#cocaine doesn’t look like that…seriously

[feyhunter78]

Split Lips and Busted Knuckles - Nerd!Miguel

Description: A chance meeting with Miguel's half-brother Kron leads to you seeing a different side of Miguel.

Nerd!Miguel masterlist here!!

Seriously you hate men, maybe not all of them, obviously not Miguel, but a lot if not most of them, and you really fucking hate Kron. Tall, blond, an extremely punchable face and an attitude that screamed “I waste my daddy’s money on cocaine.” He was a complete and utter rich asshole. One who seemed to be intent on talking to you.

You had a Mid-18th Century History class together, and he always tried to catch you after class. Luckily, you had a few sisters in your class as well, and you could hide within the pack to avoid him. Then he tried to catch you before class, but your professor called you over, safe again. But now here in the courtyard, an open space filled with frat boys you stupidly decided to wander through on your way to meet Miguel, there was nowhere to hide.

“Y/N, hey y/n, wait up.” Kron calls, waving wildly to get your attention.

You stop and press your lips together, before putting on a fake smile. He was the social chair for KA, and you know some of your sisters have been dying to be invited to their parties. “Hey Kron, what’s up?”

He gives you a smile, one that you think is supposed to be friendly, even nonthreatening, but it gives you the creeps. “Not much, just wanted to ask you about something I heard from a few people.”

“Oh?” You rack your brain trying to come up with some semblance of an idea about what he’s talking about but come up empty.

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been hanging out with my brother.” He says, his blue eyes hold you fast, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“Your brother? I didn’t know you had a brother.” You say, brow furrowing as you try to remember meeting someone who looks like Kron but isn’t actually Kron.

“Well, he’s my half-brother, my dad is the ultimate stud, so you know, things happen and then Miguel just showed up.” He explains, not even seeming fazed or upset that his dad had an affair.

You blink owlishly, his words echoing in your brain as you try to put two and two together. “Miguel, as is Miguel O’Hara?”

He nods, “that’s the one, weird ass nerd, he refused to join KA with me, even though I told him that’s the only way he’ll make friends.”

“He’s not weird.” You bristle, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kron holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, chill, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, okay, so I’ve been hanging out with him, who cares?” You glance at your watch; you’re going to be late.

There’s a very real and slightly concerning pain in your chest at the thought of Miguel sitting alone in the student center, waiting for you like a lost puppy, thinking you abandoned him.

Kron rests a hand on your shoulder, and you fight the urge to shrug it off. “Look Miguel, he’s my half-brother and yeah, he’s fucking annoying, and a try-hard, but he’s a nice guy, too nice. Don’t waste your time with him, it’s social suicide. He’s a nobody, a fucking loser who cares more about Legos and fucking science or whatever than getting laid.”

“I really don’t care about social suicide, but thanks, I think I can make my own decisions.” You tell Kron, giving him that same, perfectly crafted customer service smile.

“Y/N, you don’t get it, I’m trying to help you. He’s a loser, back in high school, no girls gave him a chance, he’s a total virgin okay, and you need a real man.”

And there it is, the real reason Kron doesn’t want you hanging with Miguel.

“A real man, huh? Well, you know what Kron, why don’t you let me know when you’ve found one and then get back to me.” You pat his hand that’s still on your shoulder.

His face goes red, then the color drains and his eyes harden. “I’m trying to help you, bitch.”

“Appreciate it, don’t need it, thanks though.” You walk off, head held high, hands shaking in anger as you shove them in your jacket pockets.

Miguel is sitting at your normal table, the one tucked in the corner secluded and shaded by large hedges, his head in a book, his glasses slipping down his nose.

You set your stuff down and push them up, smiling at his startled look. “Hey, sorry about the wait.”

He shakes his head, pink tinting his cheeks. “No worries, I was reading up on next week’s lecture for my genetics class.

You slide into the seat across from him. “Oh yeah? Anything interesting?”

You can’t believe he’s a virgin, he’s so…hot. Your mind starts to wonder for a second, imagining what it would be like, how he’d sound, how he’d feel, the flustered look on his face when you straddle him.

He nods, and begins to explain, talking wildly with his hands, pulling you from your lewd thoughts, then he freezes, his shoulders tensing, his hands deathly still.

“Miguel? Everything alright?” You ask, casting a glance over your shoulder in the direction of his gaze.

Fucking Kron.

When Kron gets closer you yell out, “so what are you like a stalker now or something?”

He laughs, it’s that specific laugh that reeks of arrogance and an inability to see women as people. “You wish.”

“I really don’t.” You grumble, turning back to look at Miguel.

His knuckles are white, his jaw clenched, his back ramrod straight, his shoulders set back, the expanse of his chest on display as if he’s trying to make himself look bigger than he already is, which is a feat in itself. There’s a look in his eyes that sends a shiver of something akin to fear down your spine. You’ve never seen Miguel look this way, ever, it’s like you’re looking at a whole different person.

“Migs, how you doing, bro?” Kron asks, standing between you and Miguel, who both remain seated, resting his hands on the table.

“Kron.” Miguel says curtly, turning that ice-cold gaze fully onto his half-brother.

Kron rolls his shoulders back and glances at you. “I thought I told you there’s nothing to be gained from hanging with this loser.”

Your eyes flicker back to Miguel, who’s giving Kron a harsh look you can’t quite decipher, then to Kron. “And I thought I told you I can make my own decisions.”

Kron clicks his tongue. “What’s he gonna do for you, he’s a fucking virgin. Just gonna try to make you cum by explaining science facts to you? Build you a dildo out of Legos?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?

“If you’re that desperate for dick, you can always swing by the house, I’d be more than happy—” Kron hits the ground with a strangled yelp.

Miguel is on him in seconds, fist cocked back, his back muscle rippling as he brings his fist down, again and again and again. “Di esa mierda otra vez. Dilo de nuevo, te reto a la mierda.” Trsl: Say that shit again. Say it again, I fucking dare you.

Kron manages to get one arm free and tries to grab Miguel’s face, shirt, arm, anything he can reach. “You’re fucking crazy, you and your sorority slut.” Kron lands a solid hit, and you wince at the sight of Miguel’s head turning—even if it’s ever so slightly—with the force, Kron’s smug laugh ringing through the air once more.

“You never know when to shut up, huh?” Miguel snarls, forcing Kron’s arm down with his free hand, the other connecting with Kron’s nose, a sickening crack filling the air.

The sound prompts you into action, and you ignore the way your stomach flips at Miguel’s tone, at the way he moves, like a panther, powerful, stalking its prey, delivering that fatal blow.

Be so for real y/n, you cannot be turned on right now, that’s so embarrassing.

You grab Miguel’s shoulders and try to pull him away, it’s useless, but you try anyways. “Stop, stop, you have to stop, fuck come on Miguel—if they catch you fighting on campus you could lose your scholarship.”

“Shit, okay, I yield, I’m sorry.” Kron coughs out, blood gushing from his nose as his voice joins yours.

But Miguel doesn’t stop, he’s cursing under his breath, and at Kron in Spanish, his hand bloody, Kron’s flailing helplessly in his vice grip.

You try to grab Miguel’s bicep, fear flooding your system. “Miguel, stop, please, you’re freaking me out.”

That catches his attention.

Miguel mutters something to Kron then gets up, shoving his stuff in his bag and walking away, his shoulders tense.

In shock, you grab a bunch of napkins and your things, before chasing after him.

Why is this still kinda hot? You wonder, before mentally smacking yourself upside the head.

Miguel’s legs are much longer than yours, his steps bigger, faster, and you grab onto the front pocket of his backpack, his name spilling from your lips. “Miguel, hey, wait up.”

He stops, and you drag him into a nearby alcove with a bench pressed flush against the stone wall.

You both sit and Miguel refuses to look at you, his hand and lip bloodied.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” You ask, taking his hand in yours and dabbing it with a napkin, trying to clean him up the best you can.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel says quietly, eyes downcast.

“Why?” You turn his hand over and start cleaning his palm.

“I scared you, and I—I let my anger get the best of me, I should’ve just walked away.” His eyes meet yours for a brief moment when you gently dab at his lip.

“You didn’t scare me, I mean yeah that was a little intense, but…” You trail off when you realize he’s trembling. “Hey, I’m not afraid of you, you’re Miguel, my sweet boy, who can apparently throw one hell of a punch.”

He laughs at that, albeit weakly, but it’s still a laugh.

“And Kron is an idiot, don’t listen to him.” You continue, spending maybe a bit too long cleaning Miguel’s split lip, mesmerized by him.

“I don’t care what he says about me, he’s been a jerk since we were kids, but…he can’t just—you don’t deserve that.”

You exhale forcefully out of your nose, a small, contained laugh. “He’s just a dumbass saying dumbass stuff, like really, who would build a dildo out of Legos? That would hurt like a bitch.”

“And you don’t—you’re not weirded out by what he said?” Miguel asks carefully, you can feel the embarrassed heat radiating off him.

You set the napkin down and grab his chin with one hand turning his face side to side, inspecting him. You know what he means, not the Legos, or the science facts, the virgin part. It’s such a dumb thing to make fun of someone about something you’ve always been against. Why shame someone for such a personal choice? It’s their body, they can do what they want.

Plus, it’s kinda hot, being the first one to have him? The first one who gets to hear him, see him like that? Fuck, you wish that was you. Maybe you should offer? No, no, y/n, seriously, keep it in your pants.

Once you’re done with your inspection, you turn him to face you. “No, I’m not, who cares if you have or haven’t slept with someone, it’s not a big deal. Though I am surprised, a smart, handsome, sweet guy like you? I thought you’d have tons of girls under your belt. Bunch of math and science prodigies following you around like groupies, fighting to get in your pants.”

Because that’s who Miguel deserves someone smart, someone who can keep up with him—shit pull back, you’re making yourself insecure.

Miguel ducks his head, nuzzling into your palm as a result of the movement. “Thank you, for cleaning me up, and...you know.”

You smile, heart fluttering as Miguel leans into your touch. “No problem.”

You’re in wayyyy too deep.

Virgin Miguel bitchesssss

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #nerd miguel #nerd!miguel #college!miguel #college!reader #sorority!reader #nerd!miguel o'hara #college au #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

Meghan and Harry: Episode 1

Why?

Seriously, why?

Bet let’s start at the beginning. I live-blogged the documentary on my Notes app. I wasn’t originally going to post it because I’ve stopped blogging, but omg, this is truly, as Scobie would say, the endgame. Of course, it’s not the monarchy losing the game. It’s the Harkles, They’ve checkmated themselves.

This was a six-hour own goal. I knew it was going to end badly for them when I saw Sunshine Sachs dropped them. Without SS astroturfing positive coverage all over the place they were doomed anyway.  However, the content of the documentary takes it beyond doom and into truly apocalyptic. I bet it has great ratings. It’s a complete train wreck.

[Edited after first liveblog: Netflix is calling it the most viewed documentary ever, but that’s misleading. It barely held on to The Crown’s audience which was its base number, and I doubt it will have the same staying power. Still, not a bad The Crown companion piece for Netflix.]

But let’s break it down.

Episode 1

Starting with shots in an airport lounge and a rented house looking like absolute crap is the weirdest branding idea I’ve ever heard of. They don’t look relatable. They look pathetic.

[I’m editing this after finishing their series and this opening is even more baffling now. Episode 5 covers their last week of royal engagements. First, that segment is a lot more glamorous and exciting than these sad-sack iPhone videos and they really should have opened with that. Second, Episode 5 shows they were elated and super excited after finishing those engagements. They loved the crowd reactions and the press coverage and were over-the-moon with happiness. These videos are supposedly shot after that and they are all sad and mopey and wondering “how they got here.” It’s a huge disconnect.]

The intro music screams “cheap YouTube production.” So does the stock photo montage. Oh, now it’s home movies…why? This resembles the video tab of a super-basic Facebook couple circa 2014. Netflix paid millions for this? I don’t think they got paid $100m, but I bet Netflix shelled out a tenth of that. They still overpaid.

[Actually, maybe they didn’t. The Crown cost $13 million per episode and they likely paid $10 mil for six episodes of Harry and Meghan which got the same audience.]

Now they are in a house (theirs? Victoria Jackson’s? Oprah’s?) that looks like a Restoration Hardware showroom and they look slightly less pathetic but also like they are in couples’ therapy. Oh, she did know who he was. What a shocker. Dimwit doesn’t seem to realize the implications. I wonder if the filmmaker is secretly mocking them.

[The house is a random rental that is now for sale so I wonder if they get a sales commission for the product placement. https://www.forbes.com/sites/emmareynolds/2022/12/20/montecito-home-where-prince-harry-and-meghan-markle-filmed-documentary-lists-for-335-million/?sh=3285e16b74fa]

My husband is watching with me. He was very confused by Meghan’s comment about how “when the stakes are so high” it makes sense to get the story from them. He doesn’t understand why the stakes are high. I told her Meghan is a narcissist and he didn’t believe me. He used to watch her on Suits and despite my best efforts still thinks she’s Rachel Zane. Anyway, he thinks the house looks like an expensive rehab clinic and now I can’t get that out of my mind. I think they are trying to look like the happy couples in When Harry Met Sally but it does feel like luxury drug rehab therapy full of Restoration Hardware furniture. He also asked me what was going on with Harry’s pupils in the airport lounge video. He thought that was weird. I tell him it's cocaine, but he thinks it's Xanax or something like that.

Montage. “They are destroying us.” “This has always been bigger than us.” Oh, please.

Montecito sunset. I guess this is their backyard? It looked better in the real estate photos. Meghan croons “isn’t it beautiful?” and Archie agrees. All I can think of is that these idiots used to live in freaking Windsor Park and now they have my grandma’s yard (complete with chicken coop and everything).

Walking with Archie. Harry mutters “this is a great love story” while pushing an empty newborn stroller (why? Where’s the baby? Is Meghan carrying the baby?). This is surreal. 

Glamorous wedding shot (a melancholic reminder of past glories, frankly) and it turns into a closeup of Harry’s legs. Eew.

Meghan goes to the chicken coop. There’s a lot of cyclone fencing in this house. 

Back to the Restoration Hardware Showroom. Meghan is in sweats because…I don’t know. Weird Instagram family pics including a sad little birthday party for Archie. Good lord, my kids had better parties than the King’s grandson. This is so pathetic. 

Oh, no. She got the cheap Amazon patio furniture protectors. At least they match the cyclone fencing. 

More family Instagram. They are protecting their kids…by putting them in a documentary?

Did I just see Harry’s underwear??!! Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Between the sale of family pics, the family drama, and the plumber’s crack, I’m starting to feel that Meghan married her dad.

Harry talks about consent with regards to his children…but they are too young to consent so it doesn’t really makes sense. Guess he thinks it’s only his consent that matters.

My husband asks if Harry is an addict. I suspect it’s partly his demeanor and partly the inconsistencies in the narrative. Meghan said she’d prefer Prince Harry, and that showed how little she knew about the royals? Media exposure requires consent, but your kids are in a documentary? Harry doesn’t seem to realize that these things make no sense.

I feel the way they structured these confessionals with an invisible interviewer was a big mistake. Oprah’s presence during that interview served to validate their shady claims. She has a lot of credibility so when she nodded and smiled people trusted that. It made their statements credible. Here they don’t have that and all the contradictions are apparent.

They’re in the yard. Meghan is trying to channel Martha Stewart and failing. Martha wouldn’t have cyclone fencing, Megs.

Meghan in sweats in the Restoration Hardware showroom. BIG expensive drug rehab vibes. I bet this is what all the rich women wear at the Betty Ford Clinic. She complains that other people write books about them and “wouldn’t it make sense to hear our story from us?” Actually, Megs it’s becoming painfully clear that the tabloids and royal biographers have made you two look a lot more interesting, glamorous and stylish than you really are. Left to your own devices you two are boring as dry toast.

Really cool shots of London. Whoa, the city looks great! They spent money on these. They probably should have spent that cash making California look good. London is their past and California is their future and so far their past looks a lot cooler and more glamorous than their future.

Tig Instagram pic montage. I wonder who was taking these? She should have rehired the photographer because the family pics she has now are terrible. These were much better. Her Tig life feels a lot more upscale and aspirational than her current Montecito existence which goes to show what good photography can do. LOL, she used the airport with the Ghurka suitcase. Yes, she didn’t know she was going to meet a prince and that’s why she traded in her Rowena for the luggage brand the princes are known to use.

Pics from what appears to be Harry’s private Instagram. Interesting—wait, the Insta rumor was real? What the? Good lord why would you admit that in a documentary???!! This is freaking surreal. Whyyyyy?”

[To those who don’t know. There was a rumor back in 2016 that Meghan was a designated Soho House “companion” and the girls were “advertised” through a private Insta account run by Marcus. If you liked a girl you could DM Marcus and get an introduction…which seems to be exactly what Harry did. I don’t understand why they would mention this in a a documentary. Everyone bought the Violet von Westerwhatever blind date story. They should have stuck to that.]

I wonder how the mainstream audience is reacting to the new instagram story. The original story got a lot of coverage and a critical mass of people may start to wonder what the heck is going on. Even my husband is skeptical and I don’t think he knew the blind date story. 

BTW, the fact that she was following his account was known in Toronto as soon as the relationship story broke. Interesting.

“Friend” talking about Wimbledon. She’s actually Serena Williams agent so I’m not sure why she’s labeled as a friend. Wimbledon, blah, blah, blah. Lol, Again, Meghan’s old life appears a heck of a lot more glamorous than her current one. OMG, she told Serena’s agent she was going on a date with Harry??!! She was telling everyone wasn’t she?

Texting. She was posting all of this to Insta as it was happening which is absolutely hilarious. Actually, this whole documentary reminds of the early days of the relationship when she was posting everything on Insta and leaking stories to US Weekly constantly. They really wanted all of this material out there and waiting until they got paid for it probably took probably took enormous self discipline. Guess they took Doria's "don't give the milk away for free" advice to heart.

I just realized she’s wearing Trevor’s Cartier bracelet during her monologues and that cracks me up. 

More cheap stock footage. Seriously, how much did Netflix pay for this? Endless chat about their first date, which is nowhere near as interesting as they seem to think it is. They should have stuck to the blind date story. It was slightly more interesting. Bad Soho House selfie. 

Nacho shows up as a “friend” and he’s really Harry’s promo buddy. The Silver Tree person was also a Suits director. Everyone is a business contact in this documentary. All these white people in California resort wear are giving me White Lotus Season 3 vibes. 

Baseball hat pics in a messy kitchen…these two are hellbent on shedding whatever royal glamour they had left. Wait, isn’t this an old picture from Toronto? Like real old, first year in Toronto kind of old. What a weird choice.

“Marry someone who fits the mould instead of someone you are destined to be with” followed by a pic of Megs trying to look sexy in a wifebeater shirt. Does the director secretly hate them? He was born in a palace but he had a trailer park heart…she was a tacky actress from the wrong side of the tracks…they were destined to be together selling family pics to the tabloids just like dad…it’s a family traditioooooooon….

Old royal footage…Diana…Charles…childhood photocalls, which Harry seems to resent, but he’s doing the same to his kids in this documentary, so I really don’t understand what he’s thinking. The Diana footage is a big misstep because wow Di was charismatic and these two losers can’t hold a candle to her. 

Thirteen whole minutes of archival footage, most of it stuff his parents “consented” to, and lots of whining about press intrusion. Dude, you’re in a reality show. You’re putting your kids on television. Know where you stand.

Then a slew of private couple pics that they really should have kept private. Love the wallpaper. Bet that was Frogmore. The documentary is rather disorienting. I can’t tell what house they are in or when the pictures were taken.  

Boom. “So much of what Meghan is and how she is is so similar to my mom.” My husband actually rewinds this part to make sure he heard right. Pic of Diana with her kids in the garden and then another pic of Meghan with her kids in the garden. Very similar gardens. Not so similar women.

“He wanted to marry his mom?” my husband asks. 

Cringe video of Archie with a Diana photo. “I didn’t want history to repeat itself,” Harry says.

“He did want to marry his mom,” my husband says, amazed. “So he can save her this time.” Shaking his head. “This is nuts but it’s television gold. Did the brother marry his mummy too?”

“No,” I said. 

“And the brother is the one who gets to be king, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

More monologue about their courtship. Lol, they really did leak the handholding painting to the press. Footage comparing Megs to Di and it’s painfully obvious she’s nowhere near as charismatic. 

Diana’s death and more archival footage. This documentary is a humongous downer, isn’t it? Childhood friend of Harry’s I’d never heard about. Was he invited to the wedding? I don't think so. Strong White Lotus vibes coming from this guy.

Diana’s funeral. Harry’s drug scandal. Hellraiser Harry. Bitching about paparazzi. No mention of Vegas, which is weird. You’d think that would be the big traumatic story about media intrusion. I guess he only wants to blame the UK media and Vegas was a TMZ story in the states and the UK media wasn’t allowed to print the pictures so it doesn't fit his narrative.

More whining about royal photocalls…except for the Lesotho photo ops which Harry didn’t seem to mind. Bit of a disconnect there because those were royal pr as well. In fact, it was the way the royals rehabilitated his image after the drug scandal. Seems like Harry only hates the royal pr he can’t personally monetize. Why isn’t Sentenbale getting a shout out? You’d think he would plug the charity here (Audi, Soho House, and JP Morgan got very obvious brand placements) but if he did I missed it. [Edited: Should have added the house to the list of product placements]

LOL, Prince Seesio straight out says that the Lesotho vacation was a response to the bad press in the UK. They should have briefed him better. I don’t think he was supposed to say that.

Botswana vacay with Meghan. Wow, the Daily Mail made this look a lot more glamorous than it actually was. This wasn’t exactly glamping, was it? Were there showers? No, best to not go there. No charities are mentioned. No mention of the “love” bracelets, just a Daily Mail article shot.

More whining about press intrusion then private Halloween pics that really should have stayed private. Lol, they went to a party with Eugenie after the relationship was leaked. Tell me you leaked the relationship without telling me you leaked the relationship. I bet Meghan wanted to post this on her Insta and Jason didn’t let her. I wish they’d let her. The press reaction to the Call of Duty costume would have been epic.

Harry doesn’t seem to be catching on. If you were in disguise and no one knew you went to this party except Meghan, Jack and Eugenie, then who exactly leaked it, Harry? Because we knew about it a day later.

That’s a Toronto newspaper, the same one that had the leak about Meghan following Harry’s private account. At the time the evil British tabloids were actually under the impression Harry was still in England and had cancelled a trip to visit Toronto.

The other outlet who got the scoop early was our old friend US Weekly, and the byline was by a then-unknown gossip hack called Omid Scobie. Given what we know now about their relationship with Scobie. Yep, I think these two just confessed to leaking stories about their own relationship.

The DM had to quote the Toronto paper and US Weekly when they finally broke the story on the other side of the pond.

Interesting that Meghan and Harry’s “new and improved super real love story” is the one that was being leaked in Toronto and not the one that the evil UK tabloids had supposedly uncovered through nefarious means. I don’t understand why they are changing the story, though. The blind date wasn’t a tabloid rumor. It’s what they themselves said during a BBC interview. 

End of episode. Overall, I feel this was a huge missed opportunity. Not much about his work in Africa or her UN/One Young World work. We hear about Harry’s photography but barely see it. It’s their chance to tell their story and their story is “we’re boring and tacky people who sell pics of their kids.” I feel they really wanted to put the “real” story of how they met out there—the IG dog pic, the Call of Duty costume, the crappy Soho House selfie. It reminds me of her old Working Actress blog where she was constantly stressing how unglamorous acting life really was. 

I’m not blown away by the quality either. Their home movies feel cheap and curiously inauthentic. They should have run everything through a filter to make it feel coherent and cohesive. The stock/archival footage is sometimes great (London and the royal family), sometimes cheap (Soho House), sometimes missing (California), and sometimes misleading (pap shots of Chelsy, Cressida and Kate that are narrated as though Meghan was the victim). 

The documentary lacks the authoritative tone most documentaries have. You really feel it’s “their” side of the story and not the “real” story. I think the problem is how they switch from the couples’ personal narrative, confessionals, and personal pics into historical pictures and public royal narratives. The institutional credibility of the royal shots makes the personal material feel biased and unreliable. The videos of Charles and the kids interacting with photographers, in particular are massive own goals because they remind the viewers that everything, including Meghan and Harry’s pictures and videos, includes invisible photographers. It’s just that the Harkles are hiding that from us, whereas the royals are upfront about it. The confessionals in the rehab setting, in particular, were huge mistakes, imo. They feel like reality show confessionals (like the ones the Housewives franchise uses) and viewers are trained to see those as unreliable narrations. Using someone else's house was also a bad idea. It feels fake.

The whole thing feels very chaotic and unconvincing. My husband thinks they are both addicts and I remember thinking that when they first started doing their beanie hat appearances. I ask him why and he cites the dilated pupils, contradictory narratives, family resentments and couch-surfing at other people’s housing. He says it’s standard junkie drama.

Other family members are watching and most of the group chat (lawyers and social workers) reaches the same conclusion: even the royals have junkie kid drama. The social worker says she has tons of clients like Meghan and the all sound the same. “They’re trying to destroy us.” “It’s a great love story.” “I don’t know how we ended up here.” “What happened.” They are all more interested in having their side of the story validated than in actually fixing the problem and they just repeat the same family dynamics over and over again. That’s why Harry is showing us pics of his kids in the house/garden/vacation right after complaining that his parents showed the world pictures of him, his bother, and his cousins in the house/garden/vacation.  She noticed that he posted a pic of himself in military gear (the Halloween pic) as an adult and a similar one of himself a kid. He also posted skiing pics with the royals and then similar pics in the sand in California. She’s says he’s basically re-living his childhood and trying to get it right this time. 

I didn’t expect many people in my family would be interested in this, but they are all having fun psychoanalyzing these two. Everyone thinks this is Harry rewriting his past so he gets to save his mum this time. Meghan’s motivations are less clear. No one believes she didn’t know who he was. The psychologist says it’s weird that Meghan’s side of the love story was just “it was exciting…we just got to know each other….” Her motivation is not that clear, although there was that one story about wanting to be protected from the elephants in the tent. Opinion is split with half the chat thinking she wanted to be rescued by Prince Charming and the other half (the psychologists and social workers) thinking that as an actress her fantasy would be A Star is Born. The psychologist says those two are not that different. In the Prince Charming fantasy you get rescued by an individual and in the Star is Born fantasy you are rescued by an institution, i.e., the studio or Hollywood. She thinks her fantasy was A Star is Born and that’s why she’s so resentful now. I think we’d discussed that in the blog before. Interesting to hear someone else saying it. Meghan didn’t want a love story where she was rescued by Harry, she wanted a Hollywood success story where she was acclaimed as a star by the palace. She didn’t get that and that’s why she’s still upset even though she got the Prince Charming love story. That’s not what she wanted. Harry got the fantasy he wanted, so he’s not as upset. 

Not much support for the theory (mine) that she was manipulating him consciously. Everyone seems to think it’s a case of two mental illnesses falling in love, along with junkie drama. That’s why Harry is so amazed at their “fantastic love story.” He wanted to marry his mum and she wanted to be his mum. That’s a pretty unlikely combination. 

I’m very curious about the “friends” featured in this episode. No Jess, no Markus, no Misha Nonoo, no one from the Suits cast except Abigail Spencer, and no Janina. Everyone seems to be a business partner of some sort. Cory was missing also, but it makes sense that she wouldn’t mention him. Reitman’s wasn’t mentioned either but I guess she doesn’t want to give them press.

I don’t understand why they didn’t lean into the charity work angle. She was doing One Young World and he was working Africa. Her "You can be Both" essay wasn't mentioned either and I feel they should have led with that instead of going with her “single girl trip” and the not-so-glam Botswana vacation. I also don’t understand why we didn’t see more of Harry’s supposedly amazing wildlife photography. After all, they are trying to build a career as documentary producers. You’d think that would be relevant. The big takeaways from this episode are: Meghan is mummy and I saw history repeating itself so I had to save her. “Save Mummy” seems like a weird narrative to craft a brand around, but my husband is right. It’s television gold.

On to the next episode.

[jungk0oksthighs]

Ride Or Die | Home

mafia!jungkook, druglord!jungkook, angst, smut, unhealthy relationship 

Word Count - 2.5k

Jungkook takes you home after four months of running from him. Warnings: swearing, violence, threats, non-descriptive smut, mentions of drugs and death. Important note: I do not condone nor enable this behaviour or relationship. this is fiction

MINISERIES COLLECTION

After a painfully long, silent and tense car ride with Jungkook you’re finally back at his apartment, the self and same apartment you left him alone in four months ago. The day he drilled you in the shower two weeks after your initial breakup.

The place looks the same, he hasn’t changed a single thing about the interior, down to the framed picture of you both that sits on the side table in the darrk dimly lit lounge. Upon further inspection you register the glass in the frame has been smashed.

Perhaps Jungkook launched it across the room in a fit of rage when you left him here. You guess you’ll never know.

Where usually the leftover dusting of cocaine lines and crushed pills stain the coffee table, you notice it’s actually clean from drug paraphernalia for once. Your chest tightens with something akin to pride momentarily before you snap out of it with an irritated sigh. 

Jungkook has just killed someone in front of you, right now you’re nothing more than a witness to his crime. Murder. You remain standing. Even when he brushes past you and sits on the edge of the black sofa, camouflaging with the fabric since he’s wearing tight ripped jeans and loose silk button down shirt of the same colour.

“Am I just supposed to ignore the fact you were following me?” Your voice is like ice, you still don’t have the confidence to look him in his hooded eyes, shifting your weight between your aching legs.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, seemingly amused with an arrogant smirk, “You’re welcome by the way… For me saving your life.”

“I-,” You hesitate because you know he’s right. But that doesn’t change anything he’s done. “How did you even know where I was?” Curiosity gets the best of you and you gaze down at him, his usual doe-eyes look more reptilian, narrowed and fixed to your face. They’re partially covered by his raven hair which has grown since you last saw him, but you can still make out they’re on the brink of being frightening, just like the rest of his profile. Save for the smug white smile he’s displaying.

He’s laughing quietly when he speaks, pointing to himself with a long digit, “Seriously? A member of mono broke into your hotel room to kill you and you’re pissed at me for stopping him?”

“Killing him.” You bite through clenched teeth, “You didn’t stop him Kook you killed him.”

At this he stands up and quickly makes his way over to where you’re stood in a few long stride, until his heavily tattooed muscular body towers over yours. His shirt is open at the top, exposing his tanned skin adorned by a silver chain you’d gifted him a few years back. He looks dangerous. He is dangerous. Your heart is racing inside your chest but you don’t fold, you stare up at the man you once called home with furious eyes, folding your arms as if to protect yourself from his bullshit.

“Before…” His voice is low and sultry when he grips your chin with one calloused hand, holding it in place tightly, “He killed…” He creeps even closer, until his nose is less than an inch away from yours, “You.”

His messy hold of your face tightens and he angles your chin up, until it grazes his. He’s staring down at you intensely, watching your next move carefully. Heat and adrenaline flood your senses you somehow find the strength to push him away with all the force in your body. To your surprise he actually stumbles back a good distance despite his heavy weight and strength. He chuckles, shaking his head softly.

“I save your life and that’s the thanks I get?” He tongues his cheek, beginning to unbutton his shirt until it hangs either side of his inked six pack. “I’ll remember that for the next time it happens.”

“There isn’t going to be a next time Jungkook! Because you’re going to stop fucking following—”

“Stop following you?” He scoffs before storming back over, but he doesn’t touch you this time. Instead he looks down at you with dark eyes swimming in disgust. “And just… let you die? You think I’d ever allow that to happen?”

You swallow, gaze dropping to his muscular torso for less than a second. Shit. You look back at him, he’s smirking, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

“I can take care of myself.” You manage to choke out, and you’re right. While the events of this evening suggest otherwise, you know how to defend yourself should you have to. And if something like this ever happens again at least you’ll be more prepared. Maybe you should take one of Kook’s guns with you just in case.

Jungkook inhales sharply, dramatically, his pierced lips round and whistling, “He threatened to stab you Y/N, and you just stood there and let him. How the fuck is that taking care of—”

“How were you even listening to that?!” You scoff, jaw practically on the ground when it drops, “How-, how long have you been following me?!”

He pushes your body back until you’re flush to the nearest wall, his arms caging you in either side of your head. His jaw is tight, nostrils flaring, chest heaving as though he’s trying to calm himself down. And you feel the need to do the same. You’re angry. Hurt. Confused. And then he slips closer, until his bare chest is pressed up against the swell of your breasts, dipping his head until you’re eye-level with him.

“Since the moment you left.”

Your voice is low, borderline sultry when you finally manage to speak, “I told you… not to follow me.”

He matches your almost seductive tone, lips ghosting yours so closely that his breath is warm against you and your whole body tingles with something indescribable, “And I told you… not to leave.”

“Jungkook…” You exhale, bones vibrating from anticipation when he darts his tongue out to wet his lips. You shouldn’t go down this road with him again. You can’t. It would be a mistake.

But you want to.

“Mmm?” He smirks, cocking his head down and to one side, until his mouth is agonisingly close to the flesh of you neck but he doesn’t go any further. Despite how much you want him to. Parts of you miss him, parts of you hate him. But one fact stays constant, no matter what you think of him.

A part of you still loves him.

You swallow, eyes fluttering shut while you gather your thoughts, “I don’t need you to protect me, I can take care of myself.” Your voice comes out whispered, airy, albeit very unconvincing.

He pulls back just enough to catch sight of your breathlessness and you almost blush beneath his salacious gaze. His words are husky and hot when they roll of his tongue, “Prove it.”

“I… I-, No!” You snap out of his spell, shoving him away. Except this time he doesn’t move at all, you’re still trapped between him and the wall. “Let me go please.”

“That’s how you defend yourself?” Laughter rattles inside his broad chest which only infuriates you further. “You’re gonna ask the big bad wolf to just let you go? Please? Come on you can do better than that baby.”

With venom lacing every word you speak through clenched teeth, “I said let me go.”

“Why should I?” He’s using his tongue to play with his lip ring, brows raised and voice eerily calm. “Hm? So you can run off and nearly get yourself killed again? Give me one good reason—”

Your hand tightly clasped round his thick neck wins him to shut up, you don’t squeeze, you don’t want to hurt him. Truthfully you don’t think you’re actually capable of hurting Jungkook, not physically anyway. He’s been shot, stabbed, tortured, punched, kicked, thrown around… Nothing you do could ever hurt him. But what you’re doing right now does surprise him. He’s grinning, eyes blown out with something familiar, something carnal and raw.

“Are you done patronising me yet?” You spit, adrenaline coursing your veins. You have to admit something about having your hand round his throat, catching him off guard, being the one in control (even if he’s the one letting it happen) is kind of… thrilling.

“You do realise you’re not actually doing anything to me? I can still breathe, still talk. Still move. Come on Y/N. Do something. Make me feel something.” His smile pisses you off, how bright it is, how amused he is, how handsome he looks. Everything about him enrages you to the point of you actually wanting to hurt him, but you don’t. You wouldn’t.

You let him go with a small frown, “Not all of us have to solve our problems with violence.”

“Says the girl who just tried to choke me?”

“Fuck you.” You bark.

He brings a hand to your chin, tugging it upward. “I plan to.”

Maybe it’s the way his brow quirks ever so slightly. Maybe it’s how he wets his lips slowly with his glistening tongue. Maybe it’s the distraction of his exposed torso. Maybe it has something to do with the sinful way he’s hungrily eyeing you up and down. Maybe it’s the familiar apartment setting. It could be a lot of things… But whatever the reason is, it’s soon irrelevant.

Because you kiss him.

And he kisses you back.

Before long the living room is absolutely trashed and unrecognisable. The coffee table is broken completely in half. Sofa cushions scatter the floor haphazardly, not one managing to stay actually on the sofa. The rug in the room is half folded over and has moved three feet to the left. The side table is knocked over and smashed to pieces. The television is broken, displaying nothing more than a plain black screen and a neon green print of your ass alongside one of Jungkook’s large hands next to it.

Four months without each other and between you you’ve managed to rack up at least eight thousand dollars-worth of damage in one hour. One spectacular, wild, leg shaking and back breaking hour. An hour that you will never forget. Nor will he.

You’re laying atop of Jungkook’s chest on the floor in post-orgasm bliss, both completely naked, sweaty and worn out from the antics of the last sixty minutes. Jungkook reaches into his discarded jeans to find his cigarettes before lighting one. Using a dented piece of wood from… something you broke, as a makeshift ashtray.

“So are you gonna tell me how you found me now?” You hum, tapping your fingertips to his chest when he blows a perfect smoke ring into the air. Truthfully you always hated him smoking in the apartment, but you figure you have no say in the matter anymore and decide to keep your opinion to yourself.

“No.” He smirks, left hand flicking the ash from his cigarette and right hand gently smoothing out your messy hair. “I do need to figure out how mono found you though…  Cause I was the only person who knew your location. Didn’t even tell my men where you were.” He’s deep in thought at this point, thick brows furrowed with concentration and something else, something darker.

You mull over your thoughts before you’re being tugged into a bone crushing hug.

“Ow!” You whine, giggling, “Maybe someone followed you and they found me that way.”

“Doubt it, I’m good at covering my tracks.” Jungkook scoffs, clearly offended. He’s managed to pull you atop of his hard body so you sit up and straddle his hips.

He looks so good like this, underneath you, damp and spent. His profile remains dangerous looking, as it usually does. But his eyes soften when they meet yours, for a split second he resembles the old Jungkook you fell in love with. Your Jungkook. Even the cigarette he’s holding finds a way to make him look sexy. You swallow, tracing delicate patterns to his chest with your index finger.

“Aren’t you worried…?” You take a beat. “About that guy you killed?”

The man you’re sat on shrugs nonchalantly, bored looking when he takes another drag. “Not particularly. Did what I had to do to keep you alive, which again...” He grips the flesh of your thigh with his free hand, fingernails tapping your skin. “You’re welcome by the way.” His smile is genuine when smoke leaves his lips, thickening his voice.

“Thanks.” You chuckle with a tut. Truthfully you are grateful for him interfering when he did, however dramatic it was at the time. You would be dead right now if he hadn’t followed you. Even though you told him not to, you’re only alive because he did

“So are you gonna run off again or have you finally figured out it’s safer for you here?” He dots out his cigarette on the discarded wood, bringing his hands to your hips, holding you in place. His eyes drag themselves up and down your exposed chest and stomach when he gnaws his lip.

“I’m safe wherever I am…” You nod, melting beneath his touch when his inked thumbs rub your flesh; he’s toying with his lip ring again and you’re close to lunging forward and kissing him but you resist. “Since you’re so hellbent on following me everywhere.”

“Wouldn’t have to follow you if you stayed.” He sighs quietly, “Would save me a hell of a lot of time, stress and resources. Plus there’s no way mono would fucking dare come after you if they found out we’re back together.”

There’s a lump in your throat that won’t go down, bound by nerves. “I-, Kook we’re not back together… I still, I mean-, we’re still not good for each other.”

“You know your argument would be much more convincing if you weren’t sat on me completely naked right now.” An amused puff of air rips from his nostrils when he smirks. “And that’s where you’re wrong baby… We are good for each other. We keep each other alive.”

But unbeknownst to you, mono anticipated this exact situation. They knew you’d stay together after they found you, they expected nothing less from their rival gang leader and his on-and-off girlfriend’s infatuation with self-destruction.

And they already have a plan in place that will leave one of you dead. 

x

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #mafia!jungkook #jungkook mafia au #druglord!jungkook #badboy!jungkook #jungkook series #jungkook miniseries #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook mafia #mafia bts #bts x reader #jungkook au #reader x jungkook #oc x jungkook #jeongguk bts #bts ff #jungkook writers #jungkook writing #jungkook oneshot #jungkook drabble #jungkook x you #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk smut #jungkook hot #jungkook sexy #jungkook long hair

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Tangerines and deers- part 2

This one doesn’t have that much tangerine and reader but next chapter will I promise you guys will love it

Send me requests too please 😭 inbox is empty again

“It was an accident. Tragic.” Ladybug stuttered and Lemon laughed at that. “Bizarre, even.”

“Cool story, bro, but uhm, I think that you and your partner here had your own plans of getting out of here with that case.” He pointed to you, who was sitting on the other side.

“No, no, no.”

“Pinning a body on us. Hoping the white death is so busy cuttin’ off our arms instead of cuttin’ off our fingers. It’s like Thomas the Tank Engine always says: “Simple is better.””

“The kids show?” You and ladybug asked at the same time.

“Yes, the fucking ki- man- I learned everything about people from Thomas. Everything.”

“I took 3 years in psychology, but Thomas sounds more fun.” You muttered.

“Really?” Ladybug asked Lemon, interested.

“It’s how I can read people like you so well. And you are a diesel.”

“Not really. This guy is like.. the equivalent of a golden retriever. A golden retriever that just happens to have really bad luck and so he gets sick and put down.” You explained.

“That’s dark. And I am not a diesel.”

“You’re the diesel-est diesel…”

“Not even close.”

“I’ve ever seen in my life, man. Cause diesels bluff. They go too far.”

“I’m trying to get diesels out of my life, you know?”

“If there was a gun under this table, yeah, I’d be as dead as that kid over there.” He pointed to the one next to you.

“Wait what? He’s dead?” You lifted his glasses and immediately put them back on.

“Yup. Yup. Definitely dead and not sleeping.” You said, moving to the other side.

Lemon used that as a distraction, and he grabbed Ladybugs arm, which caused his head to hit the table. Ladybug closed his laptop onto his head. He punched Lemon twice but lemon kicked him. Then, as Ladybug was on the ground he kicked him in his crotch.

The lady shushed them again, before turning around again. Lemon threw a laptop at ladybug.

You sighed and got up, and got your own gun from your purse.

“Seriously? I told you not to bring a gun.” Ladybug shook his head.

You held it to Lemon’s face.

“Thanks, although you could’ve helped earlier you know?” Ladybug said.

“Whatever, now can me and my partner please leave?”

“No can do, sorry Deer.” He said, kicking you and knocking you down, you groaned and held your leg. And Ladybug grabbed the laptop and smacked him in the head with it.

“Thanks.” You said to him.

“Who’s helping who now?” He smirked and opened up the laptop, you sat on the other side where there wasn’t any dead or passed out people.

“Shh! I’ll call the conductor!” The lady whispered again.

“Eat a bag of dicks, lady!” The woman gasped at his foul words “I’m sorry I’m sorry. I’m working on it.”

The lady turned back around while you snickered.

“Here.” You tossed him a bottle of some white stuff.

“The fuck is that?” You asked.

“Cocaine.” He retorted sarcastically.

“Funny.”

He put it in the water. And looked at the dead guy next to him.

“Told you he was definitely dead.”

He grabbed the gun on the floor, it was Lemons.

“I’m not a diesel, you’re a diesel.”

He hid the empty gun behind some suitcases.

“You should do the same. I told you that guns weren’t necessary.”

“Nope.”

You opened his phone and saw that tangerine was near so he put his hat and glasses back on.

“Ow!” He said, as he put his hat on and noticed his head bleeding.

“Follow me.” You said, as you headed to the bathroom.

You guys went into the bathroom. “Sit down.” You told him, digging around in your bag.

“You sit down.” He muttered, while also sitting down.

You got on your knees and took off his hat again, as you focused and started to clean around the wounds. You also cleaned the blood.

“Anything else that might be a problem?” You said, putting a bandage on his nose.

“No. Thank you.” He said, getting up and calling Maria as you guys walked around the train again.

“There’s another body here.”

“Of course there is.” She said.

“Not my fault, and I believe it’s the son of the white death.”

“Did the twins ID you guys?”

“Did you hear what I said? White death. Death. Death.” He repeated.

“Snatch and grab, my ass.”

“I don’t know, kinda like this mission. It reminds me of my old ones before I got stuck with snatch and grab ones.” You said.

“Of course you do.” He rolled his eyes. “Theres someone else doing a job on this train.”

“The twins. We know that.”

“Again, not twins.” Ladybug said.

“I feel like it’s more than them.” You said, trusting your gut.

“What? Put her on.” She said to Ladybug and handed you the phone.

“What do you mean, Deer?”

“I mean I think there’s more than just the twins doing a job here. Some of these people are kind of suspicious. And the wolf just happens to end up here? I don’t buy it.”

“Just get the case and get off, I don’t need two of my best people dying.” She sighed and you handed the phone back to ladybug.

“They’re here for the kid, but somebody killed the kid.” He said, putting a golf club through the door.”the guy with the knife.”

“The wolf.”

“He said he came here for revenge. He just happened to run into me, because of course he did. The kid was poisoned in the same way as El Sbarro was at the wedding.”

“It’s El Saguaro. The same killer?”

“Yeah.” He said, as you and him stacked suitcases.

“I’m like MacGyver.” He said, and peeked into a cage. All of a sudden a snake flew out.

“Oh hell nah!” You screamed and backed up, you went behind Ladybug.

“I know that snake. Is that- ITS A GODDAMN BOOMSLANG SNAKE!” You shrieked.

“I DONT KNOW WHAT THAT IS.”

“It’s a poisonous snake, very poisonous.” Is all you said.

“How do you know this stuff?” He asked as you guys made your escape.

“I also studied Zoology when I was 13. Stopped after 5 years.” You explained and practically ran away from the snake.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

“Shit.” Tangerine said as he saw his brother on the table. He groaned as he woke up.

“Oh thank God. For a minute there… Jesus Christ, you had a bit of a Bosh, pal.”

He slapped him and lemon just groaned.

“Alright, five stations to Kyoto. Better get tickety-boo.” He said, leaving Lemon and going to find the two.

“Would you describe me as someone who lives in perpetual anxiety?”

“I would.” You said.

“No, no.”

“Ah fucknuts.” He said, as he saw the conductor. You were underneath the tables and he sat on the chair.

“And if it wasn’t clear, I meant yes.”

“The conductor, I don’t have a ticket.”

“Not sure that’s your biggest concern.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked as he saw you on the floor.

“Trying to be smart in my hiding.” You hit his leg.

“Ow. And you don’t understand, this guys like Criss- fucking- Angel. He pops up everywhere. He slows me down, tangerine catches me, I am dead. Dead. Dead.”

“I wouldn’t mind being killed by him.” You muttered as you sat on the seat next to him. He groaned.

“Yeah I k.. hold on.” He said and went over to the guy next to them.

“Hey bro. Wanna make an easy 200 bucks?”

“Is this like a… like a sex thing?” He looked at ladybug and then at you.

Ladybug just stared in confusion.

“Nope..”

“Oh, okay, I was kidding. Uh, yeah, what’s up? What do you need, bro?” The man said.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩ ✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

Tangerine struggled to get the door open, and so he stole a stuffed animal, put his gun in it and shot. Which only opened the door a little bit.

Tangerine saw the hat and had thought it was Ladybug, he looked for the girl but hadn’t seen her.

“All right, games up, big boy. Where is the case?” Tangerine said to him, but it wasn’t the same man.

“Tell me and I promise I’ll only shoot you enough-“

“Whoa, whoa, um, is this the sex stuff?”

Then, firecrackers started exploding and a man yelled. Tangerine went over there.

“I do love an accent.” The man said.

#bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #bullet train x reader #tangerine

[bluiex]

i put it in google docs to check the word count it’s a bit over 1000 words so that’s fun, but without further ado, i present:

funny things i have read in smut:

“Then he hit the bundle of nerves that fanfic readers are all too familiar with.”

“Luckily he is also a slippery motherfucker.”

“inexperienced in the art of giving giant people hand jobs.”

“Getting cock blocked my a church!”

“I’m not a food (name)”

“unsure why (name) was treating him like he was at the dentist”

“Also when they arrived (name) threw a plushie at them, hitting (name) square in the face.”

“I-uh I wh-uhm I”

“Breed! Breed! Breed! Mate! Mate! Mate!”

“(name) smiled “sure just don’t kill me””

“(name) would probably just scold them and then offer some advice and (name) would probably just laugh and offer to punch (name)’s stomach or some bullshit. “

“She then sauntered her way back to the over-eager man laying in an idiotic position on the bed, probably trying to be mock-seductive.”

“"What? Don't you like what you see?"”

“he let out a shaky breath and stood up straight(gay)”

“(name) finds out where all the missing orphans went, and no, it’s not Technoblade.”

“(very unimaginative for a nonhuman, what were his parents thinking?)”

“it was at that moment that (name) had internally asked himself three questions: am I really considering sex with a dragon? Is this really what my life has come to? Dragon fucking?”

“" Sorry gang I have to take the fattest piss in the whole year."”

“"I just don't think you are gonna be screaming pickles in the middle of fucking-"”

“Angry at (name) for even having the audacity to be alive and breathing.”

““Look, I’m your chambermaid not your chambertherapist,””

““I saw a man purchasing cocaine from another man.” He mentioned offhandedly.”

“"Fuck you" he responded, lowering himself to lay on the monsters chest and stomach.

'That's what your doing'”

“Author: Am eating cucumber”

“(name” smirked with delight, reaching down to poke at his cloaca”

“he got so many new experiences (yes, even beans on toast)”

“”did you just.. call me dude in a romantic way?”

““Were you expecting me to say ‘it’s dishonourable to attack when not ready!’?””

“(names) hands are shaking so much that he might actually shoot one of them in the foot. Which would seriously kill the mood.”

“Is he not also deserving of being a sexy pirate with huge tits?”

“He doesn’t know what he’ll do if (name) pulls away and starts talking again. Cry, probably.”

“sorry i was possessed by an evil spirit called homosexuality writing this”

“im normal *paces around my cage*”

“i need to fuck this himbo.”

“am I saying that gay sex is the solution to relationship problems? Absolutel- *dies*”

“and precisely nothing changes between Pearl and Scott.”

“the real fantasy here is having a shower that's big enough for more than one person lmao”

“not like he was thinking of boneing (name) or (name) anytime soon.”

“(name) has eaten (name) out (wow that's really a sentence I just typed)”

“Tea anon *shakes you like a maraca*”

“because holy hell (name) has got to have some absolutely incredible thighs”

“I know that we all universally agree that (name) has the biggest dick on the server”

“I just think they should fuck and it would solve all their problems. Or make them worse, but at least they’d have fucked <3”

““tiddies plz? May I have a face full of them?””

“(especially after he's been fucked into the next century by her-)”

“When he is satisfyied and (name) is a right mess and a little hard- (name) just leaves lmao”

“You have my utmost respect and love person who suggested it I will give you a handshake”

“Hi I have a headache the size of Texas but that doesn’t stop the Headcanons from plaguing me like visions.”

“(name) just walkin around butt ass naked, dick out :sobs: /pos”

“getting the fucked and bred into the next century-“

“"he's a fucking dumbass jesus christ i want to bear his children"”

“(name) lingered, because he was a simple man, and couldn’t turn down a chance to look at (name)’s ass. In his defence, it was not a bad choice. Man.”

“Not that burying his face in (name)’s tits was a bad time,”

“(name) slurred out a grumbling complaint, so far from any word that (name) was almost impressed.”

“(name), I am going to set you on fire, please.”

“(name) raised his eyebrows at (name)’ choice to not wear underwear. The man was truly feral sometimes.”

“This goes even harder (hehe)”

“Why do school work when imaginary men can fuck in our heads *gets run over*”

“Unfortunately, it covered all of (name)’s actual ass,”

“his eyes relaxing and focusing in on the much nicer view of (name)’s chest.”

““Are you saying that to me, or my boobs?””

“little panting sounds as he tried to remember how to breathe.”

“He needed to scream into a pillow, like, now. And then do other things with that pillow”

“She could talk to him however the fuck she wanted after riding him like that.”

“And my god if anyone saw his back they'd think he got attacked by a bear or something “

“(name)’s sense of time is a little – hah! – fucked right now.”

“resisted that dang mouth”

“(name) has two tits!”

“a worker is giving him a weird look for clearly having boner while staring at some bell peppers.”

“He really was a friend shaped nugget”

““If it's not a booty call I'm not interested,” “

“(name) bussy canonically has the power to unlock peoples closeted inner fruit”

“the glass was so fragile that gay sex was enough to shatter it”

“just waiting for (name) to calm down. (name) also waits for (name) to calm down.”

“and enjoy the ride””

“nor does (name) actually get off on being commanded to fuck. (well, he might. i've never asked.)”

““I’m at a vulnerable time in my species transition and you’re making sex slave jokes?””

““Well, stop being horny for five seconds and let me finish explaining.””

“Gotta have a weird gay thing going with at least one of your friends at all times.””

““Oh no, your dick is broken! I’m prescribing you blow jobs~””

“trying to look calm and collected. like a cucumber.”

“giving it the sloppiest toppy he could in his state.”

-🍞

“Breed! Breed! Breed! Mate! Mate! Mate!” I felt that. LOL

““Are you saying that to me, or my boobs?”” FAVE FAVE FAVE

#bluie gets an ask poggers #long post #fanfic quotes

[sideshow-bob]

Okay so I’ve just taken an edible and I’m grumpy so it’s time for a rant about drug use and Canadian politics.

So I’ve started seeing this terrible not-good very bad advertisement a lot lately, which means I’m likely not the only one:

I cropped part of his face out because I felt like it. Every time I see this stupid fucking ad I hate Pierre Poilievre and his stupid face even more. Unfortunately now it looks like he’s spying on me like a nosy neighbour from behind his fence (honestly, though, that feels kinda tonally appropriate.)

But wait! If you click on the ad, it gets worse!

It’s horrible, fear-mongering misinformation.

“woke policies” lmao fuck you, Pierre Poilievre.

Literally any political entity that uses “woke” in a derogatory manner is giving off Major Red Flags and should not be taken seriously.

Before we start, let’s get some things straight. People use drugs. It happens. Learn to be normal about it if you aren’t already. People are sometimes addicted to drugs. This can happen for a variety of reasons. Usually it’s some variety of “I am struggling with something in my life and have found that using this substance helps with that.” It can be related to mental health, like so many of my family members who turned to alcohol or cigarettes or cocaine and amphetamines to manage their depression, anxiety, adhd, ptsd, or sensory issues. A lot of the time it’s to deal with chronic pain. It can also be a way to cope with shitty life circumstances. Chronic issues like these don’t just go away, so expecting people to just magically become drug-free without addressing and solving the root causes is not feasible as a one-size-fits-all solution. And, realistically, some people will never be drug-free. Some people will always need prescription amphetamines and prescription opioids and there’s nothing wrong with that (I have ADHD! I take prescription amphetamines every day! In fact, I take multiple medications that are technically controlled substances for various chronic issues!) People who use drugs are still human and deserve compassion. People who are addicted to drugs are still human and deserve compassion. You are not superior to people who use drugs.

So in case you weren’t aware, British Columbia (like a lot of places) is having an overdose crisis. People are dying from toxic drugs; it’s now the leading cause of death in the province for people aged 10-59. That’s a McFucking problem that we’ve gotta do something about! And we’re trying, but Pierre Poilievre doesn’t like that.

So let’s get to this garbage fire of a political ad. Sigh.

Justin Trudeau did not personally decriminalize crack, heroin, and cocaine. Justin Trudeau allowed the provincial government of British Columbia to decriminalize the possession of small amounts (<2.5g) of drugs for personal use, so that addicts just trying to exist would not have their drugs seized or face criminal charges or jail time. Justin Trudeau allowed the provincial government of British Columbia to treat drug addiction and the toxic drug crisis as the public health problem that it very clearly is. This is an evidence-based policy currently only meant to be valid from January 31 2023 to January 31 2026 as a temporary harm reduction measure during a time of crisis. It remains illegal to possess or use in school zones, playgrounds, pools, skate parks, airports, certain private properties (like shopping malls) and in every other province in Canada. Selling drugs is still illegal. These “woke policies,” AKA “trying to save goddamn lives while treating addicts like people and not punishing people who are already struggling” is really not that fucking radical when it comes down to it. It’s merely a step in the right direction but more needs to be done. What we need even more is a safe supply of drugs. And universal basic income.

Anyway.

“blah blah blah crime” so like drug-related crimes rates actually aren’t going up? And when it comes to crimes associated with substance abuse, the one with the highest statistical rate of violent crime is actually alcohol.

These are all things easily fact checked in mere moments, but Conservatives don’t want you to do that. But “Common Sense Conservatives,” huh? The facts don’t actually matter as long as people feel afraid of drug crime, and people afraid of crime and wokeness will vote against their own best interests. Never take political ads at face value. Always fact check.

Also reminder that if you are going to use drugs, don’t use alone if you can, get your drugs tested for safety (the edible is hitting since I first wrote get them tested then get them tasted) and I highly suggest everyone consider getting a naloxone kit or learning how to use one because you might be able to help save someone��s life.

Treat addicts like people. Don’t vote Conservative. Like, for fuck’s sake just let the drugs win the war on drugs already. I’m joining the war on drugs on the side of the drugs.

I’m tired of being the voice of reason. It’s exhausting. I’m gonna take an angry nap.

#cdnpoli #bc politics #canadian politics #conservatives #justin trudeau #harm reduction #tw overdose #tw death #tw drugs #war on drugs #drug use #politics #government #pierre poilievre #liberal party

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

Agrippina (Drottningholm, 2021): Reactions, Part III

let’s finish this up!

HELLO

I WANT THAT DRESS

every shot looks like a painting

let the hiding in the closets commence!

poppea: “i thought i told you to go hide in the closet”

ottone: “but i wanna sing to you first”

okay but this staging is so fucking funny

ottone: *sings a high note*

poppea: okay exCUSE you

when nerone is around, it’s flounce time

and another one in the closet!

lesbo what are you doing

well, uh…that’s one way to do it

GET ‘EM

“words are hard”

HIDING WITH THE FLOWERS GOODNIGHT

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

this enraged nerone’s (step)father, who punished him severely

NUT SHOT WITH THE BUSTLE, EVERYONE

hands OFF the bustle

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA I STILL HAVE YOUR BOUQUET”

“okay fine you can have it back now”

*flashbacks to me…not doing great at this aria in 2018 at a music contest* still love this one tho

seriously who DOESN’T love flouncing?

agrippina: *classy facepalm*

THE COCAINE ARIA!!! (but presumably no cocaine in this production)

okay but this dude’s voice is INSANE (and so is this aria)

because you’re a dumbass

THE WAY SHE JUST CASUALLY COVERS HIS EARS

“uh hi, everyone”

or in other words, girlbosses stay winning

tfw you find out your wife knows about your main squeeze

with this music, who could help BUT be drawn in?

okay miss ma’am

and here are all the usual suspects

“it’s not your turn to talk”

about that

“FINE everyone gets what they want pls just shut up”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

“wasn’t that funney, guys?”

world’s most dysfunctional (and talented) friend group

everybody’s got a job, everybody’s got a dream

dance party: an IDEAL way to finish this absolute TREAT of a production

#opera #opera tag #agrippina #opera liveblog #handel #george frideric handel #händel #georg friedrich händel #HIGHLY recommend this

[001-lvr]

Deadbeat (pt.2)

Warnings: drug use, mention of overdose, angst, swearing, smoking, drinking

Summary: Marcia lost her mom to drugs, her mom died right in front of Marcias eyes. Who knows how she’ll react when she sees her ‘dad’ using ketamine.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

It was the next day, around 6am. Marcia woke up and got dressed. She was wearing a Metallica tshirt and a red flannel. She put her worn out converse on and did her hair. After brushing her teeth and fixing her piercings, she went out to the livingroom. Where she saw Eddie snorting Ketamine. She instantly got flashbacks to where her mom was snorting cocaine every day. Which led to hear death. She sighed and grabbed the pack of cigarettes that was lying next to Eddie, and she took a cigarette out. She didn’t even make eye contact with Eddie as he looked at her. The high was already kicking in and he laughed to himself before dropping his head back. She smoked her cigarette and ate her cereal and about 20 minutes later, Eddie lifted his head up and looked at her as if he was drunk, or tired. “lemme drop you at school, m’Kay?” Marcia cringed at his intoxicated state and shook her head. “I’m not getting in that car with you. You’re high, dipshit. Off of ketamine, you can’t drive me. I’ll walk myself.” She said, grabbing her bag. Eddies brown furrowed. “Marcia no, I can drive you. Seriously, I’m not that bad.” Marcia quickly turned towards him. “oh really? That’s what my mom said. Now she’s 6 feet under! I watched her die. I watched my own mom die. And you saying you’re fine to drive me to school is basically a death wish on both of us. I can never catch a break, my mom was a druggie and so are you. What? You gonna die next? Some kind of dad you are, Eddie.” She grumbled and walked out of the door. Leaving Eddie in the company of his own thoughts.

School was a drag, she spent most of the time smoking in the toilets. She didn’t bother with school, or the people. They were all annoying. At 3pm, she walked out of school to see Eddie parked outside, a sympathetic look plastered on his face. She rolled her eyes and walked towards him and got in the car. “I shouldn’t have taken the ketamine, I’m sorry. I’m glad you didn’t let me drive you to school. But I promise you im not high right now. So please just let me take you home.” He pleaded, and she nodded. She didn’t feel like giving him a proper answer. Just as Eddie was about to start driving, Dustin Henderson came up to him, Suzie standing next to him with a 2 year old baby on her hip. “Munson?!” He gawked, Eddie was just as shocked. “Henderson?!” He got out of the car, pulling Dustin into a hug. “Jesus man, it’s been too long.” Dustin nodded. “Way too long.” He looked behind Eddie to see what he assumed was a teenage girl, smoking a cigarette. “Who’s that?” Dustin asked, pointing at her. Eddie looked behind him and then looked back at Dustin. “That’s Marcia. My daughter.” Dustins eyes widened. “Johanna’s?” He whispered, and Eddie nodded silently. “How come she’s staying with you?” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, “Johanna passed, so Marc has to live with me.” Dustin frowned. “Oh I’m so sorry man, shits tough. I hope you’re both okay. I kind of gotta go, I need to plan a dinner with Suzies family and it’s kinda wild right now. But if you arrange a dinner with the others for this weekend, I promise you I’ll be there.” Eddie nodded and smiled, getting back in the car. That was eventful.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•..•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Back at the trailer, Marcia was still sulking in the couch. “Listen Marcia, I’m sorry you had to see me do that but it’s not like it concerns you.” He tried to reason. “Doesn’t concern me? My moms dead asshat. From doing the same shit you’re doing! And what happens when you die too? I’ve never been a first choice for you or my mom. Always drugs. As long as you have your coke and ket you’re fine, right?” Eddie stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Just go to your room. I’m not in the mood for this Marcia, I’m really not.” Marcia shrugged. “Gladly, dad” she said, mocking the word ‘dad’ before grabbing a few beers and a pack of cigarettes and walking to her room, slamming the door.

Eddie on the other hand, felt like an asshole. He didn’t know how to be a dad and that was his own fault. He had every opportunity to make things right with Marcia, but he chose his friends and drugs over her. He thought he’d leave her alone for a bit and go to pick up some more cigarettes and beers from the gas station.

Marcia was sat in her room, tears falling freely down her face. She missed her mom so much, she saw her in her sleep. Her pale face and blue lips as her heart stopped beating. Her cold skin, the foam coming from her mouth, it traumatised the 14 year old girl beyond repair. It wasn’t helping that her dad was going in the same direction. She wanted to prove just how scary it is to see someone scarily high. She was going to show him. She wiped her tears and got up, making sure Eddie was gone before going into his stash and picking up the brown powder. She set it out in lines and did about 3 lines, along with that she smoked some weed and drank as many beers as she could.

High was an understatement.

#stranger things x reader #platonic #dad!eddie munson #angst #stranger things #ok bye #x daughter!reader #miniseries #Spotify

[filthforfriends]

I'm so worried for him I know it's a tired argument at this point but a part of me is scared that it's no longer weed maybe it is anxiety and etc etc from growing up in an area of high alcohol and drug use and me (clean now for years don't worry for me) and people around me struggling with addiction or related to addicts but his eyes and pupils I know what weed fucking looks like on the eyes it's not cocaine trust me it's not but it's not just weed, maybe alcohol but something in my gut says it's more than just weed and cigarettes

He has lost weight and has aged so much because of the stress from touring and just declining mental health we can see the toll it's taking in real time

He's hiding something, more than just the basic privacy stuff. It's something else, something huge, he is not okay I know it, you know it, we all know it. You can also feel the essence of it in the interactions they all have and the way he's posting and acting something is different I don't know what it is but something is not okay, more than meets the eye type of stuff

Måneskin is NOT alright

They need a freaking break, they just had a tour and now another one? Jesus Christ can't their label give them a proper break? I cannot have another tragic rockstar story™

Not them

Not in 2023

Their label needs to give them a proper break so that they're not going back to back on tours.

Basically what I'm trying to say, something is seriously wrong and it's taking the largest toll on Damiano with his mental health taking the largest hit and his physical health right behind. I say all this with concern and love.

I don’t know that there’s some big secret. Traumatic events can trigger mental health disorders and lord knows being sexually assaulted at least once a month with a thousand cameras watching will do nothing less than effect a person for the rest of their lives. Having no privacy and being publicly ridiculed on a monstrous scale. We know that he has panic disorder and was seeing a therapist long term before Sanremo 2021. He was groomed by 34 year old pedophile at age 17. That relationship last several months. We also know he doesn’t drink. Severally addicted to cigarettes. Recent death of his grandfather seemed like the turning point. The list of risk factors is terrifying.

I come from a family of pill poppers, alcoholics, and the occasional meth user. Everyone smokes. As someone else who gets it, watch this for me and tell me what you think:

The whole performance:

[dollythesheepp]

Endless Forms Most Beautiful, Chapter 2

You can read it on ao3 here:https://archiveofourown.org/works/39467289/chapters/99185058

"You look like crap," is the first thing her brother says to her.

Grinning, Janis jumps out of her seat and wraps him up in a big, long-awaited hug. Once they break apart, she takes a moment to look at him. Damian doesn't seem much different from the last time they saw each other. His style surely hasn't changed, she thinks, looking at his Evita t-shirt.

"How's life, my man?" she asks as she ruffles his hair, a big smile still present on her face. Damian rolls his eyes playfully as he tries to fix his previously well-kempt hairstyle.

"You were gone for almost a year, you don't deserve to know," he says. Although his tone remains humorous, Janis can feel a little hurtfulness within his words.

"I didn't miss your birthday, did I?" she jokes, in an attempt to keep the cheerful mood going.

"No," he says. "I would never speak to you again if you did."

She smiles, bringing the cold bottle of beer to her lips. God knows she will need a lot of alcohol and good laughs with her brother to forget what she witnessed at the train station. Hesitantly, she looks down at her feet, and stares at the black purse lying under the table; the image of the woman jumping to her death appears once again at the back of her mind, it seems to be burned into her brain.

"So, how's Danny Devito?" Damian's question pulls her out of her reveries.

"You keep calling her that and then you wonder why she doesn't like you," she chuckles, grabbing a fry and putting it in her mouth.

"I don't care, I don't like her either," he shrugs. "Do you prefer Caitlyn, The Cunt? Cause that works for me too."

"She's fine. I hit her first this time. With an ashtray," she says, not able to stop the cynical smile that spreads across her face. "So...she's a little blue."

"Ugh, I wish I could have seen that."

Janis waits a few moments before changing the subject. In the meantime, they sit in silence with their drinks listening to other people's conversations. She knows how Damian will react, so she has to take a cautious approach.

"Speaking of Caitlyn..." she begins, "I need you to do something for me."

She uses her head to gesture towards the floor, where her backpack is. Damian follows her gaze as she opens it to reveal a brown package hidden inside.

"It's coke," she whispers. Bobby's Bar wasn't known to be a place frequented by law-abiding, ethical people, and it had seen it's fair share of ilegal shit, but that didn't mean Janis had to let everyone know she had 2lbs of cocaine with her. "Do you think you can sell it to one of your blows?"

"Ugh, Janis, come on..."

"I'll give you 15%," she insists.

"I don't care about that," he says "What the hell are you up to?"

"I don't know," she lifts her shoulder in a half shrug. "I wanted out of Caitlyn's and I couldn't do that without money, could I?"

Damian rubs his forehead. As usual, just a few minutes with Janis were enough to give him a headache. Janis can't blame him. She knows she's a shitstorm, nothing but a hurricane spreading chaos everywhere she goes.

"Did you seriously steal her coke? You know she's gonna kill you, right?"

"I'll deal with her later. I'm not worried about that," she says, with a dismissive wave. Caitlyn was the least of her problems.

"I'll see what I can do, ok?" he sighs. "And I want 20%"

"Great," she smiles. That wasn't so hard. But with one problem checked off of her list, Janis' mind brings back the other conundrum that had been bothering her all night.

"On another note, something really weird happened at the train station today," she says, "I saw a woman kill herself."

"Jesus."

"Yeah, and she looked exactly like me."

Before Damian can react, she bends down again, this time she ignores her backpack and grabs the other purse. The woman's purse.

"Do not tell me you robbed a dead woman," Damian exclaims, exasperatedly.

"I didn't, she left it at the platform before she jumped," she says as she rummages through her purse. Amid a mess of lipsticks, pens, empty candy wrappers, and two phones -one with a black case, the other with a light blue one- she finds what she's looking for: the woman's wallet.

"Isn't that still technically robbing a dead woman?"

Janis ignores him as she opens the wallet. It's empty aside from some documents. At the bathroom of the train station, Janis had already taken the liberty of grabbing all of the money that was inside of it and storing it in her pocket. She grabs the woman's ID and holds it next to her face, looking at Damian with raised eyebrows, as if she had just told him a joke and was waiting for him to understand it. He widens his eyes. Janis keeps looking as his expression changes from intrigued to perplexed in 5 seconds.

"Holy shit..." he murmurs, then reaches over and grabs the ID from Janis' hand, looking at it like it's a foreign object, "Veronica Sawyer..." he reads aloud, the puzzled expression still stamped on his face. "It's you with a nice haircut."

"And a nice address," she says. "Dude, what the hell, do I have a twin sister or some shit?"

"Maybe?" he says. "Sure, little orphan Janis Sarkisian finds out she has a rich twin sounds straight out of 'Days of Our Lives', but what if it's true?"

"I'm gonna go to her apartment..." she says, waving in Damian's face the set of keys she found at the bottom of the purse. "I want to find out who this girl is."

Damian throws her a skeptical look.

"Do you want to find out who she is or do you want to steal the rest of her stuff?"

Before Janis can answer, the woman's cellphone — the one in the black case— starts ringing. She glances at it, unsure of what to do. On the screen, the name Chandler appears before Janis decides to decline the call.

---

The next morning, Janis finds herself in front of a nice, two-story house near Lincoln Park. She fumbles with the lock until she finally finds the right key; the door opens directly into a spacious living room.

"Hello?" she says loudly but receives no answer. Still, she examines every room of the house, to make sure she is alone. The place isn't gigantic, with nothing but the living room, the kitchen, and a small bathroom on the first floor. On the fridge door, colorful magnets hold a variety of photographs. All of the pictures are of Veronica and a black-haired man, —based on how close they are in every photo, Janis guesses he's her boyfriend— except one, a Polaroid selfie with a ginger-haired woman. Veronica is smiling in every single picture, she looks genuinely happy; a stark difference from the woman Janis saw at the train station.Glued to the fridge, below all of the pictures, is a travel itinerary and a post-it. Janis squints her eyes and reads the note written in messy handwriting.

See you Saturday, Ronnie! — JD.

Must be the guy from the pictures, she thinks, opening the fridge and grabbing herself a beer. On the second floor, there's a home office, with hundreds of boxes and books filling the shelves; and a bedroom with a closet and an ensuite bathroom.  Janis spends hours digging through Veronica Sawyer's things. She confirms her theory about the boyfriend when she opens the closet to see half of it filled with male clothes, she also finds a bathroom cabinet overflowing with prescription drugs, a pantry full of really good snacks, and most importantly, one box under Veronica's queen-sized bed filled to the brim with documents.

When Damian calls her, Janis is sitting on the living room floor with papers, photos, and credit cards scattered in front of her; an open bag of chips on her lap, and a random news channel as background noise.

"Hey, have you found anything about your doppelganger yet?" he asks.

"A lot, actually," Janis answers. "Her credit is maxed, but she's got a nice house, and her boyfriend Jason is out of town for the weekend."

"Well, unfortunately, your girlfriend is in town," he tells her. "And she is pissed."

"Shit. Did she go to your house?"

"Yes, she was looking for you. And for her coke."

"Fucking bitch... Are you ok?" she asks "Did that crazy bitch do anything to you?"

"I'm fine," he says. "And don't worry, she didn't take the coke,"

"Great. Speaking of which, did you-"

"Yes, I tried selling it," he says with an annoyed tone. Janis can almost hear his eyes rolling. "Philip told me it's bad quality. He can give you 10."

"Ten thousand? That's not enough!"

"For what?"

"To get out of here, Dame," she says exasperatedly. They've had this conversation before. "Set ourselves up somewhere, just the two of us."

"We can talk about this later, ok? Tell me what else you found out," he asks her. "Who exactly is Veronica Sawyer?"

"I don't know, just a girl who looks like me," she says, grabbing a paper she hadn't seen yet. "A girl with a pretty nice life."

"If it's so nice why did she kill herself?"

"CFID Financials, Financial Manager: Dennis Wallace," she reads the paper out loud, forgetting Damian remained on the phone with her.

"What?" he asks.

It's a bank statement. Janis can feel Damian's voice buzzing in her right ear, she knows he's talking to her but she doesn't pay attention to what he says. She's too focused on the words written on the paper.

"Holy shit," she whispers, more so to herself than to her younger brother.

"What is it?"

"She's got seventy-five thousand in her savings account," she tells him.

"Woah."

"It was opened three weeks ago. We could do so much stuff with this money, Damian!" Janis says. She can barely contain the excitement in her voice as her hopes for a restart get higher "We can go to Canada, or maybe somewhere warm. You can go back to drama school..."

"Janis, stop being crazy! It's only a matter of time until someone identifies the body and then it's game over," Damian says. "So you should just drop it all now.

"I'm standing outside Westerburg Station right now..."

She looks at the TV, as a middle-aged reporter from Channel 16 speaks. Janis puts the cellphone away from her ear and turns on the volume of the television.

"Last night, an unidentified woman died after falling onto the tracks. Our witnesses aren't sure how the woman came to be on the tracks or whether foul play was involved. Police have not revealed any details..."

Janis' mouth curves into a smile as puts her phone back into her ear. "Damian," she says. "I think I have an idea."

---

Damian plumps down on his couch with an exasperated sigh and stares intensely at his phone, his thumb hovering over the button.

I can't believe Janis is making me do this, he thinks.

He hesitates for a second and then makes the call.

"Hi," he says when the person on the other line picks up. "A girl killed herself at Westerburg Station last night and I think I know who she is."

"Can you give me a name?"

"Janis," he responds. "Janis Sarkisian."

#janis sarkisian #damian hubbard #Veronica Sawyer #jason dean #Heather Chandler #heather duke #heather mcnamara #gretchen wieners #karen smith #Regina George #cady heron #Mean Girls the musical #mean girls on broadway #heathers #heathers the musical #mean girls #janisxcady

[nicetrynicetry]

52

YouTube has discovered I am a closeted singer-songwriter and now shows me the same female British expat in LA, who plays quaint centrist folk music on the piano, again and again. She might also have one of the worst cases of indie girl voice I’ve come across, pronouncing all s’s as sh’s. Take her most viral song at the time of writing, one about going on a date but preferring the drive home, whose lyrics “my friend set me up on a date today and I forshed myshelf to go” jar so horribly with the rest of the song’s correct pronunciation that for a second I thought she had a severe speech impediment. She doesn’t, and it’s an affectation, but her voice is dulcet as hell and the song’s message is one of contented introversion, so none of the comments seem to have flagged it. The top comment says: “this makes me think of how men aren’t competing with other men, but they’re competing with a woman’s solitude”

Perhaps it’s common, but I stand by my polemic about the long tail of covid only now revealing mental illness. Or rather, that many of your friends losing it can be traced back to the pandemic, which was taxing for all, regardless of how seriously you took it. You do not emerge from 2 years of societal anger and fear unscathed. Perhaps you gamble, get addicted to the gym and trade in your friends for it, relapse on cocaine, or you cry during sex, become convinced animals are burrowing into your bedroom walls, that a fellow passenger on a plane is “not real”, then people film you. Then the conspiracy theories, the singing of ABBA’s Dancing Queen to a karaoke track playing from your phone while you bring a lit joint into the supermarket, you wrest a plate of fries from a couple’s table who are dining outdoors. You order a vibration plate because it both drowns out the vibrations your downstairs neighbours make when they have sex AND to see if the health benefits are real. In one specific case, you let a harmless crush from 2019 fester and fester til you find yourself raising funds for a Bitcoin project using your dad’s money because you think the crush is contacting you secretly on Twitter. All this before I realise what my ex-dietician said 5 years ago was true: that humans aren’t built for loneliness

I take J and T’s advice and cut the brim of my baseball caps into a jagged edge, with the promise it makes any cap look cooler. The first one I take scissors to, How Long Gone merch from earlier in the year, I cut too much from and decide to then turn it into a yarmulke. The Cookies Hoops one turns out way better. I text B all the photos and he approves, sends me more horrible rap. I close the video to open up a worse thing - D’s new music video. And Just Like That, I am transported back to February 2022, rejected rejected hotel rejected blini rejected basketball rejected. I puff my cheeks out and I let my body wilt. I should feel lucky, I suppose, that serious romantic rejection has only happened to me three times in 30 years. Is that a good batting average? Ages 13, 21 and 29. And yet thrice is enough to build a surprisingly strong case against myself, all the perceived mistakes mixed together so I can no longer tell each incident apart. I still play that evil game of brainstorming possible course corrections. Is it not freeing realising that the liability was simply being me at any given time, and that whatever me-ness I possessed just mixed badly with its recipient? It is not. I find myself, against my own wishes, sitting at home liking D’s music video more than I like myself. Only slightly more, but still. There is a reason that sonic nerds gravitate to him. It also doesn’t help that the strange woman who calls me a “faggot” and a “whore” from time to time on Instagram has now begun saying I “raped a little girl”. And in my idiocy I think for a second, “DID I do that?” And could she mean all those friends I convinced to kiss me in the airing cupboard and the pop-up tent when we were 9?

I close all the apps, leaving only iMessage, where N is consoling me. You’re not repulsive, don’t worry. God. Is there anything more humiliating than not being over it?

[primalspice]

Ratty - 🚗, 🎮, 📚, 💯, 🚫, 🍎, ❤️, 🖤, 🥯, 🧐, 🤩, 👨,

🔧

🚗 — does your oc have a driver's license? can they drive/operate any automobiles/machinery besides cars?

She has a driver’s license AND she’s forklift certified <3 she doesn’t particularly enjoy driving, though, because no one follows the rules of the road like she does. Shes the only good one everyone else is a fool.

🎮 — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?

Her favorite hobbies include building/fixing random shit, listening to music, and crying. She’s never had much time on her hands until very recently, so shes got no idea what to do with herself. I think she should get into art tho. It would free her soul. 

📚 — what level of education has your oc most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)?

She didn’t really graduate highschool traditionally bcz she went to the military at 16 but she has the equivalent of like a bachelors or trade school level education ig??? She has much more hands-on experience than things that look good on paper just because of the way that the region zero military tends to run things, which i suppose has its pros and cons (great for doing things efficiently in a factory, NOT great for being the president and making decisions and being diplomatic about your special interest). She has certifications in different areas that she can at least show; power plant operations, nuclear arms safety/handling/exports, aforementioned forklift certification, etc. She’d probably have like a GED and a bachelor’s in engineering if I were to compare her actual schooling to something normal. And just a lot of varied job/trades experiences. 

💯 — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

We dont talk much about the MANY years she lives in an apartment by herself but maybe that's for good reason. r/malelivingspace meme passing.

least expected recreational drug enjoyer bcz shes a timid geek but if she lived in a free and fun world she'd be trying more. she doesnt really tend to have a fun time on alcohol or pills (vague) or shitty region zero weed or even cocaine but she still tries <3 not like she can make her brain much worse than it is

Her eyesight is awful and she's had glasses since she was like 11. she would wear sports goggles before ever trading them out for contacts no matter how annoying they get; she thinks they look good on her (shes right) and is comforted by the fact that they partially hide her face.

🚫  — does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

She drinks recreationally or occasionally smokes (although harder drugs are preferred 😐). If coping counts as a special event then it’s only for special events, but oh how she’s always coping.

🍎 — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

Harvey was born in the north-east of the region, which is not a particularly citizen-friendly area so much as a space for industry and military operations. Lower-class families such as hers are its major populace. She moved out quite quickly, since she dormed with the military in the (south-eastish) starting at 16 until her early 20s-ish. Once she got a job that wasn’t directly with the military, she moved back to an apartment somewhat near her hometown, but more for convenience than wanting to be near family. she has mixed feelings about her hometown; it's much of what made her into the person she is today with the passions that she has, but theres also a lot of painful memories there. everythings a painful memory tho, isnt it.

❤️ — what are three of your oc's positive traits?

Shockingly she has plenty of positive traits *smiles* she is HARD-WORKING she is HUMBLE she is KNOWLEDGEABLE (bonus: she is cute)

🖤 — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

Shes not….. Directly killed anyone LOL. Although those who are critical of the things she let slide in terms of nuclear waste production and disposal might say otherwise….. Shes quite traditionally nonviolent and wouldn't really ever fight or hurt someone physically (altho she could probably fair pretty well tbh), not a fan of violence at all she just really enjoys weapons <3 Cognitive dissonance swag. As for broken hearts/trust, not really??? Faust was quite offended when she indirectly let her army get so out of hand that they start sister-killing but thats quite the jump to make. Although she probably shouldve at least condemned it LOL.

🥯 — what does your oc's typical breakfast look like? do they usually eat breakfast?

Shes not a big breakfast-eater because she likes to suffer ig. If left to her own devices she’d probably just have a coffee, but she’d usually get like a bagel or some oatmeal or something pushed on her while working in the capital. 

🧐 — is your oc more logical or emotional?

It’s complicated LOL. shes an ISTJ n all but she also has severe anxiety that dictates every part of her life so I might say shes more emotional. Her fearful loyalty to the status quo and worries life in region zero allow her to make poor decisions even though she knows the outcome might be poorer than if she were to make decisions that were more against-the-grain. She struggles to make decisions that make her uncomfortable or afraid, even if they’re logical.

🤩 — is your oc a planner, or are they more spontaneous in their actions?

She definitely prefers to plan. She enjoys having a routine and likes for life to be mostly predictable. It would make most ppl insane but she’s lucky enough that such a thing works for her. Any sudden deviation from the Usual makes her scream and cry and piss tho

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 — how many people are in your oc's immediate family? how many people are in your oc's extended family? do they have aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc? who in their family are they closest with? are they close with their birth family, or do they have a found family?

Her immediate family consists of just her, raymond, and their mom and dad. Im sure she has an aunt/uncle or two as well, and some cousins, but not really any that she was particularly close with, especially considering that she was quite distant even from her immediate family. She’s had 3 or so generations of family members living in region zero and Most of them are dysfunctional and cold and working-class so perhaps all this is a curse she was born into. She had to become ok with being alone at a very young age and shes worse off for that <3 Raymond was, of course, who she was closest too but that got taken away pretty quickly. Things aren’t really the same now, even though hes not really dead. 

#ask game #harvey

[jarrussyndulla]

was cocaine bear a fun movie? i kinda really wanna watch it but I just want to know I'll have a Good Time

imagine if jaws was a comedy but the shark was also on cocaine and like a first world girlboss feminist.

but yes! absolutely a delight of a movie if you don’t take it seriously. comedic timing was great, i frequently laughed out loud and it was also an aesthetically fun movie! i will say though gratuitous comedy gore/violence (think like deadpool, bullet train, etc) doesn’t usually bother me but i did have to look away a couple times so do with that information what you will!

#hope you enjoy! #life is meant to be a little silly #cocaine bear #ask box

[ravagedarkness]

Spider-Man: Home Rebuilt, Chapter 25: Unequal Footing

There were certain advantages to my living situation. I didn’t have to worry about getting caught while sneaking in through the window of my own place. I get to set my own schedule, for the most part. I get to eat whatever I want. And I didn’t have to worry about a curfew. On paper, that sounded great. And I tend to think it is great… until I remembered how I ended up in my current living situation and the fact that I hated being at home alone.

I told the others I hated my apartment. And that was true to an extent – my previous home wasn’t exactly a luxury penthouse, but even with the nostalgia filter aside, it might as well have been compared to my current home. But if I was to be completely honest with myself, a lot of negative feelings towards the place had less to the do with the place itself and more to do with who wasn’t there.

Aunt May.

After The Spell, there were days I went to bed hoping that, when I wake up, everything would be back to normal and that everything that happened that led to The Spell would be nothing more than a bad dream. And when Aunt May would ask me about the bad dream, I’d tell her… eventually. We’d have our little talk and banter over breakfast before I head to school. I’d hang out with MJ and Ned, and we’d talk about what our plans for senior year would be, from prom, to senior pranks, to going out with a bang with The Academic Decathlon team. And then we’d all move to Boston – Cambridge, rather – and laugh about the articles and news wondering why Spider-Man relocated.

But that never happened. Every day, I’d wake up in my current apartment, and Aunt May wouldn’t be there. Aunt May died, and there was nothing I could do about it. The impact of her death was twofold. It not only meant that I no longer had who was essentially my mother to turn to, it was also a constant reminder of how badly I screwed everything up.

It took me weeks to get to a point where I didn’t have night and days like that. And even then, those came in streaks. My shortest streak was two days. My longest was two weeks.

I was currently on a ten day streak.

I was also inside of MJ’s parents’ apartment. I’ve been there a couple of times, but never for an extended amount of time. I don’t even remember sitting in the living room. This wouldn’t be the day either. I was sitting at the kitchen’s island as Michelle put away our leftovers – she figured we could take it with us to our respective destinations in the morning so we could each have it for lunch later.

“So, before we go to bed, do you want anything to drink?” she asked as she closed the fridge. She turned around and looked at me. “I have water, juice, tea…”

“Do you have any Cocaine?” I jokingly inquired. She tilted her head and gave me a halfhearted glare. “But seriously, what kind of tea you have?”

“Um, let’s see…” she turned and walked up to a cabinet and opened it. She eyed the boxes that were in there. “Other than the caffeinated stuff… I got chamomile, hibiscus, rooibos, and lemon balm.”

I took a moment to think about it. “…I’ll have the one that is your favorite.”

“Rooibos it is.” She grabbed the box and pulled it out of the cabinet. She opened it up and plucked out two sealed bags before she put the box back. After closing the cabinet, she laid the tea bags on the counter and grabbed the tea pot that was already on the stove. She walked over to the sink as lifted up the hinged lid of the pot and placed it under the faucet before she lifted up the faucet’s handle. I watched her all throughout the process. This was new to me, seeing her make tea in person. Of course, I knew she liked tea, and I knew she knew how to make tea. Who doesn’t? And yet, as she filled the kettle, I couldn’t help but feel like seeing her doing this was important to me.

Of course, maybe it’s because I’m such sap that I’m willing to cherish any post-Spell first I can get.

After the pot was filled, Michelle turned off the faucet and turned around, catching me staring. I felt my face warmed up as she furrowed up her eyebrows questioningly.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “It’s just… this is the first time I’ve seen you make tea.” I expected her to call me a loser or ask why that was a big deal. Instead she walked over to the stove as she spoke.

“I never made you tea before?”

I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see it since she was placing the teapot on top of the stove and turning on the burner. “No. I mean, you have, but not in person. Honestly, this the first time I’ve actually sat down in your place.”

“Really?” Michelle walked towards another cabinet and opened it. She pulled out two black mugs and walked back to where the teabags were. “So, prior to the spell, we’ve barely been to each other’s home, I’ve seen you in your underwear, but you haven’t seen me in mine, and the most we ever did, as far as intimacy goes, was some heavy first base action.” She opened the teabags before she place one in each mug. “…I’m… I’m surprised we haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“We were still a newish couple by the time bombshell about my identity dropped,” I explained. “…Also, I don’t know if you know this, but I’m sort of a nervous wreck at times.”

At that MJ chuckled. “Yeah, you are,” she agreed. She sighed as she turned towards me. She had that expression on her face – that expression she always puts on when she was about to be open about what’s on her mind. “…I’m still trying to get used to this, Peter – the fact that we’re on unequal footing.”

I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just… because of The Spell, you know a lot more about me than I know about you. And while I know you said I can ask you anything – and I appreciate that – it doesn’t change the fact you have these firsthand memories and experiences of our times together that I don’t have anymore. I don’t know what our growth from acquaintances to lovers was like. I don’t know how we were as classmates or how it was like to meet your aunt. I don’t even know how I felt about you when we first met. So…” She trailed off for a moment. “…Because of that, I’m worried that I might be competing with a version of myself that no longer exists.” She paused for a moment. “That’s how I’ve been feeling since we reunited.” She frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m being stupid, I think.”

“Everything, Em,” I reminded her. “I want everything. And no, you’re not being stupid. And even if you were, I think my past decisions give me little room to talk.” I smiled. MJ gave me slight smile of her own. After a moment of enjoying that smile, I frowned. “I don’t know if there’s a way to get your memories back. And even if there was, I’m not looking for one. Knowing my luck, if we tried it, we’d end up summoning some cosmic giant that feeds on planets or something.” At that, MJ laughed. I smiled a bit. That smile faded when I became completely serious. “…I’m always going to cherish the memories we had together before The Spell, and I wish you could cherish them with me. But at the same time, Em, I don’t want you to think that I expect you or our relationship to be the same way it was pre-Spell. You had every reason not to even associate with me anymore after what I did, let alone go out with me again. But you allowed me to be a part of your life again. I can’t ask for anything else.” I then allowed myself to smile. “And… if it means anything… you still surprise me.”

Michelle looked at me and gave me that lopsided smile of hers. “How so?”

I chuckled. “Well, for one, I never knew you know how to cook. And I never knew you were quite the singer. I think that’s huge.”

“Oh, shut up, you sap.” MJ lowered her head. I knew she was blushing. She took in a breath before she lifted her face and smiled at me. “…Thank you.” I smiled in response before I heard the whistling from the teapot. I saw the steam rising from the spout of it. “Well, let’s have that tea.” She turned and picked up the teapot by the handle after turning off the stove. She then walked over to the mugs and poured hot water into both them. After walking back to the stove and placing the teapot back on the stove, she walked back to the mugs, picked them, and walked over towards me. She placed a mug in front of me.

After she sat down, we waited for the tea to brew. During that time, we talked about how good the food was and how we’re adding the joint to the list of food places we should come back to. Once a few minutes passed, we drank our tea in silence. During this, MJ reached over with her right hand and grabbed hold of my left hand. I blushed at the gesture. Slowly, I turned my hands in her and gently laced my fingers between hers. I kept my grip loose, allowing her to pull her hand away if she wanted to. But she didn’t. She squeezed my hand gently before she relaxed it.

I decided I enjoy rooibos tea a lot.

After we were done, MJ took our mugs and placed them in the sink. She then took me by the hand and led me to her room. Once I was inside of it, I took everything in – her work desk with scattered papers and textbooks on it, the many books that I knew she read from cover to cover multiple times, the string of lights that hung around the room, the indoor plants… and her sketches that hung on the wall. This was the first time I was in her room. I’ve seen bits and pieces of it whenever we talked via video chat. Being in the room in person, however, felt like a huge deal. It was like I was being allowed inside of a place that MJ holds dear.

I guess I felt like I was the Lois Lane to Michelle’s Superman, and this room felt like her fortress of solitude.

There was a sketch on the wall that caught my eye. I walked up to it and took a closer look. All of The American Idiots were in it. We were sitting on a bench at a bus stop that looked like it saw better days. Right next to the bus stop was a street sign that read “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”.

“I sketched that after Betty added Craig and Kitty to our group chat,” she said as she walked up to my side. I looked at her briefly, then back at the picture. “I was listening to Are We The Waiting on repeat while I was doing so.”

I smiled as I looked over the picture. “We’re one motley crew, aren’t we?” I commented.

“We are… but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I turned my head towards her and smiled. “Neither would I.”

MJ gave me a lopsided smile. She then walked over to her drawers. “I hate to disappoint you, but we won’t be sleeping in our underwear tonight.” I nodded, not even asking why. She opened up one of her drawers. “Do you think you need a shirt to sleep in?” She looked over her shoulder at me.

“No,” I said as I shook my head. “I think my undershirt is enough.” She nodded before she turned back, reached into the drawer, and pulled out a pair of dark blue shorts. She tossed them towards me, and I caught them with one hand. As she turned towards the drawer and went fishing for more clothes, I dropped the shorts on the ground before I started to carefully take my suit off. I made sure to carefully fold each item of clothing before I laid them on the floor in a neat pile. I kept doing this until I was in clad in nothing but my black boxers, a grey undershirt, and black socks. After that, I picked up the shorts and put them on. “I’m ready.” I turned and looked at her. She was clad in black shorts and a blue sports bra. Come to think of it, I was pretty sure that those shorts used to be mine.

“…We really do fit each other’s clothes,” she mused with a smirk. There was a glint to her eyes. “I wonder if my thong would fit on you.”

Despite my face heating up, I smiled slyly. “Is that your preferred style of undergarments?”

Now it was MJ’s face heating up. But there was no hesitation in her response as her eyebrows rose briefly. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Also, you don’t seem opposed to wearing one.”

“And you seem to want me in one so badly.” I tilted my head. “Do you think it’d be funny, or do you just want to see my butt so badly?”

Michelle didn’t reply at first. Instead, she walked up to me casually until there wasn’t much in the way of space between us. She leaned over, put her mouth near my ear, and whispered. “A little of Column A, a little of Column B.” After that, she placed a tender kiss on my cheek. There was a hitch in my breath as I felt my face get even hotter. She won this round, because there was nothing I could say to her after that. “Let’s go to bed, Peter.” She pulled away and smiled at me before she walked towards the bed and moved underneath the covers. I nodded dumbly before I joined her. “Lay on your side, Loser.” I did just that. A moment later, I felt her head on top of mines and her arm around my body as she spooned me.

“You know, I didn’t expect you to invite me to sleep in your bed with you,” I said as I closed my eyes.

“I wasn’t going to,” Michelle replied in a whisper. “…But I saw how you were tonight. I didn’t want to leave you alone.” I took in a breath as I nodded. Would I have unraveled if I wasn’t in MJ’s room? Who knows? But I wasn’t going to argue – mostly because I was sure that MJ’s worries had quite a bit of merit, but also because I’d never pass up a chance to be in MJ’s arms.

Yup, I’m a sap.

“Thank you, Em,” I whispered out.

“It’s like I told you in the park. You let me in. And now I’ll take care of you.”

After that it was silence as we both fell asleep.

I wish I could say that was the end of my night. In the world of the awake, it was. But my dreams had other ideas.

I was across the street from Happy’s apartment. I don’t know how I ended up there. All I knew was that I recognized the rubble and the flames from that night – the night Green Goblin took Aunt May away from me. I knew Aunt May was there. I looked on, feeling so many emotions as emergency vehicles arrived on the scene. I had this nightmare before. Each time, I’d run in, seeing if Aunt May had any sign of life. And each time, I’d find her body lifeless, in the same position I had to leave her when she died in real life.

This looked like it wasn’t going to be any different. I felt myself unravel as tears fell down my face. It was a fool’s errand every single time, and yet, as I wiped away my tears with my right forearm, I took a step forward and…

“Nope!”

Before I knew it, Michelle walked in out of nowhere. She walked right by me, grabbing my hand without stopping, and pulled me along. I tried to pull away, but her grip on me was ironclad.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked as I was dragged away.

“Away from here.”

#fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #spideychelle #spider-man #mcu #peter parker #michelle mj jones #ned leeds #betty brant #scott summers #kitty pryde #carmilla black #original character #jade cargill #petermj #mj peter #michelle jones #mj x peter #Mj #tom holland #zendaya #zendaya coleman #tomdaya #justin hammer #scorpion #x-men #ao3fic #archive of our own #action

[mr-smith-stories]

Mr. Smith #9: Ornithology Class

After Mr. Smith and his friends were all fired from CVS Pharmacy, Mr. Smith’s father told them they needed to find a better, more stable job, so Mr. Smith agreed to go back to MIT, this time for a degree in Ornithology. Mr. Smith and his friends often went “birding”- meaning they would look at birds on Mr. Smith’s lawn with a pair of children’s toy binoculars and use their phone cameras to take pictures and send them to Ornithology journals. Mr. Smith’s father told Mr. Smith that this wasn’t actually professional ornithology, and so Mr. Smith said he was ready to take college and his career seriously at thirty years of age.

Mr. Smith and his friends went back to MIT, and enrolled in an elite Ornithology class that Mr. Smith’s father (once again) blackmailed the dean to get him into. (The dean was dealing cocaine to MIT’s main fraternity, but in exchange he asked for snacks instead of money). Fortunately, Mr. Smith’s arch nemeses Leo and Ritchie were not enrolled in the class. Mr. Smith was finally free!

Mr. Smith was doing well in the class, or at least better than usual. He had a high score for him- a 15% as his overall grade! Mr. Smith’s professor said, however, that a 15% wasn’t going to help him become a professional ornithologist. He needed to do well on an extra credit assignment, a slideshow about geese and swans, as well as any other two birds Mr. Smith was interested in.

Mr. Smith stood up to give his presentation on a Friday morning. Just as he was about to begin, however, the door swung open and three new students came in.

“Sorry we’re late, Leo’s car broke down on the highway!” Said Alex, who Mr. Smith remembered from the pharmacy as being that meanie who insulted Mr. Smith after he (helpfully) told him being trans didn’t make sense.

Mr. Smith gasped. “It’s YOU! Alex and the homosexual geniuses! Oh no! What do I do?”

Leo sighed. “Oh, my God. Not you again.”

“Why do you have to be gay and smarter than me?! It’s NOT FAIR!” Mr. Smith stamped his foot.

“Why do you care if they’re gay?” Asked Amy.

“Yeah, it doesn’t affect you,” Susan added.

“I think gay people are weird,” Said Philip.

“Why?” Asked Amy.

“Because I’M straight, and I expect everyone else to be like me. When people don’t think the same things as me, I find it confusing. Like, that’s another reason why I hate Leo. He likes raisins and I think they’re yucky. It makes me better than him.” Philip explained.

“Please don’t interrupt. Mr. Smith, continue your presentation.” The professor said.

Mr. Smith pressed the button on his remote, and a slide with a picture of a seagull and a turkey vulture came up. Mr. Smith addressed the class. “These are two specimens called the dodo bird and the pheonix. Surprisingly, the dodo bird is not extinct despite common miscontraceptions, I saw one in the parking lot outside the mall.”

Leo raised his hand. “Do you mean misconceptions?”

Mr. Smith blinked for several seconds in confusion. “I don’t know what that is.”

Ritchie raised his hand. “That’s a seagull not a dodo bird, dodo birds are extinct!”

Mr. Smith blinked again. “What does extinct mean again? I just forgot.”

Ritchie groaned. “Oh my God. You’re stupid.”

Mr. Smith snarled, “Don’t insult me, devil spawn! I worked hard on this presentation! It took me ten minutes!”

“Presentations are hard,” Said Amy. “I had to do a presentation in psychology once, and it was so hard I failed. I had to label the parts of the human brain, but the professor didn’t tell me labeling it left side, right side, back and front wasn’t good enough.”

“Oh my God, something like that happened to me too! I had to label the parts of the body in anatomy class, but the teacher got mad at me for saying foot, arm, head, legs and all the other names. I know I got it right! It was so annoying.” Susan said.

“What is a foot?” Asked Mr. Smith.

“I think it’s what you see out of,” Said Simon.

“No, that’s your eyes,” Said Philip. “Your foot is the thing in your mouth that lets you taste things.”

“Oh my God,” Said Ritchie.

“That’s your TONGUE.” Said Leo.

“How did you even make it into college if you don’t know these things?” Asked Alex.

“Mr. Smith’s father blackmails everyone into doing his bidding,” Leo explained.

“How did you get in this time?” Asked Ritchie. “Do I even want to know?”

“My father gave the dean a brownie as an apology for blackmailing him all the time, but the dean didn’t realize it had pot in it. My Dad threatened to tell the board if the dean didn’t pay out of pocket for the five of us to come here.” Mr. Smith explained.

“Mr. Smith, please continue the presentation,” Said the professor.

“Alright, second and final slide, whew! This took a lot out of me! What hard work!” Mr. Smith wiped sweat from his brow.

“Like the work the dean did to get you into this class after your Dad blackmailed him?” Asked Alex with a snicker. Leo and Ritchie giggled.

“I think this was harder,” Said Mr. Smith. “Anyway, next I was instructed to explain the difference between a goose and a swan, because the professor thought it would be a less overwhelming assignment for me. My genius brain can only take on so much. I know I was supposed to explain the difference between these two species of birds, but it was too hard because they’re both large birds, and I get them mixed up all the time. Plus, the words in my bird guide are too confusing to read all of them. So instead, here is a picture of a goose and a swan, and hopefully you can tell the difference, because I can’t.” Mr. Smith pressed the button and a picture of a chicken and a duck appeared.

“Oh my God, seriously you’re never going to be an ornithologist.” Leo sighed, exasperated.

“What’s ornithology? Is it the study of orbs?” Mr. Smith scratched his head.

“How are you in an ornithology class and you don’t know what ornithology is?” Asked Alex, laughing.

“Oh, I know what class we’re in! Ornithology! The study of flying things!” Mr. Smith clapped his hands, proud of himself.

“So you do know what ornithology is?” Leo asked.

“Ornithology?” Mr. Smith squinted his eyes at Leo. “What is ornithology? You never said if it has to do with orbs or not.”

“But you just said you know we’re in an ornithology class,” Alex said, looking stunned.

“I know what class this is. Ornithology, study of things with wings. I already told you that, Einstein! Maybe YOU’RE the stupid ones!” Mr. Smith said smugly.

“Oh,” Leo said, sounding amused. “You know that we’re in an ornithology class, but you don’t know what the science of ornithology is. Oh my God.”

“I already told you, it’s the study of orbs! I also study Theology, the study of trees! I draw pictures of the trees in my front lawn!” Mr. Smith took a drawing from his pocket of a vertical line with horizontal lines branching out from it. “See? This is a Big Oak tree!”

“The only trees in your front lawn are pine and cedar trees,” Said Amy.

“I don’t know what those are, you’re making this confusing for me. There are only two types of trees. Short Oak trees and Big Oak trees. My father sent me a Theology article on it from Wikipedia! I’m very smart.” Mr. Smith explained.

“Theology is the study of religion. You should know this, you were a missionary,” Ritchie said, facepalming.

“What does religion have to do with trees?” Mr. Smith then began mouthing words and motioning with his hands. “Oh! I know! Christianity has different branches, like a tree! So it reminds you of Theology!”

“No!” Snapped Leo. “Theologists study religion, like Christianity. Theology is NOT the study of trees, dodo birds are extinct and pheonixes never existed. And none of your birds are correct!”

“Do you mean… that pheonixes are extinct?!” Asked Mr. Smith. “Everything I know is a lie!”

“People lie to me all the time,” Said Amy. “Once, a boy I was dating told me I was an alien, and I believed him. People don’t understand me so I thought it made sense.”

“People lie to me too!” Susan said. “My psychology professor said I failed his class, but I had a 48 average! That can’t be failing, I usually do worse than that.”

“Oh, you did do well. What a mean professor! That’s so annoying!” Amy exclaimed.

“Class, please calm down!” The professor exclaimed. “Mr. Smith, you have failed this assignment.”

Simon began to cry. “Why are you crying?” Asked Leo. “You didn’t fail.”

Simon choked out a sob. “I just feel really bad for Mr. Smith!”

Mr. Smith turned to the teacher. “What do you mean I failed? I worked so hard on that assignment! I even asked my Dad for help finding pictures of all those birds!” Mr. Smith stamped his foot, and then knocked all the books off another student’s desk. Then he screamed and ran out of the room, and then came back. “I forgot my backpack!”

“Mr. Smith, you put zero effort into this assignment. Your grade on this assignment is a zero. Please try harder next time, if you can.” The professor said.

“YOU!” Mr. Smith yelled at the professor. “ARE NOT SMART! I’M a genius! That’s it! I quit!” Then Mr. Smith and his friends stormed out of the class, and Mr. Smith dropped out of the ornithology program and changed his major to Microbiology, along with his friends.

Fin.

***

#that awkward moment when you realize a 15 percent in ornithology won’t help you become a professional ornithologist #failing that psychology presentation because you didn’t realize labeling the human right left right back and front was not good enough #gay #fictional gay couple #cute gay couple #leo and ritchie #fiction #silly story #original story #funny story #two geniuses and a moron #philip and simon #relentless mr. smith #mr. smith #incorrect ornithology #ornithology class #that awkward moment when you’re doing a presentation for ornithology but can’t tell apart geese and swans