#I love short Picos

[dracomeir]

Pico Dankworth from @shadesofnavy's AU

#pico's school #picos school #pico dankworth #fnf pico #pico #short pico supremacy #hahaha imagine doing proper backgrounds #or knowing how to draw a gun properly #you think you have him cornered? nah #I love short Picos #I stared too long at refs to draw this #pico pico pico #oh you're still reading? hi! #must draw more pico #dracomeir's art

[shadesofnavy]

I've been watching Avatar again (thank you Netflix...) and Um.

#i know im late for the meme but shut up who cares #im literally torn between two medias here #shades' art #pico dankworth #fnf pico #atla zuko #i love his short hair #i wanna do keith and aang now #help me please #digital drawing #friday night funkin

[answer2jeff]

narrow thoughts // carmen berzatto

part two: chardonnay and carbonara

song : linger.

part one: here. wc: 2.8k

synopsis: you and Carmen hadn't seen each other since your awkward conversation at The Beef three nights ago, and you decide to invite him over to ease the tension — which he agreed to without question... maybe this would fill the gap?

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, a little bit of angst, slightly suggestive towards the end, soft-dom!carmy, not an established relationship, friends to lovers, actual plot, sensual and loving, reader is female, mention of the nickname "Pico," short for "Piccola" ; small (young) in italian, edited.

Maybe it was Carmen's t-shirt in your laundry bin, or his contact name on your phone — or maybe it was Carmen's voice playing on loop in your ears, "I miss you, too." Whatever it was, it was making your head spin.

It's just one night. No, not even a full night. You're gonna share some leftovers, maybe even a glass of Chardonnay, and talk like good friends.

You paced around your apartment, the uncomfortable silence only letting you hear the sound of your socks brushing against the floor. You were known for stress cleaning, just to end up messing up your space later on — but this was different. You wanted the empty, yet small space of your apartment feel put together — but not so much that Carmen would feel like a nuisance. So, you left every counter spotless, but you left your puffer jacket on the couch, and your wet shoes on the rug.

It's not a special occasion — act casual, but not too casual. You're an adult, with a real, adult life. Act like it.

Here. 12:15am

Carmen shot you one last message as he climbed the flight of stairs that had been slippery from the rainfall earlier that night. He almost couldn't believe why he even agreed to come over so late. It felt so out of character — silly, even. But it was too late for doubts, now that he was already standing outside your door. He stared at the ground, unprepared for the sight of you.

You let out a shaky breath, running your fingers along your now sweaty forehead as you tossed your phone onto the coffee stable. You stepped closer to the door, and it was like you could feel his warmth through the door; like you could see the way his hands still anxiously moved through his jean pockets. You swallowed, carefully creaking the heavy door open.

Fuck.

And there he was: in his grey crewneck that clung onto his frame just a little too tight, making you feel guilty for having him waste 15 minutes of gas driving to North Water for you. But with his hair just a little outgrown, the tattoos on his hands still visible under his sweater, how could you complain?

"Hey." Carmen breathed, putting a hand on the back of his warm neck to combat the cold of his skin. His expression stayed neutral as he swallowed hard, his eyelids fluttering just a bit.

"Hi."

You stood still for a good 5 seconds before clearing your throat, realizing how unprepared you were: in nothing but grey sweats that hung low on your waist and one of Richie's spare "The Original Beef" t-shirts that you cut the neckline off of.

"Uh—"

"Sorry, I Uh— come, come in." Your eyes screwed shut in embarrassment as you walked back into your apartment, Carmen quickly following behind with his hands still deep in his pockets.

You walked over to the warm glow of your kitchen, grabbing the bottle of Chardonnay and Tupperware of leftover pasta carbonara (made from Carmen's signature recipe that you mastered.) from the fridge. Carmen took a seat on the couch, not wanting you to feel like he was following you around.

"I know it's kinda late, but—" You grabbed the Tupperware from the microwave, the bottle of Chardonnay in your free hand.

"No, no, it's fine. Really." Carmen quickly dismissed you, stepping up from the couch and taking the bottle from you. He had a tendency to do small favors for you; and if he could have it his way, you'd never lift a finger again. The two of you sat back down on the couch as you watched Carmen carefully pour each of you a glass. Maybe he really did want this.

"Thanks. I just— I wanted to see you. I don't know. I feel kinda stupid." You shrugged your shoulders. Carmen shook his head and just... admired you. He felt his cheeks go pink, his tattooed hand hovering over his mouth as the other held his glass of Chardonnay close to his chest.

"Don't, I did too. I wanted to see you, I mean." Carmen stammered, taking a sip from his own glass to avoid the chance of you noticing him staring. His tone, that sweet, gentle and sickly tone, made your stomach stir; and the dryness of the wine wasn't helping the nervous lump in your throat.

"How's Tina? Still bitchy as ever?" You changed the subject, reaching over the coffee table to grab the warm Tupperware of pasta, twirling a bite around your fork. You bit down, Carmen's talent smacking you right in the face all over again.

You appreciated every bit of flavor, realizing that maybe it wasn't the way that the pasta was perfectly cooked, or the way that the egg used for the sauce never scrambled— maybe it was just the fact that he made it for you. It wasn't a, "try this for me, chef," as much as you loved those moments at Noma, since it was your little bit of connection through the silent chaos— it was a, "I made this because I haven't learned how else to show you I care."

"Not so much, actually. I think Syd's softening her up a bi–" Carmen was cut off by the sound of your phone buzzing against the couch, unable to stop himself from glancing at the message that pop up on your lock screen. You wiped the corner of your mouth, grabbing your phone and feeling your stomach sink. It was Ashley, your coworker who helped you find the building for your new coffee shop.

I need to talk to you. We're spending money we don't even have bro. Wtf. 12:21am

"Goddamnit." You huffed, your voice slightly breaking with the anxiety that ran through your bloodstream. The blue light from your phone made you feel sick, and Carmen's worried stare wasn't doing anything to help the situation. You put the pasta down on the coffee table, knowing you wouldn't be able to stomach another bite.

"What?" Carmen set his glass down, putting his full focus onto you. His ears perked up like a rabbit at the sound of your frustration, prepared to at least listen.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it." You shut your phone off, tossing it back to the end of the couch. You scrunched your body up, your knees to your chest and your feet planted on the cushions.

"C'mon, don't— don't do that." He groaned, resisting the urge to roll his eyes; instead just looking at you with his eyebrows knitted in concern for you.

"Do what?" You scoffed, a little offended at the idea that Carmen was being nosy.

"That. That weird thing when you get like that a-and you don't tell me what's goin' on. C'mon." Carmen put a hand on your knee, grazing his thumb across the padding of your sweats to soothe you. You debated putting your hand over his, wanting to feel the veins of his digits against your palm, needing to interlock your fingers with his. That same tattoo you drove him to that parlor in New York to get drove you wild. It almost felt like that small bit of distance: that whole year and a half of no contact after you left Carmen Eleven Madison Park, had nothing on your connection.

You ignored your hesitation, draping your cold hand over Carmen's, rough to the touch yet gentle to the feel. Your eyes glanced from his hand, up to his desperate eyes. He bit the inside of his cheek, his grip against your knee tightening just a little more than before. The strands of hair in your face and your exposed shoulders made him question his morals.

Was it normal for him to miss those nights in the white light of that kitchen, sharing his cigarettes with you on your breaks? Was it normal for him to feel important while he rubbed your back as you tried not to anxiously puke all over your chef whites? He knew it wasn't normal for his stomach to turn at the sight of you; trembling with yet a 3rd batch of sauce in your hands, nodding your head as you were told repeatedly that you weren't good enough; that you weren't talented, or passionate, or driven enough.

"It's a work thing. Just— money's tight, y'know?" You debunk Carmen's worries, feeling your heart slow down just a bit as he nods his head, "I understand." But you couldn't hide from him— not with that look on his face. Not with his curls casting a shadow over his forehead and his eyes, similar to his thoughts, narrowed down to you.

"I didn't even finish paying off the building and now I have to pay 7 other people a weekly salary and I'm just— I'm losing my mind, basically." You put your free hand over your eyes, almost as if you couldn't bring yourself to look at Carmen; now that you were just inches away from each other, your fingers keeping you connected. But without much question, he kept his mouth shut. This wasn't the time to bring up Cicero, or the "job opportunities" he had open for you, even if Carmen just wanted to help.

Tonight's about us.

You spent the next hour or so on that same couch, Carmen's arm wrapped around your shoulder as you flipped through old photo albums you kept in high-school. The Tupperware once occupied by the pasta was now empty, and that bottle of Chardonnay was about half gone. Hugs, arms wrapped around one another, wasn't unusual— but this time it was different. It made the tips of your fingers tingle, a swarm of butterflies chasing each other aimlessly in your stomach. His musky cologne, the faint smell of cooking oil and cigarettes that stuck to his clothes, you knew it all too well.

The sound of his airy laugh, whispering little jokes and pointing his index finger at your baby pictures made you feel as light as a feather. The TV remained on, the volume low as Law & Order provided decent background noise; until your eyes moved to your record player. You gazed at the records lined up on your shelf: some by Jeff Buckley, The Velvet Underground, and your most recent record, "Everybody Else is Doing it, So Why Can't We?" by The Cranberries.

"Oh my god," you sat up straight, disconnecting from Carmen's arm as you got up from the couch, "do you remember that time I showed you that one song by The Cranberries?" You kept your head turned away from him as you walked over to the shelf, flipping through each one carefully. Carmen watched you, the slight sway in your hips being a new sight to him. He liked seeing you so relaxed, so comfortable: something he could never really bring himself to be with anyone else.

"Linger?" Carmen answered quietly, his gaze redirected to the photo album as he analyzed pictures of you and your prom date, his fingertip glossing over your image.

"Mhm." You cooed, carefully slipping the record out from the sleeve and gently placing it down on the record player. You hummed as you focused on perfectly aligning the needle with the vinyl. You remembered that night on the subway train in New York, sharing earbuds and listening to the song on your brand new iPod, the city lights shining through the windows behind you.

"C'mere..." You whined, turning back to Carmen after the good minute of instrumental, reaching your hands out to Carmen. He finally got a good look at you, taking the whole situation in. He wasn't a dancer, or even a drinker— but maybe it was time to try something new. Maybe it was time to try you.

"Oh, I don't—" he started, but he quickly stopped. He arose from the couch, already mouthing along to the words: "if you could return, don't let it burn," while you hummed along to the tune. As soon as he was close enough, you rested your hands against Carmen shoulders. It sent a shiver down his spine, making him swallow hard. He tried relaxing, looking down at you and letting his hands make their way from the middle of your torso, and further to your waist. Carmen's touch surprised you, causing your body to just slightly sway side-to-side with bliss.

The Carmen Berzatto I met 4 years ago never would've taken my hand like this.

But just 3 years ago, he listened to you sob over the phone after you lost your favorite necklace while you were visiting your parents for the holidays. And just 2 years ago, he started getting up just a little earlier every morning so he could walk from your apartment complex to the subway station with you. Just 1 year ago, he defended your name around his peers; telling them how extraordinary of a cook you were. And don't even get him started with the second hand embarrassment he received whenever you complained to him about the shitty guys you dated.

"I kinda wish you left with me, y'know?" You whispered, remembering how much resentment Carmen must've had for you when you left.

Carmen couldn't help but dig his calloused hands into your hips when he heard those words fall out of your mouth. You cupped his cheeks, his clean-shaven skin felt soft against your fingertips. You traced your fingers along his jaw, pushing several blonde curls out of his face so he could get a perfect view of you. Carmen admired every freckle, every eyebrow hair, the way your pupils dilated when you looked at him. The corners of his lips pulled into a smile, sending electric shocks throughout your whole body.

You could feel him staring while he struggled to answer, as if the little space between you didn't make it obvious enough. You wondered what went on in that pretty little mind of his; you wondered if he'd changed, and this was your confirmation.

You know I'm such a fool for you.

"I only stayed because—"

Carmen thought about the days where he'd stand outside of your apartment complex before he made his own route to work, wondering if you'd magically show up. You already punched your two weeks in without telling anyone, and you were done packing just three days before you planned to leave. And yet, there was no phone call, no text message, no goodbye, just an ugly argument the night before: an argument that left you sobbing in the morning on your way to the airport.

"What? 'Cause you've got too big of an ego?"

Now, he was in your living room, lips inches away from yours. His hand cupped your cheek, his eyes darting all around your tired face as you danced with your feet planted to the floor. Carmen watched you fight back tears that clawed at your waterline, his heart dropping down to his feet.

"Because I didn't want you to know I couldn't do it without you. I didn't even wanna do it without you." Carmen's voice, despite his frustration, stayed at a low pitch. His throat even slightly raspy, his smoking addiction slowly catching up to him.

You felt every atom of your existence explode. You weren't even a person now, just a being composed of pure light. It was all you ever needed to hear. You didn't need to be convinced not to leave, you didn't need to be shamed—all you needed was to know that Carmen, out of all people, needed you more.

You've got me wrapped around your finger.

You decided that tonight, you'd answer every prayer you ever made yourself. You needed to fill the gap, even if it would create a new one. And with Carmen's gold chain complimenting the protruding veins on his neck, and your desire to pull him down and just fucking kiss him, it was too late for doubts. So, you did.

Those same hands that gently caressed the sides of his face ended up pulling his face closer to yours, just centimeters away until he gave in. His own hands brought you somehow even closer to him by your waist. Your fingers instantly moved to his hair, and you twirled his curls around each of your digits. Your mouths connecting while hot spit coated your lips made your knees weak.

Carmen groaned against you whenever your lips parted, breathing heavily with his eyes hooded. You whimpered his name back to him, foreheads pressed against each other, the vinyl spinning and filling any possible empty space between the two of you. After 4 years, your body prioritized this stupid kiss more than you needed air to breathe.

"Carmy..." You whined again. You wanted more.

"I've got you, Pico."

to be continued AGAIN. sorry guys love u!!!

#carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmen berzatto series #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #i love this show so much #i need him biblically #tooth rotting fluff #fluff with plot #fluff with angst

[thedirtybeanlife]

If you’re down for it could you write a chubby nb reader x Rudy or Alejandro? (Can be SFW or NSFW I don’t mind pookie)

(ofc! it's a little short, but i hope you enjoy!! <33)

Alejandro x Reader

You stand in the kitchen, preparing ingredients for tonight's dinner. Alejandro had been at work since early this morning, way before the sun had risen. Knowing he would be hungry, you ran out to the store and bought the things to make his favorite meal; carne asada, homemade flour tortillas, and fresh pico de gallo. Quickly working, you take the steak that has been marinating since this morning out of the fridge and place it on the counter.

Walking outside, you open the lid of the grill and throw the meat onto the hot rack, closing the lid again and bringing everything else outside and place it on the counter surrounding the grill from a safe distance, making a makeshift outdoor kitchen. After placing everything down, you start chopping the red onion, cilantro, tomatoes, and a jalapeño to make the fresh pico de gallo. You carefully squeeze in some lime juice from a fresh lime and mix it all together, covering it and sitting it aside.

Just as you go to start preparing to make the homemade tortillas with the dough you had made a little bit ago, you hear footsteps approaching you making you look up with a smile.

"Huele increíble aquí, mi amor," Alejandro says with a smile as he walks over to you and wraps his arms around you, effortlessly picking you up like you weigh nothing making you blush slightly. Even after all these years together, you struggled with accepting his affection when it came to your physical appearance.

"I figured you've had a long day, so I'm making your favorite," you say with a grin as he holds you in his strong arms, your feet still not touching the ground below.

"Carne Asada, huh? You know me so well, mi cielito," he laughs before placing a kiss to your lips and putting you back down, moving to lean against the counter your working on.

You smile happily up at him, leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek before going back to rolling out the flour tortillas and placing them on a tea towel carefully. You then put a cast iron skillet on the burner of the grill, heating it up and oiling it slightly so the dough doesn't stick.

"I was also thinking i could make you and the boys some dulce de leche mousse this weekend for the gathering Rudy has planned," you offer sweetly.

"I think everyone would love that, baby," he smiles and nods as he watches you, "Do you want any help?"

"Absolutely not. This is my treat to you. You work too hard all day to have to come home and make dinner too," you scold playfully, swatting him away with your dish towel as he tries to step in and help.

He laughs as you swat him away and puts his hands up in mock surrender, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around you, kissing the top of your head and placing his chin on it after. Alejandro runs his large hands under your apron and shirt, his calloused fingers gently grabbing at your plump flesh and caressing it as he runs his fingers along your curves whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you work.

Within thirty minutes, everything is done and Alejandro insisted he at least could set the table. After a few minutes of trying to tell him no, you give up and he happily walks inside to grab plates and silverware for the table. You carry all of the food inside in two trips and place it in respect places on the kitchen table.

"Dios mío, mi amor. esto se ve increíble," Alejandro gapes at the food as he watches you set it down.

You laugh at his reaction and grab two glasses, pouring some wine into each, handing him one and putting yours down on the table. You pile food on his plate before sitting down and doing the same to yours. He digs in immediately, moaning around a mouthful of steak and tortilla, nodding before swallowing and going in for another large bite.

"Calm down, Alejandro!" you laugh, "It's not going anywhere. you're going to choke, Baby." your smile widens as you look at him from across the table.

"Amor, this is simply the best thing you've ever made," he says in astonishment.

"Ale, honey, you say that every time i make it," you laugh softly and take a bite of your food, eating at a slower pace than Alejandro so you don't choke.

"And I mean it every time," he says seriously around mouthful of food, manners fully forgotten as he savors every bite.

Later that evening, after everything's been cleaned and leftovers are put in the fridge, you and Alejandro sit on the couch, watching a random western movie he had put on, neither of you paying any mind to it as you lay in each others arms, talking about your days and what you did. His fingers run through your hair as you cuddle into his chest under the fuzzy blanket draped over both of you. With his other hand, he slowly runs his hand up and down your back under your shirt, his nails grazing comfortingly over your soft skin.

"i love you, Ale," you say softly, placing a kiss to his jawline.

"I love you more, mi amor," Alejandro responds with a grin, placing a kiss to your lips.

The two of you spend the rest of the night cuddled up on the couch, simply basking in the comfort you bring each other, never more content than in this moment.

#alejandro vargas x reader #xreader #fanfiction #call of duty mw2 #call of duty #fanfic #mw2022 #oneshot #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod

[thatbanditqueen]

I Was The Best Husband

An Elvis Presley One-Shot

A response to the writing prompt "‘are you always this shy?"

Many thanks to my lovely compatriots @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis for talking me off the ledge every time and holding my hand and reminding me why I love Elvis and how fun this can be.

Summary: It is March 1972, a month after Priscilla officially told Elvis about her affair with Mike Stone and her decision to leave him and request a divorce. He is in LA, getting ready to go back on tour and his entourage have invited some women over to help cheer him up.

Warnings: Some mild soft core make-out stuff. I think my smut generator is broken. Please send help. Oh, I wrote this today and there are a lot of typos. And some of it or all of it may not make sense. I'd honestly skip it.

Word Count: 4.2K

I Was the Best Husband

Friday, March 31, 1972, 8:30 p.m.

La Fortuna Apartment Complex

Just off Pico Blvd in West Los Angeles, CA

Her first response had been a firm no when Caroline stuck her head around Maureen’s bedroom door and asked if she wanted to come to a party in the hills at Elvis Presley’s house.

“Please, please PLEASE, Mo, I need you there to make sure I don’t drink too much or do anything stupid. 'Sides, Joe told me to bring some friends.”

“Who’s Joe?”

Caroline walked into Maureen’s room and sat on her vanity stool, wiping the corners of her mouth.

“I met him at the Whiskey last summer, when I was in the cage. He’s works for Elvis, took me out to Palm Springs for Labor Day, ‘member?” Carolyn's long, golden hair glistened in the bedroom lamp light.

“Right, how many girls were there? Twenty? Didn’t you say the trip was a bust?”

“I go to sit on Elvis’ lap for a whole gospel song, and then he asked me and another girl to make out in front of him. That’s a story I’ll be telling my grandchildren one day. Don’t you want to be able to do that?”

Maureen shook her head. “Hmmm, I think I’d probably leave out the second part. I don’t know, Cari, I -”

“Ah ha! You’re thinking about it. Get dressed, we gotta pick up Teresa. You don’t want to miss your opportunity to meet Elvis!”

“Right, maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get to watch the two of you make out on his lap. I don’t know why you need me to come if Teresa is, she makes since, you' 're both waitresses at Bootlegger’s. I’m not sure this Joe was thinking of me when he told you to bring some friends.”

Maureen looked down, smoothing her tee over her small bust while Caroline jumped up and spritzed Maureen’s perfume over her wrists.

“You’re cute, you’re funny, and you have a car, so shake a tail feather and let’s go.”

**************************

Carolyn turned up the radio and “Maggie May” resounded through the car as Maureen guided her Volkswagen bug up the steep incline into the Hollywood Hills. The road twisted and got narrower as they went along and she had to lean forward to feel steady shifting the gears.

Maureen found herself staring at Teresa’s beautiful brown skin as it gleaming in the streetlights while they walked up to the front of the large, white Tudor-style house. Maureen felt like an ugly duckling about to wander into lake full of swans, and hastened her gait, jogging up to link her arm between the other two taller, dazzling women as she balanced herself on her wooden clogs.

Knocking a few times, the door was finally opened by a tall white guy whose name was either Dick, Rick or Nick, and the women made their way into the foyer and down the split level steps towards an large open living room where guests were milling around talking, dancing, drinking. 

Carolyn leaned into whisper, “Joe says they’re trying to cheer Elvis up, his wife just asked for a divorce and moved out.”

Maureen only had a moment to reflect on this when Carolyn’s wrist was grabbed by a stout, short balding guy wearing black sunglasses inside at 10 p.m. at night. This, apparently, was Joe. He reminded Maureen of a a think, fat ground hog with no neck and a big, friendly expression that hid rows of sharp teeth. Joe smiled as he kissed Carolyn’s cheeks and checked out Teresa, then nodded politely at Maureen, as he took Carolyn in hand and led them to go meet “the boss.”

They could hear Elvis’ voice echoing through the air before they saw him as they walked out to the pool patio.

“Man, I don’t know how she could do this to me, I was the best husband a woman could ask for. Ain't no one in my family ever been divorced, 'cept my mean-ass, desertin' no good sonofabitch grandaddy. Unnatural for a woman to wanna break up a family like that. After everything I gave her, too. Provided everything a woman could ask for. And what thanks do I get? She steals my baby away and breaks up our fucking family .”

Elvis stood there at the side of the pool, his arms around two beautiful women as he spoke to a short young white guy, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, with long greasy dark hair and bushy eyebrows. Elvis paused his diatribe to kiss one of the woman’s cheeks and ask what her name was again, before his eyes met Joe’s and he made a half grin.

“Hey, EP, you remember Cari from Palm Springs, huh?”

Elvis let go of the women he was with and drew Carolyn into his side,  kissing her cheek and saying of course he remembered her. He hummed a few bars of a gospel song, which made Carolyn giggle, and then asked her to introduce him to her friends as he took Teresa and then Maureen’s hands, kissing them one at a time. Maureen shivered when Elvis took her hand, his eyes narrowed as his mouth turned upward into a crooked grin and he winked at her. She forgot how to talk as his nose grazed the top of her hand and he squeezed it to his mouth for light, warm kiss.

“This here is Arty Shiskee, he’s workin’ on this picture we’re makin’ with MGM, been filming our tour rehearsals all day.”

The short, dark haired man smiled anxiously, and uncrossed his arms to shake their hands. Carolyn leaned into Elvis, and Joe took Maureen by the waist to “show you around, maybe get you a drink, babe?”

Maureen felt as Joe was moving her out to pasture with the other guests not selected for Elvis’ harem, so she tilting her head toward the bar inside and said thanks.

Waiting for three white wine spritzers, Maureen turned to see Arty.

“Hey, Art, is it?”

“Actually, it’s Marty. I don’t have the guts to correct him, he’s Elvis, ya know? I guess I’m a coward. Also, how can I give the guy a hard time? He’s wife just left him.”

“Yeah, he seems real broken up about, huh? How will he ever find another companion?”

Marty chuckled, and pulled his hair behind his ear as Maureen carried on, she always talked more when she felt nervous.

“I guess it’s good he feels comfortable talking about it.”

“Um, yeah, ‘comfortable,’ that’s one way to put it.”

Before Maureen could ask him what he meant, her drinks were ready, and she enlisted Marty’s help carrying them back to the others. This was not easy, Elvis and the girls had disappeared from the patio, and Marty diligently followed Maureen through the mansion until they spotted the back of his shag hairdo on a couch in a large den. Maureen handed her friends their drinks and settled onto the floor, leaning back against the side of a brown velour couch and resting her shoes on the fur rug that extended out from the coffee table. Carolyn seemed at home sitting atop Elvis’ lap, buffeted by two other women sitting on either side all listening attentively as Elvis spoke.

“I am telling ya what, man, I gave her everything a wife could ask for, she wanted a horse, I got her a horse. She wanted ranch we drove by in Mississippi,  by god, I got her the damn ranch. And I bought everyone a truck for the ranch. She wanted a bigger house in Los Angle -lesss, why, I bought this huge goddamn house. Gave her unlimited budget to decorate this place to her heart’s desire. New car every time she blinked. Jewelry boxes filled with diamonds. A closet full of new designer clothes.”

Elvis rubbed Carolyns waist and extended his other arm around the redhead next to him, looking at one, then the other, as he asked. “Now, wouldn’t you like that, honey? Would that have made you happy?”

“Uh huh, daddy. That wouldda made me the happiest.”

Elvis kissed Carolyn’s cheek as she said this. “Right? Thank ya, baby. That’s cuz you’re sweet, normal, nice girl, ain’t got anti-freeze running through your veins.”

He kissed the redhead’s cheek too, and then her lips as she turned toward him and put her hands around his neck.

“I would have been so happy, Elvis, I wouldda let you know, twenty five hours a day, eight days a week.”

The loud smacks of their sloppy kisses echoed through the room, and Maureen suddenly felt very self conscious, as if she was watching something she ought not to. She didn’t go to these Hollywood people parties very often, although perhaps it wasn’t soo weird, she reasoned, for a handsome, wealthy, star like Elvis to make out with good looking women in his own house.

Surrounded by other good looking people.

Who were mostly 20-something females.

Maureen looked around and clocked at least another ten girls just in their area alone, with only three other men hanging out among the guests. Two after Marty waved a small goodbye and slipped out through the side door onto the patio.

Maureen returned her gaze to Elvis, who had paused his kisses with the sympathetic redhead in order to continue talking. Every few moments, Maureen thought she caught Elvis glance at her out of the corner of his eye, but she told herself it was nothing.

“Ya see, honey, now, that’s what I told her, I said any other woman would fuckin’ kill to be where you are, to have what you have, to have a husband like me. Uh huh, but not my wife. Nah, that bitch has a heart of stone. What thanks do I get for everything I’ve done? Come home to find all that swag I bought, gone, man, gone.”

He snapped his fingers. “She packed it all up, gave up on a ten year relationship, over ten years, and and left me for another man.” Elvis shook his head, his squeezing Carolyn’s knee.

A smile came over Elvis’ face as he looked from Carolyn to the redhead, and Maureen thought maybe he was going to try and get the two  to make out. Instead, he asked them, “Hey, want to see something out of sight?”

As they nodded, he jumped up, and looked around, his eyes settling on Maureen as reached out his hand to draw her up from the floor.

“Check this out honey, Imma show you how a real man protects his family. ’Git up here, woman, I need ya.”  Maureen stumbled up as Elvis pulled her to the middle of the room and positioned her arms out. “Alright, baby, now stand still and Do. Not. Move. Do you trust me?”

Maureen nodded hesitantly, her eyes wide with what could probably be best described as the opposite of trust. Elvis face lit up, and then he took a deep breath, his hands together in prayer as he centered them in front of his face and down to his chest. Then he proceeded to thrust his leg up, extending the knee forward in a swift karate kick out at her side.

Maureen froze in terror as Elvis grunted loudly and proceeded to demonstrate a rash of karate chops on either side of her face, followed by a few more high thrusting kicks, his black hair flounced in the air from his movements and “hiyas!” echoing around the room.  He chuckled as he caught his breath, rubbing her shoulder.

“Whoa, hey there, you can breath darlin, it’s ok. I’m a black belt.”

He turned to the little crowd that had formed around the room as they clapped and he took a bow.

 “See y’all? That’s how karate can be, if ya know what ya doin’ like I do. I can control my movements precisely and protect my family. I could kill a man with my bare hands if I wanted to.”

Then his face erupted into a grin as Maureen chuckled nervously.

 “Course, I wouldn’t. A true master only uses deadly force as a last resort. Against those who mean him or his family harm.” Elvis growled, and Maureen quickly ducked under his arm, about to sit, or flee, an option she was seriously considering until she felt his grip on her wrist.

“You did great, darlin, I could tell you liked it, saw it in your eyes. Watch out, once it gets you, there's no going back,’” he murmured, and kissed her on her lips, his hands on the sides if her face. Then he held out her hand for her to take a bow before he released her.

“Didn’t she seem fearless? Give it up for Colleen, everyone, bravest little gal in here. Probably the craziest too. Could see it in her eyes.”

He winked as Maureen joined people standing at the edge of the room, before sneaking off to use the bathroom and grateful she hadn’t peed her pants during Elvis’ karate demonstration. It had been terrifying, exhilarating, and mesmerizing. The violence and intensity of Elvis might even have turned her on a bit, but this sensation was almost certainly overwhelmed by the mortal fear that he was going to kill or seriously injure her.

***************************

It was past one when Maureen made a concerted effort to find her friends and persuade them to go home. She had been enjoying the free drinks and picking at some fried chicken as she made small talk with  other guests, avoiding the areas where she heard the loud refrain of the best husband in all of Memphis, Hollywood and the goddamn world. But now she would have to face him, and found Elvis in the living room where she made her way to the corner and scanned the area for Carolyn and Teresa. She was distracted by Elvis' direct glances at her every few minutes. Realizing her friends weren’t with him or in the room, Maureen turned to leave but was stopped by Joe's hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, boss man wants you to come join us," his arm snaked around her as he led her over to the few people still hanging out.

“Hey there, it’s my karate partner. Where’s the fire, honey? Come on,  take a load off.”

Maureen’s eyes widened but she found herself stuttering and unable to talk in the glow of Elvis full attention.

“I’m, uh, I’m sorry, I have to find my friends, Carolyn and Teresa, I think they may have actually been on your lap, at one point.”

Elvis’ lips curled up, and he bit his bottom one as he muttered. “Oh yes, Careful Carolyn, mmhmmm, yeah, I think she and that purty Black girl went home with Jerry, huh Joe?"

The ground hog nodded.

Elvis winked, and then his eyebrows creased as he saw Maureen’s face fall. “Oh it’s ok, baby,  did your friends leave you behind? It’s ok, I, uh, I think they was lookin’ for ya, actually, yeah, they said to tell you not ta worry.”

Elvis squeezed her hand and nodded to the others as he turned and guided Maureen away from the living through a hall.

“C’mon, I know something that will make ya feel better. It’s my cure all for when life gets me down.”

Elvis’ hand slipped around Maureen’s waist, and she let her head dip into his side, more from exhaustion than anything else. The feeling of Elvis tall, sturdy body as he held her to him and kissed the top of her head was comforting, she made the decision not to think about how he seemed to be instantly intimate with every woman he met. She definitely decided not to question whether this quality had been appreciated by his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Elvis pushed them into a large country style kitchen, with a wide, wooden island in the middle. Loosening his grip, Elvis went to the fridge while Maureen determined she would be more comfortable sitting down and settled on the nearest and therefore most logical option: the island’s yellow tiled counter. This is where she sat swinging her legs as Elvis returned with a gallon of vanilla ice cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup.

“Well, now, ya hardly said a word all night, sweetheart, are you always this shy?”

“Um, only with people I don’t know.” Maureen murmured, looking down and pulling the strap of her black jersey dress back up from her shoulder.

“You sayin’ you don’t know me?”

Maureen looked up into Elvis’s eyes, and her heart fluttered as he stepped closer. Now his long arms pushed over her lap to settled alongside her body on the counter as he moved between her legs. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and felt the movements of his chest acutely against her nipples as he leaned closer and hovered in front of her. Exhaling through her nose, she tried not to gasp as she tapped out her fingers nervously and looked down. A lone, nervous giggle escaped her mouth.

“Um, not really. Not who you really are.” Maureen whispered to her lap, which now included Elvis’ hands, rubbing her waist.

He lifted her chin, speaking softly as he looked into her eyes. “S’ok baby, I don’t bite. Much.”

Then Elvis chomped his teeth together loudly into Maureen's face and she jerked back with a giggling gasp.

Elvis laughed, straightening his yellow tinted sunglasses. “Well, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley. Nice ta meet ya, Colleen.”

“Maureen. It’s Maureen, though my friends all call me Mo.”

Elvis’ finger’s trailed up the side of Maureen’s outer thigh, and she swallowed as he widened her legs around him.

“Alright then, see, I didn’t really know who you were.”  He murmured into her cheek. “Nice ta meet ya, Mo.”

Elvis seemed to recognize the effect he had on her, as her breath hitched in her throat and she found her self incapable of talking. He stepped back with a chuckle, and dragged the ice cream over the counter next to Maureen’s hip, pulling off the container top and flipping the chocolate syrup lid with his teeth and a dramatic exaggerated “humpf."

Maureen and guffawed watching Elvis poured the chocolate sauce directly into the ice cream container.

"What are you doing? No one else'll be able to eat that."

“Honey, do you see anyone else here? S’my house, now, dammit, and I’ll do what I want. Ain’t got no wife to nag at me. If I wanna eating ice cream outta the box, then I'll get it out of the box." He said, slurping a messy spoonful into his open mouth.

Elvis brought a second helping to Maureen’s lips. “Now, open wide, like a good lil gal.” He chuckled as she let him push the spoon into her mouth slowly, moaning in delight as she swallowed the sweet, cold, sugary goodness.

“MMhmmm. See, now, do I know how to make women happy or what? You wouldn’t have left me, would ya, Mo Mo?”

“No, but I'm pretty easy to win over. I'd forgive almost anything if a man feeds me ice cream.”

Maureen winked at him and wiped her mouth just in time for another spoon of chocolate swirled ice cream, which Elvis followed with a soft, grateful kiss. He threw the spoon down and leaned into her, his hands moving up her body until they were cupping the back of her head and his lips settled again over hers.

Slow, soft, tender movements turned needier as they rocked back and forth. Maureen’s hands stroked the top of Elvis' shoulders, pulling him in by the lapel as she opened her mouth to meet his tongue. Her wooden platforms hit against each other as she notched her legs around Elvis, gripping him to her, as close as as she could bring him. Elvis stepped back, panting as he wiped his mouth, his lips contorted in a dopey grin.

She could hear the front door slam as people left the party, but they weren't going back to that way when he drew her off the counter and left the ice cream melting where it sat. She could see it in his eyes, a hungry wolfish glare, and his arm pulled her the other way, away from the people, the music, and the main part of the house.

“C’mon, baby, let me give you the VIP tour.” Elvis announced as they walked through the other side of the kitchen to a narrow stair case.

“These are some stupid, expensive-ass refurbished stairs.”

He bounced into the second floor, and turned to draw Maureen into him once more, his hand at the back of her neck and her body thrummed with need as his fingers played with the scruff of her hair. Then he was pressing her to the wall, pressing all her thoughts and misgivings away with his lips, while his hands blindly felt their way over her hips.

Minutes passed by measured by the metronome of air popping softly between their lips. Elvis fingers began to migrate lower, tugging at the hem of her dress. He smiled at the arousal in Maureen’s wide, brown eyes, leading her through a door at the end of the hall.

“Oh loook, huh, I think,” he paused as he walked to turn on one solitary lamp on top of a dresser on. “I think we found, the, uh, bedroom.” He looked down, almost shy, as he grinned.

Maureen swished from side to side playfully, anxiously, hesitantly in place where she stood across the room from him. Suddenly self-conscious, her desire faltered as she thought about where she was and who she was with, and became profoundly insecure about her sexual prowess.

“MMhmmmm. There is a bed.” She murmured, her arm up behind her neck, twisting her long, brown hair aside. “And, it is a room. So I guess it fits the definition.” 

Elvis eyes narrowed in recognition as he strode back to her and took her hand, his lips kissing the top lightly and his nose nuzzling into Maureen’s knuckles. “Hey baby, we don’t gotta do nothin’, ok? You’re the boss.”

Maureen felt a blistering heat grow between her legs, and she let out a breathy exhale as Elvis moved his lips up her arm, kissing his way to the nape of her neck.

“We aint’t gotta do nothin’ you don't wanna do, nothin' at all, ok honey? Don’t shake, sshhhh, s’ok.”

Maureen put her hands around Elvis’ neck, willing away her trembling nerves as the knot in her belly propelled her to be as close to him as possible. She felt ashamed of how much she wanted to do the opposite of nothing, right now, all at once as soon as possible.

“I, um, I’m not one for, I mean, I don’t usually do one night stands.”

He took her hand, and led her over to the bed and pulling her onto his lap. “There, we don’t have ta stand at all.”

Maureen exhaled with a chuckle as Elvis rubbed his hand up and down her thigh slowly, suddenly sheepish and uncertain. He let out a hesitant exhale. For some inexplicable reason, Elvis’ sudden nervousness made Maureen relax a little, and she lifted her fingers to caress his cheek before stranding to take off her dress.

He stopped her, and lifted her right foot to his lap, and then her left, chuckling at her cries as he throw her shoes across the room. Then he pulled her up in front of him, instructing her to lift her dress slowly. Very slowly.

Maureen’s breath escaped her nose in long gasps as she lifted her black dress, drawing it over her head, inch by inch, encouraged by the short gasps Elvis' throat made as his eyes locked into hers. He groaned loudly and bit his lip when she revealed the light, yellow flowered panties with a little yellow bow at the middle. Lifting her dress like a curtain, revealing her belly inch-by-inch, then her breasts, then her nipples, the feel of the fabric brushing over her skin was titillating. Naked, except for her panties, she moved her arms over her tummy and did an awkward little wiggle as she hurriedly sought out the warm of Elvis’ embrace.

His movements were slow and purposeful, trailing his over her as he removed her arms from her tummy and just soaked in the sight of her body, biting his lip and breathing. He met her eyes, and gather her body on top of his, planting kisses along her clavicle, each breath made Maureen’s pulse quicken and she ran her hands through Elvis’ soft hair. He laid her back on to the bed, on his knees between her legs as he slid her underwear off, watching as he revealed her wooly, warm labia, sucking in air as he shook his head with reverence and whispered a low goddamn, goddamn.

Maureen let out a breathy chuckle. “What? What is it?”

“Just beautiful, honey, I just like looking at it.”

“I’m, uh. I think I’ve probably done this less than you.” She let out another nervous chuckle, every cell in her body was telling her to shut up but when Maureen got nervous, she started talking more. “I don’t know how I’ll compare to Vegas showgirls or or even —”

Elvis put his finger her to her lips, then he calmly stood up and kicked off his shoes, hanging up his sports coat and printed dress shirt over a chair.

“S’ok, honey, don’t get all up in your head like that. Shhh, just remember to breath and  uh, follow my lead.”

Elvis returned to hoover above Maureen and kissed her gently. He winked, and Maureen felt him tremble as he moved to unzipped his pants.

“I really was the best husband, ya know? I never expected anything from my wife. Ever. Knew it was my job to provide. And, uh, when it cimes to making love." He blushed. " I, uh, know, well, that its the man’s job to make it good. You’ll see.”

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #i was the best husband #banditqueenwrites

[sgiandubh]

Waypoints, Take 1: POV Complete Outsider

A little something, before we begin. In the history of this fandom, S's book was a critical juncture point. To explain my speculations and findings, it felt appropriate and fun to split it in two parts: the first, written from the POV of a complete outsider who happens to stumble upon Waypoints. The second would be a shipper's view, simply because this is who I am. Under no circumstances should it be understood that I recently took a flight to Bangkok, as I will immediately tell you (I wish I had!). Last time I used this rhetorical trick it went in flames, and I had to explain myself at length: you have been warned. Here goes and I apologize already - this is going to be LONG:

Hi, I am Sgian-Dubh and I have just boarded the LHR-BKK twelve -hour flight, after four years of forced COVID abstinence. I am brimming with anticipation for five o'clock tea at the Mandarin Oriental's Author Lounge, the speedboat transfers on the Chao Phraya and the first real Thai mango sticky rice.

Lo and behold, somebody has forgotten a book in the pocket in front of my seat, undetected by the cleaning ladies. It is written by a certain Sam Heughan. I have no idea who that guy is, but I am quickly informed about its topic: My Scottish Journey.

Ok. A travel book. Favorite genre. This guy is no Pico Iyer. No Robert Byron. And certainly no Freya Stark. But I've got roughly ten hours to kill: where's the harm?

The cover intrigues me. Not my type, but a very good-looking gentleman, with a rather determined, almost stern attitude and a dram of whisky in his left hand. Is he a unicorn entrepreneur? An inventor? The next UK astronaut? Impossible to tell. But hey, never judge a book by its cover.

It quickly becomes apparent that Heughan is the male lead in that lengthy Outlander series of already cult-ish reputation, that my mother watches with gusto ("call me in half an hour, I am watching The Wedding": might I add, for the 455th time in documented history) and The Guardian TV critic calls raunchy.

Six hours later, roughly by the second round of refreshments, I have questions.

The beginning is peculiar. This guy has a busy-busy-busy life and lives in a large country house all by himself, with a hissing coffee machine he just bought. There is something havishamesque about this premise, clashing with the self-assured, conqueror pose on the cover:

But there is hope: a decision is made on the spur of the moment to skedaddle and walk the 96 mile West Highland Way, rather than brood in front of the telly with Chinese delivery food and more alcohol, Bridget Jones style. Fair enough. Adequate equipment is immediately acquired in a frenzy and outside it is nasty raining. The new tent is mounted and dismounted in the living-room (who does this? who eats scrambled eggs with ketchup?).

Pitter-patter. And more pitter-patter. Damp, but heartwarming overnight stops in cozy hotels along the way and short conversations in Halloween-themed bars, surrounded by Highland zombies and banshees. Parritch and grit. The harsh encounter with homelessness along the way prompts the Good Samaritan reflex:

More pitter-patter. Entwined with the self-reliant feat, we start to follow a parallel trail to the narrator's past, by far the most interesting part of the book. Challenging beginnings, in a single parent family surrounded by love and dignified penury. A real shyness due to truly heartbreaking, unfairly absurd, almost debilitating circumstances:

Details like the above quickly grab the reader's attention, and how could they not? There is a lot of sensibility in there, rather aptly balanced with a whiff of Dickensian morality (stay true to your self) and of course, with one of the favorite Victorian refrains: play up, play up and play the game. Obstacles are patiently conquered with uncommon resilience and a true stubbornness, but for a very long time, life is a haphazard succession of opportunities and rebukes.

For such a good-looking man, women are sparse and far between. Ae fond kiss and then we sever at 10. Stage partners. A stage production assistant. The one who didn't last more than one week once moved in together. No explanation is provided and we sense this is an uneasy topic. I wouldn't insist, as a casual reader, but my curiosity is piqued.

At this point in time, breakfast is served. I have long lost track of the zip-a-dee-doo-dah trekking part of the book, involving a sulking, but nice bearded guy and his wife, chance brief encounters and mushrooms. But the Underdog Tale surely got my attention, even if we spend an extravagant amount of time between the London neo-slums and the glitter of Tinseltown: skipping to the essential, it eventually paid off.

With instant fame comes exposure and the lottery winner syndrome. What to do. How to cope. Women multiply as by magic, but only one is singled out and discussed in a strange, contrived, almost lackadaisical manner:

If this made me, the assumed Complete Outsider, stop in my tracks and scratch my head, I can only imagine what would happen to these people's fans. Why address folklore and conflated nonsense, at all? Why give space to hearsay? Why "it", when it should logically be "them"? Why the ambiguity? Why the uneasiness, spinning like floating wood in a sea of positivity? Why worry about that, when you drum the march of success and explain your bachelorhood by an unsolved Oedipus complex, thwarting any potential pairing?

I sip the horrible airline drip coffee and I ask:

Who is Caitriona to you, Mister Heughan?

You wrote a +150 pages long book beating around this bush. There are no such things. You are either life-long friends and this is a non-existent topic, or you are lying to yourself, lying to your readers and hiding in plain sight.

Time to disembark. I am keeping the book. I am not buying the whisky (naïve product placement on top). But hell I am going to watch that series on Netflix!

[deedala]

✨weekly tag wednesday✨

weekly tagly wednesdly?? lolol thanks for todays game and thanks for tagging me @darlingian!! and @energievie!! <<3333

About you name: deanna age: noel-aged (which isnt old actually, stop being weirdos) starsign: scorpio your first language: english second language: right now the only other language i might be able to have a little convo with you in is norwegian favourite lip product: blistex medicated mint lip balm the best food dish you can make without a recipe: pico de gallo yum yum If you drink tea, what kind?: peppermint If you drink coffee, what roast do you usually get?: light roast (i didnt know about that being more caffeine!! But yay!) favourite thing to watch on youtube right now: mike’s mic’s appropriately unhinged tv show summaries favourite thing to watch on youtube in 2012: i dont have a fuckin clue lol. All i did in 2012 was work at and manage a barber shop well over 40 hours a week, experience a fucked up pregnancy, got traumatized, and played mass effect 3. favourite item of clothing right now: my black joggers favourite item of clothing in 2012: uhmm…green cardigan was something i wore a lot to work cuz it looked extra cute with my red hair. (i had red hair in 2012!)

fandom three movies you recommend: The Fall (2006), Love and Monsters, Palm Springs your favourite concert: went to a ton of dmb shows a youth which were always insane levels of fun have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?: oh for sure, im here to enjoy myself lol have you ever left a fandom because of the fans?: i dunno what i consider leaving a fandom? I guess maybe i dont JOIN them very often (ie make friends and participate in events and such) so no i’ve never really left one as the only two i consider myself really being a part of is dragon age and shameless? the best tv show you watched last year: hmmmm….the fall of the house of usher (i have such a short fucking memory i dont know what came out earlier in the year sorry lol) do you have a fancasting you just can't let go of?: not that i can think of off the top of my head… a ship you've abandoned: uuhhmm…also cant really think of one? on a scale of 1-10 how willing are you to share your ao3 history?: oh zerooooo. Its all rather tame, i just am not willing to lay my fucking soul bare thanks lolol do you have a fandom tattoo? i dont have any tattoos which i will probably go to my grave being sad about because i have so far failed at every meager attempt to get one. what fandom do you wish was bigger?: on one hand it might be fun to have more folks around in shameless but also i know our tiny friendly tumblr bubble is what keeps things playful, so i dunno… maybe uuhhmm the expanse?  has a finale ever ruined a show for you?: how i met your mother was pretty bad. I think even worse for me was Chuck. have you... swam in an ocean?: yes been vegan/vegetarian?: i’ve been a vegetarian for 28 years gone skinny dipping?: yes gone skiing?: no been to a convention?: so so so many

now my precious nuggets, please accept this tag and either play along or just know that i am gently squishing your face in my hands @too-schoolforcool @michellemisfit @heymrspatel @heymacy @metalheadmickey @crossmydna @tanktopgallavich @sam-loves-seb @jrooc @gardenerian @mickeysgaymom @softmick @howlinchickhowl @the-rat-wins @lingy910y @sickness-health-all-that-shit @gallawitchxx @mybrainismelted @juliakayyy @creepkinginc @whatwouldmickeydo @suzy-queued @squirrel-fund @tsuga-of-mars @transmickey @sleepyfacetoughguy @palepinkgoat @themarchg1rl @purplemagpie @thepupperino @callivich @rereadanon @grumble-fish @ardent-fox @thisdivorce @lee-ow @iansw0rld @ritualpyre @vintagelacerosette @rosemacclare @maizzycakes @7x10mickey @rrapp @gofionaonthem @suchagallabitch

#weekly tag wednesday #tag game

[dogerthefennec]

Even even more Boyfriend headcannons

Man is way too silly for his own good. Soo, let’s get on with it!

- Even after the breakup and the many situations with Pico, the two love hanging out often

- He def spends a lot of off time in the arcade with GF and a few of his opponents (mainly Garcy and Annie), occasionally Kapi will be there and the two duke it out on DDR

- I don’t remember if I said this but he is very close to Garcello, he def sees him as a very chill uncle

- I remember seeing a “week 0″ short where he has to take meds for his beep booping, many headcanon that he only does that around anyone he isn’t comfortable with, and I do as well. His voice is fairly normal, but at times can have a small hint of autotune

- He has an entire closet of different outfits that resemble other mod appearances, he will switch between them every once in a while, and a lot of them contain fingerless gloves and ripped jeans (I’ll probably draw one of them later)

- He has all the consoles, new and old. However he prefers playing classic retro games like Sonic the Hedgehog, Super Mario Bros, Metroid, etc. He prefers platformers and fighting games (especially Super Smash Bros)

- While he is old enough (age is very widely debated, but I and others see him as 18-19), he doesn’t drive often and prefers to walk or skateboard

- Due to Skid and Pump, man became obsessed with Halloween

- Despite how extroverted and overly confident he is, he doesn’t really go to that many parties, mostly from exhaustion from battling his opponents. When he does go, he will go all out

- Between him and Pico, Pico is the more reasonable out of the two

#fnf headcanons #fnf #boyfriend #boyfriend fnf #pico #garcello x annie #headcanon #headcanons

[polisena-art]

Have they ever tried each other’s different food choices?

I MEAN, of course!! Food is such an important part of bonding when it comes do different cultures and José and Panchito would be so excited to share more about their countries! Brazilian and Mexican cuisine are so diverse and have really unique qualities each, but also I think they'd love when one is explaining a dish and the other goes "WAIT I KNOW THIS! I MEAN- IT'S NOT THE SAME BUT MAYBE IT TASTES SIMILAR??!" For example Paçoca x Mazapán, Molho a Campanha x Pico de Gallo or even Pamonha x Tamales (these are absolutely not the same but they have enough similarities that if you hear the description of one the little lamp of association immediatly lights up in your brain-)

But, on top of that- have you ever seen a Brazilian street hotdog? Brazilians/Cariocas have this funny little thing that if a food has the option of toppings they will absolutely go a bit crazy with it... I think that'd be a funny thing for Panchito and Donald to find out.

I also like to think Donald had the pleasure of witnessing the first time José and Panchito tasted a PB&J, that shit completely short circuited their brains.

#the three caballeros #donald duck #panchito pistoles #josé carioca #text post #ask #krueger4eva #the first time I've had a PB&J (they're not common here n they actually sound lowkey disgusting) the first bite fet like such a mistake-

[dracomeir]

#pico's school #pico #darnell #darnell x pico #pico x darnell #nene #4 panel comic #omg I love gay people #I hate drawing backgrounds #screw proportions just draw #stimming so much that I explode #short pico supremacy

[shadesofnavy]

-He leaves the kitchen a mess whenever he cooks -Cherry does not approve of the statement above

Reading these two here gives me this funny image of Keith stepping out of the kitchen, all eager to eat the meal he cooked himself, only for Cherry to stop him, asking him if he made sure to clean up the kitchen before he left. Keith, not thinking cuz he hungy and wants to eat now, goes "of course I did!" and Cherry lets him go. Then several minutes later, Keith suddenly hears a very unamused Cherry call for him and THAT'S when he realized that he DIDN'T clean up after himself. Whoops.

I presume that Pico wouldn't approve of the big guy leaving the kitchen a mess whenever he cooks either, huh? Actually, how would Pico react to seeing the kitchen a mess after Keith cooks anyway?

Oml yes I love that image of yours so much, she for sure makes him clean up after he's finished up eating lol

I drew this to answer your question there too--I think it says a lot about both Pico and Cherry's reactions to the mess

Keith's in for a hell of a whooping

#friday night funkin' #tall bf fnf #fnf pico #fnf #fnf gf #friday night funkin' pico #friday night funkin' girlfriend #fnf girlfriend #i died laughing at how stupid this is #short gf fnf #yeah i love them #cherry davis #pico dankworth #keith burlington #im gonna make more doodles like these over png images #art

[darnellthefirestarter]

I think genderbends of fnf characters are so funny

Bc it will be Pico and then he'll grow long ass hair and wear crop tops + booty shorts and trust me I love seeing Pico wearing stuff like that but what if he just

Idk why it's funny for me to think abt this, just imagining bf going all out and being super adorable and hot bc he knows he rocks it and then Pico is just over here looking the same bc he really doesn't care-

Btw, genderbent Darnells where are you

#friday night funkin #pico newgrounds #pico fnf #random thoughts #doodle #gay men #boyfriend fnf #boyfriend #darnell #pico x darnell

[to2llynottoby]

rules: shuffle your likes or your favorite playlist and post the first ten tracks (and say a little something about them if you want!)

Doing my likes cause I want to see what insane tonal whiplash I get from all the music I listen to

Ezekiel Saw De Wheel - Louis Armstrong: One of my favorite spirituals and this is such a great version of it.

Move Along - All American Rejects: BANGERS ONLY BIONICLE COMMERCIAL CLASSIC

Across The Great Divide - Nanci Griffith: Thank you female folk vocalists I owe you my life. Top ten songs to wistfully reflect to

All My Friends Are Nobodies - Zebrahead: Goes hard. Zebrahead rules and not just because I like their version of His World. This song was on Tony Hawk 1+2 Remastered and that game owns.

Pico - Friday Night Funkin: Shoutouts to this sick soundtrack. I love fake vocals. Ba Bee Bo

Forever and Ever - Pooh's Grand Adventure: I wanna call your name forever. And you will always answer, "forever" :'). brb sobbing

All Out Of Love - Air Supply: I don't care if it's corny I love Air Supply. This song, Even The Nights Are Better, Making Love Out Of Nothing At All, just the BEST love songs to clench your fist and belt out (even if it's a little high)

Have A Short Rest - Persona 5: Sue me, this soundtrack is kickass

White Collar Holler - Stan Rogers: Fantastic song and also hilarious. Who would've thought to make a completely played straight worker song about a bored to death office worker.

That Summer - Garth Brooks: HE'S JUST LIKE ME FR

This was super fun, I love doing stuff like this and just taking an inventory of all my different music. Thanks for prompting me to do this ixaca!

I'm tagging @narwhaled-wheatfield @tactfulsaboteur @prehistwhoreic @vi-sigoth @foxmulderswaifu5ever @khanuckle @a-certain-nigerian-toyota and anyone else who wants to!

[starlightgirl242]

Throwback Thursday: My Drawings for the School’s Carnival

These are my drawings for one of the food stands at my school’s carnival. I drew Benjamin Fairest, Soft Pico, the Spooky Kids, Hex, Carol, and Boyfriend. (and Girlfriend and Whitty are here too, but they’re small cameos.)

If you want to know the short stories behind those pictures, they go like this:

Soft Duo: Soft Pico had a jar of caterpillars on the table. Someone left him a cheeseburger with fries and he came back, the caterpillar jar is empty and is wondering about their whereabouts. Meanwhile, Benjamin is enjoying his pickle-free hamburger with fries where he noticed a few caterpillars crawling inside of his sweatshirt pocket. When his hand reached inside, colorful butterflies come out. Much to his amazement.

Spooky Kids: Skid is preparing his lunch for his spooky picnic with Pump, with his mother’s permission of course. All the while, Pump is buying a hot dog from a spooky monster (possibly the Eyes of the Universe) with his pocket money.

Hex: Hex is serving a plate of chicken fingers with fries to a new friend of his, bringing joy to them with the meal.

Carol: Carol is thinking about buying some conch fritters (fried seafood) to her love interest, Whitty.

Boyfriend: Girlfriend brought some fries to share with Boyfriend and he’s delighted about it, especially after a week of enjoyable and lively rap battles.

Last year, I drew these for the carnival at my school. I had a fun time here, enjoying the outdoors with delicious food and soda to boot. Of course, I remember being disappointed about my drawings not being included to my teacher’s food stand… But, after I had a few moments of sobbing, I start to feel better and enjoy the wonders of my school carnival. 🎡🎠🎢🎈🌤😔😊💕

#throwback thursday #throwback art #throwback photo #friday night funkin #fnf bf #fnf boyfriend #fnf fanart #fnf soft #fnf soft bf #fnf soft pico #fnf carol #fnf hex #spooky kids #skid and pump #fnf girlfriend #fnf whitty #tw sadness #bittersweet memories

[orbikat]

Welcome to Dungeons & Funkin’

I know this is a lot of information to talk about so bare with me. I will he explaining the story and possible make a separate blog based solely on this AU.

Story:

This is a campaign based au from the ttrpg Dungeons and Dragons close with the canon story of Friday Night Funkin’. The main party is a party of three, with some who come and go:

-Boyfriend: Known in the story named Bardfriend or bard for short, is the hero and main character you see in the story. He is a level 10 human bard with many skills and training under his belt. He had a rough past but eventually had become the talk of the island NewFunk, after Daddy Dearest at his own game.

-Girlfriend: Known as Sorceress or Sorce for short, is the love interest in the story, secretly had been dating Bard for a short while before Dearest found out, only for her love for him grow stronger. She is a level 9 Tiefling sorceress under the dragon ancestry, where her father, Dearest, is a devil/demon, and her mother, Mearest, is a red dragon under a humanoid disguise. She is taken by one of Dearest’s henchmen before being rescued by a long journey to save her by Bard.

-Pico: known as GunSlinger Pico or GSPico (GSP), is the rival in the story. He is a level 10 human fighter(gunslinger) with a very difficult past. Bard and GSP are exs, but due to a seen misunderstood betrayal by bard, GSP has a grudge against him as well as the dearest family. But eventually, he tags along with Bard and provides the muscle of the group.

-Daddy Dearest: known as Dearest or Demon Dearest, is the big bad/ antagonist of the story and father of Sorce. He is a full devil/demon Tiefling with the highest status of NewFunk. He had been on the hunt of trying to kill Bard in any means possible but had been unsuccessful. But when taking matters for himself, he lost and humiliated by a large crowd by Bard. Only for his rage to take over and do something dramatic and deadly once making a deal with a mysterious figure, becoming the King of Demons.

The story is still in a work in progress but there is a lot of things about this au including the Time Trio, which is Story for another time.

#Dungeons&Funkin #friday night funkin #dragons #dungeons and dragons #fnf bf #fnf gf #fnf pico #pico school #fnf au #friday night funkin mod

[existeri-m4yhem]

" sometimez i think about you, late nightz - in the middle of june . "

short comfort softpb fanfic for funsiez

cw warning yaoi

it has been monthz since the escape from the city of starz . Pico and Benjamin have their own, expectingly low quality apartment, it wasnt pretty- but it was a home .

itz been raining for dayz now, the rain pattered against the window over and over, it was calming while softie was relaxing - dealing with all the trauma he got from those monthz on the street . he never minded it, it was just tough and scary .

pico opened the bedroom door, seeing his boyfriend stare off into the outside, is he fully happy yet ? Pico hasnt been sure for a while, but hez been ensuring softie will be happy, no matter the cost .

moving through the drawingz and pillowz on the floor, pico rubbed softiez shoulder, grabbing the painterz attention, " how are you feeling right now, baby blue ? "

pico sat next to benji and gave him a pb&j

" i ve been okay " softie took a bite out of sandwich - laying his head on his boyfriend . softie felt at peace for the first time in long while .

pico petted trashi and wrapped his arm around his world, " great to hear .. .. . "

" itz been raining so damn long "

softie giggled, " yeah . . . itz a nice setting though . i love the air . "

pico snorked " until it thunderz . "

benjamin shook his head - " until it thunderz . "

toughie wrapped his other arm around softie, it felt so comforting - theyre fianlly healing, slowly but surely, by and with the help other .

the two stared out the raining window, watching the rain fall on their window , carz drving by, and feeling the nice rain scent from this outside .

softie finished his sandwich, embracing pico in his armz, softie just didnt think . finally, peace and quiet with his one and only .

the two moved to peck each otherz lipz before laying down, the cuddled each other tightly - passionately . neither want this moment to end - true, star crossed love filled their dimly oragne lit room, surronded in plushiez, doodlez, and art suppliez . the bed was super untidy but they dont bother , it was was their romance time .

heartz at a steady pace, hourz staring out the window flew by, the two slowly falling asleep, snuggling oh so tight, cat laying besidez them . pico was purring in delight, he hasnt felt so happy since the accident all those yearz ago . softie lovez that purring, itz oddly more comforting above all .

they felt at home, they felt at peace .

they felt in love .

#friday night funkin soft #friday night funkin #softpb #fnf soft #pico x bf