just [clenches fist] olympic all those selfies. According to the science side, “The average skeleton fights in war for 31 days” very factoid, much statistical error. The average skeleton fights in war for 0 days. Skeleton Georg, who uses tumblr pro, wears a fedora, and has fought in the skeleton war for all eternity, is an outlier and should not have been counted. You’ll never see the last meme of 2014 the way Garcia Lopez de Cardenas saw it, but that’s none of my business. Anyway, here’s Wonderwall. [Muffled Flappy Bird Music Plays in the Distance] neopets is honestly a horrifying and disturbing look into the faults of late capitalism and the unfettered exploitation inevitable in unregulated economic systems like first you have the ridiculous inflation rate caused by the ease of which you can generate new neopoints. it’s like the post-WWI germany thing—if you keep printing money, it loses its value. similarly, as people play games, play habitarium, use the stock market, (basically any way of earning neopoints that doesn’t involve rsing from the NPC shops) they’re not actually exchanging currency cyclically like economies rely on—they’re just making it out of thin air. 10,000 neopoints today was 1,000 neopoints a few years ago. even avatar items that have been around for a while have soared from 300k to 3 mil. inflation is further worsened by a few things. one is that there are very few neopoint sinks (only notable examples are the main shops, wishing well, paid dailies, and slots) and only ONE that works even remotely efficiently. they had the save the wheels neopoint sink a few years ago to try to combat the problem, which only fucked things up worse. in order to incite people to sink their neopoints, they offered prizes to people who donated a lot. but the prizes themselves, both during the event and after, just encouraged people to generate more neopoints to donate and get prizes. it’s also awful because kids don’t play neopets anymore. in a capitalist system there’s always relative poverty, but the poor are disappearing. do you want to play a game where anything worth doing costs more than you could ever dream of earning? how is an 8 year old going to learn how to restock draik eggs? poverty in neopia is earning, like, 33k a day, and richness is incomprehensibly huge. we’re talking billions, trillions. wealth disparity is huge with no regulatory system helping out the lowest tier, and the rich get richer with bigger interest, bigger stocks, and more wiggle room with auction sniping the supply/demand is so integral to everything you do, buy, or take part in. you have things like codestones that generally stay constant (in the 3-7k range, with some inflating 20-40% around war time when people are training more because hello demand!) and things like junk items that you think could NEVER inflate because the supply is so high suddenly inflating 1,000,000% or more in a day due to a site event. and the staff actually have NO IDEA how to fix it. save the wheels? fucked up. portal plot? hilarious. there are rules against hoarding items just to raise the price, but how do you control that? bread costs less than rotten tomato salads. if you earn 16k a day (about average if you’re casual) it would take you 59 years to save up for a dark faerie wand. hell will eventually be sucked into the vortex of neopets.com and we will all despair and i will be richer than all of you In ancient Greek mythology, Pygmalion was a highly accomplished Cypriot sculptor. Though skilled at imitating the human form, and well acquainted with it's subtleties, he became disgusted by it when he witnessed the Propoetides prostituting themselves. These women were punished by Venus for their lack of worship with a coarseness of skin and a crudeness of nature, and were then forced into prostitution. Seeing this, Pygmalion the sculptor was repelled and could no longer appreciate women. Seemingly alone, Pygmalion sought to create for himself a perfect, pure, unsullied companion. He used his particular skills to this end: he created a statue bride. What you are about to watch is a mysterious video. It's origin is attributed variously, and almost certainly spuriously, to various abstract artists or surrealists. The truth is that what we are seeing, and what we perceive to be strange and disturbing, is actually beauty to it's creator. Perhaps what we are viewing is the work of a modern Pygmalion. To him, her toneless voice, the paleness of her skin and the comparative vibrancy of her lips may indeed be the very embodiment of a perfect woman... Consider the mind-scape of the creator. In whose mind does this appear beautiful? In whose mind is this pure, near worshipful? Are we missing out on his perspective? Who are we to be afraid or to judge them? He may well love her fully, perhaps more fully than any of us could ever hope to be loved. In the mind of her creator, she is a near goddess; the perfect representation, not just of femininity, but the peak of human potential. A perfectly satisfactory being. How does that kind of unconditional love feel? Well, how does she feel? Fantastic. The "Swing Daddy" of the piano, Artie Antlers was one of the early cabaret characters at Pizza Time Theatre. Artie sang with a deep soulful voice, and his style of music ranged from boogie-woogie, to swing, to early Rock and Roll. He often referred to himself as "moose-ical" and also played up the moose theme by making quotes such as "this Moose is loose". Artie was used in the early 1980s, and was the final culmination of the characters of Elkton John and Glen Camel who were mentioned in the original 1977 PTT Program but never put into production. He was originally announced in 19793, and debuted during the first half of 1980. He originally appeared at three of the earliest Pizza Time Theatre locaions - San Jose (Kooser), Concord, and Sacramento, replacing Dolli Dimples in the Cabaret (then known as the Piano Bar Lounge). Artie Antlers was voiced by Jim Cunningham, a jazz artist whose band "The High Time Octet" had been written up in national papers. Jim was hired by the ad agency of Foote, Cone & Belding and flown from Denton, TX to do the recording at Wally Heider Studios in San Francisco. The piano player on the tracks was a man who played for the Pointer Sisters, and the entire recording session happpened over the course of only four days. Artie dressed in a flashy blue tux, and originally had a black nose which was later removed. Mechanically, Artie was identical to Dolli Dimples (minus the breast movement) – the duo can be seen together at the factory here. Shortly after his introduction, Artie required a retrofit for his antlers which were originally made of wood and broke easily. A styrofoam version was created that was more durable and did not break from the characters movements. During the very early 1980s, Artie was used widely on PTT merchandise, appearing in print on items such as calendars and annual reports. He was also featured on items such as the “Chuck E. Cheese Cube” and other redemption items. Despite his prominent exposure and usage, Artie was never given a second showtape - in 1982 when Dolli Dimples was renewed for a second tape, a new character was introduced named B.B. Bubbles instead of new material for Artie. Aspects of Artie Antlers were used in ideas for new retrofits, such as a Davy Crockett style retrofit for Artie, and a lumberjack character retrofit for The King, however neither materialized past the concept art stage. sweetie, you are literally so out of line it’s fucking unbelievable. i could drag you so hard right now but i know you’ll just end up crying. i’ve roasted you before and you know it. chances are you’ll just say i bullied you because you’re gay and have different skin. talk shit get hit, you don’t wanna mess with me kiddo; i’ve got a black belt. i know threats are fucked up but that’s all i’ve been receiving all day, probably from her royal hoodrat olive and all of her nasty friends. but you can gang up on me and make fun of me for being goth all you want. i’ve been hurt a lot. my first boyfriend cheated on me, my dad screams if i forget to do my chores, and there are some days i don’t even want to get out of bed in the mornings. i’m a jaded teenage girl. i’ve been through shit that you wouldn’t even dream of. you think your life is hard? try asking the cutest guy in your grade out in the middle of the cafeteria only to find out he has a fucking girlfriend. you don’t know my life or my story so keep my name out of your nasty mouth. life is a battlefield and it looks like i’ve already won. i’m a jaded teenage girl👸. i’ve been through shit💩that you wouldn’t even dream☁️🌜 of. you think💭 your life is hard?😁😣👿 try asking💬❓ the cutest😙😻 guy👱in your grade👦👱👧👩👸👲 out in the middle of the cafeteria🍔🍟🍕 only to find out😨 he has a fucking girlfriend👫💏💔. you don’t👎 know my life or my story📖📚 so keep my name👸 out of your nasty mouth👅💩. life is a battlefield💣🔫🔪 and it looks👀 like i’ve already won👌 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌th 👌 ere👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my selｆ 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠＯOOＯOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit I AM GAY! GAY! GAY! I LOVE LONG BIG COCKS. I’M A SUPER SUPER GAY I LOVE LONG BIG COCKS. Now once again, I would like to make this very clear. I AM GAY! GAY! GAY! I LOVE LONG BIG COCKS. I’M A SUPER SUPER GAY I LOVE LONG BIG COCKS. Thank you for your attention and I hope for your support. Teru! Teruteru! Teru! Teruteru! Hana…Hanama….Hana, Hana, Hanamura. Teru! Teruteru! Teru! Teruteru! Hana…Hanama….Hana, Hana, Hanamura. Teru! Teru! Teruteru! Hana…Hanamura! Hanamura! Hanamura! He’s a cook. He’s a cooooook. He’s a cook, cook, cook. Hanamura! Teru! Teruteru! Teru! Teruteru! Teru. Teru. Teruteru! Teru. Teru. He’s the cook. He’s the cook at the Super High School Level. Cook! Cook! He’s a cook. Cook! Cook! Cook! Cook! Cook! It’s Teru! Teruteru! Teru! Teruteru! Hanamura! Hanamura! High School Level Cook! Cook! Cook! Cook! Cook! Cook! He’s kinda plump, plump and round. Flirts with everyone. (guys and girls) (guys and girls) (guys and girls) He flirts with them all. Flirts with them all. And he loves his mom! Mom! Mom, happy mommy’s day. Teru! Teruteru! Teru! Teruteru! Hanamura! Hanamura! He’s Super High School Level Cook! He’s the cook at Dangan Ronpa! Super Dangan Ronpa 2! Goodbye, goodbye, despair academy! Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, say goodbye, say goodbye to despair! Des-des-despair academy! Academy on a tropical island. On a tropical island. Trop-trop-tropical island of hope and despair! Hope and despair, it’s Teruteru Hanamura. Hanamura. The cook at Super High School Level! Cook, cook, calls himself a chef. Cook, cook, calls himself a chef. At the highschool, at the highschool, super highschool, super highschool. Super Dangan Ronpa 2! 2! 2! 2! 2! It’s Teruteru Hanamura! Hanamura, he’s a cook. He’s a chef. He’s a cook who calls himself a chef. Chef, at the Super Highschool Level. Level! Level! Level! It’s Teruteru, Teruteru, Hanamuru. Teratera Hanamuru. He’s the cook, the cook, at the Super Highschool, Super Highschool, Super Highschool. I'M WITH STUPID (TRANSCRIPT) SpongeBob, Squidward and Patrick's houses are seen. Patrick's house is shaking. SpongeBob knocks on it. Every time he does it closes. He opens it himself. Patrick is cleaning frantically. He featherdusts SpongeBob] Patrick: NEED...FURNITURE! [makes a lamp post model out of the sand; he then makes a sand drawer, television, stool, and a couch. The whole time he is still frantically mumbling] SpongeBob: Patrick, what's with the home improvement? [Patrick barks like a dog and continues to clean]Hey, Patrick! Patrick: Oooooooh, sweep sweep!! SpongeBob: Patrick, I came over to see if you wanted to go jellyfishing. But I can see you're busy having an episode. Patrick: [Stops cleaning. his face turns mad] You know something, SpongeBob? It's just all fun and games for you. Nothing really matters. [imitates SpongeBob] "Oh, let's go jellyfishing! We don't have any work to do! Life is just a big bowl of fancy assorted cashews, and nobody has anything to dust or to clean or to wipe! Or fabricate!!!" SpongeBob: But, Patrick, the only thing I've ever seen you clean is your plate. Patrick: [Patrick snaps out of being angry and starts crying] I don't know what to do, SpongeBob. You gotta to help me! SpongeBob: [gasps] Patrick! You forgot how to eat again! Come on, we'll get the funnel. Patrick: No, it's not that, SpongeBob; it's worse. SpongeBob: Darn, I like the funnel. Well, what is it, then? Patrick: Look! [Takes out a rolled-up piece of paper from his belly button] SpongeBob: Hey, a note! [A sixteenth note is shown] Patrick: Yeah, but turn it over, there's a letter! [The letter B is shown] SpongeBob: You're right! Patrick: And, I got this message from my parents! [Hands out a smaller letter] SpongeBob: Your parents? [Reads the note out loud] "Dear Patrick, your mom and I are coming out tomorrow for Starfish Day. Please try to remember, but don't try too hard, or you'll hurt yourself like last time. Love, Daddy". Patrick: SpongeBob, my parents think I'm dumber than a sack of diapers. SpongeBob: No, they don't, Patrick. Parents just like to push your buttons. Like this! [pushes Patrick's nipples and his eyes elongate]Nauuugh! Patrick: [Laughing] That always cheers me up. [His eyes go back to normal] But not today. SpongeBob: Patrick, if your parents think you're dumb, then they must not know what dumb really is. Patrick: But don't they watch television? SpongeBob: That's what I'm saying, Pat! If your parents got to meet a real dummy, they'd realize what a genius you really are! Patrick: But don't geniuses live in a lamp? And besides, we don't know any dumb people. SpongeBob: Don't worry, Patrick! I'll be the dummy! When your parents see how dumb I act, they'll think you're the smartest guy ever! Patrick: Math is power! [Bubble transition to the next day. Patrick is in front of his mirror] Patrick: A, B, C, D, E, F, G... [Doorbell rings] Oh! H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O...! Janet: Should I get the bullhorn again, Marty? Patrick: W, X, Y and Z! [Marty doesn't realize the door has been opened and knocks on Patrick's head] Hi Mom, Hi Dad. Marty: Son! You recognized us this time! Patrick: Why wouldn't I recognize my own parents? Marty: You never were a bright one. [Patrick groans. Marty laughs] Well, aren't you gonna show us inside? Janet: He probably forgot where it is. Patrick: Well I know where it... Marty: Oh, let me lead the way so we don't get lost. [Patrick, Marty and Janet hold hands] Huh? Hold hands now! [Inside the house] Ok, we're almost there! Let go on three. One...two...three! [Marty and Janet let go of Patrick's hands on three] Janet: Good job! Marty and Janet: Pats for Patrick! [Both laugh as Patrick looks annoyed] Patrick: I'll go get the beverages. [Patrick leaves, then comes back with a tray with three drinks on it] Marty: Wow, son! You put the drinks in something this time! Ah, son, you must've been working all night to put these together for us. Janet and Marty: We love you! [Both kiss Patrick as he looks even more annoyed and groans] Patrick: [Doorbell rings] Hooray, the idiot's here! I mean, I'll get it! [Outside, SpongeBob is putting on his karate helmet] SpongeBob: Protective helmet, check. Gary: Meow. SpongeBob: I'm supposed to look stupid, Gary! Gary: Meow? [Goes back to SpongeBob's house] SpongeBob: What could go wrong? [Patrick's rock opens] Patrick: What a surprise! SpongeBob: Hi. Patrick: Mom, Dad, meet my neighbor, SpongeBob! SpongeBob: Hi. Marty: Hello there! Janet: How do you do? SpongeBob: Hi. [Walks to Patrick's parents] Marty: Put 'er there. [SpongeBob puts a doll on his hand] Doll: Mama! Mama! Patrick: He means "shake". [SpongeBob shakes his entire body]No, SpongeBob, no! Shake hands! [SpongeBob shakes both his hands]No, SpongeBob! Grab my dad's hand. [Puts both his hands and his left leg on Marty's hand] Grab it with only one hand! [Puts his left leg and hand down] Good boy! Now move your arm up and down! [He moves his shoulder up and down. Patrick giggles] Janet: So, SpongeBob. Do you live nearby? SpongeBob: Hi. Patrick: No, SpongeBob. Show them your house! [SpongeBob pulls up his pants and reveals a blouse]No, not your blouse! Your house! [SpongeBob screams and runs over to his house. He runs into the shell and gets stuck] Janet: He lives in a fruit? Marty: That's unhealthy. Patrick: [Giggling] Hey, SpongeBob! You wanna stay for dinner? [SpongeBob babbles like an idiot. Later, Patrick, Marty and Janet are watching television while eating TV dinners] Marty: Does he always do that after he eats? Patrick: Only on Wednesday. [Pan over to SpongeBob pushing his nose to reveal his underwear. When he lets go, his pants pull up by themselves. This is repeated a few times. SpongeBob makes an alarm sound after that. Patrick giggles] Marty: [Starts giggling with Patrick]Uh, Patrick, I think your friend might be broken. Patrick: Yeah. And it would take more than some masking tape to fix that guy. [SpongeBob balances on his nose while making a fire truck siren sound. Makes other various sounds] Marty: Whoa! Is he gonna be okay? Patrick: Oh, that's nothing. [Dolphin chirping] You should see him in the morning prancing around yelling "I'm ready! I'm ready! I'm rea!" [Rooster crows] He drives all the neighbors crazy! [Horn] Why, just the other day, our neighbor Squidward was--- [SpongeBob jumps backwards over Patrick, Janet and Marty while making an elephant trumpet sound, then he crashes on the floor]. ---was really no help for him. [SpongeBob makes imprints of himself on the walls while making horn sounds] I mean, look at the way he's dressed. Only somebody with holes drilled in their head would wear that stuff! And how about his shape! I mean, I've heard of barrel-chested, but never box-chested! [Janet, Marty and Patrick laugh. SpongeBob frowns]Hey, SpongeBob do you have any mascara I could borrow? [Makes his eyebrows sound like elastic rubber bands] Marty: [Chuckles] The boy wears make-up? Janet: What a card! [Everyone laughs, except SpongeBob, who's now very annoyed] SpongeBob: [Confused] Hey, Patrick! Patrick! Patrick: Aw, he said my name. Marty: Wow, how'd you train him to do that? [SpongeBob is mad. He bites Patrick's finger] Patrick: Ow! He bit me! SpongeBob: Patrick, meet me in the kitchen! Patrick: Oh, I guess the dummy wants to have a private conversation. [Janet and Marty laugh] A dumb one! [They laugh again, as SpongeBob and Patrick enter the kitchen] So, what's on your mind? Oh, wait, I already know the answer. Nothing! [Patrick laughs very hard] See, that's funny. 'Cause your dumb! SpongeBob: Patrick, could you let up on the insults just a little bit? Patrick: Oh, were those too complicated for you? I'll try dumbing them down a bit. SpongeBob: Patrick, I get the feeling that you think I really am dumb! [glances at Patrick's t-shirt, "I'M WITH THE DUMMY" with an arrow pointing towards SpongeBob] Patrick: That's just what I'd expect you to say. Dumb people are always blissfully unaware of how dumb they really are. [Patrick drools] SpongeBob: I'm only pretending to be dumb! It was our plan, remember! Patrick: Oh, SpongeBob, if only you could see how stupid you sound right now, with your talk of imaginary plans. Tell you what. You've caught me at a good mood. I'll humor you. Go on, go out there and act "smart" for everyone. SpongeBob: Ok, I will! [Takes off his helmet] Patrick: [Puts on helmet] And don't worry, I'll keep this warm for ya! SpongeBob: [In front of Janet and Marty, clears throat] I have a confession to make. I lied about being stupid. I just acted like a fool so you would appreciate Patrick a little bit more. I know how to talk, and eat, and do laundry. I even separate the darks from the lights. So what do you say we start over and try again? Hi! My name is SpongeBob SquarePants. And I am not a dummy. Marty: [laughs] Amazing! Three minutes in the kitchen and our son has taught him to talk in complete sentences. Oh, good work, son! Patrick: It wasn't easy, dad. SpongeBob: [sputtering] But... but, but, but, but, but, but... Janet: It looks like it's time for your next lesson, young man! SpongeBob: Now, listen to me! I'm not dumb! I have a brain! See, here's a picture of it! [He shows them a small picture of his brain] Patrick: That must be actual size. [All laugh] SpongeBob: No! It's normal size and fully functional, watch. [Writes on Patrick's chalkboard] 2 plus 2 equals 4. Marty: Hoho, son! You taught him math too! SpongeBob:Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!!! Marty: And you taught him to sing! [SpongeBob is blabbering and sputtering] Oh, now he's short-circuiting! You must have taught him a little too much. [SpongeBob imagines them all laughing hard. Marty and Janet look at each other and laugh; then they all do the can-can. He imagines the three popping out of SpongeBob's pores. SpongeBob is inside Janet, who is laughing, inside Marty, who is also laughing, inside Patrick, who is also laughing, inside his eye. SpongeBob screams and runs through the wall outside, running all the way back home] Marty: You know, son, I've always known that when it comes to brightness, well, you're about a three-watt. But this guy! He's a wet match in a dark cave. He makes phone operators seem smart! [clears his throat] But more importantly, son, he's shown me what a sharp, quick-witted boy you've become. [Hugs him] Ha! I feel like I'm really meeting you for the first time. Isn't that right, Janet? Janet: You bet, Marty! Patrick: [His eyes widen] Janet? Marty? Who are you people?! Janet: Marty! I'm scared! [Doorbell rings, then the rock opens up. Squidward, Herb and Margie are outside his rock] Squidward: Excuse me. Does this lovely couple belong to you? They've been standing outside my house saying "Where's Patrick?" all day! It's driving me nuts! Patrick: Mom! Dad! Herb: Wow, son! You actually recognized us this time. Margie: And you remembered to get dressed today! [Patrick, Herb and Margie laugh] Marty: Oh, that's right, honey. We don't have a son. Janet: Oh yeah! [Both walk away. Patrick and his parents laugh as their rock closes over them] 👀👀👍👍👍👀👀 nice 👌👌stuff 👀👀👀 ✔️thats some ™™™ nice 👨🏻 stuff 👨🏻👨🏻 ® (cool ) 👌👌👌👌👌 niiiiiiiiiii👌ce 👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌 stuff that is some nice ✔️ass✔️stuff👀 ya got there ✔️ congrats 🎉 on the nice👍👍👍STUFF👍👍👌✔️👀✔️👀 👍👍 👀✔️™ nice 👌 shut the FUCK up 👎👀👎👀👎👀👎👀👎👀 bull SHIT bülł sHit 👎 thats 🚫 some bull shit👎👎 right👎👎th 👎ere👎👎👎right🚫there 🚫🚫if i do say so my self❌ i say so❌ thats fucking horrible right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ fucking ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) UGHHHHH❌ 👎👎 👎B0ОଠＯOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👎👎👎 👎 ❌ 👎 👀 👀 👀 👎👎BAD SHIT DO IT, just DO IT! Don't let your dreams be dreams. Yesterday, you said tomorrow. So just. DO IT! Make. your dreams. COME TRUE! Just... do it! Some people dream of success, while you're gonna wake up and work HARD at it! NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE!You should get to the point where anyone else would quit, and you're not gonna stop there. NO! What are you waiting for? ... DO IT! Just... DO IT! Yes you can! Just do it! If you're tired of starting over, stop. giving. up. >le maymay arrow is this a le new epic meme? screen kapped for dat sweet karma xD. FUS ROH DAH!!!!!1 i used to be a christmas but then i took an arrow 2 da knee :^( BAZINGA BAZINGA ZIMBABWE. top kek, toppest of keks. le nyan cat? hahahaha le mayonaise. fucking epic ass meme i love that fucking meme so much man wait let me just *gets crack pipe out* smoke some of that good 420 shit :) *rips a bong* AHHHHHHHHH YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that sure hit the spot ok now repeat that fucking epic ass M E M E WHATA FUCK MAN xD i just fall of my chair cuz i couldnt and i CANT stop laughXXXXXX DDDDDD OMGOSH DDDDD XXXXX DDDDD DDDDDD LOOOOOOOLLLLL FUCKIN HOLY SHITTTT I CANT JUST STOP LAUGHING CAUSE HE HE HE HE HE JUST TO FUNNY MAN!!!1!11! GOOD MEME SORRY I MEAN GREAT MEME EPIC MEMEING /b/ro BAZINGA BAZINGA BAZINGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ZIMBABWE is this a le new epic meme? screen kapped for dat sweet karma xD. FUS ROH DAH!!!!!1 i used to be a christmas but then i took an arrow 2 da knee :^( BAZINGA BAZINGA ZIMBABWE. top kek, toppest of keks. le nyan cat? hahahaha le mayonaise. fucking epic ass meme i love that fucking meme so much man wait let me just gets crack pipe out smoke some of that good 420 shit :) rips a bong AHHHHHHHHH YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that sure hit the spot ok now repeat that fucking epic ass M E M E I'm Squirting Pure Mio Water Flavoring Into My Mouth And Walking Around With Swiffer WetJets Taped To My Shoes I Don't Give A Fuck Damn About Society You Know What? I'm Going To Write A Song About How Bad I Want To Fight You, And Once It Makes A Lot Of Money, I'm Going To Buy A Plane Ticket And Come To Your House And I'm Going To Break All Of Your Electronic Devices, You God Damn Pincushion. Okay, first of all, FUCK your fandom and FUCK your bullshit fandom politics. I know you’re not going to like this but I don’t care and before you start thinking about flaming me my ask box has anonymous off so you’re going to listen to what I have to say. Monica would be a firebender, I think that’s one thing we all agree on. Now is where you’re going to hate me. Phoebe and Joey would both be airbenders. Now before you start flipping a shit let me just say this: go fuck yourself. Ross would be an earthbender and Rachel would be a waterbender. I KNOW THIS INTERFERES WITH THE SHIP. I DON’T CARE, FUCK YOUR SHIP AND FUCK YOU. And Chandler? Chandler would be a nonbender. I know it hurts but it’s true. I have watched every episode of the show and all of his actions lead me to believe the creators envisioned him as a nonbender from the start. Disagree? FUCK YOU. What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo. hi every1 im new!!!!!!! holds up spork my name is katy but u can call me t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m!!!!!!!! lol…as u can see im very random!!!! thats why i came here, 2 meet random ppl like me _… im 13 years old (im mature 4 my age tho!!) i like 2 watch invader zim w/ my girlfreind (im bi if u dont like it deal w/it) its our favorite tv show!!! bcuz its SOOOO random!!!! shes random 2 of course but i want 2 meet more random ppl =) like they say the more the merrier!!!! lol…neways i hope 2 make alot of freinds here so give me lots of commentses!!!! DOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <--- me bein random again _^ hehe…toodles!!!!! love and waffles, Getting salt from gamer boys in my inbox. Listen up turd turrets, I WANTED to just play video games, I WANTED to just have fun, I NEVER wanted my gaming to be political or a struggle, I just wanted to play. But you wouldn’t fucking let me, you brought up my gender, you judged me based on it, YOU made it political. So now I WILL wreck everything with my fucking feminism, I am the feminist nightmare you fucking created. Witness me. you guys we gotta hurry i just got back from walmart theyre selling nintendo 3DS systems for $149.99 on sale plus every time you buy one you get a $50 gift card brings the total price down to $110 after tax NOW LISTEN we can flip those sons of bitches for 230 bucks a piece EASY they’re all limited edition zelda ones! HURRY hurry come with me! We can be rich and also i’ll get to keep one and we can play NINTENDO GAMES nintendo give me free stuff 14 years ago ⬅️📅today⬇️, the episode 📺✨”Band Geeks”✨📯🏉🇺🇸🎸🎷🎺🎤 of spongebob🌕▫️🐙🐚🐳 👔👖🍔🍟 squarepants came out😱📡. Our hero spongebob 🌕👔◽️👖 and his squad 🐙🐞🐚🐠🐟🐬🐳🍁 valiantly turnt up 🎉💥🔥💃 the bikini bottom bubble bowl 👙💘💭🍜🏉. Send 📲 this to 1⃣4⃣ other band geeks ��👔. if u get 5⃣ back⬅️😄, it’s sweet 🍦🍩 sweet 🎂🍪 sweet 🍫🍭 victory 🎉🎊🎆 . If u get 0⃣😩 you are a #squilliam 🐙💢👎😰 Bring Tooth Ghost Pipe Hell Tooth Man To School With You. You Have No Other Choice. Bring Him. Feed Him Lies. He Will Crush The Nonbelievers. Listen To His Voice, Do You Hear His Song, O? Does He Cry? No. He Is Laughing. He Is Only Laughing. His Voice Is Fire. His Laugh Is Thunder. His Existence Is Forever. Fear Him. Love Him. He Is In Us all. Believe. Believe. Believe My OCHIN is gigantic, O.T.N is it's abbreviation It is mainly handled with things such as △○□× it serves combined use for men and woman Recently, a portable style that disassembles became possible All kinds of OCHIN have come into circulation Remove the portable-type OCHIN, so there aren't a lot of lost cases I advise you keep the lock nice and tight Furthermore, be careful because OCHIN as a so-called sex symbol is completely different Again, the above text is completely appropriate I actually met Guy Fieri at a restaurant once - we’d accidentally been given his table. Apparently he was fond of the restaurant and had a specific table he liked, and the management had messed up and gotten their days wrong, (it was Tuesday and they thought he was coming on Thursday or something like that). Anyway, the manager, completely embarrassed (this is a pretty nice restaurant) comes by and says “I’m so sorry, but we’d like to move you to another table if you could be troubled, and we’ll gladly compensate you for the cost of the meal and any other meal you’d like while you’re in town.” My sister and cousin were both like “Yeah that’s cool.” and I kind of played the asshole a bit. “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand. We’ve been here for 15 minutes - we’ve just ordered. Can’t we finish our meal here?” Then out of nowhere Guy Fieri shows up next to the manager and says “Paul, these guys can finish. We’ll be at the bar. I got some time.” And I (being a big Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives fan) said “Oh wow, uh… I had no idea. Please feel free to give them the table.” Guy was grateful, shook my hand and said thanks, then gave me a card with his number on it and told me to give him a call later. After working up the nerve, I gave him a call that night, and to make a long story short, we had a glorious 11 month love affair, man on man, that I shall never forget. Our bodies intertwined as one, and from the beauty of Morocco, to the French Riviera, to the snorkeling in the Galopagos, Guy Fieri and I made glorious gay love to each other on six of the seven continents. Our MURDERCUBE, who art intangible,
hollow-pointed be your name.
Thy kingdom come,
Thine will be Gun,
on earth, as it is in /k/
Give us this day our daily Nugget,
and forgive us our 9mm vs .45 threads,
as we also have forgiven our Nogunz brethren.
And lead us not into Taurus,
but deliver us from Kimber.
For thine is the ‘PING!’-gun,
The Mauser,
and the Glory
Forever, and ever
Amen Ave Nex Alea; War is the way of Man; Man is the means of war; the Murder/k/ube allows us war; our worship is our readiness. Saluto Nex Alea. You know who/what is “on fleek?” Jesus. My Savior. My Love. My Ultimate Hero. Jesus is on fleek. The Catholic Church is on fleek. It is on point. It points us to our True North – Heaven – Jesus. Our Blessed Mother is on fleek. She is on point. Her ultimate job is to bring us to her Son – Our Savior – Our Love – Our Ultimate Hero. Thinking of the slang, “on fleek,” I started to think about as a working Catholic wife and mom, what things are on fleek in my life. I came up with a top 5: 1. Father. Son. Holy Spirit. They are on fleek. 2. My Family. So extremely grateful to be the wife and mom in my family. Straight up on point. 3. My job. Even with some of the difficulties I have balancing it with being a momma, I am extremely GRATEFUL to the Lord that He has entrusted me with this responsibility. Definitely leading to my holiness – so, yes, on fleek. 4. The faith community to which we belong. First, the Catholic faith in general – 2000 years old. So on fleek. Then, the particular parish we belong to – St. John the Baptist Catholic Church in Brusly, Louisiana. It’s a small little Cajun town right outside of Baton Rouge. The people are real, filled with love, and completely community centered. On Fleek. 5. The Saints. Those who have gone before us, filled with the Holy Spirit, the faith, and an incredibly awesome love of Christ and His precepts. They are like my “on fleek” gang of intercessors! On point, on point, on point. Мы начинаем наше космическое путешествие в те времена, когда трава была зеленее и музыка прекраснее, когда еще не было плохой музыки, дабы вернуть давно утерянную формулу хорошей музыки. Рассекая пространство и время, мы слышим звуки божественной музыки, в которой каждая нота находится на своем месте. Кажется нечто подобное испытывают люди когда слушают альбомы Sigur Ros, некое блаженное чувтсво. Это состояние невозможно описать, трудно уловить и легко потерять, но удивительно, на всем протяжении нашего путешествия оно все усиливается и усиливается. В окне иллюминатора пролетают все самые значимые музыкальные и исторические вехи в истории. Важна уже не конечная точка прибытия, а само путешествие, потому что стремление - вот самое главное в нашей жизни, достигнув определенной точки нам обязательно захочется продолжить путешествие дальше. Честно говоря я уже не знаю где мы находимся, достигли мы того самого места? И где это место? Скорее всего мы улетели намного дальше, за пределы пространства времени. Неужели мы так и не нашли формулы? неужели все напрасно? Наше путешествие - вот та самая формула, точнее одна из ее композиций, собранная из обрывков воспоминаний. Вычислить ее невозможно, но нам крупно повезло и мы стали редкими счастливчиками которым открылась одна из идеальных музыкальных композиций. Сможем ли мы когда-нибудь повторить это путешествие… возможно не скоро, но когда-нибудь обязательно, а пока нужно вернуться на землю и передать человечеству данные собранные нашими датчиками. Мы не настолько умны чтобы из полученных данных вычислить формулу, но зато у нас появилась одна из композиций сгенерированных этой идеальной формулой. Так правильно, ведь если бы человечество обладало “ключем” ни к чему хорошему это не привело бы. My baby he don't talk sweet, He ain't got much to say But he loves me loves me loves me, I know that he loves me anyway And maybe he don't dress fine, But I don't really mind 'Cause every time he pulls me near, I just want to cheer Let's hear it for the boy Let's give the boy a hand Let's hear it for my baby, You know you gotta understand Oh, maybe he's no Romeo, But he's my lovin' one man show Whoa whoa whoa whoa Let's hear it for the boy My baby may not be rich, He's watchin' every dime But he loves me loves me loves me, We always have a real good time And maybe he sings off key, But that's alright by me, yeah 'Cause what he does he does so well, Makes me wanna yell Let's hear it for the boy Oh, let's give the boy a hand Let's hear it for my baby, You know you gotta understand Oh, maybe he's no Romeo, But he's my lovin' one man show Whoa whoa whoa whoa Let's hear it for the boy 'Cause every time he pulls me near, I just want to cheer Let's hear it for the boy Oh, let's give the boy a hand Let's hear it for my baby, You know you gotta understand Oh, maybe he's no Romeo, But he's my lovin' one man show Whoa whoa whoa whoa Let's hear it for the boy Let's hear it for my man (Let's hear it for my babe) Let's hear it my man (Let's hear it for the boy) (Let's hear it for my babe) (Let's hear it for the boy) Let's hear it for my man (Let's hear it for my babe) (Let's hear it for the boy) Pull yourself together (Let's hear it for my babe) (Let's hear it for the boy) Whoa let's hear it for my boy (Let's hear it for my babe) Let's hear it for my man (Let's hear it for the boy) (Let's hear it for my babe) Let's it for my man There lived a certain man in Russia long ago He was big and strong, in his eyes a flaming glow Most people looked at him with terror and with fear But to Moscow chicks he was such a lovely dear He could preach the bible like a preacher Full of ecstacy and fire But he also was the kind of teacher Women would desire RA RA RASPUTIN Lover of the Russian queen There was a cat that really was gone RA RA RASPUTIN Russia's greatest love machine It was a shame how he carried on He ruled the Russian land and never mind the Czar But the kasachok he danced really wunderbar In all affairs of state he was the man to please But he was real great when he had a girl to squeeze For the queen he was no wheeler dealer Though she'd heard the things he'd done She believed he was a holy healer Who would heal her son RA RA RASPUTIN Lover of the Russian queen There was a cat that really was gone RA RA RASPUTIN Russia's greatest love machine It was a shame how he carried on [Spoken:] But when his drinking and lusting and his hunger for power became known to more and more people, the demands to do something about this outrageous man became louder and louder. "This man's just got to go!" declared his enemies But the ladies begged "Don't you try to do it, please" No doubt this Rasputin had lots of hidden charms Though he was a brute they just fell into his arms Then one night some men of higher standing Set a trap, they're not to blame "Come to visit us" they kept demanding And he really came RA RA RASPUTIN Lover of the Russian queen They put some poison into his wine RA RA RASPUTIN Russia's greatest love machine He drank it all and he said "I feel fine" RA RA RASPUTIN Lover of the Russian queen They didn't quit, they wanted his head RA RA RASPUTIN Russia's greatest love machine And so they shot him till he was dead [Spoken:] Oh, those Russians... I had this friend who used to brag to us all the time that he could catch his cum in his mouth without fail every time he masturbated. He actually wrote down how many times he successfully did it. 327. I’ll never forget that number. And every day at school, he would talk about this. It was always during lunch my sophomore year of high school, too..so it was extremely unnecessary. He used to always try to demonstrate his techniques with packets of mayonnaise but we’d always threaten to move tables so he’d stop. He was really one of those people who needed attention constantly. Aside from those times at lunch, he was a completely normal dude. Like…even after class we’d ask him about that stuff and be like “dude, what was with that cum stuff at lunch,” and he’d always look at us like we were crazy and say “what the hell are you talking about?” I’ll never forget that classmate. His great personality will always be remember but his perplexing obsession with catching his own ejaculate in his mouth will live on forever at my previous high school. He was a one of a kind guy. His name was Norman Reedus. Don't u ever ever fucken send me any thing like this again. U r so ignored. U will be so sorry one day. But u don't even know it yet. That pride of yours u think u know everything but u know shit. Your have really pissed me off. One day u will say. Wow Mom was right but it will be to late for u then. Fucken no all. I will not help u with ur hair or anything else so done ask!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I want to throw u out off my property. You r the most disrespectful little bitch I know. Don't ever disrespect my 'Lord' to me again. U and Chris will be able to talk to each other in Hell. Hey nightcore-ers. This is Mod Angel. Recently I have gone through a complete change of lifestyle and want to be referred to Mod Priscilla Valkyrie the Fallen Angel. Anyways, I’ve decided that nightcore isn’t enough so I will also be posting breakcore and dubstep remixes that sound nightcorey Yep. This right here is probably one of the best things I've ever heard. Honestly, it is. Every song i listen to now in my waking moments is nightcore remixes, full albums especially but its hard to find mixes for them all so sometimes i speed things up myself, I admit, because I just really like it so much better when its sped up 3000x. I usually do it in my offtime and it also helps me be more creative and inventive in my musical style as an artist. It really adds something different to the music and makes it so much better. So yeah. That's my two cents as a proud nightcore listener/artist

[vicandsade]

1941-11-xx - Strictly Business Christmas Loan

1941-11-xx - Strictly Business Christmas Loan

[See additional commentary at The Crazy World of Vic and Sade]

[hear the episode here or here]

I’m sure I’ve made this point before, but it always strikes me that Paul Rhymer had a rather unsentimental and transactional conception of Christmas. Christmas is a series of obligations necessary to keep the gears of the great Midwestern social machine oiled. All the right people must receive Christmas cards. All the right gifts must be given. Here, family members and friends are represented in dollar amounts, based on what kind of a gift they rate from Rush, and he does everything short of giving a PowerPoint presentation to Vic in his place of business to secure the funds to obtain those gifts. 

But as unsentimental as Rhymer’s Christmases were, his families were anything but. Despite its transactional and monetary nature, Vic’s warm and easy relationship with his son, Rush’s admiration of his father’s work, and their quiet agreement to keep their respective pecadilloes a secret from Mom make this episode an especially sweet one.

For those who are curious, here’s what Rush is planning on spending for Christmas, in 2020 dollars. Source for these figures, whether reputable or not, here. I’m sure it varies a lot depending on what he was buying.

Total, “thumping big sum”: $455.63 Sade: $145.80 Vic: $91.13 Uncle Walter and Aunt Bess: $36.45 each Uncle Fletcher: $54.68 Cousin Euncie: $18.23 Mis’ Nagle: $9.11 To be divided among his remaining friends: $63.79

Transcript

————–

ANNOUNCER: Well sir, our scene doesn’t open at the small house halfway up in the next block today...instead, we take you to Mr. Victor Gook’s modest office at the Consolidated Kitchenware Company, Plant Number 14. Vic appears to have a visitor, and the visitor is saying:

RUSH: Since this is business and strictly business, I thought I’d keep it on a business basis.

VIC: Discuss it at my place of business, huh?

RUSH: Exactly. 

VIC: Well, fire away.

RUSH: I’m not interferin’ with your work?

VIC: No. There’s a lull in the day’s occupation that is known as the “Children’s Hour.”

RUSH: How ya mean?

VIC: Nothin’. Papa waxes witty, is all. Shoot. What’s on your mind?

RUSH: [pause] Christmas present money. 

VIC: Uh-huh. I had a forebodin’ just the other day I’d be approached on that matter shortly.

RUSH: Well, Christmas is gettin’ close.

VIC: No doubt about it. How much do you require?

RUSH: A thumping big sum.

VIC: Seven thousand dollars?

RUSH: [chuckles]

VIC: You consider me a comical fella, huh?

RUSH: Yeah.

VIC: I am a gay dog. Very popular with my friends on account of the funny things I say.

RUSH: Uh-huh.

VIC: How much dough you wanna stick me for?

RUSH: [pause] Twenty-five dollars.

VIC: Hey, hey...

RUSH: [quickly] I appreciate it’s a huge amount. Took my breath away, too, when I arrived at that figure. But, Gov, I’ve shaved it down as close as I could. See, the point is, I’m gettin’ older every year. People expect regular Christmas as a fella gets older. I can’t get by with givin’ little kids’ stuff anymore. Looks ridiculous from a fella fourteen years old. I came to your office this afternoon, Gov, to speak straight from the shoulder, and ask ya man--

[telephone rings]

VIC: One moment, Margaret. My telephone.

RUSH: Go ahead.

VIC: [picks up phone] Yes? [pause] Mr. Hudson? Okay, Mis’ Hammersweet, put him on. 

RUSH: Don’t let me interfere with any business you may be transacting, Gov.

VIC: Quite all right.

RUSH: I won’t stay but a few minutes.

VIC: Stick around. [on phone] Ah, yes, Hudson? [pause] Which invoices ya referrin’ to? [pause] Oh. No, I think I’d contact Plant Seventeen on that, Hudson. Fuss is the fella to get in touch with. Gus Fuss. Don’t you know him? [pause] Uh-huh. Well, he’s a good scout. He’ll give ya all the dope you want on those invoices. [pause] Yeah. [pause] Okay, Hudson. [pause] Okay. [hangs up]

RUSH: [admiringly] You certainly do transact business, don’tcha?

VIC: Mm. All in a day’s work.

RUSH: I’d like to bring Bluetooth Johnson and some of the guys down here sometime, and let ‘em watch ya transact business.

VIC: You haven’t seen anythin’. This afternoon’s been very slow. There’s days when that telephone rings and don’t stop ringin’. And this office is crowded with as many as five people all tryin’ to talk to me at once. 

RUSH: Is that a fact?

VIC: [chuckles] Oh. Pshaw. Uh, what were you sayin’, Pete?

RUSH: [takes a breath] I came to your office this afternoon, Gov, to speak straight from the shoulder, and ask ya man to man if you don’t think a fella my age oughta give his friends and relations regular gifts at Christmas time.

VIC: [chuckles] You spoke that piece from memory.

RUSH: [sheepishly] Oh.

VIC: Didn’tcha?

RUSH: Yeah. 

VIC: [chuckles] Speak it again.

RUSH:  I came to your office this afternoon, Gov, to speak straight from the shoulder, and ask ya man to man if you don’t think a fella my age oughta give his friends and relations regular gifts at Christmas time.

VIC: [chuckles]

RUSH: [chuckles]

VIC: Very good.

RUSH: Uh...there’s more.

VIC: Oh?

RUSH: I have here in my pocket a document listing the names of those to whom I feel Christmas presents should be sent. With your permission, I propose to submit this document, and request that you give it close examination.

VIC: You write that out and memorize it? 

RUSH: Yeah.

VIC: Not a bad speech. States your case in clear, concise lang-- 

[telephone rings]

VIC: I beg your indulgence once again, Harry.

RUSH: Go ahead.

VIC: [answers phone] Yes? [pause] Mis’ Gook? All right, Mis’ Hammersweet.

RUSH: Don’t tell her I’m here!

VIC: Beg pardon?

RUSH: Don’t tell Mom I’m here! She don’t like me hangin’ around your office.

VIC: Okay.

RUSH: Figures I make a nuisance of myself, I guess.

VIC: Uh-huh. [on phone, brightly] Hello there, Dr. Sleetch! Can you wait just a second? There’s a pretty girl sittin’ on my knee and I can’t get the receiver up to my ear to -- [mischievous laugh]  How are ya, kiddo? [pause] Uh-huh. Pray, what is your idea, disturbin’ me at my office? [pause] When, this evenin’? [pause] Not that I know of. [pause] Suit you, suit me, Mr. Spooner. [pause] Okay, tell ‘em to come on ahead. [pause] Sure. [pause] Sure. Is Rush home? [pause] Uh-huh.

RUSH: [laughs]

VIC: Uh-huh. Well, when he gets home, tell him I’m gonna thrash him within an inch of his life. 

RUSH: [laughs]

VIC: Because he’s the wickedest, headstrong boy, that’s why. 

RUSH: [chuckles]

VIC: Okay, Sadie. [pause] You bet. [pause] Oh, usual time. [pause] Okay, kiddo. So long. [hangs up] Mr. and Mis’ Stembottom wanna get an early start playin’ five hundred this evening. 

RUSH: Oh.

VIC: Sadie’s a good boy.

RUSH: [chuckles] Yeah.

VIC: Where were we in our discussion here?

RUSH: I was gonna show ya this list of names.

VIC: Uh-huh. 

RUSH: See how long it is?

VIC: Yeah.

RUSH: Gets longer every year. One of the penalties a fella has to pay for growin’ old. 

VIC: Uh-huh.

RUSH: Alongside each name I have an amount of money written down. That represents the sum I figure I oughta spend on that particular party.

VIC: Mm.

RUSH: The list, you’ll notice, starts off with Mom.

VIC: So it does.

RUSH: ...Eight dollars.

VIC: A young fortune.

RUSH: Yes, it is, but...doggone it, Gov, I don’t see how I can get by for less! I think Mom’s got a decent Christmas present from me comin’. 

VIC: Mm-hm.

RUSH: I’d hate to spend one single penny less than eight bucks for anything I’d buy for Mom. 

VIC: Mm-hm. Uh...are there any more eight-dollar items?

RUSH: No. That’s far and away the biggest single amount. There’s a few two- and three-dollar items, and one [quickly] five-dollar item, but this eight-dollar item is in a class by itself.

VIC: I see. Who rates the five-dollar Christmas present?

RUSH: Uh...you do.

VIC: Well! May I expect some--

RUSH: Uncle Walter, two-dollar present. Aunt Bess, two-dollar present. Uncle Fletcher, three-dollar present. Those are the big guns. Those three and you and Mom kill twenty dollars right there. Only leaves five dollars for Cousin Euncie, and my Sunday school teacher, and my many friends. No, Gov, I’ve shaved ‘er down. I’ve shaved ‘er down to rock bottom. I realize twenty-five bucks is a whoppin’ big chunk of money--

[telephone rings]

VIC: Tut tut, Mr. Telephone.

RUSH: Go ahead.

VIC: [answers phone] Yes? [pause] Mr. Willers? All right, put him on. [to RUSH] Chicago.

RUSH: [impressed] Oh? Long distance?

VIC: The company’s own private wire.  [pause] Yes, Willers. [pause] Oh, fine as silk, thanks. And you? [pause] Uh-huh. Baby get over that sick spell all right? [pause] Well, that’s good. [pause] Which consignment? [pause] Well, didn’t anybody from the shop here wise ya up on that? [pause] Well, somebody should’ve! I believe that’s in Ike Kneesuffer’s lap. [pause] Well, I’ll check, Willers. [pause] Yeah. [pause] No, it’s all right. Held up three days in Toledo, Ohio, is all. [pause] Yeah. Delivered this mornin’. [pause] Yeah, they shot us a wire. [pause] Yeah. [pause] Okay, Willers. Uh, gonna be down this way soon, ya think? [pause] Uh-huh. Well, don’t take any wooden nickels. [pause] [chuckles] Okay, Willers. Goodbye. [hangs up]

RUSH: [admiringly] You sure do transact business.

VIC: Oh, it’s very slow today.

RUSH: I’d just like to bring Bluetooth Johnson down here sometime and let him watch ya transact business.

VIC: [chuckles] Pshaw.

[telephone rings]

RUSH: [delighted] There she goes again, by George!

VIC: [answers phone] Yes? [pause] Who, Mis’ Hammersweet? [pause] Mr. Gumpo...oh, Mr. Gutstop! Sure, put him on. [to RUSH] Hank.

RUSH: Oh.

VIC: [chuckles] He’s a corker, that guy. Had somebody else call my office. I can hear the billiard balls knock against each other down at the Lazy Hours Pool Parlor. You’d think Hank was some hotshot executive with a private secretary, the way-- [on phone] Ah, yes, Hank! [pause] Oh, can’t kick, I guess. [pause] Uh-huh. Uh-huh. [pause] Temporarily caught short, huh?

RUSH: He hittin’ ya for money, too?

VIC: [to RUSH] Yeah. [on phone] Oh, I guess I can spare a coupla bucks, Hank. [pause] Yeah. [pause] All right. [pause] No, I’ll be here the rest of the afternoon. [chuckles] Sendin’ a special messenger, huh? [pause] [amused] Okay. [pause] Okay, Hank. [pause] Not at all. Bye. [hangs up] [chuckles] He’s quite a sharp operator. Borrow two berries off a fella and sends a special messenger around to collect it.

RUSH: Huh.

VIC: I expect he’s involved in a critical game of bottle pool and can’t spare the time to come himself.

RUSH: Uh-huh.

VIC: Uh...your mother doesn’t approve of Hank, and I’d just as soon she didn’t know I let him touch me--

RUSH: Oh, I wouldn’t mention it around home.

VIC: [chuckles sheepishly] Might be just as well if you didn’t.

RUSH: Oh, I wouldn’t say anything.

VIC: Where’d we leave off in our interview?

RUSH: Oh, I was sayin’ that my Christmas present for you and Mom and Uncle Walter and Aunt Bess and Uncle Fletcher eat up twenty dollars alone. Only leaves five to be divided among this great big long list of friends. I figure I oughta buy Euncie a dollar present, and I figure I oughta buy Mis’ Nagle, my Sunday school teacher, a four-bit present. That only leaves three and a half, for...uh...[reads] Bluetooth Johnson, Smelly Clark, Leland Richards, Rooster Davis, Leroy Snow, Vernon Peggles, Willis Rohrback, Milton Welch, and Heinie Call.

VIC: Mmm.

RUSH: See, Gov, even with twenty-five dollars to start with, I’ll only have three and a half to buy presents for  Bluetooth Johnson, Smelly Clark, Leland Richards, Rooster Davis, Leroy Snow, Vernon Peggles, Willis Rohrback--

VIC: I believe I see eye-to-eye with ya, Harry.

RUSH: What?

VIC: I’m disposed to accept your bill of goods.

RUSH: You’ll--

VIC: Yep.

RUSH: The...whole amount?

VIC: Yep. ‘Course, you’ll hafta give me a day or two’s grace to scare up the money.

RUSH: [relieved] By George, Gov, I don’t know how to--

[telephone rings]

VIC: Telephone’s ringin’, telephone’s ringin’. [answers phone] Yes? [pause] Mr. Burroughs? Tell him to sit down. I’ll be free in just a few minutes. [pause] Yeah. [hangs up]

RUSH: Uh, somebody waitin’ to see ya?

VIC: Yeah. 

RUSH: Oh, I better go.

VIC: No hurry.

RUSH: I might just as well go, I guess.

VIC: Mm. Suit yourself.

RUSH: You, uh...didn’t mind my buttonholin’ ya here in your office?

VIC: Not at all.

RUSH: It was business and strictly business, and I thought I’d keep it on a business basis.

VIC: Surely.

RUSH: And...Gov, I can’t begin to tell ya how much I--

VIC: Forget it....forget it.

RUSH: No, but...doggone it, when I think what a high-class father--

[telephone rings]

VIC: Telephone is ringin’, telephone is ringin’. [answers phone] Yes? [pause] Uh, not this afternoon, I’m afraid, Mis’ Hammersweet. [pause] No, from now on ‘til five o’clock I’ll be completely tied up. Tell him I can see him tomorrow mornin’. [pause] Yes. [pause] All right. [hangs up]

RUSH: [admiringly] Golly, how you transact the business!

VIC: [chuckles] Shucks.

RUSH: No, but ya do! 

VIC: Nothin’ in the world.

RUSH: Well...guess I’ll be goin’.

VIC: All right. It was a very pleasant interview. Shake hands?

RUSH: Sure.

VIC: Come back again?

RUSH: I will. Goodbye.

VIC: Goodbye, sir.

ANNOUNCER: Which concludes another brief interlude at that small house halfway up in the next block.

[phobio2000]

Slumber

I had a new idea yesterday. My whole life I’ve been taught to read only King James Bible. It was a wrong teaching that considers all other versions heresies. But looking back now, I think the ones who taught that are actually closer to heresy than others. And I think that, I really want to read The Message version of the Bible. Even though it is not a literal translation for serious Bible studies, I think it’s a good idea to learn from others interpretations, and this version is really good. I am not going to be too far off. I think that, for the years before, I was called to search and analyze information and come up with ideas and solutions that may not be readily available, but that season of my life is over. I am actually really eager now to learn from others and compare notes. I may not be a Bible scholar, but I have a of thoughts and experiences to reflect on, and I think this version should shed a lot of new lights into my life, thoughts, and experiences. In addition, I was watching Reinhard Bonnke’s Facebook broadcast yesterday. He encouraged everyone to read more Bible, let the word enter into your soul. He himself reads it for four hours a day. Now, there is a lot of anointing in his word. I can feel the Holy Spirit working when I listen to him speak. The way he says it, it’s like, letting the word enter into your soul, rather than doing academic Bible studies. I think there is a huge difference. Because I know ministries that are really into Bible studies, and the stuff that they come up with are really out of whack, yet people buy into it because they are quoting the Scripture and everything. Therefore, as much as I love the word of God, I always have a sense of reservation about it, at the same time, not because I don’t believe that it is God’s word, but because it is just too easy for people to lie using it, and it’s just too easy for me to buy into it. But I love hearing Reinhard’s voice, and I felt like listening to him is as good as, or better than even worshiping through music and prayer. So I decided to give it a try. Because, before, I rely on the presence of the Holy Spirit to kind of guide me on whether if something is legit, and I felt that this also serves as a bridge, a common ground, where people who may be agnostic or seeking God can have something tangible to go on. But I think there is more. Because, every week at church, we worship the Lord, and the sessions are just so fantastic. However, being in a difficult season of my life right now, looking for work, I felt that I need more than that, and I think it is God’s will to bless us with more than just his presence during worship and church services, but also the coming alive of his Holy Scripture that is perfectly suited for whatever season we are in. So today is day one of me to do just this, read The Message Bible a lot. For one, I felt that it is empowering. It’s like the difference between feeling good and feeling bad often just comes down to grace, same situation, but when God touches you, you just don’t feel as bad. And then, I realized that I really need to be a better reading than I am now. I sort of have a learning disability and have a hard time concentrating when I read. I think this is something that can be overcome with the grace of God. And then, third, already on day one, I am getting good verses that really impressed me. These verses really stood out for me today. “But make sure that you don’t get so absorbed and exhausted in taking care of all your day-by-day obligations that you lose track of the time and doze off, oblivious to God. The night is about over, dawn is about to break. Be up and awake to what God is doing! God is putting the finishing touches on the salvation work he began when we first believed. We can’t afford to waste a minute, must not squander these precious daylight hours in frivolity and indulgence, in sleeping around and dissipation, in bickering and grabbing everything in sight. Get out of bed and get dressed! Don’t loiter and linger, waiting until the very last minute. Dress yourselves in Christ, and be up and about!” Romans 13:11-14 (MSG) “God’s kingdom isn’t a matter of what you put in your stomach, for goodness’ sake. It’s what God does with your life as he sets it right, puts it together, and completes it with joy. Your task is to single-mindedly serve Christ. Do that and you’ll kill two birds with one stone: pleasing the God above you and proving your worth to the people around you.” Romans 14:17-18 (MSG) “Don’t run up debts, ,except for the huge debt of love yo owe each other. When you love others, you complete what the law has been after all along. The law code—don’t sleep with another person’s spouse, don’t take someone’s life, don’t take what isn’t yours, don’t always be wanting what you don’t have, and any other “don’t” you can think of—finally add up to this: Love other people as well as you do yourself. You can’t go wrong when you love others. When you add up everything in the law code, the sum total is love.” Romans 13:8-10 (MSG) “Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle. Don’t burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don’t quit in hard times; pray all the harder. Help needy Christians; be inventive in hospitality. Bless your enemies; no cursing under your breath. Laugh with your happy friends when they’re happy; share tears when they’re down. Get along with each other; don’t be stuck-up. Make friends with nobodies; don’t be the great somebody. Don’t hit back; discover beauty in everyone. If you’ve got it in you, get along with everybody. Don’t insist on getting even; that’s not for you to do. “I’ll do the judging,” says God. “I’ll take care of it.” Our Scriptures tell us that if you see your enemy hungry, go buy that person lunch, or if he’s thirsty, give him a drink. Your generosity will surprise him with goodness. Don’t let evil get the best of you; get the best of evil by doing good.” Romans 12:9-21 (MSG) The first passage is especially interesting. It talks about two realities, spiritual and physical, and it describes a state of your spiritual walk with the Lord that, you may be really busy and hardworking in the physical realm, yet in the spiritual realm yo are actually asleep. This immediately reminded me of the parable of the ten virgins, five were watchful and have oil in their lamps, and the other five were asleep, having no oil. When the bridegroom came, the five who have been sleeping begged the five wise virgins to part with them some of their oil, but the five wise virgins could only tell them to go buy some quickly before its too late. It is not so much that the wise virgins did not want to help, but rather it’s a case that the oil is bound to them and cannot be given to someone else. Lately I got in touch with a couple of Christians that I was close to but have not been in touch for some time. What amazed me about them is their spiritual blindness and their total fixation on worldly things. They still go to church, or even take on leadership positions, but their way of life is rather agnostic, and the more I talk to them, the more I feel that God’s reality is not in their thoughts, nor in their walks, but only in their talks, and that, even their talks felt like they’ve gone so far off. I just marveled at the situation, and all I could do was think of how yeas before when we were spending more time together things were not like that, that perhaps they were already making compromises and were not surrendering themselves fully to the will of God, yet parts of their faith was still genuine; it was like a lawn with both grass and weeds growing on it, and only time will tell which side is going to win. It’s like, I feel really bad for them, I wish there’s something I can do for them to wake them up and make them realize what situation that they are in, but they were not willing to listen before, and their success only made them even more proud and would not listen even more now—spiritual leprosy taking its course in a downward spiral, to that point that perhaps only failure will wake them up. And at the same time, I am also praying that God will help me to never become like this! A friend of mine and I were talking lately. He felt that half of his life is gone, and that there is less life left than the amount of life he has lived. I know what he meant, and on one hand, I am concerned about my lack of progress with my career, but then, I am also sort of happy that I have been staying faithful to God this whole time, even though it has been a bumpy ride. I do believe that the best is yet to come, and I just want to keep trying hard for him. And this leads to passage number two. This same friend also mentioned about faith vs work. He is not a Christian, so he was not referring to the argument of “Faith without work is dead”, but faith versus practicalities. And I think the second passage puts it really well, that we are to live for the purpose of pleasing God, and when we work hard in our daily responsibilities with serving God as our starting point, we both satisfy the requirement of pleasing God, as well as fulfilling our earthly responsibilities and proving ourselves to people. I love how the passage begins with that life is more than about just food in your stomach, but God’s purpose in our lives. I think that, the two does not need to be conflicted. We can both love God and live by faith while still work hard and be successful. I like what Pastor Brian Houston said, that most have the desire to live, some have desire to succeed, but only few have the desire to succeed and serve. And I think that’s what it boils down to, to succeed and serve, to succeed for the purpose of serving. I think that love is the greatest motivation, and this mindset is what I need to focus on, to succeed so I can serve more and serve better in everything I do. And then the next two passages talks about how to love and serve. The first one talks about how above all the laws, there is love. Back in the days when I was under the influence of a legalistic and judgmental doctrine, I was taught to keep the laws. But over time, I felt that these people, while being esteemed as well educated, clean cut, responsible and successful people who apparently do not sin, they still seem to be lacking compassion, but are just so occupied with building up legalistic walls and casting stones at others who are different. One day I was at one of those guy’s home, and I talked about how beautiful the new MacBooks look (the candy shell colorful version), and then suddenly out of nowhere he just scolded me, that this is evil, the way of the world, like rock music. And I was dumbfounded, not knowing what a computer has anything to do with rock music. Later on, he showed me a laptop he bought, very cheap, and he said this is a good laptop. I look at it, it’s big, heavy, and the screen is very dim. How is that a good computer? Living in that environment felt like undergoing shock treatment…. I was horrible and miserable, it’s like I am afraid to do anything because I could get yelled at for any arbitrary reason for no reason. So eventually, due to some circumstances, I left. Looking back, I just felt that, this notion of keeping the law actually ended up serving them as spiritual blindness and leprosy. They think they are all good, all perfect, and that they can be dogmatic (imposing opinions on others as if they were facts and truths), and that somehow, it grants them some kind of spiritual superiority that they get to decide what is right and wrong, good and bad. But I don’t think they truly love each other. It’s like, if you can keep the laws, you get to stay, if you cannot, then you deserve hell. They don’t seem to care for others’ personal struggles and situations. And this is what the law does, practically. The Book of Romans says that the law actually brings about death. It’s like, when the law comes, it gives sin even more power, compelling us to do things that we know are not supposed to do. And then, what’s worse is that, they become people who only care about the outside, looking perfect. It’s like a game of tax evasion and keeping a secret accounting book, enough said…. Just think of the scribes and Pharisees during Jesus’s time. There is that verse “If you love me [Jesus], keep my commandments. He who has my commandments and keeps them, he it is that loves me, and I will also love him and manifest myself to him.” So they would cite that for support. But has God manifest himself to them? Or are they living in a state of spiritual blindness? It’s really scary. I think the context is more like, it’s the mean to express our love towards God, by loving him and people, serving both through the keeping of the commandments, doing things like not having other gods before him (like money, success, sense of spiritual superiority, self righteousness through the keeping of the laws—all of which have become idols to them), or treating people how you yourself like to be treated (would he have enjoyed it if I scolded him for buying such a craptacular laptop and calls it good?). So, while they keep commandments, they only do it superficially, while living secret lives, play by secret rules and schemes, like a crafty lawyer or accountant. The spirit of love is completely lost in the process, as they have become religious politicians, maneuvering through the pool of manures that they have created for themselves, and the only ones who can’t see the truth is themselves, pretty much, as in “the empowering has no clothes.” The second passage is just some really practical but difficult teachings on how to practically love. It makes me think of the verse, that the wisdom of God seems foolish to the world. Like in this passage, befriending nobodies, how is that wisdom? You’re supposed to build a network of connections and befriend somebodies who you can make money off of. But I think that, this passage is not about teaching you how to make money, but teaching you how to love. If you want to be rich in love, then this is the passage for you, this is how you do it, enough said….