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#snazzy quotes
canisalbus · 6 months
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you say machete has to be closeted then why's he always wearing them little heels
Maybe he thinks he's a tiny bit nicer looking in them.
#no in fact he's just a little ahead of the curve let me try to explain#again I'm not a historian I'm just sharing what I've read I might be misremembering stuff so don't quote me on this#high heels became extremely fashionable in the early 1600's probably just a few decades after Machete's time#and they were originally worn by men#because they were inspired by Persian riding boots#if your shoes had heels you'd have easier time keeping your feet in the stirrups (think of cowboy boots)#Europeans saw them thought they looked snazzy and they became wildly popular in noble circles fairly quickly#for some hundred years or so high heels were the epitome of class wealth power and status and they were essentially genderless#remember that concepts of masculinity and femininity are fluid and change over time#things that were seen as manly a few centuries ago may seem downright effeminate to a modern viewer#it's all matter of perspective neither is objectively more correct than the other#they started to separate into men's heels and women's heels around mid 1700's iirc but the changes weren't massive even then#and only truly went out of vogue when the French Revolution hit in 1789#and people all across the continent were suddenly put off by everything that reminded them#of the frivolousness and extravagance of royalty and aristicracy#so in his canon timeline I don't think people are looking at him and going “hmmm that's pretty gay”#because heels hadn't become gendered yet#maybe he likes how they accentuate his already tiny paws and make his legs look even longer than they are#he's interested in fashion or at least likes to dress nicely in high quality garments#he tries very hard to look his best despite never really feeling comfortable in his skin#he was a real shrimp as a kid and even though he eventually grew up to be a beanpole he might still find the extra height appealing#no one's going to look down on him ever again#I admit the way I draw them is a lot more modern than the true historical style at the time but not outrageously so#artistic freedom and all that in the end I'm not aiming for 100% accuracy#modern au Machete has no excuses though he's just a little bit fruity#if the guy feels empowered by wearing little clip cloppers let him#answered#anonymous#Machete
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Robbie Daymond Quotes from the 2023 FanExpo Vancouver Critical Role Panel~
——————
1. "Yeah i want Taliesin in my attic"
2. "Your name's H2O? Did you know that there's oat milk back there called H2oats?"
3. "oh god, i almost asked "Do you have friends?""
3. "I'm still alive. That's all i know, I'm still alive"
4. "Travis and i are kindred-spirits, dad bros forever"
5. "Do the bird people get to fly?? I wanna be a biiird boyyyy"
6. Person: "name my next dnd character!"
Robbie: "uh uh uh, BOBLIN THE GOBLIN!"
a few seconds later after being unsatisfied with that one & being forced to quickly come up with something else: "JIMOTHY MCPUNCHY"
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westburial · 6 months
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Don't you dare quote ancient idioms to me!
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godslino · 2 months
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MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.
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pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around
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chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡
author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3
“So…I know a guy.”
You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.
“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”
“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.
Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.
You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.
Long story short, it didn’t.
Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.
“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.
“And what would you know about that?”
“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”
This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.
“At least let me tell you about him?”
“No.”
“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”
Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.
“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”
A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.
Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.
Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.
“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.
And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.
But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.
“What’s his name?”
Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”
“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”
He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”
“Five.”
“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”
“Four.”
“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”
“Three.”
“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”
Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.
“You swear this guy is normal?”
Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”
“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”
“No.”
“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”
“What the fuck? I just said no.”
“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”
“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.
“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”
Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.
“Deal.”
🎥🍿
Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.
You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.
When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.
Chan [12:32p.m.]
Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?
Something came up at the studio
I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time
Great. Already off to a rough start.
In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.
You [2:33p.m.]
no worries!!!
you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?
Chan [2:34p.m.]
Nope! So we should be fine
I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?
You [2:36p.m.]
sounds perfect
hope stuff goes well at the studio!!
Chan [2:40p.m.]
You’re sweet
Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)
You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.
Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.
To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.
It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.
The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.
You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.
You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.
Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.
You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.
He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.
He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”
It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.
“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.
“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”
You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.
“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”
Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.
Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.
🎥🍿
Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.
You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.
When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.
“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”
“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.
Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.
Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.
You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.
Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.
By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.
The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.
There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—
“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”
The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.
Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.
“Yup, that’s the one.”
Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.
“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”
You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”
“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.
“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.
“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”
Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.
“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”
First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.
Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.
“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.
“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.
“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”
You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.
“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”
When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”
Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.
The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.
“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.
“Doing what?”
“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”
Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.
There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.
Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.
Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.
About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.
“You okay? You look kind of tired.”
Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.
“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”
“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”
The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.
Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.
“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.
You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.
He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.
“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.
You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”
“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”
🎥🍿
“For you.”
Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.
“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.
After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.
“Oh, you don’t—”
“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”
“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”
Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”
You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”
It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.
The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.
“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”
Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.
“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”
Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.
Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.
“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.
“You don’t know me enough to say that.”
“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”
A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.
“You’re…”
“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.
“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”
You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”
“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.
“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”
“Why not? I think you like it.”
Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.
“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.
“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.
“Is it bad if I say no?”
Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.
“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”
A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.
It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.
You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.
“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”
“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”
Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.
“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.
“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.
“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.
“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”
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[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]
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© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.
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racxnteur · 2 months
Text
Incomeless; will proofread your fics! (Or anything else.)
I'm not sure how to head this with a snazzy, attention-catching image given I'm not offering an obviously graphic service like art commissions, but let's give it a go...
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Hello, I'm your friendly neighborhood disabled unemployed transgender queer on the internet. I have not posted a great amount about the details on this blog for privacy reasons, but I am currently in an untenable familial/financial living situation, which I am actively working to get out of. My primary barrier to disentangling myself from the pertinent parties is a lack of income. I've been unable to pursue traditional means of work due to being multiply disabled (slash chronically ill, slash treatment-resistant, et cetera...), but I do not qualify for SSI or unemployment, so I am stuck trying to find other ways of making money.
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poeproductions · 11 months
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Happy Fursuit Friday! Meet Alva, a bluejay/rabbit hybrid. 💙 They've got huge minky wings, embroidered scales on their hands and feet, cheek feathers, silver claws, and a snazzy custom outfit!✨
Next fursuit opening is May 22nd! Get a quote for your character today!
Check out our quote form here! 🌟 Be sure to check out the price guide and FAQ on our website!
Follow @/maxthehybrid on Twitter to see Alva's adventures.💖
Don't forget, you can see all of our WIPs, project announcements, and get early access to finished costumes on our Patreon!
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kaigarax · 2 months
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Amok - Absolutely
Shidou Ryusei x Reader
Quote: "Fall in love because it's your God-given right."
Shidou Ryusei was, in every manner of the word amok. Uncontrollable and disruptive.
Wild.
Brilliantly brazen in a way that not many things are.
Practically a force of nature.
A very alterent of human nature.
So, it was only expected that he would enter into an industry where he’d be able to do what someone like him did best. Draw in the attention of everyone around him. The life of an idol. He had, at one point, been invested in soccer but an injury here and accident there was enough to throw those dreams out the window.
But alas, that was but the past. Here and now he was an idol hopeful at the best school. A brand new world where only the best of the best are brought and found. Coming in through the special program known as Blue Lock.
Unconventional.
Cutthroat.
And wild.
Some were baffled and most backed away from such a strange program. But this was exactly the way he preferred things. The only way he would have chosen to live if possible.
The only certain way of leaving your mark on society.
The only certain way to leave your mark on the world.
It is, in modern society, almost a job to be praised by another - specifically another in the same industry or similar position. There are, of course, expectations for every rule but the generalization of it as a rule is simply because it appears so very often in present day society - for what’s a rule if not a standardized way of understanding things?
Regardless of the specifics, it could be said that praise in this world we live in, and specifically the idol world, is not easy to come by from other idols.
This was not so much the case for Shidou Ryusei.
Well, perhaps it was but in a roundabout way.
If Shidou considered someone brilliant he would proclaim it to the heavens.
If someone acted in a way Shidou considered admirable he made it clear he knew. Always made it clear what he thought and felt - leaving no room for any misinterpretations. And such was the only way for someone like him to live.
Though, it wasn’t as if everyone caught his attention.
Much like everyone else, his praise had to be earned.
Searches for someone that sparks.
Shidou hears the jazzy sound of the saxophone and snazzy beat of the drum before he hears your voice. Notices the jumpy piano only slightly after.
“Hey, be kind, be patient~ Be hard to please~ It seems contradicting, but do it honestly~ Just give a little, give a little, give a little, give a little~ Until you disintegrate~”
It catches his attention as he makes his way through the cafe.
Pop songs are what’s mostly popular nowadays. The cheerful upbeat songs that girls like you usually sing aren’t exactly Shidou’s cup of tea but he doesn't mind them all too much. Not like a certain stuck up classmate of his. They’re catchy and fun. Easy to understand and easy to play. Easy to like.
What really surprises him is how good your voice sounds with something one could almost consider Jazz. It’s exciting and unique. Gets his heart pumping dramatically in a way that it doesn't usually.
Almost sparks something.
Finds himself standing stuck to the spot until your song is finished. Practically entranced by your very being itself. Got his heart pounding dramatically and got the adrenaline running through his veins.
It’s exciting.
Thrilling.
Something so very him.
If someone acted in a way Shidou considered admirable he made it clear he knew. Always made it clear what he thought and felt - leaving no room for any misinterpretations. And such was the only way for someone like him to live.
Immediately he makes his way to you. Shidou notes that you’re pretty. Not jaw droppingly gorgeous but pretty enough that he’d do a double take on the street. Pretty enough to make his heart skip a beat. What really sets you apart from everyone else is those eyes. They’re brilliant and seem to exude everything he looks for in a person.
Though, it wasn’t as if everyone caught his attention.
You smile coyly as he approaches you, holding your hands behind you back in that polite fashion that pretty girls like you usually do. You’re so warm and bright - so very different from him. Now Shidou doesn't like to consider himself snobby. He’ll hang around anyone that gets his blood pumping, but those people aren’t usually like you. Typically a little more like him. Bold and brazen. Chaotic. Everything that you are not. And yet his heart seems to race with every step closer he takes.
But, of course, there were obviously people in this world that could catch his attention. More often than not, it was people like you. Someone brilliant.
“I like you!” Shidou declares. Loudly, proudly, and suddenly as his hand came in contact with yours. Your hand fits so perfectly in his own that he finds it cute. Finds you cute.
You smile politely, “thank you.”
“Bet you’re used to hearing that a lot,” Shidou grins from ear to ear, “aren’t ya?”
Your voice is coy and humble in every way that he isn’t as you reply, “not in such a straightforward fashion.”
His voice is brazen and bold in every way that you’re not, “perform with me.” It’s more of a command than it is a question.
“You’re with the Blue Lock agency, aren’t you?” You ask and Shidou finds himself torn, debating if your words were more condescending or curious. You say it in such a tone that he can’t really decide. In such a way that he’s certain makes even you unsure of how exactly you mean it.
Shidou nods proudly, “Shidou Ryusei. You’ve heard of me, haven’t you?”
“I doubt there’s a person on campus that hasn’t heard about the Blue Lock boys.” You say.
“Not what I asked, Sweetheart.”
You raise a brow, “sweetheart?”
“Ain’t that what you are?” Shidou asks, “a sweetheart?”
“I-” you seem at a loss for words as you attempt to recollect yourself, seemingly stuck between declining the compliment (in the polite way that most people do) and accepting it (in the way that Shidou really wants you to). “I suppose so.”
Shidou grins in response like a man who’s just won some great mystery prize, “course~”
You’re quick to recollect yourself, seeming recalibrating internally, as you flash Shidou a polite smile, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Shidou.”
“Ryusei.”
“Hm?”
“Call me Ryusei.”
You scratch the back of your neck in an embarrassed manner, “I don’t think that’d be very appropriate.”
“It is.”
“And why’s that?”
“I said it before, didn’t I?” Shidou grins in a way that typically makes people’s hearts race, “because I like you~”
Bets that your heart's racing right now with how red your face gets. Imagines you’re not used to boys that’re bold and brazen like him - and he likes that. Likes that he’ll be the first man to barge into your life like a storm in an attempt to sweep you off your feet.
Someone like you deserves nothing less.
In the end he doesn't get you to agree to do a song with him but he does get your number!
Guess you win some and you lose some.
---
Despite how bright the sun seems and how blue the sky looks, the windy ocean breeze is ever so chilly. The golden sand is warm if only against the skin of your feet as you make your way to the water, Shidou’s hand wrapped tightly around your own.
He’d cornered you during the first period and managed to convince you to skip your classes for the rest of the day to hang out with him. Told you that he’d follow you to all your classes (regardless of if he was in them or not) and pester you until you finally agreed. And, being the ever sensible person that Shiodu isn’t you agree. Spare your classmates and teachers the pain, you suppose.
He ended up dragging you to the train station with a playful sorta look on his face that you just can’t seem to ignore. He’s just so damn happy that you agreed to come with him to the beach. You called it kidnapping or cohesion. He called it spending time with a friend.
He keeps his hand wrapped tightly around yours despite knowing you won’t pull away.
You’re such a nice girl.
Such a pretty girl.
He’d bet a whole lotta money that you’ve broken more than your fair share of hearts. You walk around with a warm smile on your face and a playful gleam in your eyes that’s magnetic.
“What kinda guys do you like?” Shidou asks.
“Hm,” you smile teasingly, “your brash aptitude to asking personal questions never ceases to surprise me.”
He takes the insult in stride, “thank you, pretty girl.”
“Well, at least you aren’t shy.”
Shidou quirks a brow, “you into shy guys?”
“Do you think I am?”
Anyone else, anyone sensible, likely would have pondered on that question for a little. Let it stir in his mind. Marinate overnight and debate on the implication the slight raise of your lip (always slightly more on the left than right) might mean. He might’ve wondered if you were testing him if he’d been anyone else. Might’ve even let go of your hand and look you in the face.
But Shidou is not everyone else.
He is distinctly and uniquely him.
A wild brazen storm running amok.
So of course he shakes his head, “course not. Why else would you be here with me?”
You seemed to have gotten better at hiding the surprise, or maybe you’ve gotten used to the surprise that he’s been afforded in return for his brash words. Well he doesn't consider it brash (preferring the term confident) but you do. And he likes you.
You smile in that polite way that he can’t, “perhaps you’re right.”
“Perhaps? Please, I’m always right.”
“Oh are you now?”
“Always right when it comes to you~”
And there’s the blush he’s been working towards.
Likes how you look when you blush - which is probably why he tries to make it happen so often. Though, one could also argue that that’s just how personality is.
You look off longingly towards the water, as if it holds the key to your heart. With a longing that Shidou’s all too familiar with.
So what else does Shidou do but drag you into the water? Brashly and boldly; not caring that the both of you are wearing running shoes and socks. To him, those are but simple little things. A note left alone in the bottom of a bag. Barely any notice.
You look as if you’re about to protest but stop by the time the water reaches your knees.
Much too late to complain about spilled milk now.
Well, Shidou might have to hear about it on the ride back when you both got wet shoes but that’s later and this is now.
Your hand somehow manages to slip from his own as you wander ahead of him.
Now, Shidou would never consider someone a God. Not for any religious beliefs of some strong self of self assurance but because he loved humanity. Loved it in a way a mother should unconditionally love her child.
He also happens to love a challenge - and even more so overcoming that challenge.
But you, Shidou thinks, out of everyone, could have been a God.
No.
Perhaps not a God.
Prometheus - if he had to give you a comparison. Someone that hands between humanity and immortality. Between life and death. Between this world and the rest of the universe. You were more than a human that simply walked upon this earth.
A thief in the night if his heart could be considered flames.
“This is how I want to die.” You say, your voice ever so soft and ever so gentle in that way that Shidou is not. You hold your hands behind your back as you turn around to face him, a pretty smile on your face. He wonders how it would feel to pull you close against him and press his lips to yours.
Your words, as they usually are, surprise him.
It’s not something he’d expect you to say.
Not something anyone would imagine you saying. Not while you’re so young and bright. So youthful and innocent. One could almost call it juxtaposition as you stand in the water, your shoes soaked, facing him, and proclaiming death as a companion.
His heart skips a beat.
This is it.
That spark.
“You’re brilliant!” Shidou exclaimed, as he took your hand in his own, “go out with me!”
Fall in love because it’s your God given right.
In the end he doesn't get you to agree to going out with him, but he does manage to get you to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.
Guess you win some and you lose some.
---
Song: Give A Little Artist: LeGrand & CG5
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musical-shit-show · 2 years
Note
The “i’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met.” Prompt screams musical juice to me, maybe something like a mutual confession?
call my bluff, call you “babe”
Pairing: Musical!Beetlejuice x Reader
Inspiration: Prompt #6 (i’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met.”) from Prompt List #1 requested by @nak3d-snak3
Warnings: anxiety, cursing, reader and bj are both dumbasses, mutual pining, light fluff
Word Count: 2,175
Author’s Note: Thank you for the request! Apologies for the delay on this, I had about a thousand words written for a different concept but scrapped it and started from scratch. As always, check out my masterlist, about me page, prompt lists, or submit an ask!
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“Oh my god, you are beyond obvious.”
“What are you even talking about, Lyds? Can’t a dead guy check himself out in the mirror every once in a while?”
The teen crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow.
“You can’t fool me, you know. I know you’re into the neighbor.” Beetlejuice scoffed at his reflection, picking worriedly at a particularly unruly patch of moss that was growing on his right temple. Lydia noticed his expression and narrowed her eyes. “And since when do you care about how you look?”
“Since always,” he deadpanned, “Haven’t you ever wondered why I wear this snazzy suit? Really makes ‘em go crazy.”
If there was one thing Beetlejuice was good at, it was using humor as a deflection tool. That, and scaring the shit out of breathers.
He didn’t scare you, though. He never did.
In fact, the first time you two met, the first time he tried to scare you, you laughed. In his face. In front of Lydia, who also burst out laughing as soon as you cracked a smile.
Even he could admit that your first encounter bruised his ego a bit, but as soon as you introduced yourself and he was able to sneak a few sideways glances, he knew he hadn’t met a breather quite like you before. Plus, it didn’t hurt that you were easy on the eyes.
It didn’t take long for the demon to fall, and fall hard. And that scared the shit out of him so much that he’d much rather pretend those feelings didn’t exist.
Sure, he was good a for laugh and a flirt whenever you made your way over to the house to visit, but he knew someone like you would never actually be with someone like him.
For fuck’s sake, he was a dead guy! A dead guy with an acknowledged sketchy past and impressive kill count. But you? You were kind, and funny without being mean, and you seemed to always know when Lydia was down and the exact remedy, which was usually whatever recipe you decided to test out that week.
And there you were, walking down the road with your plate of slightly burned snickerdoodles, ready for another night of “babysitting” Lydia. More accurately, you were giving peace of mind to Charles, who was out of town with Delia and still didn’t love the idea of his daughter alone in the house with a mischievous demon.
Plus, you didn’t mind. You had quickly bonded with Lydia, and even caught glimpses of your younger self in her from time to time. You even grew fond of Beetlejuice, much to your surprise.
He made you double over with laughter, demonstrated some of his powers while Lydia teased him about being a show off, and told you all about the Netherworld, never sparing an unsavory detail.
And before you knew it, your attraction to him hit you like a ton of bricks.
Sure, you had questionable taste in men before, but this was something else entirely. And yes, he flirted with you almost constantly, but you distinctly remember Lydia telling you that he was, quote “basically horny for everyone” so you tried to not ascribe any meaning to it.
Which only led to you keeping your feelings as close to your chest as you could.
Of course, this unresolved tension drove Lydia up the wall. It was clear to her that you two liked each other, but you were either both too stubborn or scared or outright oblivious to do anything about it.
As she stared at the demon, who was still fixated on making himself as presentable as possible, the doorbell rang. Beetlejuice’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, the tips of his hair growing a sickly yellow color.
“If I were you, Beej, I’d try to get that under control,” Lydia remarked, pointing to his hair, “You’re my best friend, but I actually like our neighbor, so don’t—”
“What, scare her off?” he scoffed, “Lyds, it didn’t work the first time, I doubt she’s gonna be put off by a little color changing. She doesn’t know what it means, anyways.” He said that last bit under his breath, folding his arms over the frayed lapels of his jacket. Though you picked up on when his usually bright green coif turned an angry red or melancholic purple, Beetlejuice hadn’t given you a full lesson in Stupid Demon Mood Ring Hair 101.
Lydia rolled her eyes and trampled down the stairs, greeting you with a smile. You said hello to Beetlejuice, who grunted a small “how goes it” before planting himself on the carpet in front of the TV. The plate of cookies you brought over was sitting on the coffee table, and you were reading a book while Lydia finished up a school art project in the kitchen.
You peered over the pages of the weathered novel to see Beetlejuice staring up at you, eyes as wide as saucers. You quirked an eyebrow at him, “Do you want to sit up here, Beej?”
As if coming out of a trance, he blinked a few times before chuckling nervously, “Only if you’re okay with me taking up some of your real estate, toots.”
“Yeah, of course,” you smirked, patting the spot right next to you, “I don’t mind.”
How you were playing it this cool, you had no idea. Sure, the two of you had exchanged a light touch here and there, but your heartbeat quickened as soon as he tested the waters by laying his head against your thigh.
You impulsively wondered how dirty his hair must’ve been, given the state of his suit. Would a demon who didn’t bother washing his clothing even think of shampooing? You shuddered slightly, but from the looks of it, his hair looked strangely well kept, albeit wild and almost having a mind of its own.
Absentmindedly, you started twirling your fingers through the strands, doing your best to act enthralled in the book you were clutching in your free hand. Much to your surprise, his hair was soft and fluffy.
Within seconds, you felt a small vibration coming from his throat. The motherfucker was purring. Actually purring. “Oh my god,” you squeal, unable to contain yourself, “you’re like a cat. That is adorable.”
Beetlejuice could’ve died a third time hearing you call him adorable. A light pink hue crept its way through his scalp.
You quirked an eyebrow, “What does pink mean?”
“Hmm?” Beetlejuice pretended like he didn’t hear you.
“The pink. In your hair.” your mouth twitched upward, examining the demon’s startled expression, “I’ve never seen your hair change color like that before. Does it mean something, or…?”
He sat up immediately, making eye contact with Lydia, who just shot him a look from the kitchen table. A look that said ‘Figure out what you’re going to say, you big, stripey idiot!’.
“Oh, uh,” he muttered, “Well—”
“I’ll be right back,” Lydia blurted, “Gotta, um, get something from my room.” As she clomped up the stairs, she couldn’t help but relish in the fact that you had managed to render Beetlejuice nearly catatonic.
“Oh, okay!” you said cheerily, setting your book down entirely and throwing your legs onto the couch. You furrowed your brow for a moment, and then turned your eye towards the demon, who sported a nervous look, the pink in his hair replaced with his usual lime green with the smallest tinge of yellow.
“What’s wrong, toots?” he attempted to come off nonchalant, “I thought we were having a great time complimenting me.”
You let out a small laugh. “Oh nothing, I was just…thinking.” You decided not to press him on the shade of his coif; you mind was starting to wander, wander towards a time only a few short months prior.
Life was so different then. Before picked up everything, moved to a new town, and leased a small cottage that was right down the road from the house you now sat in. Before you met Lydia and her parents, Charles and Delia. Before Lydia let it slip that her house was haunted and you met Adam and Barbara.
Before Beetlejuice tried to scare you. Tried being the operative word. You were never afraid of him; in fact, you thought he was fascinating at first. But as you got to know him, you could see the sweetness under the rough exterior.
“I just…you’re not at all what I expected. When I first met you, I mean.”
He grinned widely, a giddy glint in his amber eyes, “Oh, babes, I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises.”
You couldn’t help but let out a light laugh, feeling at ease around him despite your heart squeezing in your chest. You knew Beetlejuice frequently traveled to and from the Netherworld, and you were sure he had someone on the other side.
Someone far better suited for him than you could ever be.
You tried to shake that nagging feeling from the back of your mind. Despite the fact that it wouldn’t work out between the two of you, a little harmless flirting never hurt anyone, right? Still, you weren’t great at masking your emotions, and you tried your best to turn your attention elsewhere.
“Uh, so, any ideas on entertaining Lydia? A movie is always a solid choice, or we could play a board game—”
“What’s up with you?” he asked, curious with a twinge of sadness in his voice, “I thought we were doing the whole flirting thing pretty well, what happened?”
Shit. When did he become so perceptive?
“Oh, I—”
“Was it something I said?” Beetlejuice felt a rush of anxiety, trying his best to fight off that familiar feeling of abandonment from rearing its ugly head.
You couldn’t take it anymore. If you didn’t say anything at that moment, your equally debilitating insecurity would never tell him the truth.
“No, Beej it’s not that,” you said finally, picking at your nailbeds, “I just…I like you, okay? Actually like you. Way more than I was expecting, as a matter of fact. And I know that we just flirt and it’s great and fun and you probably have like, a super-hot demon girlfriend you go visit in the Netherworld or something but…I like you, and I just had to get that off my chest, okay?”
The demon was, for once, speechless.
“Please say something,” you begged, hushing your voice, “At least before Lydia comes back downstairs.”
Beetlejuice couldn’t help but simper at your uneasy state, “First off, I’m flattered you think I have a super-hot demon girlfriend,” he joked, cutting the awkwardness in the air, “But I don’t. I don’t really, uh, do that shit in the Netherworld anymore. Not since I met you.”
“What?”
“Sugar, I’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met. I thought it was you who wouldn’t want me on account of, well, this.” He gestured to his general form, smiling in a very self-deprecating way. “That’s what pink means, that I have the hots for ya.” He pointed back up at his hair, which was now almost completely changed to that same light pinkish color as before.
You shook your head incredulously, feeling like a complete idiot for not catching on sooner. You couldn’t help but let a dumbstruck grin spread across your face, not believing that your confession would actually be reciprocated.
“So, since we’re past the formalities,” he slid closer, putting his arm around you, “How’s about a little tonsil hockey before the kid comes back?”
“The kid can hear you by the way!” Lydia called from the top of the steps, “And no one says ‘tonsil hockey’ anymore, old man.” Your face grew flush, but Beetlejuice just stuck out his tongue as Lydia made her way back down the steps.
The younger girl stood in front of you and Beetlejuice, who had already staked his claim and pulled you as close to him as humanly possible. “Look, I don’t care what you do, just don’t do it in front of me, got it?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, holding back a giggle.
“Scout’s honor,” Beetlejuice chimed in, crossing his non-beating heart. He did manage to lean over and whisper in your ear, “We’ll just have to go to your place, huh babes?”
“Hmm, we’ll see,” you said coyly, “If you actually let Lydia pick the movie this time.”
“Ugh.”
“And not make a ruckus.”
“Ughhhh.”
“And actually let me pay attention to what’s on the screen for once.”
“Well, that might be hard to do. A little birdie told me you’re super into me.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ would you two stop flirting and help me pick something!” Lydia sounded as though she was ready to vomit from all the incessant teasing.
“Okay you’re right, you’re right,” you said, snuggling into the demon’s side just a bit more, “She’s gonna hate us, isn’t she?”
“Oh yeah,” he said with a smirk, “too bad we’re just getting started.”
_____
Thanks for reading, and thanks again to @nak3d-snak3 for the request!
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socheckitout-mikey · 2 years
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heyyy !! i hope you're doing well! i just finished watching the outsiders movie + book (btw you're hcs for are so freaking good omg!! ><) But anywho enough of my rambling, i was wondering if you could do hc for dallas teaching you how to drive? particularly a romantic interest but it could be anyone if you'd prefer. I hope you have fun w this with this!
im doing well, hun. im glad you enjoy my hc's. yeah ofc! always up for some dally hc's >:) tysm for requesting these. sorry it took me a century to get round to writing and posting them. enjoy them tho! <3 - mae
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Dallas Winston Teaching You How To Drive Hc's:
° This is gonna be one wild time. Dally isn’t known for his driving abilities since he’s known for being just as reckless on the road as he is on his own two feet. Think of a high speed car chase with the fuzz and you’ll have him perfectly. I mean, he turns corners at 100mph, you better say a prayer!
° You sure picked your instructor well, now didn’t you? And the chances of him taking this seriously are slim to none. However this will be eventful.
° First and foremost, you’re too on edge for his liking. “Listen kid, you’re so on edge that you’re makin’ me on edge, which ain’t good. You gotta loosen up, capeesh? I promise ya, you’ll come outta this car a pro! No one’s gonna recognise you cuz you’ll be drivin’ all snazzy.”
° “Snazzy?” You cocked an eyebrow.
° “Alright, maybe not that cuz your pop’s got you a hunk’o junk, but at least you’ll know how to make it move from point A to point B.” He grinned just as you frowned at him. He patted your shoulder reassuringly, “Y’know, it’s the little things! C’mon, what do we have to lose?”
° “Our lives and this car.” You muttered wryly.
° “Eh for this to work ya gotta have a bit of faith!”
° “Faith?! Alright, who switched you out for Jesus?”
° Dally just about pissed himself laughing at that one.
° The first thing he tries to teach you is how to hotwire a car for, and I quote, “It’s for research purposes! You never know, what if I’m not around to do it for you?”
° “Dal, we are not hot wiring my dad’s car! I just got it -,”
° “Yeah well, maybe if he thinks it’s stolen then he’ll take pity on you and give you his new piece of junk.” He smarted back at you.
° “No!”
° “Well, ain’t you a goody-goody.” He muttered sarcastically under his breath.
° But he lays off after that… a bit.
° When you and Dallas are together, there’s a slim chance of anything being taken seriously. You’re always goofing off. So when you’re trying to take something seriously, Dally’s trying hard not to laugh. It’s just the way that your face gets when you’re focusing, it kills any inkling of seriousness in him.
° “You’re not funny, Dally.” You growled.
° “I think I’m pretty funny, sugar.” He winked at you teasingly, which might have gotten you to roll your eyes and smile just a little.
° I think that Dallas is definitely a, “I’m only gonna say this once, so you better have your listenin’ ears on,” type of guy. Even though you forget it two seconds later, he’s just gonna say it again with a, “Y’know, I think you’re doin’ this on purpose, doll.”
° Whether you did or didn’t do it on purpose cannot be proven whatsoever.
° “What? Are you gonna bring me to court for it?” You sassed back.
° And Dally just did that gorgeous breathy laugh, coupled with a smirk. He straightened up in the passenger seat, staring out of the windshield before looking at you again. “You’re a pain in my ass, sweetheart.”
° There does come a point where he is semi serious, but he’s awfully disgruntled because you’re driving in the legal speed limit.
° “C’mon! All I ask is that you scratch the paint on that oldie’s bumper, for cryin’ out loud!”
° “Dal, there’s a cop there and besides, that man has more money than our entire neighbourhood combined. I’m not takin’ the heat cuz you almost got caught hot wiring his car three weeks ago,”
° “Ass kisser…” he muttered under his breath, disguised by a cough.
° “Say that one more time and I’ll-,”
° “Babe, you’re hearing things,”
° Dallas Winston has some damn road rage, especially when he’s in the passenger seat. The amount of scraps you’ve had to zoom away from is insane. He’s flipping everyone the bird and even starting things.
° Did I mention that he’s also a backseat driver? He does it mainly to annoy you, which works every damn time!
° He isn’t known for his patience, so if on the fifth time of teaching you how to parallel park and you still don’t know how to, there will be consequences. Of course in the form of playfully threatening to demonstrate how to do it for you again. And would you look at that, you did it on your own, all while shaking in your boots. He can’t help but be a little proud. So instilling a bit of fear with his driving will get you to do the hard stuff, eh?
° Now, you don’t always drive the speed limit, but you aren’t as wild as Dally. He’s always calling you gramps or grams whenever you do drive because it’s not the speed he’d choose.
° “C’mon, you gotta live a little! I’m tellin’ ya, I ain’t gettin’ any younger with your tortoise crawl. I mean, I can practically feel the grey hairs growin’ in!” He teased, bored outta his mind as you sluggishly drove down the dirt road.
° You do end up getting the hang of everything pretty quickly. You become a good driver, because Dally’s always telling you not to do what he’s doing. You’re his s/o afterall. At least one of you should know how to drive properly.
° Dallas is a good teacher — in his own way, of course. He’s not winning any awards ever, but he did well — at least for you. Afterall, if you weren’t his partner — someone he’s a little soft for, he wouldn’t have taken so much time to teach you. With all of the teasing and complaining, Dally grew to love spending these nights or afternoons with you. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but seeing you achieve things and get more confident on the road was something that made him proud. Even better when you passed your actual test! Although he rolled his eyes because you got a real license, he couldn’t have been more happy.
° “I coulda gotten you one for free,” he grumbled at you in Buck’s T-Bird, because you couldn’t drive to the test yourself.
° “And have whoever made it stitch me with a bad photo?” You said, practically outraged. Dallas just rolled his eyes.
° “You had the best teacher, of course.” He grinned in the driver's seat, and changed the subject too. He swiped your license from your pretty fingers and began inspecting it, propping his boots up on the dashboard.
° You slapped his foot down, made him laugh as you demanded it back. With a smoke between his lips, he grinned impishly at the little picture on your ID. “Man, they sure got the wrong angle that’s for sure.”
° “Gimme that back!” You grumbled, snatching it away from him and putting it in your back pocket. “Asshole…” you mumbled at him.
° Dallas just grinned, pulling the cigarette from his mouth to flick ashes at you, and blow smoke in your face — two things that you weren’t phased by any more. “C’mere,” he hummed, leaning over and planting a firm but loving kiss on your lips. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” He promised candidly.
° “Really?”
° “O’course-,” he began passionately, but stopped himself. He wagged his finger’s with his smoke in between them at you for a moment as you giggled at your handiwork. “New rule, from now on I only say things once.”
° “Aw c’mon!” You giggled.
° I hope you know that you’re Dally’s personal taxi service now fhfhdhwjeh. He says that it’s the least you can do with all of the time and energy he spent on teaching you how to drive. He means that playfully of course; shot to you with a teasing wink. If you complain, he just says he’ll drive, which always gets you to bend and begin driving off before he can get out of the car.
° The banter is 20/10 I promise you.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
please like, reblog and follow for more! 
requests: closed!
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twopoppies · 1 year
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this article warms my heart! i know the social conversation on harry and queerbaiting has been exhausting and turbulent, but this is what matters. real people feel more comfortable with themselves and exploring their identities. that’s his real impact on young queer youth— no one can take that away. it’s all summed up by Ash:
“They see him, they like him,” Sandoval said of Styles fans. “And if they like him, they might like me too.” ❤️
Oh this is wonderful. And I love that quote. Thank you for sharing the article with me.
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Katelyn could hardly believe it.
Harry Styles’ percussionist, Pauli Lovejoy, picked up the nonbinary pride flag their friend had tossed onstage and began dancing and waving it while Styles sang. It was October of last year, and Styles was performing in Nashville. Katelyn, a nonbinary fan who asked to go by their first name because they have not yet come out to certain family members, screamed with joy at the top of their lungs.
“It just made me feel so safe and validated and loved for being who I am,” said Katelyn, 19, who uses they/them pronouns. “I came out to a lot of people after that experience.”
It’s no secret that Styles is a champion of the LGBTQ community, but to a special section of that fan base — his young gender-nonconforming devotees — Styles’ ability to exist comfortably, and extremely publicly, in a fluid space along the gender spectrum is particularly resonant. For them, Styles, 28, is an icon and advocate whose journey to self-actualization, and unapologetic ability to wear a Gucci gown or a string of pearls, mirrors their own strides toward self-love and discovery.
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At his concerts, Styles regularly helps fans come out to their families by reading signs they hold up in the audience. He then celebrates them by leading the crowd in affirming chants, as he did on opening night of his 15-show stand at Inglewood’s Kia Forum. After asking a fan named Serena if she was sure she wanted to go public, he declared, “Congratulations, Serena, thank you for being here tonight.”
“He helped me feel like a lot of things about myself are OK,” said Alondra “Ash” Sandoval, 20, who uses she/they pronouns and said they are just beginning to explore their gender identity. Sandoval stood in the Forum parking lot wearing a snazzy black suit emblazoned with bright silver stars. The venue behind her was bathed in rainbow colors.
[…]
Styles has dropped so many references to his feelings about sexuality and his thoughts on gender nonconformity that fans regularly track them online. In an April 2022 Better Homes & Gardens cover story, the pop star called it “outdated” that people should expect him to declare his sexuality publicly.
“I’ve been really open with it with my friends, but that’s my personal experience; it’s mine,” he told the magazine. “The whole point of where we should be heading, which is toward accepting everybody and being more open, is that it doesn’t matter, and it’s about not having to label everything, not having to clarify what boxes you’re checking.”
A few months later in a Rolling Stone cover story, Styles said, “I think everyone, including myself, has your own journey with figuring out sexuality and getting more comfortable with it.”
[…]
Not all observers agree that it’s fine for Styles to disregard gender norms and ally himself so firmly with the LGBTQ community without identifying himself as part of it. He has been accused by some critics and disgruntled fans of “queerbaiting” — or co-opting queer identity — an ongoing controversy that is peaking as his latest film, “My Policeman” comes out, in which he plays a closeted gay man in 1950s England.
Many gender-nonconforming fans have served as Styles’ most staunch defenders. Grace Daniels, 19, who attends New York University and uses they/them pronouns, said that Styles does need to state anything publicly.
“Gender exists on a spectrum, sexuality exists on the spectrum,” Daniels said. “And who’s to say that you have to even have a label at all? Which is something that he has emphasized, extensively.”
Another fan, Suba, 19, who is from the South and uses she/they pronouns (who asked to be identified by their first name since they have not yet come out to certain members of their family), recently wrote an 11-page paper on the subject for their writing seminar.
In the paper, they argue that accusing Styles of “queerbaiting” is essentially the same as “telling any young kid out there who is hesitant to do something, like dressing a certain way, that they are not allowed to try out different expressions without having to label themselves one way or another.”
[…]
Hernandez said the song “Lights Up,” which came out in 2019, just when they were beginning to realize they were nonbinary, changed their life.
“I feel like that was just what I needed at that point in my life,” they said of the soulful tune with the lyrics, “Lights up and they know who you are / know who you are / do you know who you are / shine / step into the light.”
San Antonio-based transgender fan, Derek D., 19, agrees. When Derek (who asked to go by his first name and last initial only, out of concerns for privacy), was about 11 years old, and Styles was still in One Direction, Derek said, he remembers a fan complimenting Styles on his black nail polish and Styles acting a bit shy and embarrassed about it.
“Times were a little bit different back then. And I remember resonating with that a lot, just that aspect of doing something outside of what is typically acceptable for your gender,” and then feeling a bit sheepish in public, Derek said. Derek now calls this “the nail polish story,” and said it’s an anecdote he uses a lot when discussing the stepping stones along the way to discovering his identity.
“It’s almost as if he’s walking in front of me,” said Derek of Styles. “And he’s leading a path, saying, ‘It’s OK. I promise it’s OK to be yourself’.”
Full article here
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plushee-cant-draw · 1 year
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oKAy uh Wilson rework real *Chucks all the new quotes I could find at you* I... Can't find any that are Wilson specific for some reason? Normally rework quotes are under a section titled their name or sm, but anyways have quotes for the weird shadow pillar and pig hound... thing idk, copyed and pasted directly from the code below the read more:
Wilson:
-- DREADSTONE = "It seems to reflect shadows instead of light.", HORRORFUEL = "It sends a terrible shiver down my spine.", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "Freeing him might not have been my best idea.", IMPRISONED = "I feel almost sorry for him.", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "There's something glinting inside the marble.", EXPOSED = "A pillar of impossibly hard stone.", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "Lightweight, sturdy, and snazzy!", DREADSTONEHAT = "To keep my brilliant brain safe and sound.", },
Warly:
-- DREADSTONE = "Terrible and beautiful all at once.", HORRORFUEL = "It makes my teeth chatter.", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "I have decided on fear!", IMPRISONED = "I don't know whether to feel fear or pity.", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "Perhaps I could free the poor creature?", EXPOSED = "Ah zut, that stone is far too tough for me to break.", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "A fine peice of armor.", DREADSTONEHAT = "My head feels safer already.", },
Wanda:
-- DREADSTONE = "As off-putting as it is, it could be useful.", HORRORFUEL = "It gives me a terrible feeling...", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "I knew I shouldn't have involved myself!", IMPRISONED = "I shouldn't involve myself in these things.", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "They seem breakable... but I don't think that'd be wise.", EXPOSED = "Oh botheration. I think I just remembered something...", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "It should keep me well protected, at least.", DREADSTONEHAT = "That stone turned out to be rather useful.", },
Wendy:
-- DREADSTONE = "It is cold... and beautiful.", HORRORFUEL = "There are always more horrors to come.", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "Kindness only begets more pain...", IMPRISONED = "What a pitiful creature.", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "We are all tethered to this place in one way or another.", EXPOSED = "It is too strong, and I am too weak.", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "Let the darkness surround me.", DREADSTONEHAT = "What's the point?", },
Winona:
-- DREADSTONE = "It's evil-lookin', but tough as nails.", HORRORFUEL = "Makes the usual nightmare goop look almost pleasant by comparison.", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "Yeesh big guy, I was just tryin' to help you out!", IMPRISONED = "That pig's seen better days.", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "That marble doesn't look structurally sound to me.", EXPOSED = "I stand corrected. That rock ain't goin' nowhere.", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "That's some real high-grade protective equipment.", DREADSTONEHAT = "Lookin' sharp! Literally.", },
Wortox:
-- DREADSTONE = "A stone as black as night.", HORRORFUEL = "A goop most foul.", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "I'm sensing the answer is foe.", IMPRISONED = "Friend or foe?", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "A terrible fate, to be locked in this state.", EXPOSED = "Why hide this stone inside?", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "All blows will be blocked by this armor of rock.", DREADSTONEHAT = "A stone fortress for my brain.", },
Webber:
-- DREADSTONE = "We're not sure if we like that rock.", HORRORFUEL = "It makes our spider skin crawl.", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "Hey! We were just trying to help!!", IMPRISONED = "He doesn't look like a normal pig. Or even a normal werepig.", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "We feel bad just leaving him like that...", EXPOSED = "We can't break through it!", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "It's kinda scary, but it keeps us safe!", DREADSTONEHAT = "A pointy helmet to match our pointy teeth!", },
WX-78:
-- DREADSTONE = "IT IS HARD, COLD, AND EVIL. I LOVE IT", HORRORFUEL = "DARKNESS: 100%. NO SHADES OF GREY DETECTED", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "I THINK IT TOOK THE POINTING AND LAUGHING PERSONALLY", IMPRISONED = "THE FLESHSACK IS STUCK. LET US POINT AND LAUGH AT IT", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY COMPROMISED", EXPOSED = "ERROR: MATERIAL IS TOO DENSE TO DESTROY", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "IT LOOKS GOOD ON ME", DREADSTONEHAT = "ACCEPTABLE PROCESSOR PROTECTION", },
Walter:
-- DREADSTONE = "It's just a rock, what's so scary about a rock?", HORRORFUEL = "It can't be THAT bad... can it?", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "I thought he'd be a bit happier to be free...", IMPRISONED = "We can't just leave him like that, Woby! We've gotta help him!", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "Hey, what's that stuff inside?", EXPOSED = "Oh, it's just a different kind of rock.", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "It looks like an evil knight's armor. Neat!", DREADSTONEHAT = "Never forget to wear your dark helmet.", },
Wurt:
-- DREADSTONE = "Pretty rocks!", HORRORFUEL = "I-is just goop! Not scared!", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "Grrr! You just big stinky pig!", IMPRISONED = "Nyeeeeehhh!!", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "Heehee, stinky pig all locked up!", EXPOSED = "Rock too hard for breaking, florp.", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "So pretty... it mine!", DREADSTONEHAT = "It real good for headbutting, flort!", },
Maxwell:
-- DREADSTONE = "Petrified nightmares.", HORRORFUEL = "That's the good stuff.", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "Say pal, why don't we talk this out?", IMPRISONED = "You went nosing around places you shouldn't have, didn't you?", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "I can just make out something dark within.", EXPOSED = "That stone would be useful, if only it could be broken.", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "Black never goes out of style.", DREADSTONEHAT = "Darkness is never far from my mind.", },
Wolfgang:
-- DREADSTONE = "Is just rock, not scary! ...Right?", HORRORFUEL = "S-scary...", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "H-how about friendly game of arm wrestle, yes?", IMPRISONED = "Angry piggie has gotten more muscles!", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "Mighty Wolfgang could break pillar!", EXPOSED = "Mighty Wolfgang could... not break pillar.", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "Wolfgang doesn't need scary rock armor!", DREADSTONEHAT = "Ha! Wolfgang's head is already hard like a rock!", },
Wigfrid:
-- DREADSTONE = "A stone of ill omen.", HORRORFUEL = "The sight of it chills even my courageous Viking heart.", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "You leave me no choice, beast! To arms!", IMPRISONED = "The beast hath been consumed by foul magic.", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "The pillar is weakened... mayhaps it could be broken.", EXPOSED = "Only something of great might could crack that foul stone.", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "It will serve me well, despite its origins.", DREADSTONEHAT = "Ready to bear the brunt of battle!", },
Woodie:
-- DREADSTONE = "There's something off aboot it.", HORRORFUEL = "That stuff can't be good for ya.", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "Not even so much as a \"thank you\", eh?", IMPRISONED = "Whatever he's got better not be contagious.", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "Looks sturdy... ish.", EXPOSED = "That's some firmly planted stone.", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "Luce says black ain't my colour.", DREADSTONEHAT = "Gotta protect the old noggin', eh?", },
Willow:
-- DREADSTONE = "Eww, why does this rock feel so cold and clammy?", HORRORFUEL = "That must be what nightmares have nightmares about.", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "You jerk! I was just trying to help!", IMPRISONED = "Looks like somebody's having a bad day.", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "How crazy would I have to be to try and break that pillar?", EXPOSED = "It won't break. I didn't try that hard, but still.", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "It's fine I guess.", DREADSTONEHAT = "Do I have to wear it? On my head??", },
Wickerbottom:
-- DREADSTONE = "Metamorphic, if I'm not mistaken.", HORRORFUEL = "Highly concentrated ectoplasmic residue.", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "This creature has terrible manners.", IMPRISONED = "My, how did it end up in this state?", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "How odd... the marble appears to be encasing something.", EXPOSED = "It will require much greater force than I can muster to break it.", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "Extremely durable, and surprisingly lightweight.", DREADSTONEHAT = "Thankfully, the material has no adverse effects on the mind.", },
and lastly,
Wormwood:
-- DREADSTONE = "Pretty", HORRORFUEL = "Scary...", DAYWALKER = { GENERIC = "Why so mad?", IMPRISONED = "Stuck. Poor Twirly Tail", }, DAYWALKER_PILLAR = { GENERIC = "Where you grow from?", EXPOSED = "Where you grow from?", }, ARMORDREADSTONE = "Pretty rock clothes", DREADSTONEHAT = "Rock for head", },
No clue what this means, I just saw the weird shadow pig on my dash and instantly went "Is-Is this real? not a mod, reAL?"
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inkdemonapologist · 2 years
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for crashing (?) the Contest Of The Arts in the last cthulhu session we didn’t actually have to dress up too much, but, y’know, it IS a snazzy event and Sammy was planning to sign up as a contestant in order to get backstage, so he was a little fancier than usual. also suspenders jack is important to me....
Out of context quotes from our Slightly Eventful Contest Experience under the cut!
[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]
[Sammy] I am sleepy today… so maybe I will be in character,,, [Jack] I am also sleepy. [Henry] … I actually just took a nap before game started. [Sammy] Ah. So Henry, as usual, is the only one that’s well-rested; yeah, that sounds correct.
*someone posts a gif of Beans the cat labelled “BEANS HEAVEN NOW”* [Jack] This is a tangent, but I’m imagining Jack doing the “We can’t keep doing this” but saying that to Beans, and it’s really cute, [Sammy] Except instead of yelling “shrimp heaven now” it’s just Beans going “MWOW! MWOWWW!” [Jack] OH NO, THATS REALLY CUTE….. [Joey] Sorry, I’m going to tangent back more: for some reason, forever entangled in my mind is “shrimp heaven now” and also the “chips” bit? So now I’m thinking of, [Joey] “Prophet keeps going into the cupboard, and eating handfuls of raw pasta, and calling them… chips?” [Sammy] “How do I make him STOP???” [Sammy] I can’t decide whether this is better if Joey is the one making this complaint, or Sammy [Sammy] *laughing* Sorry, I’m just thinking about Sammy like, waking up to find all his pasta with bites in it like “Not again,,,” [Joey] “We can’t keep doing this,”
[Sammy] Don’t teach Beans magic! Bad influence! [Henry] Beans already knows magic. [Sammy] *startled laughter* tHAT’S AN EXTREMELY CONFIDENT STATEMENT,
[Jack] Jack’s also going to be sleeping with the light on, so, Pete, I hope you don’t mind the light on! [GM] Well, that actually works out well for him, because then he can see all the papers he’s laid out around the place when he’s astral projecting! [Jack] PETE NO,,,, [Sammy] Well! It sounds like everyone’s really, definitely, using the evening time for sleep like they’re supposed to! [GM] You told Peter to make sure Jack didn’t wander off! [Sammy] YES…. WELL THAT’S IMPORTANT, [Jack] He can’t do that while sleeping! [GM] He can! He can. [Jack] He can’t do that while SLEEP-sleeping [GM] Okay, that’s true.
[Jack] All of Jack’s boyfriends are functional people. [Sammy] Jack is the only functional boyfriend. [Jack]......I’m not sure if that’s true anymore
[Jack] You’ve ruined a perfectly good lyricist is what you did, look at him, he’s got anxiety! [Sammy] Me @ The Masked Messenger
[Joey] And Joey might also make calls to Timothee and………..other guy,
[Joey] Hopefully he won’t make his intelligence check! [GM] How smart are you, Leon? You’re a doctor…. OH he might make this check, he has a very high intelligence [Sammy] Well good, we need at least somebody with a braincell, so that’s great actually.
[Joey] Does Joey have a good idea, based on what Sammy and Norman know from scoping out the hotel, about how they should maybe be dressing for this event? [Sammy] [Sammy] …you expected Sammy to be paying attention to that…? [Joey] I said Sammy and Norman,
[Joey] Joey knows who Bertrum is, because he’s just a fan of theme parks [Jack] He’s just a nerd [GM] Theme park nerd… [Joey] OH NO… Joey would be one of those youtubers who rides rides and then gives them critique… [GM] Luckily, he doesn’t have a platform to do that, so Bertrum hopefully doesn’t hate him! [Sammy] “LUCKILY, JOEY DOESN’T HAVE A YOUTUBE” applies to so many things [Joey] *laughs* [Joey] [Joey] Yeah,……………..
[Sammy] Are we just looking to grab them, and drag them off?! [Joey] dO YOU HAVE A BETTER PLAN,,,
[Joey] Do we actually have to get backstage, or can Norman just… shadow walk back there
[Joey] Sammy and Norman can sneak backstage, because Norman is good at sneaking, and Sammy is… good at doing things… without, others’ agreement,
[Sammy] If Wally’s here – Wally needs to not be here. I don’t want to think about Wally Franks while I’m here.
[Joey] If you throw that request on Joey last minute, he’s not going to take that well, he’s got so much on his mind right now – [Sammy] If Joey doesn’t want to get him ink, I can ask Bendy, like, that’s fine, whatever! [Joey] I mean, if you wait long enough, Bendy and Joey is the same person – you can’t go to the other parent!
[GM] Is Norman going have to borrow an instrument case to put this RIFLE in?
[Sammy] And y’know, if any of the Muses show up early, maaaaybe we cannnnn just– [Jack] –kidnap people, live, in front of a crowd! [Sammy] I MEAN, WE’RE DOING THAT EITHER WAY,
[GM] You guys get to the Ravenshall hotel, and ballroom adjoining, around 6pm! [Sammy] *nervously* Alright… here we are… [GM] *cheerfully* It’s close to the beach, there’s a pool outside-! [Sammy] We’re going to get arrested, [Henry] Or worse. [Jack]..... eXPELLED?
[Joey] If we are taking two cars, I think we should park Henry’s more hidden in the crowd, in case someone shows up who might recognise Henry’s car. [Joey] Though admittedly… cars are not really… recognisable,... in this time period, [Sammy] All EXACTLY THE SAME CAR, [Joey] YEAH, there’s exactly the same car, in many different colours. [Jack] It never got brought up, but Henry actually painted Cool Flames on the side of his car,
*after several minutes of retconning various preparations* [GM] Okay! You are at the front doors. [Sammy] Thren like YOU ARE HERE NOW. BE HERE. STOP GOING BACK.
[GM] Jack probably also recognises the band that’s hanging out to the side of the stage… or at least three of them! [Sammy] Is that… the musicians, from… [GM] The saxophonist is new! [Joey] *starts cackling*
[GM] You do see one of the lines on the sign-up list just says “Alice.” [Jack] I don’t know if that’s cute or concerning…
[Joey] If Norman and Peter, can sneak back right away? If Norman’s going to blend in with the other staff – [Sammy] What actually happens is, while Pete is showing his press pass, Norman just walks in. No one notices. I don’t know if he’s actually that stealthy, but that’s what’s in my heart. [GM] It might,,, be that way,,, because I’ve been rolling some dice, and what it looks like happened is that Norman tried to talk his way through and rolled a 90-something and did not know what instrument case he was carrying OR SOMETHING and did not get in, but then Peter did, and made a good persuade roll, and then Norman got a 15 on Stealth! So, that sounds correct. [Joey] Perfect! [Sammy] Norman just like, “I’m here to play sax,” and they’re like “That’s a violin case.” “Well, you know, I’ve always kept my saxophone in a violin case, I don’t know about you, that’s just what I’ve always done!”
[Sammy] Trenchcoat is not allowed to touch any of my banjos.
[Joey] They could also sign up under alternate names, [Jack] SAMMY FAIN AND JACK LAWRENCE…
[GM] Timothee does say he grabbed some stuff from his mom! And has a handful of charms. [Sammy] What do they do? [GM] One makes you better at getting out of the way of things, one that makes you sneakier, and there’s one that helps with guns, apparently. [Jack and Sammy] *giggling* [Joey] *also giggling* LOVE THAT GOOD OL’ ANCIENT GUN CHARM! Passed down for generations– [Jack] You say “gun charm” and I’m just imagining like… a phone charm, but for a gun.
[Joey] Henry’s going to get one of the “not get hurt as much” charms– [Henry] Okay! [Joey] –I don’t know if it’ll work if he hurts himself, but! We can hope. [Sammy] Henry tries to overexert and the charm just STOPS him and we’re like “*gasp* he needs to have this on all the time…”
[Sammy] Just passin’ out charms in the hotel lobby, it’s fine.
[Joey] Timothee and Henry are both the most well-armed, and seem to be the most ready to… [Sammy] Kill a man? [Joey] … plow into a situation and change it if need be. [Henry] AKA, kill a man.
[Joey] Jack is the extremely charming polite boy, who has attracted a lot of not-so-charming/polite boys… [Sammy] Yes. That’s true. [Joey] I guess Joey is the most charming polite boy, compared to Jack, out of all of them, and he’s… less polite, and more charming, [Sammy] Joey can be polite when he wants to be. Joey’s flaw is his personality. [Sammy] That’s also Sammy’s flaw; he just has several other ones as well.
[Sammy] Susie, like me, has distinctive hair, so you might be able to pick her out of a crowd-- [Joey] Joey will describe her – sorry, I’m retroactively adding this – back at the meeting, Joey will describe her in WAY too much detail, like she is a famous actress. [GM] …and then Norman will get a photograph. [Sammy] YEAH, THAT’S SMART, [Jack] Sorry, I’m – I– if Norman has a photograph of Susie, is, like… I’m just picturing it as a like, best friends selfie. [Joey] YEAH no I was immediately like, Norman & Susie Best Friends Selfie please! Even though I don’t know if you could actually do that at the time, but. It’s in my heart now. [Jack] If anyone would know how to, Norman would. [Joey] THIS IS TRUE…
[GM] He is at the buffet, eating sausage rolls on toothpicks! And talking, very loud, to people! [Sammy] Okay, so we IMMEDIATELY know where Bertrum is at ALL TIMES, got it
[Joey] Joey doesn’t have the thing that my D&D character has where I can just SENSE magical objects in the room… [Sammy] I can sense Exactly One magical object!
[GM, as Nichole] They can’t do anything to people in a public venue like this! They’re not going to be sacrificing people on stage! [Sammy] I’m not so sure about that– [GM] The weird thing is – OH wow, okay – yeah, the weird thing is, it is insanely convincing, what she’s saying. [Sammy] …………. o..kay!! um, alright – [Joey, who spent the entire game with an impossible-to-fail boosted fast talk skill] OH NO, is SHE the muse with Fast Talk?! [GM] YES!
[Sammy] Because this makes perfect sense! And Sammy has made a good judgement call!
[GM] Nichole’s not competing, so– [Joey] NICHOLE, IF YOU’RE NOT COMPETING, then what kind of a “go out with a bang” is this?!? THERE’S ONLY TWO OF YOU! [Jack] She’s gonna go out with a different bang, she’s gonna have a LOT of alchohol for this.
[Joey] *very seriously* As amazing as the work Bertrum has done for Coney Island is, he does not care about this. [Joey] He only cares about the teeny sausages.
[Sammy] This is fast talk, right? This is not an ACTUAL thing – [Joey] I do believe, that in Joey’s heart, he absolutely believes this, because he is assigning them all positions in this scene, and he has given himself a Willy Wonka position at this moment,
[GM] Bertrum lets everyone applaud a bunch, and thanks everyone for the energy, as if it is for him,
[GM, as Peter] Oh, this guy. I don’t even live here anymore and I’ve heard he’s a chore to interview… or, to stop interviewing. [Joey] Please imagine that Joey gets this information, and his eyes do the little anime SHING! thing
[Henry] Henry is probably fluent in Joey, he’ll know what to do.
[Henry] Henry is going to assume it’s Plan B time, and just pick up Susie, and run! [Jack] *nervous singsong* We’re gonna get arrested for kidnappinggggggg...! [Sammy] We are gonna get arrested, we knew that going into this. I thought it was gonna be me, but then I got talked down, [Sammy] We really just shoulda sent Prophet into this, honestly. He wouldn’t have put up with this foolishness.
[Sammy] And also, Sammy does vaguely know how to fight; Jack does not. So there’s that, as well. [Jack] He’s soft and warm, like mashed potatoes. [Sammy] Well, that’s why we gave him a charm, so he can be a speedy mashed potato. [GM] Fast potato……..
[Joey] I do need to share this thought first, of like, this gun has gone off and people are panicking, and Bertrum is STILL talking, but the moment Joey moves the spotlight off of him, he’s like, “WHAT is going on?!” [Joey] “WHO!!!! HOW VERY DARE YOU!!!” [Sammy] I feel like he MIGHT react to the shot gun– [GM] *laughs* I’m being told that he would yell “Bloody scamper!” and yell at everyone to run, which is helping with the panic! [Sammy] *cracking up* tHANKS GIANDARK!
[Sammy] No sanity damage for Sammy right now. [Jack] Samity damage. [Sammy] Hm. [Jack] Samity Samage.
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mama-likes72 · 8 months
Text
Summer Road Trip 1991
A Danny Wagner (Greta Van Fleet) + OC
*This story is purely fanfiction based on real people in fictional situations. I have no personal knowledge or affiliation with Daniel Wagner, Joshua Kiszka, Jacob Kiszka, Samuel Kiszka, Greta Van Fleet or their brand.
This story is property of [email protected]. No part may be reproduced, copied, quoted or referenced without explicit written permission from the author. Please do not copy the storyline or plot. This is an original idea that we as authors and/or writers work hard to produce.
Warnings: Explicit unprotected sex, oral m&f, mild breath play, verbal conflict, drugs, excessive alcohol, MFM suggestive situations, adult language and situations. 18+ only
Approx 13.5 words
Chapter 1 One Way or Another by Blondie
I'm gonna getcha!
***This is written in spoken deep south Alabama vernacular. I guess that should be a warning, too!
"Jesus, where in the fresh hell are all the assholes going?" I asked Cami, my BFF 4-eva. We were on our way to the 1st concert of our month-long graduation gift trip courtesy of my daddy's whoring ways & his Diners Club Credit Card. Panama City Beach, Fla. to Jacksonville, Fla. isn't a stupid long ride. On 2 lane roads behind Pawpaw, it is taking 400 forevers. "Tricky Mickey knows he bought Whitesnake tickets?" Cami yells out over the screaming guitar riff of "Jump" by Van Halen on the radio. "Fuck no but he will when that bill hits the mailbox. I could give a shit!! He will pay it or I'm telling my mama about all of them whores he was screwing while they were still married!" I turn the radio down and roll the windows up. "He will pay a lot more in alimony than he will pay to Diners Club, so he better just pay that shit." We sat in silence; Cami finally changes the tape and we jam for the next couple of hours.
"Mallory, Daddy & I are going to separate for a time to see if we live better apart. You are old enough to understand that sometimes people are better as friends than husband and wife." I can still hear my mama drone on about how it's nothing to do with us kids and they are still our parents and love us, blah, blah, blah. The truth was they fought tooth and nail and it's a wonder my hellcat of a mother hadn't killed Tricky Mickey already. Jean Ann was a military brat raised by an officer single daddy which was unheard of in the '50s & '60s, her mama died when she was 5 and my aunt was 2. My granddaddy took his girls all over the USA and when he went to WW2 & the Korean War they stayed with his parents. Because he wanted them to be able to take care of themselves his raising was more about Women's Liberation & Empowerment and less about getting-a-husband to take care of them. This made an interesting mix of a hippie, free-love, flower child with a strong side of fuck men, I do what I want. So, the 3 girls of 5 kids in our bunch were hellions, to say the least. Me being the oldest & wildest by far. "You better slow the fuck down, if you wreck this fuckin' car Mickey will stroke twice and die!" Cami yells at me. "Hey, put on Little Red Corvette", I guess I was in LaLa land thinkin' about how Mickey got himself into this mess.
"This place is snazzy, and it has its vacancy sign on", I pull into a newly built Holiday Inn. "Cam, wait here let me see what Jacksonville has to offer in way of the top-of-the-line hotels next to the civic center" I giggled. I skip out of that lobby grinnin' like a jackass eatin' briars, humming "Material Girl" by Madonna. "OH, God Mallie, Tricky is gonna fuckin flip his lid", Cam screams as we pull forward into the reserved spot to park and unload. Truth, is it serves his ass right for screwing around all those years and even worse was he took me on his little excursions to keep from looking suspicious then bribes me to keep my mouth shut. So, he made Mallie the Monster both figuratively and literally.
"How many cans of AquaNet did you bring? Come tease the back of my hair. Hey, where's that roach we had? Oh my God, these jeans have my whole left ass cheek hanging out. Girl, you look fine as hell." We chatter back and forth while we dress, made our faces, and listened to the whole "Slippery When Wet '' cassette getting ready for the concert. The most exciting part was the newer band opening for Whitesnake called Bon Jovi, those motherfuckers are panty-dropping fine. "You got the key Mallie? You know your ass locks us out all the time." Cam snips. I flip her the bird and show her the key. Her bastard of a daddy would beat her to death if he knew where she was and what we were doing. What his mean ass don't know won't hurt her.
"General Admission this way" a huge sign outside led to a building line of teenage girls, headbangers, potheads, skaters & kids on the outer edges of society. Also an occasional groupie bragging, "I went down on Tommy Lee in Atlanta in April, he took a Polaroid and called me after, I bet he asks me to go on tour." You know the normal Bullshit! you hear waiting in line at a concert. Finally, the doors open, the push was unbelievable, and the heat even worse! Once Bon Jovi starts, we weave our way through people toward the front and rock out. Toward the end of their set, they threw out t-shirts and Cam's tall ass caught one of course. With Whitesnake headlining we decide to move back from the front. "Mall, let's move back some too many bitches pushing & I will fight a bitch tonight!" Camille Marshall is always ready to throw down.
We moved almost all the way back to the beginning of the floor to where the seats start and Cami said, "Let's go look for some fuck 'em & forget 'ems". Thanks, Jean Ann for the hippie-speak booty call wording. One thing about Whitesnake is they have some sexy music. Reefer, booze, sweaty bodies, half-dressed young people, and the occasional acid trip make for lots of horny kids. We went on a stroll, while we pass a joint back and forth. Stopping every once and a while to talk to someone who looks cool or to share a drag with a hot guy. Cami made a b-line toward a buff boy who was only about as tall as she is and holding a bottle of clear alcohol. He was her type built like a brick shit house, pretty & probably dumb as a box of rocks. She found her F n' F for the night. I grab the booze and decide I might as well get shit-faced and high to pass the time, luckily our hotel was one block down on the same side of the street. As the encore was ending some old, OLD dude dressed like he was 16 eases up next to me and tries his best to feel me up. Thank God for 4 years of softball and volleyball in high school and co-ed softball after graduation, I knock Chester the Molester upside his fuckin head. He decided to move on to easier prey.
"Count Chocula's child support, Cami can y'all stop all that fuckin noise it's bad enough you're screwing in the bed next to me and to add insult to injury he's so blasted he sounds like a hog going to slaughter" I screech having heard all the loud sex I could stand. I finally decide to go outside and smoke. This hotel is way too expensive for two 19-year-old girls to be staying in I thought, but hey Tricky's punishment and all. Plus, for the last year, I have been raising my younger siblings while mama worked selling real estate. We were not rich by any means, but we were what Southern standards considered "comfortable". Alabama's comfortable was a whole lot different from LA. Shit, maybe someday I will get to see California's version. The noise stops, and I could hear Cam showing ole' boy the door so I went inside and fell out."Gahh ho, close the curtains, my dome is cracking", I whined. "Get up lazy bones, we gotta check out in 20 minutes and today MTV Beach House starts its live in Daytona." Miss Hot Ass reminds me. Toothbrush, coffee & cig, in that order. Cam had already shoved her crap into her bag. I went to pee and brush my teeth, then take my arm, swipe all my make-up and shit into my beach bag. "Dumbass, that's how all your eyeshadow and powder get broken. You got a new Caboodle for Christmas", Bossy Butt informed me. "Ugh piss off, I'm hungover." I'm not up for lectures yet.
Thankfully Mom Camille drove all the way from Jacksonville to Daytona. I put the leather seat back and did my best not to hurl in my daddy's 1975 Cherry Red Corvette Stingray named Betty Bad Bitch. Another perk of above mentioned extortion. This bad baby attracts men like a Venus Flytrap attracts Flies. At least that's what one of Tricky's drinking buddies told him about women and this car. As soon as we hit A1A it was time for a Dr. Pepper and some greasy fast food to absorb some of the battery acid in my gut leftover from last night. A cheeseburger happy meal and a quick change into my bikini later I felt ready to conquer the world, slowly, but conquer no less. "How are we gonna play this Mal? Did Tricky get us a room next to the Beach House?" Camille asked with suspicious eyes. "Hell, we won't know till we ask '', I pulled into a less upscale hotel than the previous one to see. Oh, sweet Jesus, I thought thank you for sun, sand & hot summertime hunks, amen. The blast of cold air coming out of Econo Lodge was heavenly, the line was not. A Hyperactive girl does not do well in lines. As some of you know, good luck doesn't last forever...... I spent 2 hours waiting to check into a hotel that 75% of the kids in the room didn't even have reservations for (Yep, Tricky again). "Commander Camille for the win! Thank the Lawd you made me get up and the drive was only an hour and a half, we still have time to make the early party before Marky-Mark & the Funky Bunch tonight!", I squealed in her face just to irritate her. She loves me though. What in the whole wide-ass world was I doing on this platform in a white tank top and my swim bottoms only, you ask? Well, tequila has this magic ability to make clothing disappear, or mine anyway. Was there a chance in hell that in my small po-dunk town somebody would see this on MTV? You betcha & there is a tattle-tail around every freakin' corner. Sorry, back to the tank top and platform. As usual, wherever there are a huge number of drunk,high, and horny teen/college-age kids there are wet t-shirts & wet boxer short contests. It's a given! Because of said tequila, my mama's "you can do anything girl" raising, and a good amount of whip-its; here I am shaking my tits. These titties were homegrown and not paid for circa 1989 post- everyone else in the world my age!! Late bloomer and all; but when they did grow, man o' man, the butchy ballplayer muscles got em’ sittin' up high. I digress, all the boob shaking didn't make a difference, old ho' bag that won flashed her bush. They ain't no way in hell I'm showing my cooter-cat to all these people and TV cameras. I don't even like Coors Light, a bucket of beer was the prize.
After several drinks and even more tokes, we strolled back to the motel to get the sluttiest outfits we brought to see Marky-Mark's fine-ass MF'n self. That boy is so fine I'd suck his daddy's dick to get to him; Or at least that's what Richard Pryor said once. Cam begged so sweetly, "Mallie, you know you are my favoritest bestest frand in this big old galaxy, let me wear your ripped, red Rolling Stones t-shirt, pretty pleasssssse". "Lay it on thick why don't you" I mumbled tossing the shirt over my shoulder. "We gotta hurry hooker the cocksuckers will be clawing to get at the stage tonight!", Cam screamed.
digging for her key Cherry Kissing Potion lip gloss, two joints, 1 pint of vodka, and 1 bottle of Dr Pepper. "Shit sis, you gonna take the shitter too?" I joked. She gave me a flash of
her all but naked ass under her barely there blue jean mini skirt. I thought to myself, "dude she looks hot as fuck" at 5'10", dirty blonde hair with sun-lightened streaks, nice perky boobs and ass for days, she doesn't have any problems pulling them in. Her only flaw and flaw may be debatable, depending on who you ask, is she is as loud as she is tall. Like bullhorn loud, like sonic boom loud, like atomic bomb loud, for me it's just a minor distraction but for others it's a complete turn off (internal hysterical laughter). "Can you believe MTV didn't even card us?" I was astonished, I mean the drinking age was 21 and no matter how hot we were I don't think we look 21. "He's hoping you give him head in the alley after spending an hour and a half watching Mark Walberg shake his dick" Cam informed me, looking smug."Well, depending on what kind of Fuck 'em N Forget 'em's are around tonight a head switch might be in order, he ain't ugly" I sassed back.
Due to the time of year in Southeast Florida, we had plenty of hours of daylight left before the pre-openers set started at 8pm. The too drunk to move were passed out in lounge chairs around the club's lower pools deck and middle sun deck, those sucka's were going to hatin life tomorrow morning when the hangover and extreme sunburn work that ass over. Some of them would end up in the ER with alcohol poisoning because this would be their first time unsupervised in the wild. Thank the lawd, Mickey and Jean Ann stopped fighting long enough to take us kids on vacation all over the place. They also managed to buy a couple of condos at Panama City Beach, Fla. and a deep-sea fishing boat. Funny, Jean Ann hated the beach?? Tricky Mickey kept one like a bachelor pad and the other that me, my sister Becca and our friends used on weekends and all summer. Trickey had cheating down to a fine art baby. Anyway, you don't care about that shit do you? "Ho' you done let that beer get hot and I done ask you 10 times to go dance" Cam bitched me out. "Yo' I was in Neverland trying to put the voodoo on Marky Mark to get in them Calvin Kleins to see if he's the real deal or if it is just a trouser sock... Marie La' Vaux ain't got shit on me baby!" I cackled. Cami grabbed my hand, and we slowly edged our way toward the main stage without fanfare to get as close as possible without being total jackasses.
You know a fatty of icky sticky is a great way to move through a crowd without pissing anyone off. A hit here and a puff there, "OH, hey my friend is up there catch ya later" and you move a little further. It took us close to 20 minutes to get 1 row back from the stage. Now the trick is to find some meathead who looks like he's hanging with the dudes and ease up on him with an accidental "bump". A sweet, pouty I'm sorry later and you are snuggled up FRONT ROW little spoon style body blocked by Sly, offensive tackle at LSU. Big Boy and his buddy's will smoke a little, drink a lot, be great shields from the push and who knows he might turn out to be your F'n'F for the night. College football players always love to have their egos stroked. A local DJ comes out on the stage and the crowded bandshell area finally quiets down, "Welcome to the 6th Annual MTV Beach House Daytona 1991", he shouted. The crowd lost their minds. "This weekend we showcase YO! MTV Raps, you are gonna get to see some fly guys and hear some dope rhymes", he bellowed over the rising volume. "Up 1st is the Latin Lover, Mr Caliente, Geraldo give it up Daytona, show him what's up!" The DJ pumped up the crowd headed off the stage. Cam and I were holding hands. underneath the big boys’ arms, "Have you heard of this guy?" I asked. She shrugged her shoulders. LSU shifted around behind me, and I caught a whiff of his Obsession cologne. For true, I bout jump his bones right then and there. Obsession is my fav to say the least. Geraldo did sing a song and recognized the video was getting moderate play on MTV "Rico Suave". His set was fairly short, there are quite a few acts tonight.
"What up A1A, homies of the 904, reppin' it up!" shot off the long and lanky Vanilla Ice. The volume from the girls in the crowd told you immediately he was getting fucked multiple times this night. I looked over at Cam and her dude Chuck looked like might be trying to give her a hickey. I thought, he's awfully tall for her to be loved up on. Mr. Ice himself crip walked himself right in front of us. I guess we weren't into the big time Banilla Icee (ha-ha). I mean the song was catchy, but he didn't trip our trigger. A short break with loud techno blasting through the huge speakers on either side of the stage had us all pumped up. The lights went black, total silence, then the crowd erupts, "MARKY MARKY MARKY '' and nothing. I was thinking maybe they were having electrical issues. Serious Silas asks "What up man? Who runnin' this shit?" I shrugged my shoulders; the crowds began to grow restless and get louder. After 3 or 4 minutes a bass line so deep and so loud that it drove through our body from our feet to the ends of our hair. The collective gasp from 10,000 people was awe-inspiring! The spotlight popped on a fine specimen of a man wearing a Celtic jersey, long jean shorts, Jordan's and a cap turned backwards. I screamed so loud I busted my own eardrums. Camille looks like she died and went to horndog heaven! He is a beautiful man, he did more to get guys laid is a 90-minute set, than these dudes have done collectively all night. "Goodnight Daytona!", Marky yelled into the microphone, prancing off the stage without singing my song. Cami said "Sike" with a big grin. The beat to "Good Vibrations'' dropped and I spazzed out! Neither Silas nor I could rap for shit but we both knew all the words to this song. I felt Sly’s hands around my waist and suddenly I am headed up. Plopping down on his shoulders made me so close that his (Marky Fine Ass) sweat could hit me. Chuck had Cami up in no time and she was even closer due to her height. The beach god's smiled on us that night, sending Marky over to us. That motherfucker leaned over, he touched Cam's hair and rubbed along my jaw. I nearly fainted. I can die happy and I'm not even a Rapper Chick. HE IS JUST FINNNNEEE! As LSU lifted me down he said, "Let's go get a drink, yeah?" My heart had not slowed down and I just nodded my head yes. He led all four of us toward the beach deck bar, we found a booth open and sat. "We'll go grab drinks, what do you guys want?” Chuck asked politely. "Sex on the beach for me", from Cami and "Vodka Cranberry" I huffed out. We sat exchanging small talk. Silas Thibodaux and Chuck were Juniors at LSU, they were here just for the MTV Concert weekend (also on daddy's dime I bet).
“Mallory Mae, you fast ass, that boy got you hook, line and sinker!'' Camille cackled like a lunatic. She thinks a dude I met from LSU in Daytona screwed his way into my heart. As if! I rolled my eyes, “Bullshit, but he did teach me some sinful shit called Tantric sex! That mess is koo-koo for Coco Puffs!” Cami’s attention perked up, dying to know more. “ When we get to Miami, we are going straight to the nearest book store and finding a book on it “, I told her, fanning my face. I went on to tell her about the Phys credit and the silent, still, slow shower antics. She finally was all hot, bothered, and done with the conversation. Because we didn't have to be in Miami at any certain time, we decided to take the T-tops off of Betty Badass and cruise to South Beach.
Art Deco hotels, old movie theaters, ornate offices, South Beach was beautiful and gave the impression of old Hollywood. I could imagine 1930 gangsters and their ‘dolls’ headed into The Greystone ready for a night of smooth jazz. “Mallie, are you really going to find a bookstore?”Cam asked me, looking suspicious. I replied “You betcha bitch, you gonna learn summin’ today. Majestic at South Beach was an Art Deco beauty that had a fresh coat of shell pink paint and an application to be put on the list of National historical sites. Yay Mickey, he does listen to me sometimes, who knew? Wonders never cease! I jumped out of Betty, grabbed my Van’s fanny pack and headed inside while Camille asked the security guy about a bookstore. Trickey booked an uppity suite for us this time not like the almost dump in Daytona. He must have been especially worried about his secrets the day he booked this place! Gahh, a suite, valet, concierge and a fully stocked mini bar?? Mickey thinks I know something I do not know… Myself, mental note: FBI this situation upon returning to Alabama.
I flopped down on the queen size bed next to Cam “Sister, Tricky Mickey up to no good, he ain’t laying out dough like this for no whorin’, Jean Ann better watch her back!” Camille sat up huffin’ “he betta not mess with mama he’ll end up in lead shoes in the Alabama River. You know Grandmother Dismukes don’t play.” “Yow'' I hollered “I’m dead meat I aint called Mrs Milford in 3 days I'm up shit creek without a paddle!!” I scrambled to the phone on the table by Cami's bed dialed 9 and the home phone number that we had since 1974. “Hello Milford Residence'' a stranger answered the phone “Umm, yea can I speak to Jean Ann?” I asked politely. “Yes, Ma’am, may I ask who is calling? The disembodied voice asked just as politely. What in the hell is going on? Did someone die??? I am getting fired up. “Her daughter Mallory Mae Milford!” I clipped out, done with the interrogation. “Hold Please”, Ms All Business went to get mama. “What in the depths of hell is going on at that house mama and who answered the phone? She sounded like Nurse Ratchet in secretary form." I blabbed on not giving Jean Ann a chance to respond. “Hush! Watch your mouth young lady, I WILL put hot sauce on it when you get home. Nurse Ratchet, shit, I mean Ms. Pritt is the children’s new nanny. They have to have someone to look after them while I am working because your flighty father is unreliable at best. Grandmother Dismukes says "that she has the ladies in her Sunday School class praying for you due to you being down there where the devil runs amok and you are a lot like Mickey’s relatives” She told me before sputtering out a poorly contained giggle. I gasped, “Oh, my delicate sensibilities wouldn’t know what Satan running amok looked like if I saw it right before my very eyes. Also, tell her and the handkerchief harridans Thank You” Mama gave me an update on the hellions and their failure to ‘warm up to’ Ms Pritt which they are currently calling Ms Chit. I told her she was going to have a Mary Poppins situation going on, one after the other leaving damaged for life. “People need to be made of better constitution’s and stiffer upper lips. On Reagan’s jelly beans the amount of money I'm putting out she should let them tie her to the bannister, get untied and whip their asses, feed, bathe, and put them to bed everyday without a complaint.” Well if you cannot tell my mouth came from Jean Ann and a long line of Dismukes women, with money came the mouth, Grandmother for instance; she had her husband sent to the country for his 'health'. He lived there peacefully and she did what the hell she wanted! Sorry, too much? Moving on after the threat of great pain or having to get a part time job when I get to Tuscaloosa I swore I would call every 2 days. Jean Ann ain’t no Bullshit!
“Jesus H Christ, Hello McFly?” Cami bellowed as soon as the phone hit the receiver. “Legit, if LSU did a quintillionth of a percent of anything in this book I got short-sticked this weekend". I did my best to keep a straight face "He would've been too bossy for you anyway". She shook her head and said "Ain't no fuckin way ho' Ain't no fuckin way". "I swear to god, the first class I'm signing up for at Bama is Tantric Yoga. These mofo's won't know what hit em!"I spouted off as I stood up. The TV in her room was tuned to South Beach TV and was giving details about the 'Clash of the Titans' rock tour. Cami squealed, "Yayyyy, I can not wait! Question, Does Tricky know he sprung for the meet and greet after?" Cami is sure one day I will go too far and Mickey will murder me. But you best believe this chick always gotta card up her sleeve just in case! In this case, Grandmother Dismukes is my Ace-in-the-Hole.
Unlike Jacksonville and Daytona our plan here is to take the party bus from the Majestic to a huge rock-n-roll bar several blocks away. That way we can safely move around without walking. "Cam, what does the back of my head look like?" I asked like a dumbass. Dead-eyed bitch said "Like rats live in it". Perfect I thought I sprayed about a can of Aqua Net on that mess and squirted Loves Baby Soft on my skin, myself to myself again, you look bitchin'! Shoving her shit into her Santa Cruz Skate fanny pack she asked, like every single time we walk out of a door or car "you got the key Psycho, you know you lock us out!" Every fuckin time. The party bus runs 365 days a year to haul drunks all over South Beach, there's drunks 24/7.
We got off with a crowd of people at the Aces & Fates Saloon, a popular local and celebrity bar. The line was around the building, the bouncers were pulling chick's out of the line based on their looks, who has the least clothes on and which ones are the likeliest to do 'favors' for entry. Bless Grandmother and her bridge buddy's trips to the Indian Casino down here, Jean Ann got us a hook up. We waltzed up like we owned that shit, told the muscle our names, the rope opened and in we went. No Bullshit! Grandmother's Bridge club came down here, played the owner's mom and caught her frail self cheating. Thank god for the old eagle eye. As I cleared the entrance out of the corner of my eye I saw some of the most beautiful black ringlet curls ever. My thought is that it is one tall chick!
"Bitch! Can you beee-lieve this shit? This blows my dome!" An amazed Camille whispered (not a whisper as you know),"Let's look for a table before they let the rest of the savages in here". We scanned the enormous bar, tables were spread out with a huge S shape bar snaking throughout. In the center of the bar was an aisle way where bartenders and bar-backs were gearing up for a busy night. This was incredible, Cami pulled my arm toward a tall top table near the stage. She sat down and I offered "what ya drinkin' heifer? I'll go to the bar." "Shots?" She quizzed me. I nodded and asked "what kind?" She just shrugged her shoulders, I shot her a nasty smile and headed to the bar with purpose. The bar wasn't so crowded yet since they were still culling the herd outside. Once they start letting the line in it will fill up quickly. A woman who could be 25 or 40, (she looked that good) smiled and asked "what'll ya have sweetheart?" I slide the Diners Club across the bar top "we will start off with 2 double shots of Jose' white and 2 Corona's and a tab, Thanks love". I asked for $20 on the card and stuffed it into her tip jar. Balancing 2 shots and 2 beers were a handful, bodies were beginning to pour in, I nearly collided with a tall, thin athletic body. A beauty of a man with perfect, classic features, long, silky hair, a threadbare AC/DC T, black Levi's and some beat Converse sneaks. "Oh shit honey, I just about steamrolled you '', he said surprised. His accent was North West or New England I guessed, he offered to grab a couple of the drinks and walk them to the table with me.
"You are a piece of work" Cam shook her head as the dude walked away after I thanked him. I'm like "Hey, he about knocked me down, I didn't approach him. Piss off!" Ms. Sass Ass "Whatever, As-If you wouldn't ride him like the mechanical bull at Gilley's". We both dissolved into a fit of stupidity. "Once Bitten Twice Shy" by Great White came on Cami and I rocked out. "Mama's little baby likes it short and sweet, My My My once bitten twice shy baby" we sang loudly thanks to our friend Jose'. "Mallie, Tequila Baby is standing over there by the stage talking to a bunch of guys, surely they aren't the house band at this fine establishment" Camille mused. I looked over, it was a mixed matched group of dudes, young, old, metalheads, skaters, stoners, short, tall and everything in between. "Naw, dipshit unless they're a marching band…" I looked at her all crazy. She clicked tongue "Fuck off". By the time we got done with our bullshit the crowd near the stage had mostly wandered off. For the next couple of hours the bar DJ played everything from Anthrax to Zeppelin. We had a blast! Mostly doing shots in between Dr Pepper and Corona's, we even smoked. The crowd had gotten heavy and the smell of Sativa wafted all over.
I had all but forgotten my little exchange with the silky-hair boy, about half way through the opening cover band's set Cami Keen Eye spotted his pretty self with some short dudes at the bar. She elbowed the dog shit outta me "Mallory, look at the bar", super ear piercing LOUD and pointing…"there's that guy, he's got friends go bump into him again". For shit, Camille Lane's voice carries much better than the falsetto coming from Mr I Think I'm David Lee Roth' on stage. Jimmy Carter's Peanuts they all snapped their heads around and looked us straight in the face. Dig a hole! even drunk and high we have the decency to look humiliated for a second, then confused as fuck. All three of them grin like jackasses eatin' briars, like all the very same grin, No Bullshit, like Triplets dropped directly from Heaven's Gate's. Dear Lord! CAMI IS DUMBSTRUCK, "sweet baby Vince Neil, I have died and gone to short man Heaven'' she actually whispered like for real. The tall one did a little wave, turned, grabbed his drink and led the other two to our table. "Hey ladies, are you having a good time? Looks like you are for sure", yep smooth as Tennessee Whiskey this one. I've already got roped in one time on this trip by a slick, sweet talkin' man, not again. "We are Romeo, this is Camille and I'm Mallory, how's it?" I said with just a dab of an edge to my voice, not wanting to appear too drunk or too easy.
Finally one of the short boys spoke up "I'm Josh this is Jake my twin and that asshole is our LITTLE brother Samuel. Watch out he's bad news for chicks". How cute can you be? I thought, myself said you could put them in a little cage or doll house, like play pretties! Hello Nurse, the dingbat next to me looked like Roger Rabbit with his eyes bugged out over Jessica. Jesus, desperate often sis? The super cute shorty's were zeroed in on Cam who in truth was taller than both, lookin like a damned fool at them, lookin at her. I swear to god they both looked like they could bury their heads in the big ole tits pushed up and out of the bustier Cami was wearing. Damn Ms Double Dutch may hit the 2 for 1 lottery this evening! Obviously Samuel and I were pinging back and forth looking at their stupefied faces. "Ever seen that shit before dude?" I asked. All he said was "Fuckin' Gnarly!". "Let's go to the bar and smoke, these mofo's gonna short circuit soon and their heads are gonna blow off, don't wanna be near that carnage!" I smarted off. He just laughed and laughed. "It wasn't that funny dummy", I thought out loud. "Oops, mouth moves before my mind does, sorry" I gave him a half ass apology. "Nah dude, no prob."
We stood at the bar and smoked a couple of cigs while sneak watching the show of Camille and the 'twins', sho' as shit one on either side vying for her attention. Not pushy almost like they were each other's cheerleader. "Hmm, not sure what we are watching go down but hey if they into it I'm sure Cami is too!" Myself again out-damn-loud. He gagged quite dramatically "Fuckin' A Hun, I do not need that Grody mental image, Jesus I'm scarred for life!" My brain fizzled. Have we just met the female version of Mallory Mae? Holy hell, the world ain't ready. "Sir, I believe we were separated at birth, any chance your mama knows a man named Mickey Milford?" I asked graveyard serious. He looked dead in my face and said "My pop was a musician and traveled a lot Mama K went with him… so maybe?" Yep, he's my twin!
"Ok, dear brother let's attend nearer the stage as the much lauded entertainment for the evening is just a hare's breadth from appearing to our utmost joy" proper english rolled off my tongue as easily as redneck does. Sam lost his shit! "Yeah so our best friend is probably madder than hell we were going for drinks when we ended up detouring to your table. Just be prepared for an ass chewing, sorry." Big ole puppy dog eyes made me want to squeeze his face off and kill the dragon for my sweet princess. "Aww darling, my bite is definitely worse than my bark, I'll protect you." We began to weave around bodies until we made it up to the front left of the stage where we had seen him standing earlier. At the table he stopped was a tall, gorgeous, curly black haired, greek god with his hands on his hips and so yummy. Myself, RuhRoh Scooby he is madder n all fuck!! "Goddamn it Samuel Francis Kizska, where were you? Where the fuck are the twins? You know better than to leave them alone together, Josh is going to start jabbering on about some shit and Jake will drink to drown him out! For god's sake I carried him out of here last night on my fucking back. Son of a bitch puked on me. One of these days I'm going to choke the living hell out of you!" Adonis ranted on and on. Not that I cared, he was so hot pissed. Sammy finally said "Aww hell Dad, you know I can't be trusted. I can't look after myself or anyone else. You should have supervised us. It's your fault we wandered off". Michelangelo's David's face was extremely red, like really stroke-like red, for shit medical emergency red. Me and my brilliance spoke up "Honey, you should probably take a deep breath, get a drink of water and calm down. You look like a heart attack waiting to happen". Furious eyes hit me, I thought I was 'Drop Dead Fred' " Lowly and slowly the words "Who the fuck are you?" Hisses between teeth clamped so tight I thought they would break. Wait a damn minute myself said, "Who the fuck you talkin to fuck-face? It's damn sho' not me. I'll fight a motherfuckin man just like a woman, grumpy ass bitch!" This mofo was fixin' to get some tornado if he did pull his shit up by the short hairs. Just then Samuel pointed at the asshat, "She will beat your ass! You know better than to play with fire!" Mr His daddy didn't teach him how to speak to a lady (even a wild ass one) stomped off like a toddler who didn't get his way. Good riddance dickhead. But come back soon, just keep your trap shut, you're better seen and not heard. When I'm right, I'm right…
Not too much later here comes a butthurt boy with Cam and two moon-faced twins trailing behind her. Sammy and I have started a fatty to calm my rage. The whiner had the good sense not to make eye contact with me as the roadies for Temple of the Dog prep the gear for their set. The threesome had no idea there was even any tension. Sammy was yammering on about some restaurant that we should try. I tried to sneak a peek at Hades and the fucker caught me. So I flipped him off. Who is acting like a child now, Mal? Sam, "Hey, Mallie let's hurry and go get some shots before Temple starts, MotherLove was Righteous!" Sam asked around for orders and we walked arm and arm to the bar, my girl was busting her ass. I bet she made the cheese in this joint! "Six double shots of Jose' Please and Thank You" fast talkin' Sammy didn't have any problems getting in panties. His slick ass has got a sex appeal that takes you unawares, he jokes and smiles then all of the sudden he has you hot-to-trot. The women in this bar DO NOT have a prayer against this honeypot. We made it back to the table, stank face and the 3-some were laughing and talking up a storm. Until we arrived. Oscar (the grouch) got a shitty look and turned away. I figured I may as well push some buttons and get my jollies until the band starts. I slid up next to him, handed him his shot "Here my darlin' you look like you need this. You know stress is bad for you and really doesn't improve your chances of getting laid. Well unless its a chick likes to fight and then fuck. Kinda like me." I tapped his lips, pulled a couple of his curls and bounced back to where I came from looking as innocent as a newly winged angel. I heard a grunt and the shot glass slam on the table. For the first time in an hour the 3-some was looking at someone other than each other. Everyone was giving the ill-pill what the hell look. I just smiled and gave him a wink. He didn't know whether to shit or git off the pot. Bless his heart I took pity on him and said "Ok, you clowns need to take a turn schlepping drinks over since the waitress can't get through the crowd". Sam raised his hand "I'll go". "Of course you will sugar and the 3 stooges will scurry along with you" I bossed. Once they got out of hearing distance I again ease around to where he is standing, not really to push his buttons but to wave the white flag. As soon as he realizes I'm headed his way he begins to back up once he has backed himself against the wall. There is nowhere for him to go. I gingerly made my way over to him, I stopped just before we were touching. I didn't say a word nor look up at him. I just stood there. I could feel him looking at me and it felt kinda tense. I put my hand in the middle of his chest and finally looked up and back down "Beautiful Darling, you are too handsome to be stressed to such extremes. You should find a hobby, sport or an outlet, the stress from raising 3 feral men-children will put wrinkles on your perfect face". When we finally made eye contact I gave him my most dazzling smile. I saw the irritation on his face soften. Just a tiny glimmer of softness under that cold exterior. 'Sike', he removed my hand, nodded toward the stage and that was that.
Let me tell you, if you love rock, you have to listen to Chris Cornell of Soundgarden. His voice is raspy, soulful, and it saturates you to your bones. Also, he is lovely and has long, dark brown curls that I swear I've seen before.. ya already know! Yummm! Little Mr Piss Pot is forgotten and my attention span of a fruit fly has moved along sir! I kill me! For the most part the 3-some have returned to their own bodies and are all entranced in the music too. I sway and move to the beat, almost involuntarily, Cami doing the same. Myself, bitch this is how cults are formed. My reply to me is shut the fuck up! Even the Kiszka boys are moving languidly. The music stops and Chris begins to talk about their friend Andrew Wood for whom Temple of the Dog was formed. I was crying by the time he was done speaking, most of this hardcore rock bar was fighting back tears. They finished the set with 'Say Hello 2 Heaven'. It was melancholy, but also reminded everyone to cherish their friends and families. Cornell emphasized smack (Heroin) was a killer that virtually no one gets clean. The band called for a toast for Andrew then left the stage to a tremendous roar and a standing ovation.
It didn't take long for the party to return and a weed cloud to hover over the low slung ceiling. For shit! I hated to be sad. I'd rather be mad. Oh yeah, the perfect target was standing right behind me. I whipped my head around and leveled his rude ass with a glare. "Darlin' I bet your mama is a fine upstanding lady but didn't she teach ya not to be rude?" I laid on the sugar just to cover the venom in my voice. The Toucan loves Froot Loops, this mofo grins so fucking big that I get dizzy, like physically dizzy. I don't know whether to kiss him or kick him. My moron self just turns around and faces an empty stage, like a full-on goober. I feel Silly Sam loop an arm around my neck and giggle in my ear "That's Daniel, he normally is calm, cool and collected. The twins were ape shit last night and he's our dad sooo…. He didn't get much sleep, but he got plenty of puke and tears!" Poor angel baby, I thought he needs rest and TLC, yes ma'ammy ma'am! Hello Nurse! I can offer my services, I told myself. Sammy looked down at me quirked his eyebrow and said "Well fuckin, the sleeper strikes again. Didn't see that shit coming." I was shaking my head trying to get the two brain cells in there to bang together and help me figure out who in the fiddly fuck 'the sleeper' is.
It must have been apparent to everyone in the blasted world who it was but me. You could tell they felt sorry for the Ditz! "I'm headed to the bar. '' I mumbled, making a quick exit. Lawd hammercy, my face felt like it was blood red and hotter than the devil's armpit. Thank the hand up Howdy Doody's ass I ain't got to see these boys after tonight. Tequila, wonderful mind numbing, Tequila; do your mojo papi! I decided to have a shot with Jose' right there at the bar, one led to another and before you know it Camille came to fetch me from the dangerous Jose'. "Shit fire, Mallory Mae, please tell me you were NOT shooting Jose' all this time? Maybe we should just go. Are you ok? Feeling suicidal or homicidal or …..? Listen, I'm just trying to judge your damage." Cami looked terrified (nah, but mildly concerned anyway, the drama of it all) "You are Hella chill are you ready to scrap? Answer me BIOTCH!" Her patience has worn thin. "For the love of Skid Row, Camille Lane ya need to smoke and quit havin' a cow" I told her shrugging my shoulders.
Ms Not-so-happy-camper, drug me back to her lover boys (notice the s) table. "Hell sister, I thought you got kidnapped." Smart ass Sam chirped. He had the decency to hug me to soften the tenderness of me being the butt of the earlier joke. I sassed loud enough for the whole table to hear "Naw babe, I went on a date with Jose' to nurse my wounded pride. He fixed me right up after a few 'words' of encouragement. He reminded me that my blow job game is top notch and I pulled up here on a cherry 1975 Corvette named Betty. Further more me being nice doesn't mean I'm trying get fucked and there is dick for days in this bitch". I flipped my hair back and put a sickening sweet smile on my face and looked around the table. Needless to say all attention was on me. I busted a gut, next Cam started howling and in short order everyone but Sir Light Bright was dying, like tears rolling laughing. Mr Sour Puss wasn't amused. Well I'll be damned, we're back to that.
We decided to dance, in a rock bar the dancing was more headbanging and less grooving but by 1 AM; between the booze and green we were blitzkrieged. Nobody gave a hippo hell how they looked (like spaz's for-sure)! The non-dancers Jake and Dishrag Dan stayed at the table to shoot the shit. Cami and I tore it up, "Pour Some Sugar On Me" by Def Leppard came on, myself said 'now it's playtime'. I cruised near our table and did my best Tawny Kitaen dance from the Whitesnake video. Jake drifted off to 'break the seal' or hide from the escaped mental patient (Me, myself & I, the psycho trio). Sam was eating my foolishness up, delighting in Danny the Dud's torture. I really wasn't being mean, only trying to get a laugh or any reaction at all. Nope, Nada, Negatory!!
Pivot Mallory, I thought, drunk Mal's decision making was awful at best. I took Deadpan Daniel by the hand and pulled him towards the bar. "Come do a shot with me as an apology for YOU acting like a horse's ass. You are way too pretty to be so angry, you know your face will freeze like that huh?" I blabbed. This sour green apple has said exactly five words to me the entire night, 'Who the fuck are you?' I'm surely not used to the sheer self restraint he is showing by neither giving in nor strangling the life out of me due to pure irritation. Myself said 'You know you are an obnoxious bitch sometimes' (tonight). I shook it off and decided to buy shots until I passed out or he broke. Listen people, I'm that idiot that drinks, barfs and drinks more. You know talking to Ralph makes room for Jose'. In a bar full of noise we stood side by side, shot for shot without as much as looking at each other. After 3, I needed to evacuate the contents of both my bladder and belly. "Hey dude, I'm sorry for being a dick. I'm headed to the bathroom. I'll be back." I apologized feeling guilty for being an aggravating bitch and hustled to blow chunks.
Even at 1:30 AM there was a line to the Ladies Room. I thought 'Oh No, I'll be dipped in dog shit, Men's it is'. I strolled into the Men's toilet without looking at the guy using the urinal. Slammed myself in the stall and copped a squat. Being from the south I was 'Bush-broke' in other words I can squat to pee outside even drunk as hell without pissin' on my clothes. My instant regret was not dragging the overful trash can into the stall with me. I mean this place was filthy but I damn sho' ain't puking on the floor and getting me that shit on my new heels. Once I peed 16 gallons, I wiped and flushed just in time. I mean I had this down to an art. I can puke into a cup without getting it on me if I'm in a bind. Binge drinker? Who Mallory Mae? After the first round hacking without even touching the walls steady me, I heard the other door burst open. Hey, drunk fuck please don't mess with me let me die in peace I prayed. Stomp!Stomp!Stomp! "Hey, uhh Mallory, are you in here?" Lord is this my punishment for being an asshole, extortion, drinking, a little reefer? I questioned as I gagged out all of my darling Jose' into the nasty bar room commode. "Open the fucking door, now godamn it I’m in no mood for anymore fuckery!" He roared. I ain't gonna lie it hit me the 'I need a spanking DADDY!' But a dry heave hit me in the gut right after so the mood was over. After what seemed like 2 hours passed with me dry heaving and gagging I heard a soft knock on the stall door. "Uhh, hey, listen, I, can you just open the door? Those 3 clowns and their puppet master are going to kill if I dont bring you back unharmed", Desperate Danny coerced me. "Emmm, (insert dry heave) God No, why didn't (gag) Camille (a little puke) come?" I asked between vomits. Snap, Crackle and Pop I wish I could crawl in a hole and disappear. "Ooo, come on you're not the only person I've held their hair while they've prayed to the porcelain god", he informed me with a snicker. That little laugh was a siren song, so I immediately opened the door. I'm sure I looked like a disaster. I had emptied my tank and was smiling ear to ear. Dazzling Darling was looking pretty relieved that I opened the door. "You kosher?" He quizzed. Wobbled to the sink still smiling. "Yep, ready for round 2, maybe less Jose' and more Mary.." I said winking while I sloshed water around in my mouth to get rid of the god awful taste. Another couple of gargles and some boozer coming in to piss asking us "Y'all in here fuckin?" And it was time to go back out to the circus.
Dan Da' Man walked me back through the thinned out crowd to Cami, the twins, Smoochin' Sammy and some 6' tall chick with legs up to her chin. She really looked like a supermodel. I was gobsmacked for a second. The twins and Cami were yakking away but not quite as lovey as before. "Cam, I'm for shit, done for the night. I gotta go brush my fucking teeth like now", I told her interrupting the 3-some's convo. She cut her eyes at me like she wasn't ready to go. I assured her "I will catch the party bus back and you stay with our new friends and close this place down." She did look a little guilty as she gave me a pout, "No you can't go on the bus alone there could a serial killer on the loose". My reply brought a laugh to everyone but the Amazon who was attached to Silver‐tongued Samuel like a leech. "Lawd a mercy, all I'd have to do is breathe this cat shit breath on him and he'd be begging me to kill him!" Dead serious I followed up with "If I could find the cat I'd skin his ass". That one was a flop. I gathered my shit; cigs, lips gloss, missing lighter that reappeared, went around the table and hugged everyone but Amazon, she was still leechin' and assured Camille that I was too loud for anyone to kidnap. And furthermore Jean Ann had sent all us girls to self defense classes, remember aim for the balls and the throat. I could tell she was torn so I quickly kissed her chin and took off for the door.
I booked it to the bar entrance as fast as my legs would go knowing good and well if her tall ass got after me, she would catch me in no time. I walked about 20 steps from the door to the bus stop. According to the sign I only had to wait 4 minutes for the next bus. I slid up next to the building under the lights near two bouncers smoking and shooting the shit to wait. I smoked a cigarette and thought about the music I heard tonight, I wasn't a music snob. I generally like sounds across all genres. My ADHD affected the amount of time I obsessed over a sound or band. It could be hours or months or some songs it could be since I was a child. My whacky brain marched to its own drummer! Squeaking brakes on the bus pull me out of my head. I managed to safely wait for the bus alone. GO MALLIE MAE! As I board. I glance around for a seat near the driver (safety 1st). Lots of skezzo's on a party bus at 2:45 AM. I flop down with an old girl in an apron who looked like she work a party not went to a party. She looks at me with kind eyes "Honey, did you have fun?" She asks. "Yes Ma'am, I did until I overdid it." I admit. "I have issues with moderation or lack of.
The driver held the bus for a couple of stragglers and away we went. Ms Darlene, my friend on the bus, was headed home from her shift at one of the dance clubs on Ocean Drive. The party bus is cheaper and drops her closer to home than the city transit, she explains. Our conversation lulls so I lean back and close my eyes hoping to drown out the loud boisterous singing coming from the back of the bus. "Mallory", I hear. Dear sweet baby Jesus,I nearly pee my pants, Dastardly Dan is 2 seats in front of me. When will the punishment end, questioning the Almighty. One eye cracked open. I peeked out, shit it's him. Lid closed, don't answer, maybe he will disappear, you dingbat you're not 5. I look at him full on for a minute then shut my peepers to continue my meditation. The noise, jostling and now nerves have my tummy in an uproar AGAIN!
Sweet Ms Darlene pats me on the leg, tells me to drink lots of water, take some aspirin and not to party so hard tomorrow night (tonight). I thank her sweet self, tell her it was nice to meet her and wait to join the drunks exiting the bus. At this stage of the night my sneak factor is in the negatives so Dan the Dozier slips in right behind me sliding his hand around my waist. A groan rolls out before I can catch it. How much more embarrassment can I take tonight without vaporizing??? Danny makes a quick gentle rubbing motion just above my jeans. He thinks I'm nauseated but I'm just plain ashamed. Once we exited the bus he whispered "Which way?" I kept my cat shit mouth closed and pointed to the Majestic. Dan whistled, "Man this place is Ritzy". I slapped the key in his hand without a word and marched straight to the suite. He kindly opened the door, without a word I left him standing in the common area going straight to my room to brush my frigging teeth and drink water. I located the tylenol took 3 and decided to try and shoo' him back to whence he came. Drained Dan was on the couch with his elbows on his knees and his head propped on his hands. "Listen, I really am sorry, your 1st impression is shot to shit as is mine. I hope your friends do not try anything on Camille, if they do you will have to go to the nearest hospital to find them". I said quickly, trying to hurry so he could go. "Thanks for the escort, the care in the restroom, the arousing conversation (fussing) and all that. Please make sure Camille gets here safely. Buubye." Giving him no chance to speak. I attempted to urge him up off the couch as I was talking. No dice…
"Damn Woman, do you ever shut up?" Dick Dan has returned. I put my hands on my hips and say tiredly, "Fuck no peckerwood, I talk or sing even in my sleep. Time for you to go." He stood, put his hands up in surrender and asked me to give him a chance, "Forgive me for being so rude and foul tonight. The boys acted like asses last night and it was a colossal mess, puke, piss, tears the whole ordeal. Then after about 4 hours of sleep I got a call from home that gut punched me only to add to my piss poor mood. I wasn't feeling Aces but went anyway, all that exploded when the 3 fuck-faces ditched me only to stroll back a half hour later with the 2 hottest girls in the bar. "Needless to say you were on the receiving end of my assholishness. For that I apologize" he finished with an ethereal smile that shined straight from heaven. That shit hit my wore out ass so hard I flopped down on the couch. "That's fine Danny. I'm sorry too like I said I'm hard to take for some people. We can try again after some sleep". I just closed my eyes for one second.
My neck was killing me and I had to pee. Shit these beds are not as comfy as I thought. These were my 1st thoughts upon waking up only to realize I'm on the couch and Dan is folded in half on the small Loveseat. The mean ass in me giggled, serves his ass right. I went to the bathroom and scrubbed the crap out of my teeth and tongue. Daniel was still sleeping. I roused him to go to Cam's bed. He was disoriented and it took him a beat to figure out who I am and where he is. "What time is it?" He asked. "Like 10:30, go lay down" I pushed. He shook his head "I'll go, Camille might not want a stranger on her sheets". I just about stroked out thinking, Anteater's Ass you ain't got no clue about the strange ass on that girl's sheets! "Then the couch or come lay with me. I'm going to bed '' I turned tail and headed to the room. I listened for the door while I pulled off my jeans and top/bra, put on a Max Headroom T and turned to get in the bed. Dazed Danny was in the door either getting a show of me fully or partially undressing at least from the back. Oh well, I slip in the covers and say "get rid of those nasty jeans and shirt if you are getting in here. I'm ready to sleep." To my amazement he did just that. Myself said 'Hell just froze over'. He laid stiff on his side of the bed. I rolled facing him and whispered, "Daniel, I bet you're a dream normally, I'm going to act like you were not a douche tonight". Big sigh was the last thing I heard before I knocked out.
I dreamed about greek gods, angels, arrows and chariots. When I came to I was the big spoon against ole pissy pot with one arm under my pillow and the other clamped around his waist. I could feel by his shallow breathing he was awake. "Good morning honeycomb, did you sleep well? The kids are downstairs yelling for breakfast and there are clothes to wash, it's time for you to get up and start your day. I have to be at the office soon. Did you iron my shirt?" By the time I finished he was screaming and laughing struggling to get away from my grasp. I slung my leg over his hairy legs and dug in "What's wrong, are you a lazybones? Do you need a snuggle? The kids can wait. Do you feel neglected, love?" I laid it on thick. He struggled, I hollered until I was crying and out of breath. "Does your mind ever stop or is it like your mouth?" He wondered. "Like my mouth, just a tad slower….", I popped back. He rolled on his back with one knee raised to disguise his morning rail, "Hell you are a hand-full huh?". A half smile graced my face, and myself said, Run-boy-Run she a crazy motherfucker Run! With a hum, I laid back down for a couple of minutes. We lay quietly, him ignoring his boner and me ignoring my arousal. Dozing in and out of sleep we were jerked awake by someone yelling. "That little bastard, Camille, if you tell him we found them like this I swear! We will not be friends!!" I had no idea who it was but they scared the shit outta us. We sat up in the bed, Jake & Cami were standing outside of my room, her looking slick and him looking pole-axed. Dan started "It's not.." I interrupted "sure as shit y'all didn't bet on a hate fuck did ya?" "It was Sammy, he started it, he bet Josh and me $20 bucks y'all would bang it out. That's why he sent Danny after you", Jake fessed up like a kid avoiding a beating by ratting out his brother (pretty realistically).
"Where are the other 2 nimrods?" Danny asked. "Josh is still in bed and Sam is laid up with the Amazon at her hotel somewhere". Cami informed him. She cut her eyes when Dan asked her if she knew what hotel, "Same as y'all" was her reply. To which Jake sighed, "A whole week of dodging that chick ahead. Gotta find a new bar and everything. That boy can fuck up a wet dream". We all shrugged at the same time. "Camille I'll dance at your wedding if you go make coffee. I gotta brush my teeth, again. Then I'm going on the balcony to smoke. Please and Thank You, Babydoll" I blew her a kiss. Jake tossed a small bag on my bed and said "Here's some clean clothes and stuff. I figured you would want your toothbrush and dopp kit". They went into our mini kitchenette to start a pot of coffee. "You can use my bathroom or if you would be more comfy use Cami’s up to you", I gave him the choice. Some people do not like that kind of togetherness. I, on the other hand, do not care, but I hate to be touched or crowded unless I give you a direct invite to do so. You know don't breath my fucking air please!! He grabbed his bag and headed in. I gave him privacy to pee, so I went to Cam's to pee. By the time I came back he was still in his boxers standing at the sink rinsing his toothbrush. Never having a long term boyfriend nor male siblings whom I share a bathroom with watching him shave as I brushed my teeth felt very intimate. It made me warm and cozy. Lord Mallory Mae Milford, you are not Camille, you don't fall hopelessly in love with every man you fancy, get your head out ya ass, myself informed me smartly.
Coffee the nectar of the gods. A cigarette's pleasure in a coffin nail, and nasty. The sun was bangin', the party on the beach jamming it was 3 PM. Next on the agenda was food to soak up the stomach acid. Our choices are Taco Hell (Bell), McD's, or a seafood buffet. The boys finally get Josh on the room phone, he said Slutty Sam rolled in about 2:30 PM looking like what the cat dragged in (Poison, my fave). They were not up for food so we decided to go for the seafood buffet. Jake had showered before coming to ours, Camille jumped hers. I left Danny and Jake on the balcony smoking a joint watching the rager on the beach get started. I let Dan know that he could get in after me and I wouldn't use all the hot water. I made the water as hot as I could possibly stand it and scrubbed the bar, booze and puke off of my body, twice, while the conditioner soaked in my mop of curls. A quick swipe of the razor over my bod and shut off the water so Darling Daniel had some. A quick dry, an extra long T, a hair towel and I announced it was Danny’s turn. As we passed through my door, I winked and said “You can use my body wash, shampoo and conditioner, Hot Stuff”. I can only be good for so long and then it is over……
The restaurant was busy with the Happy Hour crowd, retirees that shuffle in for the cheaper prices, families with small children beating the rush and young people that have already recovered from their hangovers. We were seated promptly. "Baby Come Back" by Player was coming through the overhead speakers. “I love this song”, I said to nobody in particular. Our waitress arrived “Welcome to Bishop’sss, my name is Chrisssstie I’ll be your ssserver tonight. Can I ssstart you off with ssome drinks, a beer?”, she asked. It was obvious she had a pretty pronounced lisp, due to Grandmother’s raising of Jean Ann then JA’s raising of me, I knew better than to even attempt to make fun as did Camille. And to the good raising up of these guys they both held straight faces. Once Christie moved off to fill our drink order, Cam spoke up “Good job guys, where we are from you do not make light of someone who has a physical or mental difference than you, EVER!” I piped up “and somebody's mama did a good job”. Danny looked at Jake with a snicker “I believe this may truly be Samuel’s separated-at-birth twin because she is just like Mama K.” Our drinks arrived, Christie instructed us on the buffett and the boys headed straight into the food. Camille and I sat for a minute to chat. “Woo Chile, it’s gonna take 3 months to recover from this shit!” She hissed. “Bullshit you'll be back at it tonight, don’t dodge what’s the dirt? Which of the twins did you pound? Both? Do you remember? Damn girl? Wild Ass Mama!” Hell I didn't even give her a chance to answer. “Neither. Shut up here they come''. I squinted at her, “You lying dog I know better!” Two growing man-children returned with plates piled high and ended the interrogation. But the MBI (Mal Bureau Investigation) wasn't done, Cam wasn't going to give it up! Not wanting to look suspicious we went to the salad bar to get started, me chattering at her the whole time. She knew that both of those boys were her type of Kryptonite, they were all over her. Neither seemed bothered by the others handsy-ness, some twins are into that shit, no incest (gag a maggot). Camille Lane Clarke had enough of my verbal torture, a low threat came rumbling out “Honest to God reigning in Heaven if you do not hush I am going to smother the life out of you as soon as you pass out drunk tonight and make it look like an accident. Then I WILL console Mama and Grandmother with Love!”
Night 2 in Miami was wash, rinse and repeat of our first except the bar was a club and minus the throw down between Danny and I. The 3-some rocked on, Sammy Sex God moved on to another leggy model type and I aggravated the pure hell out of Daniel Robert Wagner. Tonight like at our early supper his manner was relaxed if quiet, smiling, laughing, also ever watchful of his 3 titty babies. He looked at them like a proud daddy seeing his kids play ball for the first time. He likes Tequila (I already guessed after last night), 60-70’s music, all kinds of rock, obscure history facts, skating, BMX, golfing, sweaters, guitars, drums and these kooky Kizska kids. Funny how much you learn by shutting your mouth and listening to others conversation (dipping-being noisy). I was eavesdropping to see if I could hear how they came to be in Miami, they did not come off as spoiled rich boys on daddy’s dime. Nor did they seem like wanderers. The intrigue, the mystery, Mallie likey. Cami was giving the skinny on Tricky Mickey to the amusement of the twins and Slap Happy Sammy (who I could see being Tricky in 20 years….), the model girl looked like she didn't have 2 brain cells to knock together. My mind was on a vacation with myself, becoming Agatha Christie On the Orient Express. Dancing Danny grabbed my hand “Let's go on the terrace and burn one”. Well he didn't know he was going to dance when he said that but… "Let’s Go All the Way" by Sly Fox, came on so I pulled him on the dance floor. I was pleasantly surprised though he had white boy moves he could have rhythm and kept the beat. We danced to "1999" by Prince, "No Parking on the Dance Floor", by Midnight Star and we needed a break. He led us out to the terrace, I was still giggling over his moves and the faces he made. I got a J out of my pack and he worked at lighting it. I mused about the amount of time his tongue spent out of his pretty mouth, oral fixation?? Hmmm, he's making me have an oral fixation. What kind of oral game does he have? You got something else to investigate Mallory… Myself was rudely interrupted by the man himself and his tongue saying “Who rolled this? It's so fucking tight it won't burn!” Burn? Huh? The pot. Oh yeah. “That is Camille for ya, she is Ms Perfect, let me have it”. I took it from him, and thumped the shit out of it from one end to the other. Rolling it between my fingers to loosen the flower. I gave it back for him to try again. I told myself, I am not going back in the gutter! This time it fired right up. He took a hit and passed, I joked “you are going to have cherry kissing potion all over you after this”. He acted taken aback. He knew what I meant. Ehhhh, dirty mind, first glimpse of anything other than pissed, guilty or kind that I've seen. So of course I jumped all over that shit, “I mean I could accommodate other avenues of application of said gloss all over you if I was given proper incentive”. My deadpan speech was almost too much for him, he kept a straight face and responded, “I could in the near future provide said proper incentive for a rigorous implementation of appealing cherry kissing potion”. Needless to say my night just got much more interesting, Cheeuh!
I had refrained from drinking cause Jose’ and I are on the ‘outs’. Danny grabbed a peach wine cooler and a Dr Pepper for me from the bar then we headed back to the 3-some. Sandbagging Sam had split with tonight's score. We watched the bump and grind going down on the dance floor for quite a while. Delightful Daniel tapped my arm, “This isn't really my scene. Do you want to walk on the beach and look for sand crabs?” “Sure” I was quick with the answer. I told Cami what we were doing and she said they would see us later(notice they). After the excitement of last night we invited the guys to come to the Majestic’s nightclub tonight so when Dan and I left we walked out of the club, through the lobby, across the pool decks, and onto the sand. The Atlantic Ocean was a lot different from the Gulf of Mexico which I was used to, beautiful but different. The waves were rougher, higher and louder. It made it harder for us to talk. The water was a deep green color, murky, almost scary dark, black. I am not afraid of much, it was creepy. I have been to California and the Pacific was much the same but the water was more of a purple tint. We rode a boat to Alcatraz on a family vacation and I was a little skeezed. I was in such deep thought Danny had to stop me from stepping on a scurrying little sand crab. “The first time I saw the ocean and crabs they terrified me, they bite pretty hard, my little sister Josie screamed real loud when one got her”, he had to lean close because the wind was blowing. I smiled and patted his arm thinking simple boy crabs do not bite, they pinch. We walked on for another 10 minutes well past where we could see the Majestic. Looking closer to the hotels and motel on the beach we spotted rows of wooden beach loungers that they rent during the day. We sat a minute before our walk back. Once we settled on one chair so we could hear each other. I asked “How old were you when you saw the ocean for the first time?” “Fifteen I think, we traveled with a group of the Kizska dad’s blues band members to do a show in Atlantic City, New Jersey." He continued, “It was crazy, I traveled with them all the time to the lake in U.P., camping, lots of places, I had never seen such craziness, the casino’s were not as big as Vegas but they were flashy. The area was not nearly as clean as you would imagine. Many homeless people right off the boardwalk and the beach was full of litter. The sand crabs were the highlight until Josie flipped out. I also liked Ceasar���s Palace”. I smiled imagining younger daddy Daniel trying to figure out how to protect his baby sister from the maneater sand crab. I chuckled out loud. Dan said “What’s funny?” I replied, “Don't get mad, I had a mental picture of you having a fit trying to figure out what to do for your sister while she was screaming bloody murder, I imagined a small panic attack”. He laughed loud and clear. Made my heart flutter, no Mud Pie Mallory back it up, that’s a no-go! No heartbreak for you! “Also, babylove crabs pinch not bite”.
"Danger in the shape of somethin’ wild….No one knows who she is or what her name is….Hot child in the city runnin’ wild and lookin’ pretty hot child in the city…" Dan went to the bathroom and I turned on a local radio station "Hot Child in the City", by Nick Glider was on. It's one of those songs that just embodies what life was about right now. Freedom, Fun, Wildness, Experiences, Travel, and Meeting People. I was belting it out to the top of my lungs, dancing around with my one true love Jose’ in my arms. "So young to be loose…And on her own. Young boys, they all want…To take her home….Hot child in the city…" My heart stopped when I heard a deep voice sing “Runnin’ wild lookin’ pretty…Hot child in the city”. I stopped singing and looked at the finest specimen of man I have seen in.. EVER. "Come on down to my place, baby," Nick sings. I’m panting like a dog. It's about 500 degrees F in this room. I discarded Jose’ who I forgot even existed on the table. Not bullshit my nipples could cut glass, I won't even tell you about the Niagara Falls in my panties. As for Delectable Daniel, he had not blinked since I turned around to face him singing. The sexual tension was so thick I was at a loss Ms Fuck ‘em N Forget ‘em had no clue what to do. I could hardly breathe, much less come up with something smartass to say to cut the silence. He looked like he’d been hit by a train, too. Neither of us could decide whether to shit or git! He made the first step, and the next until he was 2 feet in front of me waiting for a sign it was okay to come closer. Jesus I wanted him to cum alright… All I could do was run my finger across his bottom lip (yes, I am obsessed with his mouth mind ya own). The music on the radio is a backdrop to the moment playing out between us. Jose’ long forgotten, Kizska’s and Camille who? Me and him, him and I 'Here and Now' (Luther Vandross). Touch here, a drag of the tongue there. Question, have you ever been in a situation that has evoked such emotions that you have tears running from you eyes for no reason, not sadness, not happiness, not despair, just from deep, deep feelings from just touch? Yes, well not me! Not ever, like NEVER! But here I stand with water running from my eye holes. Danny put his hands on my face and stepped back, “Why are you crying? Are you ok? I'm sorry! Do you want me to go? Shit I'm an idiot. Jesus, I royally fucked this up!” Full on panic. “Huh, I ain't crying, well except for my girl parts, my eyes are watering. Dude take a chill pill. Deep breath in and out. You need a paper bag? You gonna hyperventilate?” I blasted him back with questions. A grin as big as all outside split his face and crinkled his eyes closed. Shitttttt, I was done talking. So I stepped back up and asked, "Are you into this or not Greek God cause I am so down, like sooo down, I'll go down”. “Has anyone ever told you that one day that mouth is going to get you in trouble, young lady?" He asked sternly. So I sassed “Honey, this ain't the first time and won't be the last. Jean Ann should have named me that according to my Grandmother…” I spied a flare of arousal in his brown- green warm mossy eyes. “Me thinks baby-boy, you like a smart mouth, Yummm, what else do you like?” I asked running my hands underneath his ripped Black Sabbath T. I rubbed along each ridge and dip of his ribs using the tips of my fingers to memorize the plains of his abdomen. All I could think about was the Tantric Yoga Textbook I bought. One of the passages I scanned said that using your fingers and mouth/lips on skin before practicing Tantra heightens the experience.
@songbirds-sweet- hey fellow hyperfix Greta Gal! If you have time, read through this rough edit of this looong chapter 1 of my Danny Wagner fic. Sorry ADHD, over-detailer here. I would love your input. I have written this complete story and about half of the follow-up for Danny/Mallory.
You are a STAR!🌠🌌🌟
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pcktknife · 1 year
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idk personally I rlly like the hydro archons design (like it's so cute and snazzy and rlly fun) but I'm more disappointed that it doesn't tap into the whole 'god of justice' thing. maybe that'll be reflected more in the archon form tho
I mean I see it like...I feel like ppl are too caught up in the justice/judge idea and not enough of the extravagance because how Fontaine and it's god are described does not make me think courthouse and law it makes me think the rich people from the hunger games(movie) you feel? Like the way she's talked about in the trailer makes me think that she just likes to be messy n judgemental more than anything else but of course that is from dain's mouth so that might not be the vibe hoyo even intended to give and could literally just be my own interpretation. like these quotes make me think of the capitol or whatever it was called
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also just for me imagine her bein all I'm better than u w a gavel it's very fun
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hotchkiss-and-tell · 2 years
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Look who gets a chapter in this snazzy book on women who built the gaming industry. HeR’s CEO Megan Gaiser! 
It made me sad to read the line where Megan is quoted about leading creatively instead of forcing her own views onto the team (unlike another CEO we know). We really had something special for 20+ years. 
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rainbeausworld · 1 year
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Cernunnos: The Good Liar
And now that I've probably offended a few people with my snazzy new epithet for the guy, it's time for me to try to spill some UPG all over this page.
Cernunnos is very special to me; he was the first deity to reach out to me and he's been a central point of my practice for as long as I've been active in it (there've been a few accidental hiatuses). He's introduced me to my second most important deity, the Horned Serpent, and through that, pointed me down the path I now currently walk.
I think, at least in GaulPol, he's pretty well known as a liminal deity, but that one has never quite sat perfectly for me. I think as I present my notes of my UPG, it'll become clear that Cernunnos as I understand him is more of a "union of opposites" than a "between all things" - something I definitely wouldn't have been able to enunciate not long ago.
First I remember not really having a clear way to describe him beyond "Druid, I think", which would at first glance look like a liminal role if it weren't for the fact I couldn't quite square that away in my head. And then I gave him a couple epithets, "Keeper of Secrets" and "Provider of Ecstacy" (both of these were written back to back, in the same prayer, and I still stand by them).
Then I began using the title "Songmaster(s)" for the three main deities on the interior of the Gundestrup Cauldron - Cernunnos, Taranis/the wheel god, and the Mother-Queen - and I began to look at music as a way for the gods to create, not just stories but create reality itself.
The next major one I remember is writing a prayer and sharing it with a Discord community October 31st 2022:
Songmaster, First Dancer
Truth is your friend and secrets are your trade
Madness, your tool, peace, your accomplishment
Your quiet patience is unshakeable, and your quick action is keen
And recently, as I was singing and trying to reflect on his relationship with the Mother-Queen, I found myself scribbling down some notes from a song I didn't fully intend to sing, addressed to him (quotes are exact lines):
"she shines on you, and you grow"
Shadow, child of sun; darkness, friend of light
"embrace light, embrace night all the more"
I heavily associate the Mother-Queen with the sun, light, and fire, and have had the thought "her light touches all things" in my head for a minute, and Cernunnos I associate with a dark, shadowy forest because of a couple of intense experiences, so the poetic play there was pretty obvious, but it took me a bit to start piecing out what this is all supposed to mean. One friend pointed out that, as we learn, as truth is illuminated to us, it also reveals how deeply our ignorance runs. Which I definitely think is a solid read, but for me personally, for my relationship with him specifically, I think it's deeper than that.
I've also come to believe that the interior panels of the Gundestrup Cauldron are a loose guide of what kind of religious life was expected of the practitioners, so I take it as a loose guide for me. And honestly, going into detail is going to require probably multiple series, but for now suffice it to say that I believe that, when we die, some of those people will be selected to try and earn a kind of divine status. I believe Cernunnos' primary role as depicted on the Gundestrup Cauldron is in teaching harmony between individuals and possibly between the natural world. I also interpret the Horned Serpent as the guide for those who've been chosen to try their hand at earning divinity. So in this context, Cernunnos is the teacher and the Horned Serpent a kind of deliverer.
Okay, that's all well and good, but what does that have to do with the rest of this rant? I've come to the conclusion that, if the Mother-Queen reveals, then Cernunnos' role to her is that he obfuscates. That he purposefully obfuscates certain truths in order that his devotee can learn. I think it's because there are certain lessons that can't really be told - not if you plan on these lessons actually sticking. Wisdom is earned, not given.
Hence the new epithet, "The Good Liar" - he who obfuscates things behind silence or confusing ideas that his student might find truth on their own accord, and come to a new and better place, perhaps even arming his devotees with the skills to move through whatever trials may await us after death.
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