#these dudes definitely sounded like they smelled their own farts though i do know this is not their intention :skull:

[fridgedeeznuts]

thinking abt this video im watching between two artists chatting and how at some point the painting part of painting becomes the easiest part of painting, and most of the work is actually about the preparation of the piece, and anything else that is more work during the piece is shit that u forgot to cover in ur prep work,,,,

[gatzilksis-2]

The Grand Return (3)

(this story includes fart kink and other adult elements)

chapter two here

Chapter Three: Cropdusters

Opening with Tony as the manager was pretty normal at first. I was lucky enough to work with both Vince and Tony, the man I'd befriended and the man whose infamous gas I had experienced only once. I learned that they had known each other a while. Vince had been a sophomore while Tony was a senior in high school. I hadn't grown up in this town, so I didn't know anyone here that well.

Things began to get going on our first smoke break. Vince didn't smoke but vaped, so he went out into the cold with Tony and I. We were all shivering, clouds forming from our breaths.

Tony took his long hair down and started fixing it, cigarette between his lips. When his hair was back up, he bent both knees with his mischievous brown eyes staring at me. PHWRRRT!

Vince chuckled, his glasses fogging up. "Damn. I'm surprised you couldn't see that in the air."

"Wasn't warm enough," Tony joked. The smell of his fart took over the area, though there was a breeze. It was like hot eggs in a dumpster in the summer, a fart to be proud of.

"Wow." I rubbed my nose. "Pam said you fart a lot."

"Who, me?" His grin spread wider, and he put his cigarette out. "Not at all."

"That's crazy talk," joked Vince.

We went back inside, and business started picking up. Even so, this was the day I learned both of my gassy coworkers were married to women. Of course they were.

Two mornings later, Vince and I got there first, Tony showing up late in his SUV. He was pulling his hair up as he hurried to the door. He unlocked it and held it open, his shirt only half-buttoned, showing his hairy chest though the weather was freezing. I held the second door for him, but Tony shook his head. "You go. Trust me."

I had a feeling I knew what he was up to. I walked ahead, following Vince to the front counter of The Chicken Spot. I looked back and noticed an excuse; the rug was out of place. I backtracked to fix it, bending down just as Tony was walking by.

My nostrils filled with his rank, silent fart, probably multiple of them pushed out as he'd walked. I stood up straight, eyes wide from my instant love of his incredible gas. At the counter, Tony noticed and smirked. "That's why I told you to go first."

"My god." I shook my head, pretending not to like it as I joined him. "They always smell that bad?"

"Yeah. I'm extremely lactose intolerant, and I don't do well with bread, either." Tony put a tan hand to his average stomach and walked away, leaving me excited for the future of his farts.

Later that morning, he brought up the subject on his own. It had been slow, and we were just chilling.

"Pam really said I fart a lot?" Tony asked, his sexy smile excitable and shining white.

"Yeah," I answered and laughed. "Did you always?"

"Oh, yeah." Tony nodded as Vince walked over to us. "Since I was a kid. I didn't know I had the digestive issues until I was an adult. I was the smelly kid. But I learned how to make them quiet so it wasn't as distracting. Now I use that skill to cropdust everyone here."

He couldn't have been prouder of himself.

Vince pushed his glasses up, chuckling. "Dude, we have to start the cropdust battles again!"

I loved the sound of that. "The what?"

"When we closed together, we'd both cropdust people until someone noticed," Tony explained. "We could totally do it on this shift, from ten to two when everyone is here."

"That's hilarious." I definitely wanted to be part of this.

So later, when there were employees everywhere, Tony and Vince were at their stations. Vince was bagging for drive thru, right beside my order-taking screen. Tony was way down the line on the fry station.

Vince's spot was in front of the drive thru sandwich station, and behind Tony's spot was the front counter and the front sandwich station. I watched both of them, wondering how much they were farting.

It wasn't long before I could smell the shitty, meaty smell of Vince's farts. When there was a break in business, I said, "Hey, I can smell you."

"Doesn't count. You know the game." Vince looked down at Tony. Tony smiled and made a cutting motion with two fingers: cutting farts.

My lunch break came soon, and someone came to relieve me. I patted Vince's back as I passed him, graciously taking a nice breath of his gas. The girl replacing me would surely smell it, and he would lose the game.

However, as I was passing the front sandwich station, the girl in that position said, "I think the oil needs changed or something. It stinks over here."

Tony and I locked eyes and started laughing. I clapped a hand over my mouth and ran into the lobby, and Tony retreated to the back to crack up.

When I got back to my position, I told Vince the news, pointing to the sandwich girl. "She smelled Tony, so you win."

"No, that means I lost," Vince explained. "The point of the game is to get someone to smell it."

"Well, damn. I mean, Tony seems like he could outfart most guys."

"Catch me on the right day." Vince took off his glasses and cleaned them with his shirt, showing a couple inches of tan skin covered by dark hair. He put the glasses back on, the sliver of belly disappearing. "Ask my wife."

"I believe you."

The next morning, Vince didn't work but a lady instead. Tony still opened, but he didn't act the same way with an older woman present.

The day after that, I had Tony and another guy, an older one. When we were set up and open but dead, Tony and I leaned on the front counter. BWRRRT! He farted right against the surface.

The older guy jumped and smiled. "Dang, buddy!"

Tony and I laughed, and I slid an inch away from him. His scent, always the same intensity and thickness, invaded my nostrils.

"I tell ya, I couldn't stop farting last night," Tony started, crossing his arms. "One after the other after the other. Kate went to sleep on the couch after a couple hours of it."

"What'd you eat?" I asked.

"I had a spicy sandwich from here and then alfredo pasta later." Tony rubbed his stomach above the shirt. "Lactose intolerance, and spicy chicken always gets me, too."

"Your wife isn't used to it by now?" I asked, figuring she should be, since they had a seven year old son together.

"She has her limits." Tony held his breath. There was no sound, but the smell doubled. I swear the air turned a degree warmer. "It was always hard to find girls that liked me. One date I went on, I couldn't stop farting all through the movie. I knew it stunk, but she didn't seem to notice. But then I never heard from her again."

"That's awesome." I laughed.

"Jesus!" The second wave of stink hit our older coworker, and he walked away to the back.

"I'm glad you talk about farts like I do." Tony patted me on the back. "You and Vince are my gas buddies."

Gas buddies. I liked the sound of that.

Next time...

Vince and Cal connect on a deeper level while Tony gets brutal.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Hello hello ophe 👋😇

I know this sounds weird and carp but I’m gonna say what some of my favs smell like

Trent (my dumb princess) probably smells like mahogany teakwood, strawberry kiwi or motor oil

He seems like a strawberry kiwi kinda guy

Axel would smell like pine, motor oil, or cucumber melon

Emma definitely smells like sunshine and lemons or cupcake sprinkles

WAYNE the boy smell like musty ass hockey bags or hot honey, or strawberry ice berry lemonade

Scary girl smells like red raspberries, unopened monster high dolls, candles, or a hot topic

Damien smell like chemicals, laundry detergent , ocean salt, or fresh water

OLIVIA VON TRASHPANDA smells like what a god would smell like

-Ass Stars anon

I’m gonna like ask every like three or four days so not to clog your ask box and so that I try and control myself

Hello hello, Ass Stars Anon! 👋😊

You're giving these kids way too much credit in terms of how good they'd smell, imo.

Axel would smell earthy, like mulch and wet leaves, because she's a survivalist. Having a traceable scent would bring down her 9.7 primitive survival rating! That's not to say she smells bad, but if you were to sniff a handful of dirt and then Axel herself there wouldn't be much of a difference. Of course, after she started her relationship with Ripper she started smelling like him too (given the fact that the two were literally near inseparable), which is mostly just the stink of body odour- Ripper believes in letting his "natural musk" and "alfalfa pheromones" run free.

Emma strikes me as the sort of girl to either wear super sugary-scented perfumes or drown herself in fruity/sweet body mists. She probably goes through a bottle of So...? Fragrance a day, either in the scent Birthday Cake or Raspberry Frappe.

In the same vein, Chase would reek of whatever cologne/body wash he's currently sponsored by, or if he has his own brand of cologne he'd wear it religiously. I doubt many of them smell great, but at least it's more interesting than deodorant and hairspray.

Wayne AND Raj both smell like Lynx Africa (AXE Body Spray for the US, I think?) with the underlying smell of hockey-sweat and gym lockers.

Scary Girl probably reeks of brimstone and hellfire. Joking, but given that she lives in a funeral home and (according to her audition) deals with explosives often, I imagine she's stained with the ever-present smell of dust and cinder- maybe with the underlying smoky smell you get from standing too close to a fire. Topped off with some sort of cloyingly sweet flowery perfume; she's got that creepy-cute aesthetic to keep up, after all!

I'd like to say that Damien smells like fresh linen and hand sanitizer- because as a science nerd and an anxious mess, he initially struck me as someone with good or even over excessive hygiene habits- but with Zee's secret spilling we know that this dude hasn't changed his underwear for weeks(?), so he in all likelihood smells like cheap cologne layered over dirty clothes.

Olivia von Trashpanda has ascended beyond trivial mortal concepts like "smell".

Trent, our silly little princess who has done no wrong ever, would smell like wood polish (for his guitar), motor oil (he strikes me as the sort of guy who's into fixing up old cars, or modifying his own motorbike) and Old Spice. A lot of oaky scents with a twang of petrol.

This is all off the top of my head btw. I haven't really put much thought into what the contestants would smell like- for good reason, given the fart jokes and gross-out humour in the series.

That's not to say that your own interpretations/headcanons are invalid or wrong, or that my headcanons are the gospel truth. They can smell like whatever you want them to!

This is just me adding my own interpretations. Feel free to disagree with me!

You can send asks as often as you want! I'll do my best to reply to them all, though sometimes I do find myself drawing a blank as to how to respond. If I don't reply to an ask please don't take it as me being rude/annoyed, I probably just couldn't think of anything to add.

[janaikam]

My second to last commission for the @mlbforblm drive. This one was a pool request by @chatnoirinette for a djwifi date with marichat/ladrien. Because I’m marichat trash I decided to make this one with djwifi and marichat. I hope you all enjoy!

Thank you @marikittynoir for betareading!

Summary: Walking back home one night, Alya spots Marinette letting Chat Noir into her room. Alya and Nino accidentally uncover a bit more than expected when confronting their friend about the situation.

X

“Nino, I’m fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve walked back home alone.” Alya held her phone close to her ear as she glanced from side to side, watching for cars before crossing the sidewalk.

She was passing by her old college, Francois Dupont, which meant she had only a ten-minute walk left until she got home safe and sound.

Unfortunately, Nino wasn’t having any of that.

“Yeah, you do, but normally you’re walking in the daylight not the middle of the night!” Nino exclaimed on the other end. She could just imagine him pacing in his room, worrying about her. Nino was super sweet and she loved that he cared so much, but times, like this, it could be really annoying.

“I didn’t mean to stay so long at the library on purpose, but hey, at least I didn’t stay until dawn again! Plus this time I called you,” Alya pointed out.

The library Alya had just come from was this new 24 hour one that opened up. They had regular library hours, but if you wanted to stay behind and do your own research they let you pay for a membership. Alya had jumped on the opportunity as soon as she heard that they had a whole section on superheroes. There had been many times when she either stayed at the library all night or fallen asleep and Nora had to come pick her up because it got too late.

Tonight she really tried to leave at a decent time. She had even set an alarm, but that darn snooze button would be the death of her. She had been doing some research on past Ladybug miraculous users for the Ladyblog, and by her probably 10th time pressing snooze, she had noticed a bunch of college-aged students glaring at her. She had packed up everything really quickly and exited the building before checking the time on her phone. It had been 11:00 P.M.

“Do I have to start coming with you to make sure this stops happening?”

Alya rolled her eyes as she stopped at the crosswalk not too far from the Dupain-Cheng bakery. The bakery lights were off, but she could see Marinette’s bedroom light still on. Hmm. Maybe she could throw pebbles at her window like a little Romeo. But then Marinette would convince her to stay the night and she couldn’t afford to do that.

“No, dad. I’m fine. In fact, I’m about to pass by Marineee…” Alya trailed off, staring blankly at Marinette’s balcony.

Alya watched as Chat Noir landed on top of the balcony. He knocked twice before Marinette’s head poked out of the trapdoor and she kissed him on the cheek before moving so Chat could enter her room.

“Alya?! Are you there? What’s wrong?” Nino’s panicked voice interrupted Alya’s racing thoughts.

Alya gulped as the crosswalk light turned green, but she didn’t move an inch too scared that she might unravel what she just witnessed.

“Nino, I think Marinette is dating Chat Noir.”

                                                           XXX

No one could ever say Nino never supported Alya.

Alya wanted to be the power duo at Just Dance? He broke out his best dancing shoes and helped her climb to the top.

Alya wanted to chase akumas? Nino was there by her side, making sure she didn’t kill herself in the process.

Alya wanted to be a superhero? Nino was Rena Rouge’s number one fan and everyone knew it.

Alya wanted to help track down Hawkmoth? Well, Nino was more than happy to give the old fart a piece of his mind.

But when Alya suggested her best friend was dating the cat-themed superhero of Paris? Well, that was just a little too hard for him to believe.

Ignoring the fact that Marinette has a giant crush on his best friend, Chat Noir just wasn’t her type. Marinette never seemed to be interested in the boastful arrogant types. At least from what he remembered about her. But then again he could be wrong about her. Heck, he could even be wrong about Chat Noir. Yet none of that even began to explain why the two of them would be spending time with each other that they would start to even date.

It just made 0 sense.

“Nnnniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooo,” Alya drawled. “I know what I saw. Marinette kissed Chat Noir and then proceeded to let him into her room!”

“Maybe it isn’t what you think it is?” Nino suggested hopefully.

“What am I supposed to think, Nino!? That my best friend is just sneaking a boy in a leather-looking magical catsuit into her room in the middle of the night for the heck of it?”

Nino shrugged. “They could just be friends who are hanging out? Chat Noir doesn’t always have to parade around as Paris’ superhero. He’s probably just a normal everyday person and Marinette decided to help him feel normal. I mean Marinette is super nice about those things.”

“But the kiss! The Kiss, Nino!”

“Uhh...maybe they’re friendly? I mean we’re French. We kiss in greeting.”

Alya gave Nino a deadpanned look.

“What else am I supposed to say? There are so many other logical explanations for why Marinette would kiss Chat Noir as he snuck into her bedroom.” Nino paused for a second. “Okay, that sounded really bad as I said it, but c’mon Alya. You really think Marinette would start dating Chat Noir?”

Alya tapped a pen on his cap. “That’s what I’m going to find out!”

Nino groaned, knowing Alya she’d devise some crazy scheme to get Marinette to confess that she was dating Chat Noir.

“Alya, please, don’t do anything stupid,” he begged.

“Stupid? Who me?” Alya blinked innocently as she walked towards the door. “Relax, I’ve got it all figured out.”

Alya winked at him as she exited the apartment.

Hopefully, Marinette has better luck than me convincing her.

                                                          XXX

“On your left!” Adrien shouted as he moved his cat-themed character across the Marshmallow Marsh.

Thanks to Adrien, Nino just narrowly avoided a sugar bomb. Maneuvering around the sticky mess left in its wake, Nino was able to catch up to Adrien’s character as they reached the end of the marsh and the end of the level.

Candy Chompers was one of Adrien and Nino’s favorite games ever since they discovered it two months ago. They had been enamored by the sugary sweet world and all the characters and adventures that came with it.

It was really a nice change from the games that guys their age played. Less violence and gore. More cute adorable animals wanting to save their world from being overrun by the evil Candy Lord.

As the next level loaded, Nino felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He shifted his position on Adrien’s couch so he could reach the phone.

Nino groaned as he read the text from Alya. So Marinette failed at her job yesterday.

Adrien glanced at Nino. “Everything okay?”

“No.” Nino paused the game, running his hand through his hair. “Apparently, Marinette and Chat Noir are dating and it seems Alya is making us go on a double date Saturday.”

“Wait, Alya found out Marinette and Chat Noir are dating?” Adrien asked, almost fearful.

“Yeah, crazy right?” Nino set his controller on the arm of the couch. “I always thought you two would get together.”

“Heh, yeah, Marinette and I. Definitely won’t happen now. Cause she’s with Chat. Hehe.”

Nino raised his eyebrows. Adrien was acting weirder than usual. And that was saying a lot, considering he always had the lamest excuses when akumas happened. Nino never really questioned the excuses though. Whatever he was doing when they occurred was Adrien’s business.

“So you’re going on a double date with Chat Noir?”

Nino nodded.

“Awesome. Great. Amazing.”

Before Nino could ask about Adrien’s weird response, Adrien unpaused the game, forcing Nino to refocus on the level ahead.

Adrien’s behavior was weird, but maybe he just had more feelings for Marinette than Nino thought. Man, he really shouldn’t have mentioned the double date in front of Adrien. Poor dude.

                                                          XXX

“I still don’t see why you had to invite them over for a date,” Nino said, watching Alya pull out her famous chicken casserole from the oven. The smell of the dish alone was enough to get Nino’s mouth watering.

Placing the hot dish on the stove, Alya turned towards Nino. “I needed to see if this little kitty is good enough for our Mari.”

“Alya. He’s a superhero. You’ve had interviews with him. How can you say he’s not good enough for Nette?”

There was the sound of voices coming from Alya’s front door, so Nino moved to go open it. From what he could tell the two people outside of it were arguing.

“For all we know, Chat Noir could just be keeping up appearances. Knowing the entirety of Paris is watching, he could have just put on this fake personality, and underneath he’s just this ugly troll, trying to hurt our precious Marinette.”

Nino rolled his eyes at his girlfriend’s antics.

“Why are you dressed like that?” One of the voices in the hallway said. Kind sounded like Marinette if he really focused on the voice.

“I thought that this was appropriate.” Wow, that sounded a lot like Adrien. “Especially considering they think that—”

The voices stopped as soon as Nino opened the apartment door.

Huh, so it was Marinette’s voice he heard, but definitely not Adrien’s.

Marinette and Chat Noir looked like little kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Both of them looked extremely stiff as they stood next to each other right outside the apartment door.

“Oh, you’re here!” Nino jumped at Alya’s sudden appearance behind him. “Nino, don’t make them stay out there all night.”

“Yeah, c’mon in!” Nino moved aside to let the couple in.

“You came at a perfect time, I just took out the food. I’ll bring it out in just a second!” Alya said, walking back into the kitchen.

“Okay, Alya. We’ll be at the dining table,” Marinette responded, leading Chat over to the table in the dining room.

Nino wasn’t sure if it was just him, but Marinette seemed extremely tense like she was a mouse stuck in a field of mouse traps.

There was an awkward pause at the table once the three sat down. Neither of the couple in front of Nino seemed very eager to strike up a conversation. Probably just nerves.

Considering the circumstances, Nino figured that they never really expected to go on a double date ever, so now being on one was likely very weird.

“Uh, so, Chat, what do you like to do for fun?” Nino asked.

“Oh, you know. Everyday teenage boy things. Play video games, flex in the mirror, save princesses. Normal everyday activities. Hehe.”

“What games do you play?”

“I play a bit of Ultimate Mecha Strike III and Cand—OW!”

Nino watched confused as Chat Noir brought his foot up to his face and cradled it. Marinette didn’t seem at all concerned by her boyfriend’s antics. Instead, she was glancing back towards the kitchen where Alya was adding some finishing touches on her casserole.

“Oh, so you and Marinette must’ve bonded over your love for UMS3. She’s like the queen of that game. I still have yet to meet someone who could beat her at it.”

Chat Noir scoffed. “I’ve beat Little Miss Constipation Girl here at UMS3 multiple times.”

Of all the names to call Marinette, that had to be the weirdest one ever. He definitely had to ask about that later. As far as he knew , the only people who knew about the constipation incident were him, Alya, the girls, and Adrien. Well Nino only knew because Adrien had told him about his trip to London and Alya filled him in on some minor details after the fact.

Marinette either blushed in embarrassment at the nickname or at the fact that she wasn’t an unbeatable mastermind at UMS3. “You only won both times because you cheated by distracting me!”

“A true champion knows not to get distracted by the tiniest of things.” Chat had a smug smirk on his face as he watched Marinette turn as red as a tomato.

“Why you mangy little all-”

“Dinner is served!” Alya announced, interrupting Marinette.

Whatever the incident was surrounding UMS3, Nino was definitely never going to bring that up again for fear of his life or Chat’s life.

“So what were you guys talking about?” Alya asked, taking the seat beside Nino.

“Nothing much. Wow, babe this looks amazing. Let’s dig in!” Nino exclaimed, quickly grabbing a serving of the casserole.

Chat and Marinette followed suit while Alya gave Nino a look that read, ‘What the heck is going on?’. Instead of answering the exact question she was thinking, Nino turned towards his plate and started filling his mouth with food.

Alya shook her head at his antics, grabbing her own portion.

The next few minutes were spent in a comfortable silence as everyone dug into the food.

Alya really out did herself this time. Maybe Marinette should sneak around with superheroes more often if this is how Alya ends up cooking.

“You’re a hungry little cat aren’t you?” Alya asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Looking up, Nino saw Chat with his claw (paw?) on the spoon for the casserole dish.

“Sorry, I didn’t get to eat a whole lot today and this is really good food, Ms. Ladyblogger.”

Nino, along with Alya and Marinette, looked at Chat concerned. Of all people, Nino would’ve thought a superhero would eat enough to stay healthy. Superheroes like Chat and Ladybug were always out there running around stopping akumas. Not eating enough food? That was practically a death wish.

“Nino, could you go get the leftover coleslaw from our lunch earlier. I think Chat needs it more than Ella and Etta.”

Nino immediately complied, more than eager to help out the poor boy who consistently saved Paris.

“No, you don’t have to!” Chat started shaking his hands, trying to stop Nino.

“Dude, we have a model friend who doesn’t eat enough as it is and I always make him eat some of my leftovers. As far as I know you’re not a model, but you save Paris like everyday so a healthy diet is a must.” Nino pushed the bowl of coleslaw into Chat’s arms. “Here, take as much as you want.”

“Oh, um, thanks. I’m not really sure what to say.” Chat blushed.

“You don’t say anything. Just eat.” Marinette grabbed the coleslaw from Chat’s hands and filled his plate with a nice serving. Alya did similar and picked up the casserole dish, piling even more food onto his plate.

“Oh, okay then.” Chat picked up his fork and stared at his plate now full of food.

“I don’t see a lot of eating going on there.” Marinette had her hands on her hips, watching Chat to make sure he would eat. Chat clearly didn’t want to test Marinette on the topic of food, so he complied by eating the food in front of him.

“I think I finally get it. Marinette is dating Chat to make sure that he would be eating enough!” Alya shouted after a few minutes watching the two.

“Wait what you think I’m dating Chat!?” “That’s exactly the reason!”

Marinette and Chat blurted at the same time.

Nino furrowed his eyebrows at Marinette’s statement. That didn’t make a lot of sense considering they were currently on a double date.

“Wait, what do you mean you and Chat aren’t dating?” Apparently, Alya also picked up on Marinette’s statement.

“Um, well you see Chat is here, umm, filling in for Adrien because you mentioned how you saw me with my boyfriend and I’m dating Adrien hehe.” Marinette smiled unconvincingly.

“So you’re not dating Chat Noir?”

Marinette shook her head. “I’m not...did you think I was?”

“Uh, yeah! I saw him sneak into your room one night and you kissed him on the cheek!”

Marinette glanced at Chat. “Oh, uh, you saw that? Chat and I just hang out sometimes. Giving each other cheek kisses and all.”

Alya blinked while Nino grinned at the explanation. It was practically the same explanation he had given Alya when this whole thing started.

“Oh. Then that means you’re dating Adrien?”

Marinette nodded.

“And Chat filled in because Adrien couldn’t make it?”

Marinette nodded again.

“Uh, I have a question.” Nino felt the entire table’s eyes on him as he spoke. “Why did Chat volunteer if you and Adrien were keeping your relationship a secret? Why not just say Adrien couldn’t come instead of outing your secret to three people?”

“Adrien and I are bad at keeping secrets?” Marinette said more so as a question.

“Clearly.” Alya sighed. Nino could tell she was just as confused as he was.

There was just something about her story that didn’t add up. It was really bugging him, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.

Unless it was…

“Hey, Nette, did you ever tell Chat about the prescription incident?”

“No, why?”

That was it. That was what didn’t make sense. “Why did Chat call you ‘Little Miss Constipation Girl’ earlier?”

“Uhh…”

“There was another constipation incident!”

Alya gave the pair a look of disbelief. “As much as I could believe Marinette had some separate constipation incident. I feel like your actions suggest otherwise.”

“I mean it’s not like there’s anything ba—Oh my gosh, Chat’s Adrien.” The answer just hit Nino like a bullet train. How could he have been so blind. Adrien was the only dude who even knew about that stupid constipation incident. And then his actions lined up almost perfectly with how Chat acted. Even his reaction at the dinner invite. He was probably completely confused on who he was supposed to show up as.

“How could I have been so blind!” Alya exclaimed next to him.

“I guess we let the Chat out of the bag, huh?” Chat whispered to Marinette.

“No, you did!”

“Nah, it was a team effort.”

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 6 "Seven Minutes in Hell" (Note: Offensive content, use at own discretion)

Everyone would immediately assume the killer is me.

Are you one of those idiot savants who's heavy on the idiot, light on the savant?

I am simply a victim of my times.

Are you aware your pants are on backwards?

Then whose fault is it?

I am never talking about anything ever again!

Yeah, super sorry about what happened down there.

Why are you laughing?

What about that fit you threw down there?

You're not mad at me?

Oh, I meant everything I said about you.

I still think you're useless. I'm just not sad about it.

You never, ever want to be the boss in a time of extreme crisis.

As soon as you become the boss, you get a target on your back, from the feds, the other families, ambitious underlings.

Sure, seems like you have all the power, but you also take on the most risk.

Oh, don't judge me for trying to stay alive.

Do not give an inch.

What's your game here?

I trust you about as far as I can throw you.

I know we don't know who the killer is, but we know it traces back to this house.

There are two things that always happen at a slumber party; someone experiments with lesbianism and secrets are revealed.

We can create situations and scenarios to really prime the pump.

We'll lock everybody up overnight, and we're bound to find out something.

A slumber party sounds fun.

Let's play spin the bottle.

Someone always goes lesbian.

We're playing spin the damn bottle.

Why spin the bottle?

That is not a nasty rumor. That is a true rumor.

So I propose a panty raid.

You taste like wax.

I guess we have to kiss.

You're a great kisser.

Was I interrupting you?

I was just practicing looking disinterested.

I'm pretty sure I was born without that part of the brain that actually feels stuff.

We have so much in common.

I'm starting to think we have something very important and specific in common.

My sex life up until this point is what you'd call unusual.

I think the only way to be sure of your feelings is if you let me gently rub your uterus right now.

When I love someone, it drives them insane.

Believe me when I say that if it was possible for me to feel anything I would totally be crying right now.

That doesn't seem healthy.

All the doors are locked solid. Windows, too. Upstairs and down.

I decided to have the whole house turned into a panic room.

But wait, doesn't that mean that there's some sort of switch somewhere to deactivate it?

I hate being trapped in small places.

There's only one reason why the killer would do something like this-- to pick us off one by one.

Guess it's just a matter of time before one of us or all of us ends up dead.

You have to help us.

Look, I'm prepared to say I'm sorry I did that.

What I'm not prepared to do is say the sex was bad.

Yeah. I'm not gonna apologize for that one.

I'm about to get murdered, so can you please just hang up and get over here?

How on earth are we supposed to get in if all the doors and windows are locked?

Dude, we climb up the ladder, break the windows upstairs, save all the girls, climb back down, then it's vagina city for all of us.

Why would you bomb-proof upstairs windows? For what, like, a flying bomb?

Don't be an idiot.

It's hero time.

Save me and I'm yours forever.

I'm not really sure I'm ready for that level of commitment.

Break the glass!

Stand back, fair maiden.

Give him the dignity of watching him die.

Someone in this house definitely knows who the killer is.

It's truth or dare time.

Whatever it takes to stop the douche that's trying to kill everybody.

I mean, do you ever just stop and ask yourself if we can actually pull this off?

Maybe we all just need to get out of here.

The best way to avoid a shark attack is to not go in the water.

We all have a crisis of faith sometimes.

Maybe you're hiding something.

I'd pick truth and then just lie.

If you want to lie, you can just pick dare.

That's the whole point of truth or dare. You can't lie.

Does your vagina have teeth?

I'm not lying.

My vagina doesn't have teeth.

Does your vagina still have teeth?

So it used to have teeth, but you got them removed?

So your vagina still has teeth.

Sounds like you're trapped in a web of lies.

You're forfeiting your turn, bitch.

Okay, I guess it's my turn, then.

You promised you wouldn't tell.

Sorry. I had to tell the truth.

Of course you're the killer.

I propose we take a little break, You know, take a whiz, get a refill.

You know what? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever trusted you.

I wanted to talk about the other thing you said, about how you thought you had feelings for me.

The only feelings I have for you now are rage and pissed offedness.

Now go sit in that bathtub and think about what you've done. And try not to rub one out, okay?

Come on! I said I was sorry!

If anybody's down here, please don't jump out at me.

Is that blood?

Wait. If you're gonna kill me, at least show me who you are first.

I knew it. I knew it was you.

Please. You don't have to do this. I could help you.

There's never any food in there. Just laxatives.

I got the impression that you and I are on the verge of being the next "it" couple.

See, this is the problem with texting, you know? You can't hear the context.

Even though I decided to not wear a bra, you haven't been staring at my shirt raisins once.

Okay, look, I was waiting to talk to you about this 'cause secretly I was hoping you'd be killed and I wouldn't have to hurt your feelings.

I just don't think it would work out with us.

You're nuts, and not like a typical crazy-eyes co-ed, but wake-up-with-my penis-in-a-jar lunatic.

I love space mountain. Best ride at Disneyland. But I love my penis more.

Number one-- I never take second place. And number two-- I don't stop till I get what I want.

Was that salad spinner hitting on you?

I am super turned on from her, and I need some sweet release.

Is there any, like, Crisco or cooking oil here? Just, like, dry handies bum me out.

I propose we treat ourselves to a little heaven. Seven minutes in heaven.

Whatever your plan was, it isn't working.

Would you like to pat the little man in the canoe?

I want to take our relationship to the next level.

I want us to be together, but I want it to mean something.

I love boning girls all over this great land. But really, at the end of the day, I just kind of want to bone one girl. Like, that one special girl.

I just didn't think that girl was you. Because, obviously, there's so much wrong with you.

Will you get back together with me?

I would consider taking you back under one condition.

You have to pinky-pledge that you will be monogamous to me.

You will not have sex with anyone else. Do you understand me?

Dude, she looks like prepackaged meat from the supermarket.

Oh, god, has someone checked on the kids?

Pretty convenient that you're the one who found the body.

You're the darkest bitch of them all.

Those are some serious accusations, and they make no sense.

I would be opening myself up to a lot of trouble if I were to turn you in to the authorities.

It doesn't do any of us any good to start accusing each other with no evidence.

I suggest that we just have someone stand guard and watch me for the rest of the night, or until someone else dies, therefore proving that I am not the killer.

This feels so good.

I tried to scream, but nothing came out!

Interesting. That's all I'm gonna say. Interesting.

There is a trapdoor with, like, a tunnel system.

But wait, there are secret tunnels in this house perfect for a killer to use, and you neglected to tell us?

That's a little suspicious.

We are losing sight of the big picture here.

I'm not going down there. I do not dig on cobwebs, and I'm guessing there are loads of cobwebs down there.

If you get murdered in those tunnels, I promise I will never bang anyone harder than I banged you.

You're so rich and hot.

These are the nicest secret tunnels I've ever seen.

Wow. What amazing legacies they all have. What do you think ours will be?

If we can get through this year without everyone getting killed, I think we'll go down as the greatest of them all.

You came back for me.

Purely selfish.

You are probably the worst cop ever.

Wait, where are we going?

I won't go!

In three seconds, I'm gonna pick you up and carry you out of here.

I just kind of came over here because I farted over there and it smelled bad.

Wait, you're a lesbian?

Basically, I'm in love with love.

The next time I feel love for someone, I'm going to tell them. Right away. Just in case they're murdered before I can.

I just feel like I'm never gonna find a guy who likes me.

I'm a freak.

Nobody actually likes me.

You are totally gonna find another guy.

They're custom-made pink nunchaku.

Thank you for making that announcement that no one cared about.

No slumber party is finished without a kickass dance party.

This is so wonderfully random.

What a great way to pretend all these people we know weren't brutally murdered.

[nad-zeta]

Headcanon: How the boys and MC farts

Ayeeeeee love got a really hilarious idea and I really hope it is not offensive lol??? like… um …. how warlords and MC fart I guess?? like o boi dats awkward LOLOL; just had the shitty(note the pun) idea and cant stop asking you hehee

Hi hi, love! 🌻😳Thank you so much for the request and omw I was dying laughing when I first read this idea hehe! 😂❤I hope you enjoy love and I hope you have the best day! 😂😂

Nobunaga

Just like the powerful commander he is, his farts are loud and proud

Will shamelessly fart in front of EVERYBODY during the war councils

“What’s that sound My lord.” Mitsunari asked confused by the loud thunderous sound ripping through the council room

“That would be the sound of my fart.” (¬‿¬)

“Oh, well it is quite majestic my Lord” (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Has no shame about letting one rip

That would definitely make this commander a confident farter

Masamune

I think Masamune is the Prompt farter

This warlord clown always has one locked away and ready to go

Just say the word and he will let one rip without a second thought 

His farts are also loud and proud

Will 9/10 time fart on Mitsuhide when he is busy losing at a battle of wits against the sneaky boi, kinda like how an older sibling would fart in a younger sibling’s face… you know for laughs

Also loves to compete with other peoples farts, if someone farts near him he will smile that mischievous smile of his, “Challenge accepted”

Mitsunari

Mitsunari is a strategic farter

He is the type that would let one rip and then smile like it never happened

His farts are actually pretty cute and angelic sounding

His Celestial Farts are soft and delicate, it is just a very small clear fart with no odour at all

Like a little toot

Ieyasu

We have a dishonest farter here

He will legit fart and then blame the nearest person or animal

“Pttttffftt”

“Hey, Masamune can you not fart so close to me.”

“Lad, that didn’t even sound like one of my farts, this is what my farts sound like.”

“PPPPPTTTTTFFFFFFTTTTTTFFF”

After he has eaten a particularly spicy meal this boy’s farts will be dead silent but VIOLENT!

It slipped out so quickly and silently, yet had the power to kill an army

Hideyoshi

Hideyoshi is an honest farter

He wouldn’t be particularly proud of his farts like Masamune or Nobu, but he also won’t shy away from admitting that he farted

Especially when he is drunk

Lets one slip during war council

It comes out like a medium toot

“Oooh excuse me, I just farted”

Will walk over to the window to crack it open, even though it doesn’t really stink

If he is drunk, he will definitely partake in a farting contest with Masamune

Mitsuhide

These farts come out like the sound of a snek

Sssssssssssssssst

“Mitsuhide did you just sis or was that a fart.”

“Golly me, whatever could you be talking about, little mouse.”

He is a disappointed farter, he will give off, soft farts with no odour.

No matter how hard he tries to fart as loudly as his fellow warlords, they always just seem to just fizz out.

This fart can only be classified as one thing a dud fart, and it usually leaves the farter feeling a little disappointed.

Kenshin

Kenshin is one of those classified under the snart

The only time bunny boy farts is when he sneezes or when you tickle him, and he is laughing too much

Like Mitsuhide and Mitsunari, his farts comes across as soft and graceful just like him

It kind of reminds you of a little bunny sneeze

One day Shingen felt like messing with Kenshin and tickled his nose with a feather to make him sneeze, and that’s when it happened

One little fart slipped lose

The warlords couldn’t tell if the bunny on Kenshin’s lap had sneezed or if it was a fart

Either way, it brought tears to their eyes, their lord was so graceful amd cute in everything he does

Otherwise, bunny boi is classified as a miserable farter, those who are simply unable to fart

Yukimura

This boy is 100% a shy and nervous farter

He will let one rip loud and proud when he is alone, but in company, the farts come out bit for bit

He is someone who would stop mid fart if he senses someone coming

During banquets, this boy will start to feel the fart coming on

“pt,pt,pt-pt,pt-pt-pt,pop,pop-pop-pop-POW!”

Finally relief.... until

“Do you guy smell something.” Sasuke very dramatically gasps for air 

Cue Yukimura going super red

“N-no, here try these sticky buns,” Yuki will legit stuff Sasuke’s face with food to distract him from the fact that he just farted

Shingen

Daddy Shingen is definitely a clever farter

He has to be, when he is trying to flirt with and impress the ladies

Will be someone who coughs and farts at the same time, just to mask the fact that he farted

Or he will wait for the perfect moment when Kenshin slams his fist on the table in frustration, at the fact that, no one is willing to fight with him during the banquet

If his farts had to be something, it would be a rusty gate fart

As in, it will sound like the driest and squeaky fart sound you have ever heard

Sasuke

This boy staying true to science, is a scientific farter

He will mostly be one of those who keep their farts in a jar and then use it to make deadly smoke bombs

He has a skillsaw kind of fart, the kind that vibrates the farter, as it gets released.

It shakes him up while people back away slowly, kinda low key sounds like an electric saw ripping through wood.

“Sasuke, dude did you just fart.”

“Of course, releasing pent up gas is healthy, plus now I have some fresh gas to use for my newest smoke bomb.”

“You are seriously gross man.”

MC

You are classified as a foolish farter

The one who lowkey keeps their farts in when you are in public

Will let it rip when in the comfort of your own presence, but when in front of the warlords

You will suck that fart so far up your ass, lest you want to be teased for days

Especially after the one time, you farted in front of the kitsune

“Hey, Mitsu did you smell something.” you asked super innocently 

“I believe that is the smell of your farts, smelly little mouse, perhaps you shouldn’t have eaten those beans last night.” (¬‿¬)

“I have no idea what you are talking about Mitsu, I was talking about the smell of those flowers over there, unless you want to confess that it was, in fact, you that farted” (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞

“Hmmm, the fox smells his own hole, my dear.” (◕‿◕✿)

Mitus smirked as he gave you one final head pat and retreated back for some fresh air

I hope you enjoyed it dear! ❤❤🌻

[dr-gloom]

The Makings of Greatness: Chapter 9

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: platonic logince, platonic moxiety, platonic anxeit, familial ThVi

Tags/Warnings (for this chapter): slight sympathetic deceit, conspiring, anxiety

Ko-fi

AO3

Masterlist

Prologue  Ch 1  Ch 2  Ch 3  Ch 4  Ch 5  Ch 6  Ch 7  Ch 8  Ch 9  Ch 10  Ch 11  Ch 12  Ch 13 Ch 14  Ch 15  Ch 16  Ch 17

After everything has settled and dinner is over, Declan decides to go look for Virgil. He hasn’t seen the boy since he ran off, not even at dinner, and at this point even he can’t deny that he’s feeling a little worried right now. He searches below deck first, even going so far as to check any spaces big enough to hide a scrawny teen (not an easy feat when you’re twice his size). Hoping he hasn’t just missed the boy, he heads to the last place he hasn’t checked; the deck.

Virgil sits up in the shrouds, just above head level, staring out at the calm night sky. His hands tie and untie a small length of rope again and again, and Declan just knows somehow that he’s trying to make the action unconscious so that maybe he won’t screw up next time.

His chest aches at the thought.

He walks over to the shroud, leaning against the trim and casually joining Virgil in looking out at the stars. He sighs softly, his eyes glancing up at the teen who refuses to acknowledge his presence. Alright then, he’ll start…

“It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

Virgil sighs. Declan forces a grin. “Half the crew would be spinning in that… black abyss if it weren’t for-”

Virgil tosses the rope and it floats off into space as he jumps down onto the trim, glaring at Declan as he finds his footing on the deck. “Don’t you get it? I screwed up!” He marches up to the cook, his eyes never leaving the cyborg’s. “I thought that, for two seconds, maybe I could do something right! But- Augh!” He grips at his hair, mussing it as he pulls at the strands. He turns away from Declan, walking over to the mast and slumping against it defeatedly. “I just-” He sighs, “just- forget it…”

Declan frowns, then sets his face and walks up to the teen, grabbing his shoulder and turning Virgil to face him. “Now, you listen to me, Virgil Shae.” Virgil looks up at him, a spark of curiosity in his otherwise defeated gaze. The tears making his eyes shine pull at Declan’s heartstrings, so he forces a grin to mask it. “You’ve got a gift. A spark that no one else has, and you can really be something great if you just… take the helm and chart your own course!” He implores. Virgil tilts his head up to look at Declan more fully. From the wide-eyed look he’s giving him, Declan has to wonder if anyone’s ever told Virgil he was worth something.

He doesn’t like the answer he can easily assume.

“You have to stick to it, no matter the obstacles. And when the time comes to show what you’re made of….” He allows a fond smile to creep onto his face, looking up at the stars. “I hope I’m there, to catch some of the light coming off of you.” When his gaze meets Virgil’s again, Virgil looks on the verge of tears. He takes a step closer to Declan, looking up at him silently, then suddenly his face is pressed gently to Declan’s chest.

Declan had never put much thought - or any thought, really - into what kind of crier Virgil was, but as the teen stands there, slumped against the larger cyborg and wetting the man’s shirt, Declan can’t find it in himself to care. In fact, he feels like he shouldn’t be seeing this. Like he’s intruding on something private. He looks around, heat crawling up his neck and along his cheeks, before hesitantly wrapping his arms around Virgil.

“It’s… it’s alright, Virge. It’s alright.” He awkwardly pats his back.

After a moment of the two standing there, Declan clears his throat, taking Virgil by the shoulders and holding him at arm’s length with a reassuring smile. “Now… I need to get back to watch. You need to get some sleep.” He gently nudges Virgil towards the stairs and Virgil goes wordlessly. At the last moment Virgil turns to smile at Declan, and Declan shoots him a lazy wave. Virgil waves back before shuffling down the stairs.

Declan’s smile melts off his face as he watches the boy go, sighing. Morph flits over to Declan, resting on his shoulder with a happy little grin. “I’m getting in too deep, Morph… Next thing you know, they’ll be saying I’ve gone soft…”

Virgil hated his bunk. Not the hammock itself, no, that was just fine. He hated who slept above him, though.

As a series of farts - his version of sleep talking? - left the snout… things of the crewman above him, Virgil wondered in his sleep-addled brain if they were all linked to his butt or something. One of them farted right in his face, ruffling his hair, and he nearly gagged on the smell, falling out of his hammock.

No question about it, this dude was basically a bunch of buttholes.

He carded a hand through his messy hair and rubbed his tired eyes, reaching for his boots. He pulled the left one on as he let out a loud yawn, tying the laces with clumsy fingers. He reached for the right, but just as leather brushed his fingertips, it jumped away.

Wait, what?

He had to be seeing things.

The shoe continued to hop over to the corner of the room where the crew’s various belongings were all haphazardly stuffed together. It hopped onto a chest and then ducked behind it, disappearing.

Virgil rubbed his face tiredly. “Morph…?”

He stood up, stumbling over to the mess in the corner on uneven feet, and hauled himself over the chest, looking around. There wasn’t much light getting into the barracks since it was early morning, couple that with the fact that he was still waking up and Virgil couldn’t make much out from the mess of belongings. He moved things around, standing on his tiptoes and the chest pressing uncomfortably against his stomach.

“Morph, come on man, it’s too early for this.”

A swift kick to his butt had him straightening up, startled. “Ow, hey! Morph!”

Boot-Morph floated just above his head, just out of his reach, and blew a raspberry at him. It looked weird, the tongue poking out between the sole of the shoe and its rubber bottom. Then he turns back into his pink self and grabs Virgil’s boot from where he’d hidden it, flitting away.

“Hey, come back here!”

“Come back here!”

Virgil smiled as he chased Morph through the barracks, trying not to bump or wake anybody. Morph disappeared up the stairs and Virgil raced to follow.

Morph shot through the air towards the main deck and Virgil jumped in leu of taking the stairs down, snatching the boot as he came crashing down onto the deck right beside one of the hatched openings that served as the undercarry’s window. Morph stops just in front of him and turns into a blowfish, deflating as he spits water into Virgil’s face.

Well, if he wasn’t awake before, he certainly was now.

“That’s it, you little squid!” Virgil calls through his laughter, grabbing for Morph. Morph squeezed through his fingers and disappears through one of the hatched openings. “You little squid!” He appears as Virgil’s head to Virgil’s left and Virgil reaches to smack him, just missing him as he ducks back down.

“You little squid!” To Virgil’s right. Virgil is just barely too slow.

“You little squid!” His left again.

“You little squid!” In front of him.

“You little squid! You little squid! You little squid!” He turns into more heads, all of them even smaller, appearing in multiple gaps at once. Virgil somehow manages to miss every single one, laughing breathlessly in a mix of amusement and frustration. Suddenly, they stop. Virgil pauses to wait, but they don’t come back. He hums to himself and puts his boot on, heading down to the galley where the hatched window peers into.

Virgil looks under all the tables and benches, looking for any place Morph might hide. It doesn’t help that he can change into completely mundane objects, though. He spots the barrel of purps in the corner and walks over to it. Maybe…

He pears inside, looking at the pile of inconspicuous purps. One of them suddenly opens its eyes - which it definitely should not have - before gasping and shutting them again. “Ha! Busted!” Virgil jumped into the barrel, thankful it was nearly empty so instead of squishing the purps, they merely moved around him. He grabbed at Morph and the blob escaped his grasp. He laughed as he finally managed to snag him, scritching his head with a finger. Morph purred contently, sagging.

“Look, all we’re saying is we’re sick of waiting around!”

Virgil stilled at the sound of hushed voices drawing closer, coming down the stairs.

“There’s only three of them left.”

“We want to move!”

Virgil peeks out of a hole in the barrel, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight of the crew. The big four-armed guy that bumped into him on the first day, the head-and-arms lady, the heavyset guy that had glared at him, those two aliens that acted like one guy. A robotic arm comes into view, the fist clenched. “We’re not moving until we’ve got the treasure in hand!”

Virgil’s eyes widened. Wait, Declan was…

“I say we kill them all now.” Remy’s voice muttered. Virgil shifted to get a better look. Declan scowled and grabbed Remy by his jaw, yanking him down to glare down at him.

“I give the orders here! Disobey me again like that stunt with Picani, and you’ll be joining him!” Declan threw Remy into the barrel, making it shake with the impact. Virgil fell back and Morph let out a worried sound. Virgil put a finger to his lips, eyes wide and heart pounding.

Emile’s death wasn’t his fault after all? But then… what happened? Had Remy... killed him?

Was Declan going to let him kill Virgil, too?

“Strong words, but I know the truth.” Remy reached a claw into the barrel, narrowly missing Virgil’s head. Virgil pushed himself back against the wood, watching the claw grasp fruitlessly (pun so intended) with wide eyes, gripping Morph to his chest.

“You got something to say, Remy?”

Virgil grabbed a purp and held it up for Remy to grasp. His claw squeezed the purp and left the barrel, lifting the fruit to take a bite. “You’ve gone soft, fawning over that nosy cabin boy.”

The other crewmen murmur agreements and curiosities, and Declan narrows his eyes, straightening up. “Now you listen here. All of you. I only care about one thing; Flint’s trove. You think I’d risk that all for some… brat?”

Virgil feels his heart shatter. His chest heaves as he tries to breathe past the sudden hole in his lungs. He should have known; no one cares about him. Nobody. He’s useless, a waste of space, he’ll never amount to anything. Declan just said all that stuff to get Virgil off their backs.

“You’ve got a gift~. A spark that no one else has~.” Remy mocks. Declan’s robotic eye turns red and he snarls. “Shut your mouth! I cozied up to him to keep him off our scent, nothing else!” Virgil feels tears burning in his eyes. He knew it. He knew it, and he let himself believe otherwise.

God, he was so stupid.

“I haven’t gone soft.”

“Land ho!”

All conversation stops and the men cheer, rushing up the steps. Virgil holds Morph to his chest, trying to catch his breath and struggling to keep his tears in his eyes.

He should have never left Montressor.

Taglist: @the5thcoy @dailysandersidesaudoodles @hungry-red-panda @neonb-fly @chemically-imbalanced-romance @punsterterry @dead4sevenyears @metaphoricalpluto2 @tanyatoloni1334

[seenashwrite]

Nash’s 200th Follower Celebration Challenge!

Get your spy gear ready. 

We’re gonna take inspiration from Archer, y’all. 

I haven’t personally seen this used in a challenge [at least in my circle]. It is so full of potential, from snark to sexy times to knock-your-socks-off shock. Even if you aren’t familiar with the source, the prompts are so very tasty, I can’t imagine each & every writer won’t find at least ONE to gobble up.

*** 120 Prompts!  So just one writer apiece ***     ---> YOU KNOW WHAT?? SCREW IT!  Send me THREE!!!!

But! There’s a challenging bonus at the bottom [#121] with NO LIMIT TO THE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE WHO WANT TO TRY IT! 

I’d recommend just a “scene” versus an entire fic, or tack it on to your actual entry in a weird prologue or epilogue, something of that ilk. It’s nuts. I’m not overselling the nuttiness, here. Weave some magic. EXAMPLE

Full guidelines at the bottom.

THE ONES THAT TOTALLY COULDA BEEN IN AN SPN EPISODE:

1. "Team Live Badass"? That's the best you could come up with?

2. Oh, I thought we were laughing at the dead people we set on fire. @wrenwritesometimes

3. AHHHH! The dust! It's like being shot in the eyes by a glitter gun!

4. Oh, you don't look like a whore... an idiot, maybe? Or both! Yes!      A whore-diot!  @jalove-wecallhimdean

5. --- What is this herpes business?     --- Bad joke... and a false alarm. @itswitchcraft-not-googlemaps

6. Wanna try yanking on the pipe?

7. You ass, for the love of all that's green, take me and the rabbit to the lettuce store!   @wrenwritesometimes

8. Eat a buffet of dicks.  @hannahindie 

9. --- And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go kill some evil clowns.     --- [long awkward pause]      --- Do you have an erection?

10. You're just gonna leave him with a grenade stuck up his ass? 

11. It would be rude not to eat her pie, which I assume is not only hot, but also moist... although hopefully not flaky. 

12. Nothing can make up for almost killing me over a briefcase of what I can only assume is either plutonium or a human soul.

13. Oh don't worry. He may be a vain, selfish, lying, and quite possibly alcoholic man-whore, but gambling is one vice he doesn't have.  @fanforfanatic

14. I want it on record that I think this is a terrible plan.  

15. They say the devil's in the details... and silk pajamas.

SNARK-A-PALOOZA:

16. All I've had today is, like, six gummy bears and some scotch.  @wrenwritesometimes

17. For I am a sinner in the hands of an angry God. Bloody Mary, full of vodka, blessed are you among cocktails. Pray for me now and at the hour of my death, which I hope is soon. Amen. @butiaintgonnaloveem

18. --- Every single time we come here, we have to help you get rid of a dead body.       --- Well, you've only been here twice.  @senselesssamii 

19. Swear to god, you people make me want to pump nerve gas through the vents.  @impalaimagining

20. Why is your instinctive response to run toward explosions?  @impandagrl

21. On second thought, I very much prefer to be taken alive. Just let me clear the ol' browser history aaaand...

22. Is it murder if they were my own clones? I'm seriously asking.  @littlegreenplasticsoldier

23. I've always wanted to fight on top of a moving train. @amanda-teaches

24. I've never seen an ocelot! You guys, look at its little spots! Look at its tufted ears!

25. If this doesn't work, we just paid a hundred bucks for liquid fart.

26. Oh my god - I'm gonna die in a toilet stall, just like the gypsy woman said!

27. I swear, if you throw that computer on the floor one more time, you’ll wake up in a mental ward with total amnesia under someone else’s name!  @idreamofhazel

28. You just killed, like, ten pirates.

29. -- Grilled cheese.       -- What?       -- Grill me a cheese.       -- I'm not grilling you a cheese.   ME!

30. The Russians turned me into the unholy abomination of metal fused with flesh that now stands before you.

31. --- I swear, if anyone saw me in this awful van...       --- How could they, with this illegal-ass window tint? Dude, this van is like, rolling probable cause.

32. Not really the explosive climax I thought it was gonna be.

33. There's a zoo here?

34. What in the name of pre-paid venereal disease do you think you're doing?!

35. Are you not rampaging? I thought you were rampaging.  ---> AVAILABLE AGAIN!!!!

36. Hundred people surveyed, number one answer's still on the board: Name the douchebag who's in charge!  @roxy-davenport

37. Why would you think it's okay to share that?

38. You do realize there's a finite supply of Vaseline in the universe.

39. --- So then it's settled. We're a-go on Operation... what should we call it?       --- Dick Sledge.

40.  I saved her life! Go ask that dick I set on fire!

41. You want me to take a baby to a murder?  @impalaimagining

42. You do realize you're in huge trouble - and now I have to spend my first Friday off in forever devising some bizarre punishment for you?  ---> AVAILABLE AGAIN!

43. Have you no sense of decency? That bathroom’s like a… a war crime.

44. Hey, you awake? ‘Cause this is about to get weird. @klaineaholic

45. That's disgusting - if I wanted to look at your bare feet, I'd sneak in and do it while you were asleep.

46. Better pill up - you're assisting with the surgery.

47. --- Frickin' head's poundin', I'm sweatin' booze and my mouth's killin' me!       --- You're the one who stuffed four pool balls in it. 

48. Holy shit, you geeks are badass.   @uselessace

49. You're ruining your life, you idiot! And making it hard to drop a deuce.

50. Right, because you walked into Strippers’ Discount Warehouse and said, “Help me showcase my intellect".   @butiaintgonnaloveem

51. I've had good results with Ether.

52. Hey, will you choke me a little bit?  @littlegreenplasticsoldier

53. That stolen lemur bit one of your prostitutes right in the face and she says she can't go to the hospital because she's, quote, "tripping balls”.

54. --- Jeez, you're still taping bum fights?!       --- No, now I'm into something... darker.

55. That is my foot in your face - smell the embarrassment.

56. Oh! And, uh, by the way, try not to be unconscious for too long - it's super bad for you.  @withstarryeyes

57. Both of you imagine shutting up!   @uselessace

58. Idiots doing idiot things, because they’re idiots.

59.  --- Please tell me that's a smoke grenade.        --- Okay... it's not, though.  ----> AVAILABLE AGAIN!!!!!  :)

60. Sorry - I was picturing Whore Island.  @kayteonline

61. Somebody smells like they ate the ass-end out of a northbound cow.

62. I don't know... sometimes I think I'd like to adopt a little baby... so I could abandon it at a mall.

63. Well, he died doing what he loved - getting shot. @withstarryeyes 

64. Baby, I was emotionally shattered - which turns out to be kind of a panty-dropper.  @hannahindie

65. Now what am I going to spread on my toast? Your tears?

66. Sorry, that’s just a, uh, sympathy boner. @pinknerdpanda

67. Holy shit! Yogurt is amazing! Why have I never tried yogurt?!   @littlegreenplasticsoldier

68. Seriously, call Kenny Loggins - 'cause you're in the DANGER ZONE.  @kayteonline

69. I’m afraid the lemur got into the pudding cups.

70. I'm sorry, are you addressing me? Because your authority is not recognized in Fort Kickass.  @kittenofdoomage

71. Does internet porn know you're cheating on it?  @klaineaholic

72. No, it's too dirty - it's full of whatever alligators shit out, which I can only assume is people.

73. Oh my god! What shade is that? Crack whore red?!

74. Man, if I don't get some spaghetti and meatballs, I may literally die.

75. You used-panty vending sons of bitches!

76. Thank you both for all that you did do which, again, was nothing. @pinknerdpanda

77.  Damn, dog! That’s inappropes! 

78. If a single one of these has left the building, I will personally sew you into a canvas bag full of rats and throw that bag into the river.  @littlegreenplasticsoldier

79. Who do I have to murder around here to get this damn thing to make some ice?  ----> AVAILABLE AGAIN!!!!  :)

80. I'm sorry, what's that? I can't hear you over the sound of my deafening awesomeness.  @amanda-teaches

81. Don’t try to body-shame me, dog tits.

82. Is it just me, or does it smell like finger?

83. Ahahaha, man, you never rent a mule - ya lease that surly bastard.

84. When we first started going out, I may have... injected a tracking device into your body.  @fanforfanatic

85. And I don't want another one of your sullen whores using my medicine cabinet like a Pez dispenser.

86. Because I've been lying in scorpion piss for two hours in the sun-blasted shit-hole which is Texas, waiting for a stupid truck.

87. If I cared about what you do on the weekend, I'd stick a shotgun in my mouth and pull the trigger with my toes.  ME!

88. Punk-ass bitches!  ----> AVAILABLE AGAIN!!!! :)

89. And instead of doing my job, I was here - half-drunk and having amazing sex.

90. Well, no wonder this all went tits-up.

91. Right? And I know it sounds crazy, but I like them as much as cocaine!

92. Next time, remind me to get shot in the head.  ME!

93. You were the one yapping your head off about my damn teacup pig!

94. Who wants their ass beat first? And before you decide, keep in mind that I'm gradually going to get more tired, but also gradually more Berserker.

95. So you're not planning to blindfold me and hide me in a bomb shelter with limited oxygen and send my family cryptic notes about how to find me in a race against time for my life?

DEFINITELY CLASSY:

96. Who are you supposed to be, Topper Bottoms? Stern yet sensual skipper of the U.S.S. Rough Service?

97. You better pray to god it wasn't you who hit me. Because whoever it was hits like a little bitch of a girl, who was born with some kind of bitch of a birth defect, so that instead of a fist, she just has this tiny bitch of a nubbin.

98. I don't care! Having said that, would you please come into this dirty toilet stall and have sex with me?

99. Because you - prolapsed rectum that you are - are infatuated with her, whose cobwebby old snooch, by the way, I can smell from here!   @butiaintgonnaloveem

100. --- The thought of me dying gives you an erection?         --- Just half of one - the other half would have missed you. @kayteonline

101. I swear to god, you could drown a toddler in my panties right now. ME!

102. Stop - my penis can only get so erect. ME!

103. Can you not rub your dick in my mother's pantyhose, please?

104. --- Oh my god! You killed a hooker!          --- Call girl! She was a----          --- No, when they're dead, they're just hookers!

105. Vincent Van Go-fuck-yourself. 

106. Okay, we're off to get our scrotums waxed!  

107. --- Well, maybe you're lame!         --- Maybe you should shut your dick holster.

108. You’re a large-diameter dickhole.

109. First, see if he wants a beej...

110.  Water? Oh, never touched the stuff. Fish fuck in it. @kayteonline

111. --- Oh god, it tastes worse than it smells!         --- Man, if I had a nickel for every time I heard a guy say that. 

112. Who, me?! No! No, I've been up here the whole time, having some phone sex! Just jackin' it, on the telephone.  @fandommaniacx

113. I am literally wet with jealousy. @klaineaholic

114. Why does this chair have no seat... and WHAT IS IN HIS ASS?!  And unless it was the creepy-old-people-bondage-sex police, why would anyone break in here and shoot him?!

115. Because I have sex with actual women! My girlfriend's not equal parts the internet, a tube of Kentucky jelly, self-loathing, and a sock.  @hannahindie

116. And what part of your job, exactly, is groping my ass?  @wideawakeandwriting

117. --- Maybe you should've thought about that before you blew it!         --- I blew jack shit!         --- Name-dropper.

118. After this, I am going to go home, watch NCIS, and masturbate until my fingers bleed.   @itswitchcraft-not-googlemaps

119. --- Was that before or after you got caught fondling a teenager?        --- Well, obviously before - after, it was all French Armed Forces and dick stitches.

120. You can't put a price on good pussy.   @wideawakeandwriting

AND IF YOU ARE UP TO THE CHALLENGE:

121.   No no no no - Like, a big, sweaty fireman carries you out of a burning building, lays you on the sidewalk and you think – Yeah, okay, he's gonna give me mouth-to-mouth – but instead he just starts choking the shit out of you, and the last sensation that you feel before you die is he’s squeezing your throat so hard that a big wet blob of drool drips off his teeth, and just –  flurp – falls right onto your popped-out eyeball.

Bravery incarnate(s):  @kittenofdoomage  @fanforfanatic   @uselessace   @butiaintgonnaloveem

1. Supernatural only, please-and-thank-you [adjacent is fine, too - such as having O.C.s carry the bulk of the dialogue weight because we’re seeing the story through their eyes while, say, being hunters working with S & D or Jody & Donna or whatever your heart desires]

2. Pick your faves & any back-ups [and if you’re gonna take a run at #121] ---> shoot ‘em to me at DEAR NASH & I’ll hit you back with a confirmation 

3. Write & post your thing ---> don’t forget to tag me somewhere & use this in your first handful of tags: #Nash200

4. Have it in between June 11th - June 17th [about 6 weeks from original posting]  ---> TAKE TIL JULY!  SOUND GOOD????  ;)

5. Definitely Do: the “theme” you are most comfortable with / feel you write the best / have the most fun on - these prompts lend themselves to snark and/or sexy times, but lord knows y’all angst-devotees will find a way [that’s fine, too!]

6. Hard Pass: dom/sub; “kinks”; alpha/beta/omega; Wincest/any incest; real person fic [no Jensen/Jared/Misha/etc.]

7. Length can be anywhere from haiku to vignette to... well, keep it around the max length that you’d want to read if it were your challenge, ‘k? And don’t you dare spend more than a weekend on it - if it becomes laborious for you, holler at me, we’ll find you another prompt or you can drop out, no worries.

PS:  If you wanna stick Archer characters into the mix? Bring. It. On.

PPS: Walls of text & bulk of text not behind “read more” = An Unhappy Nash + An Unhappy Dash

P3S: And because it’s my party, if Dean is in your story and he calls someone “Sweetheart” ? If it isn’t in a jerk-face, patronizing manner, I’m gonna foam at the mouth

THANK YOU for coming along with me on this ever-evolving funtastic SPN fandom ride! -Nash.

[eastithoughtyousaidweest]

Malaysian Persuasion

7/17

Today was my first full day in Malaysia, and it was probably almost perfect.

First of all, it was so chill. Amalen also had just gotten home from a trip to China, so he just wanted to chill out, which was ok with me because I’ve been waking up at 6 or 7am to either work on my doc or travel for the past 3 weeks. So I woke up at 10am without an alarm (after drinking with him and his roommate until 3:30, to be fair), and it was really nice.

We spent the morning just hanging, just like a bunch of guys might do in the U.S. We slowly worked up the motivation to drive down the street to get some breakfast around 11:30am, and got some rice with fried pork and chicken called char suey. Pretty delish, despite being a bit heavier than my usual breakfast. I also found a dude selling buns out of his truck, and he had a bunch of flavors they didn’t have in China; I tried one with this coconut sugary paste inside called kaya, which was less coconut than I expected, but the bready bun was still floofy, which is really all I’m looking for.

We whittled away a few hours eating, chilling and watching the first new episode of Game of Thrones, which I was totally fine with, even though usual me would’ve been like “Why the fuck am I sitting around watching TV while I’m in Malaysia???” But honestly, I saw value in just building a relationship with Amalen and his roommate Kelvin, and didn’t see a need to force anything, especially when they were my hosts.

Anyway, around 2pm, Amalen and I started driving out to this waterfall in the jungle he’d been promising me all day. It was an hour and 20 min drive, but we just caught up and talked the whole way, so it was actually really nice. Before entering the jungle, we stopped and got a bunch of fried snacks from this stand in a parking lot, Amalen chatting up the older Muslim woman selling us the treats as if they were besties. People here at stores seem to really like chatting, and Amalen’s a pro at playing that social game.

To get to where we were going, Amalen had to drive his thankfully tiny white car down a skinny asphalt road, riddled with treacherous potholes, through an indigenous village with homes made of wood and tin roofs, and finally to a barrier where we parked. He comes to that spot a lot, and knew some of the indigenous people there, and he actually spoke in Malay to a few people we saw to make sure it was still ok to enter, so I knew we weren’t being disrespectful or something by entering this land.

And I’m so glad we were able to enter, because it was mind-blowing. Thick, lush, green rainforest all around me, buzzing and chirping with bug and bird hums, crinkling with the panicked retreats of tiny lizards, speckled with the sun sneakily glimmering its way through the cracks. It was sticky and humid, but not too hot. As we went, Amalen pointed plants out to me and showed me signs on the trail of wild boar having been there the previous night. Wild boar are super overpopulated in that area of Malaysia, destroying trails and crops, so Amalen told me hunting them, like deer culling in the U.S., was usually ok. And he broke out a pocket knife he’d sharpen before we came out to the jungle, so I knew if anything, we were at least pseudo-safe.

Luckily, no boar hunting went down. What did go down is that we finally arrived at this amazing waterfall Amalen called his secret waterfall. It flow down along grey boulders, white and frothing, pouring out into a rocky-bottomed pool deep enough to stand in. When we walked up to the waterfall itself, we could face away from it and just let the water work the tension out like a natural massage. The water was not too cold, and the area was totally isolated. We sat on a rock, ate fried plantains and egg rolls and doughnuts from the stand, swam and got waterfall massages, and just relaxed. After weeks of running, it was exactly what I needed. And I was so grateful to Amalen for taking me to such an amazing place I literally never could’ve even accessed on my own.

Only downside? Leeches. It sounds freakier than it is, but essentially, they were tiny, slug-like things, smaller than the top part of my pinky, who would latch onto our feet or legs after we walked through certain areas. Amalen helped me, teaching me how to use a pocketknife to scrape them off after they latched. They left me with tiny little circular cuts, which actually bled for a while because apparently their saliva is anti-coagulant. But they didn’t hurt, and really, it’s not different than a mosquito or something, just a bit more graphic.

Anyway, that didn’t take away from anything. Afterwards, we met up with Amaeln’s friend Ryan at a food court, where I tried satay (chicken on skewers with peanut sauce to dip in), coconut rice with spicy sauce, anchovies and egg, and panak (a sort of sushi roll but in a wheat wrap, with crunchy vegetables and some sort of tempura inside). We also bought ourselves three more-than-half-liter bottles of Tiger Beer from Singapore. We had just finished them, and I was feeling a solid buzz, when Ryan’s dad showed up out of nowhere and ordered us three more bottles. So we were obligated to get way drunker than any of us anticipated, but hey, we swapped stories about our countries, joked around a bunch, and really has an awesome greasy, drinky night.

I pre-screened my doc to Amalen and Kelvin tonight too. It was really cool to see how Amalen got so excited about certain parts, and how much discussion it generated afterwards about COP and Amalen’s NGO, even between two people who are in it. I’m really pumped to see how more people like it, and really happy to see the impact it’s making for those in it.

Exploring KL tomorrow with Kelvin. Night night.

<3Scaht

7/18

Damn. So much socializing today. Like 11 hours of it. But it was great.

Started off by heading into KL with Kelvin, who grew up here. He took me to get a really good outdoor food stall court, which there are a bunch of here, in Chinatown. There was food everywhere, but I trusted him to know what was good, so I let him order this spicy red coconut curry for us, brimming with crispy fried pork skin, oysters, green vegetables and eggplant. It was so delish, until I bit into a pork skin saturated with curry and it burst straight into my throat like a juicy grape full of spicy fire. Totally burned the shit out of my throat, but luckily dessert was a cup of shaved ice (really finely ground ice covered in coconut milk and supplemented with various jellies and red bean), so I was soothed soon enough.

We then spent like 5 hours walking all over KL. He took me to the Independence Square where a lot of protests have happened, to the looming, corn-cob-looking Petronas Twin Towers, to some fancy-shmancy malls, to a fruit stand where we drank some coconut water straight outta the coconut, and to Little India. On the way, he told me SO much about Malaysia, from its history as a British colony to the politics and issues with election rigging to the school he went to and what it was like, and so much more. He was a really great tour guide, and since he’s around my age and we have similar interests, he was able to provide me much history into the politics and social issues I’m always interested in learning about.

One thing he told me that really stood out is that he loves just taking people around the city, and that if someone asked him for directions, he’d usually be happy to just walk them there. He said that was actually a pretty common thing to do here. Also, when I tried to pay him back for the food, he told me to not worry about the money. He said that really in Malaysia, they like to treat their guests, and they try not to let money be a big deal between friends, so it’s a big part of their culture to do that. These two things really struck me because they’re just so much friendlier and communal ways of supporting one another than in the U.S., where most people don’t wanna talk to you at all in the city, much less walk you somewhere, and where even $0.25 is often Venmo’ed between friends. I wanna bring back some of that hospitality to my own practices, because it definitely reflects the way I’d like people to interact.

Next, I met with Jolene, one of the Malaysians who was part of my film, for dinner in a hipster part of town called Bangsar. It 3 or 4 hilly streets were lined with international cuisines, fancy bakeries and cafes, boutique clothes, and bars trying very hard to look chill and/or refined. We actually got a really good dinner at a Nyonya restaurant, which combines Malay and Chinese styles; a whole fried fish and these smoky, fishy sautéed greens, plus fancy cocktails. We chatted about life and joked around, and I really enjoyed just getting to know her better. Of course, she treated me, which was super nice cause these were no street food prices.

Last, she texted her friend Sidney to meet up with us, an awesome guy who actually filmed some follow-up interviews for the film for me here in Malaysia since I wasn’t here. I hadn’t met him in person until then, but he was really great. Deep thinker, really open about things like mental health and insecurities, and really into films. We nerded out over cameras and film editing and our favorite movies, and he actually ended up coming with me to this huge food street called Jalan Alor, which was lined for about 2 city blocks with restaurants and stalls selling Thai, Vietnamese, Chinese, Malaysia, coconut ice cream, dim sum, and a whole lotta stanky durian. If you don’t know, durian is a huge spiky fruit, like the size of a football or bigger, which smells kind of like fart or rotten eggs or a combo thereof. Kelvin, who loves it, actually told me he wouldn’t consider it a fruit, but just its own food group: Durian. He also told me that if you eat it within 8 hours or so of drinking alcohol, it’ll fuck up your stomach. So I haven’t tried it yet, but I want to for sure.

Anyway, it was really special to explore the city with all of these people and build up my relationships here. I’m so grateful for the guidance and the hospitality, and I REALLY hope they can all make it to the States one day so I can return the favor.

<3Scaht

7/19-7/20

It has come to an end. These were my final 2 days in not just Malaysia, but of my trip overall. And I think it couldn’t have been more fulfilling and shitshow-y.

Wednesday I wandered around the city on my own, hitting up the National Museum where I learned a whole lot about the history of the Malay Empires and how Malaysia was a key trading midpoint between China and the Middle East and the history of colonialism in Malaysia and all sorts of other cool stuff. As any U.S. citizen would know, we just don’t really learn that stuff in our schools, and it was super cool to gain all this knowledge about a totally different part of the world.

One thing it made me think about was the idea of cultural appropriation, because the museum talked a lot about how in the 14th and 15th centuries, as people from different regions met up and traded goods and skills and ideas, many cultures adopted parts of other cultures. This meant anything from parts of their dress to artistic motifs to cooking flavors. I thought this was really interesting, because it was made out to be a very mutually beneficial kind of cultural exchange, as opposed to in the U.S. today, where the conversation about cultural appropriation emphasizes the stealing of other’s cultures. I think maybe the difference is that often in places like the U.S., the cultural appropriation is done for profit, or without an actual interaction with the people whose culture it is, leading to disrespectful use of cultural elements and profiting off other’s culture without giving them any credit or economic compensation. In contrast, it seems like in these old Silk Road trade exchanges, people were actually sharing their cultures of their own accord, and interacting with those whose culture it was. Not that this means there wasn’t any ripping off of cultural elements or fetishzation of other’s cultures, but it makes me wonder if this sort of cultural mixing can happen in a positive and beneficial way that enriches humanity.

Wednesday night was the big night: the “world premiere” of my film on the Malaysian Youth Delegation (MYD) to the COP21 climate negotiations. I’ve mentioned it throughout the blog, but to give you more context, I got a grant from my university in November 2015 to go with my friend Miranda and make a film on youth climate activism at COP21, the international UN climate negotiations where the Paris Agreement was created. We ended up meeting the Malaysian Youth Delegation, a group of 5 young peeps who were there for the first time representing their country. We hung out and filmed them for 10 days, and then over the past year and a half have been editing it together. Why’d it take a year and a half, you ask? Broken harddrive, Miranda graduating, me finishing school, general procrastination; these all comprise some aspect of the answer. But in a silver lining to a terrible event, Trump pulling out of the Paris Agreement actually made the film relevant again, so I kicked myself into gear, committed to going to Malaysia, and have been working on the film at 6 or 7am almost every day of this trip to finish it before, well, two days ago.

The film came out to about 40 minutes, the longest film I’ve made by far (the next longest is only 12 minutes). Screening it was an awesome experience; 4 out of the 5 main MYD members were there, and about 8 of their younger members who they’re currently training to go to the next COP in Bonn, Germany were there as well. Screening a film to a group of people who are so intimately familiar with each other and the material is a cool experience; they were constantly giggling at seeing themselves or their friends onscreen, and they already understood the context of what was going on, making it easier for them to get into it. They also laughed at my jokes throughout the film, which I think is every filmmaker’s dream; it’s really hard to tell whether the things I think are funny are gonna land with an audience, but I think it went pretty nicely.

I did a Q&A after the screening where everyone asked a ton of questions, and it was really nice to be able to share my experiences and reflect on things with them. Overall, in the moment the whole screening just felt like a really casual thing; we were just in a classroom, watching it on a projector. Very intimate. But I gotta say I feel pretty amazing that I was able to make this happen. There was a long period of time where I thought this film was just gonna go incomplete, and it really made me feel guilty and weighed on me a lot. Now, that weight is finally gone, and I have a project that I actually followed-through on which I am really proud of. I’m hoping to submit it to some film fests too, so hopefully things will keep happening. But I’m really grateful that I was able to do this screening, and that I got so much time and energy and support from everyone in MYD, and everyone else who listened to me whine about this film over the past year and a half.

My final 12 or so hours in Malaysia were the shitshow part. Amalen, Kelvin and I had planned to drive to Kuantan, a small town on the east coast of the country where Amalen grew up. It was supposedly a 3-hour drive away, so we set off around 12am after a little post-screening dinner, hoping to arrive by 3am. The catch was that I had to take a bus back to KL the next day at like 1:30pm, so I really would only have like 10 hours in Kuantan. But I did it because Amalen promised me some beach time, and I didn’t really have much else to do.

Oh, and I should mention that we brought Amalen’s cat Jenny along too, because Amalen wanted to get her spayed at the vet in his hometown. Unfortunately for her and us, he didn’t have a carrier. Apparently, in the past, she usually just chills out under the passenger seat and is fine. But today for whatever reason, Jenny was not happy. She kept scrambling up to the rear window, then down under the seats, then up my legs into a box on the seat next to me, then under Kelvin’s feet as he drove. We all tried to make nice spaces for her and calm her down. but she took at least 30 minutes to finally just sit down and start distracting herself by licking herself clean. Poor kitty.

Anyway, I should’ve known things weren’t gonna go so well on this trip when about 30 minutes into the drive, we stopped for gas and Kelvin puked in the parking lot. He had some sort of stomach bug, and it all hit him right there. Of course, all the gas station convenience stores were closed, so he couldn’t even get some water to wash his mouth out.

Somehow, he kept driving, and we drove up to the Genting Highlands, a detour Amalen and Kelvin had planned without me really knowing what was happening. It’s these really high hills where Malaysia’s only legal casino is built. We drove up and around all these hairpin turns, the yellow lights of this massive casino glowing all across the peak of this looming hill. Eventually, we stopped at a lookout point where you could see the KL skyline and chilled for like an hour, drinking beers and chatting. That was all good, except for when Kelvin started puking again. Turns out beer doesn’t mix so well with stomach bugs. Who knew?

Amalen took over the wheel, and we kept going. At this point it was already like 3am and we’d only made it like 45 minutes towards Kuantan cause of all the detours. I did my best to stay up and keep Amalen company as he drove, but I could feel the exhaustion and the beer dragging my eyelids down like stones. I drifted in and out of conversation, nodding a lot with my eyes half open before finally passing out. Amalen ended up pulling over in a parking lot around 4:30, planning to snooze for like 15 minutes. We woke up at 6:45am.

In the end, the snooze was for the best to keep up safe, even though we didn’t actually arrive til like 8am. An 8 hour trip total. And I had to head back at 1:30pm. So much for a 3 hour drive.

At this point, I was also just exhausted and hungover and my stomach felt like butt. Some combination of the fried food I had eaten for dinner and the beer and the lack of sleep made my body real pissed off, and pretty soon my tummy opened up the floodgates. I felt weak, and had a headache, and even the smell of food made me feel nauseous. But I pushed through, determined to get to the beach and just pass out on the sand. Which I did.

We chilled at the beach for like an hour and a half, and I even worked up the energy to sit in the waves a bit and look at all the tiny little crabs that would scatter into holes in the sand as I approached. So at least I can say I’ve been in the South China Sea, even if only as an attempted hangover cure.

Amalen drove me to the bus station at 1pm, and I’ve been in transit between bus and train and plane since then. Amalen was a super awesome host, giving me a place to stay and taking me to get all the staple Malaysian food and showing me some really beautiful parts of his world in Malaysia. I also really enjoyed the long car trips where we just got to talk and get to know each other’s stories and life philosophies better. He’s a really thoughtful, knowledgeable, goofy dude, and he cares a lot about his friends, which I really respect. It really blows my mind that, because of a random thought me and Miranda had to apply for a grant to go to Paris, I now have lifelong friends on the other side of the globe. Life is pretty dope like that.

So yah, that’s all. Hope you enjoyed perusing my travels, and if you have any questions or things to say to me or want some travel suggestions, hit me up through one of the ridiculous amount of communication channels I now have (WeChat, Facebook, Text, WhatsApp, GroupMe, Email, Signal, whatever).

Annyeong kyeseyo (Korean)

Joigin (Cantonese)

Zài jiàn (Mandarin)

Pope gone mai (Lao)

Selamat tinggal (Malaysian)

Byeeee (Scott)

[anitabyars]

A single dad...a marriage of convenience...and a secret! The Secret by Christie Ridgway is NOW LIVE! Keep Reading for an Excerpt! Amazon → http://amzn.to/2tNV5Fj iBooks → https://goo.gl/ob7gHH Nook → http://bit.ly/2uH7Vtw Kobo → http://bit.ly/2uQp3NV ADD TO YOUR TBR: http://bit.ly/2gQ4Npx Being butler to a widower and single father is a dream job in more ways than one for Charlotte “Charlie” Emerson. She helps keep businessman Ethan Archer’s household running without a hitch and enjoys every minute she has with his six-year-old son, Wells. But as time passes, the situation feels alarmingly intimate and when her heart starts beating faster each time Ethan steps through the door, Charlie must exert rigid control over her feelings. With her secret, falling in love would be all kinds of bad… Ethan Archer values the woman who keeps his life in order and cares so much for his motherless boy. He and Charlie act in harmony with each other and it’s not hard to picture them as a little family…in fact, it’s so easy, one reckless night he proposes a marriage of convenience. What will he do if Charlie says yes? And worse, what if she tells him no? Excerpt: Ethan Archer woke up with the words of his good friend and company VP echoing in his head. You’re wallowing, E. Standing still in ankle-deep water. It’s past time you started swimming again. That conversation during their return flight from Paris wasn’t the first time John had brought to Ethan’s attention that he needed to move on with his life. Michelle had passed four years before and John had been singing that same song fairly often in the last two years. With the intention of taking a run on the beach after dropping Wells at school, Ethan dressed in nylon shorts, a T-shirt, and running shoes. Then he brushed his teeth and smoothed a hand over his hair, inspecting himself in the bathroom mirror. Nearly forty, he thought. Some days, when the grief descended like a shroud, he felt closer to eighty. Turning off the thought, he left his room, his gaze landing on the half-open door across the hall. It led to a guest suite, the space used by the butler when Ethan was away overnight. He crossed to it and glanced inside. Not surprising, there was no physical sign of her presence now that she was back in the detached cottage that was her own quarters. The bed’s coverlet was smooth, the pillows plumped. Neither gave away whether the last occupant slept soundly at night or whether Charlie’s slim body tossed and turned. He could imagine her there, though, her shining brown hair unbound, her arms thrown overhead as she dreamed away. As she dreamed of— Guilt gave him a sudden pinch and he reined in his imagination. He had no business contemplating his butler’s inner life, let alone picturing her in a bed. Instead, he walked on to his son’s room and peeked inside. Wells slept sprawled across his mattress, one hand clutching the bear Charlie had tucked him in with the night before. Ethan smiled as love for the child filled his chest, a balm to his broken heart. Without Wells, he didn’t know where he would be after losing Michelle. Their boy had become his purpose for living. Something else that his friend John censured. You need a life that includes adults and adult pursuits. When Ethan had opened his mouth, John had shot a finger at him. Work doesn’t count, he’d said. Ethan had sighed and wished they’d booked seats in separate rows. By adult pursuits, you mean… Sex, John had affirmed. You should start with that. On another sigh, Ethan headed downstairs. He stood by the windows a long moment, appreciating the tranquil view of the Santa Monica Bay. It resembled his life, he decided. After watching his wife lose her battle with cancer, after four years of grappling with grief, most of the time he managed to maintain a certain level of calm. He could almost hear John’s snort. Buddy, you’re in need of a little upheaval. Or maybe you just need to get laid. Shutting down the imaginary conversation, he moved to Wells’s homework table and shuffled through the piles of papers that needed his attention. His boy was in second grade! He glanced over at the framed photo of Michelle propped on a nearby shelf. “You should be here to see this, hon. That tiny newborn we picked up from the hospital is now a little guy who can read, write, and work all the remotes around the house.” Michelle’s infertility had been a source of despair that had come to an end when they arranged for a private adoption. She’d had a year-and-a-half of unfettered maternal bliss until her cancer diagnosis. Even through that and the brutal treatments, she’d found joy in parenting their son. “Wells thinks about you every day,” he added. “We both do.” Only then did Ethan come aware that someone had entered the adjacent kitchen on silent feet. Charlie, her sleek hair held back in a ponytail, her slim, tanned legs revealed beneath the hem of a sleeveless shirtdress. It wasn’t too short, but because of her long limbs, her bare skin seemed to go on forever. And always polite, Charlie pretended not to notice that he’d been talking out loud—to an empty room. “Don’t mind me,” he said. “We old guys mutter to ourselves on occasion.” Then he winced, vanity instantly wishing he’d not brought up age. Nearing forty sucked. “You’re not an old guy,” she said mildly, opening the refrigerator and pulling out half a watermelon. “Older than you,” Ethan said, and then winced again. It sounded like fishing. And true to form, his well-mannered butler took the bait. “Not so much.” Hah. He had a decade on her. “I’ve dated men your age and more.” “You have?” She made a non-committal sound as she began slicing the fruit into cubes. Ethan cleared his throat, unable to stop his next question. “Are you dating anyone now?” One glance from her blue eyes had him backtracking. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “None of my business.” But because he’d put the question out there, he couldn’t get it out of his head. Their Charlie, with her unflappable manner and elegant face, dating some old fart. Or worse—a beach dude. Or much, much worse, one of those old beach dudes with a mat of graying chest hair and a belly hanging over his ratty board shorts. Ethan frowned. Charlie shouldn’t be dating at all. Then he came alert to his thoughts. Why was he suddenly so interested in Charlie’s social life? It must be the swing of that ponytail as she moved. The roundness of her ass that was merely hinted at beneath the dress. The small, perfect rise of her breasts that he couldn’t help noticing when she was headed to the beach in swimsuit. Damn. He shouldn’t be thinking of her ass. Or her breasts. Definitely not about her sweet, bow-shaped lips and what they might taste like. With a hand to his forehead, Ethan closed his eyes. This was heading south, fast, same as the blood in his veins. “Are you all right?” Her voice and her cool hand on his arm had him flinching back. “Damn.” “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She held up a mug of coffee. He took it, and put the heated surface right over the spot where she’d touched him, trying to scald away the memory of her touch. Her brows came together over her incredibly blue eyes. They reminded him of some kind of flower—bluebells, he thought. This close, she smelled flowery too, a light, fresh fragrance with an undertone of spice. Like spring, or maybe summer, while he was impending winter. Okay, maybe just early fall. Yet still fascinated by her. Damn. He stepped back. “You should take some time off. Now that I got that deal done, I’ll be around a lot more.” “Time off?” “A vacation.” In the near year she’d been with them, she’d only gone out of town once. She and another woman she knew from butler school had traveled to Hawaii. She’d come home with a golden tan and a special island blend of sunscreen that smelled of coconuts and nakedness. He’d blessed the day he’d spotted the empty bottle in the trash. “I don’t know,” Charlie said now, a little frown tugging down the corners of her lips. “I’ve volunteered to organize the bookfair. It’s a big job.” “I’ll help,” he offered. “Then you can take off for a few days.” She didn’t look convinced. But he thought it might be best to put some distance between them for a short while. Determined to find some way to banish the strange thoughts that kept popping up in his head, he offered more encouragement. “You could visit your family,” Ethan suggested. That had her moving back. She returned to the kitchen, the long granite island now a barrier between them. “We’re not close.” “Oh.” What else could he say? The circumstances were not known to him. When a young woman had joined his household, he’d gone out of his way to keep their conversations on a professional basis. The fact was, when he went seeking a domestic manager, he’d envisioned an older woman, grandmotherly and staid. But Charlie came with glowing recommendations and he’d known instantly upon meeting her that Wells would take to her levelheaded nature and genuine warmth. Then, when the nanny he employed as well started showing up late or not at all, he’d had no qualms about adding Wells’s care to Charlie’s list of duties—she’d insisted. And he’d given a hefty increase to her salary. But kept their own interaction impersonal. It was best that way, he thought, just as the sound of small feet had him turning. He grinned, the sight of his sleepyhead son irresistible. Striding to the boy, he swung him up in his arms. “Cowboy!” he said, by way of greeting. “I don’t wanna be that anymore, Dad.” “Firefighter.” “No.” “Police officer.” Wells shook his head. “Circus clown?” The boy shuddered. “No way. I’m going to be a paleontologist.” Ethan pretended befuddlement. “What is that? A guy who pals around with onts?” “No!” Wells started laughing. “A dinosaur guy!” He wiggled to get free of his father’s hold and skipped into the kitchen to stop in front of Charlie. “Did you hear what he said?” “I did.” She held out a bite of watermelon which she popped into the boy’s mouth, then she glanced at Ethan, her eyes that bright, bright blue which felt like a flame licking over his skin. “Your dad’s silly.” And old, Ethan thought, though I’m reacting to you like a teenager. He turned away in order to sign those stacked-up forms. “We better get cracking, kid, or we won’t get you to school before the tardy bell.” By the time Ethan dropped off his son, he was smiling with the enjoyment of being in his boy’s company. Despite what John said, Ethan thought he could be happy enough for the next forty years by being Wells’s dad alone. He’d had his shot at that other kind of lifetime love. Then he went for his beach run and returned to his house, pleasantly tired. In the shower, he leaned back against the tile and closed his eyes, letting the hot water beat against his shoulders and run down his chest. Nirvana. After a few minutes, he filled his palm with shower gel. His hand slid over his pecs and ribs and then moved to his cock. Stifling his groan, he let his head fall back and he rubbed the stiff shaft, then circled the head, his thumb brushing over the crest. The atmosphere didn’t need any more steam, so he used his free hand to turn off the spray while the other kept stroking. During the past four years he’d often found sexual relief on his own like this, the act perfunctory, the pleasure brief. But now, instead of merely feeling the physical sensation of a deliciously rough tug and a long, hard pull, his mind joined in. This time, he imagined it was another’s hand on him, a woman’s hand. She gripped him, moving her fingers up and down his length, her others sneaking between his thighs to cup his balls. His chest heaved and he squeezed his eyes tighter shut as his imagination had her mouth on him now, wetting his hard flesh with lavish strokes. Her tongue moved up to tease the slit in the head and he reached down to caress her soft hair, encouraging her to continue. She moaned, and suddenly he needed more. Wrapping his fingers in her hair, he pulled her off his cock, the audible pop as it came clear of her mouth as carnal as anything he’d ever heard. Then he directed her to stand up with another tug of her hair, and she rose to her feet, her wet and naked body against his. Eyes still closed, he palmed one of her breasts and caressed the tightening nipple. He began to rub himself harder, though in the fantasy, her hand was back on his aching cock. She was moaning again, and he bent his head, wanting to taste the sound of it on his tongue. But before his lips could meet hers, his orgasm took over. It shot from his heels to circle his balls. They drew tight to his body and then heat and promise pulsed up his shaft. He half-bent, belly hollowing, as semen spurted from him, and his whole body shook with the power of it. As the climax began to fade, in his fantasy he opened his eyes. Charlie’s big blues were slumberous and her elegant face flushed as she stood before him, her bare body dappled in water droplets. His cock surged with a final gush of pleasure. Then Ethan fell back against the tile, panting. Shit. Shit. Maybe John was right. Ethan required something new in his life. Not a naked Charlie, God no, but… Ethan definitely needed to get laid. About the Author: Christie Ridgway is a California native and author of over forty-five contemporary romances. A six-time RITA finalist and USA Today bestselling author, she writes sexy, emotional reads starring determined heroines and the men who can’t help but love them. She has a Career Achievement award from RT Book Reviews and twice has received their Reviewer’s Choice award for best contemporary romance of the year. Married to her college sweetheart, Christie lives in Southern California in a house filled with boys and pets. She writes as an escape from sports equipment, football on TV, and dog hair. Author Links: Website: http://christieridgway.net/ Amazon: http://amzn.to/2sAZO0V Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ChristieRidgway/ Bookbub: http://bit.ly/2s9AvBA Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2roL0Ow Twitter: https://twitter.com/ChristieRidgway