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#sorry its so long brain movie went ham
angelpuns · 10 months
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knocks on your door i have a fake fanfic title:
"Big, broken, Red heart"
My immediate thought is Future! Raph comic?? I've only seen like two of those smh HE DESERVES FUTURE FICS TOO!!!!
anyway, maybe F!Raph survives and he gets to go back in time??? Anyway he saves the timeline or whatever but fnds it too painful to stay with his family, as much as he wants to. So it's more about wanting vs not wanting to stay kinda deal?? mannn thining about hwo differently he would handle saving the timeline than F! Leo or any of their other bros might. Like he grabs present Loe and is just like ' I don't blame you for this. We were just kids. I get it now - you're a great leader when you lead the way YOU want to' orrrr smthn lke that? Like F!Raph understands now that Leo wasn't jsut being a brat, he was scared asf and was trying to lead the only way he could think of!! I have many thoughts on their dynamic in the movie okay :)
I'm not v good at writing Raph but I'll give it a go:
Raph's footsteps echoed through the tunnels, far louder than they had in his youth. He wasn't too late. He wasn't too late to fix this!
He bounded into the lair, shouting carrying through the subway tunnels back to him. He remembered this. it was one of those things he'd been thinking about since the kraang had taken over. How he and Leo didn't have to fight like this. Sure, Leo was egging him on, but Raph knew better now. He understood Leo so much more now that his little brother was gone.
Raph stopped at the top of the stairs, breaths coming out ragged and shallow. CJ wasn't here yet. But then again, he probably didn't know how to get to the lair. Raph would have to find him later - he had to do this now. The key - as much as he wanted to go for it on his own - it could wait. It could wait for him.
The shouting stopped at his entrance, his heavy breaths and footsteps giving him away. He'd long lost the sight in his right eye, but he could still see the vague shapes of himself and his brothers. He'd know them anywhere.
They leapt into action immediately, but Raph was faster than he used to be, even if he was getting on in years.
Mikey was fast and unpredictable, whipping his chuks out and immediately going for the capture. Raph knocked them away easy, grabbing the youngest out of the air and tossing him away. He was holding back, just a little. He didn't want to hurt them, after all. Leo was on him immediately, kicking off of his arm, portaling behind him and going for the back shot. Raph heard the static of the portal before it appeared, turning and grabbing Leo's outstretched leg. He flung him away, too, the slider crashing right into..himself. Younger Raph.
Donnie was suddenly in his face, his bo whipping through the air with a sharp sound and landing a blow on Raph's arm. It was sort of like being hit with a cardboard tube - he'd lost feeling in that arm years ago. He grabbed the bo and spun, Donnie backwards several feet and landing easily.
" Who are you!? How'd you find this place?" Donnie snarled, Leo reappearing next to him, " I didn't get any kind of notifications - the security system should have alerted us and lasered you into pieces!"
(mehhh idk what to put here)
Raph sighed deeply, his breath crackling in his chest. He squeezed Leo's shoulders, marveling at how tiny he used to be.
"Leo. Nothing that happens today is your fault. You can't take all the blame when Raph was arguin' back just as hard.." he chuckled, watching Leo's face change as he spoke, " You were just a kid. Hell, we were all just kids thrown into a shitty situation..."
He swallowed thickly, unsure what to say. He'd always been shit at pep talks.
" Look, you got a good head on your shoulders. You lead however ya need to and Raph will back off a little....he's just scared, Lee. And I know you are, too"
Raph pulled him into a tight hug, Leo's arms hesitantly coming up and squeezing him back. Raph turned to his past self. H looked tired. Did Raph himself always look that tired?
He guessed it was the burden of responsibility from a young age, Yeah, that would tire anyone out.
"c'mere, kiddo" Raphael pulled his past self into a hug, the fact that he was so small comapred to Raphael making something fragile in his chest curl up and cry a little. Right, they were all just kids.
" I'm sorry ya had to carry everyone like that...I know how hard it is. Leo's gonna be a fine leader, okay? Just..learn ta talk to him" He murmured, " I know we've never been great at that kinda thing, but he'll get it. I promise he'll get it"
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kkyaka · 3 years
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A Lost Bet
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Summary: You lost a bet between your friend, but the lost pales in comparison to what turned your life upside down
Pairing: Werewolf!Kirishima Eijirou x black!fem!reader
Word Count: 14,316 (...y’all, I am so sorry)
Warnings: fluff at multiple points in this thing, a/b/o dynamics??? sort of, reader’s human, little bit of stalking (but kiri means well), mentions of blood, deer killing (i’m sorry to deer lovers, but read it and you’ll understand LMFAO), courting, little bit of angst, shindou is an antagonist, nudity, actual wolves, monsterfucking, smut, kiri’s having his rut, male masturbation, oral (f), panty sniffing and licking??? (YALL, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME???), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, decent amount of praise, nipple sucking, unprotected sex, marking, mating, knotting, talks of breeding, breeding kink basically, little bit of a lactation kink, aftercare and as usual (my trademark): fluff at the end of mind-blowing sex (if i missed anything, let me know cause I probably did, there’s a lot here), all characters are 20+
A/N: So, this is technically for the Only Fans Monster Collab, and this is SUPER LATE, but this had been rotting my brain, and I needed to write it, and, yes, once again, the word count did get away from me, I just went ham on this fic ngl lmfao, but I hope you enjoy it! 
@miggiisdumb​
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"I'm telling you. There's nothing out here. And I told you that werewolves don't exist."
"Come on! There has to be some kind of evidence that there is!" You roll your eyes, looking back down at your phone even though she can't see you.
Your friend had heard rumors about werewolves and that they were "very much real" in your town, but you didn't believe it. You're not living in a Twilight movie. So, to prove her wrong, you decided to go out late at night, telling her that nothing or no one would come out, and you could win the bet. Simple, easy. A piece of cake even.
You rub your arms as you walk through the forest, your breath visible in front of you as you huff, the colder weather starting to kick in. "See? Literally, nothing is happening, and I don't hear a single thing," you emphasize. "Looks like you owe me lunch for the next week," you gloat, and you can hear her roll her eyes through the phone. You're about to turn around, satisfied with your victory when you hear a stick snap. You quickly turn your head in the direction of the sound that was definitely too loud for a squirrel or something small to make.
"Hey, are you okay?" You look back down at your phone, forgetting that your friend was on the phone in the midst of fear rising in your body.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just making sure I'm still winning," you respond, attempting to tone down the fear in your voice.
"Whatever," she grumbles. "Just get back home and tell me what you want," she laments, and you smile again, turning around to head back to your car.
When you finally turn, there's a huge figure in front of you, and you shriek loudly as you fall to the ground, the noise echoing through the forest. You can't move as your eyes land on...a wolf? There's no way, but it's bigger than any wolf you've seen on TV. And it's snarling at you, it's eyes blood red.
"y/n?! Are you okay?! What happened?!" your friend yells, and you glance down at the device next to your hand on the ground without turning your head, not keeping your eyes off of the animal for long.
"Nothing," you say quickly. "I tripped, I'm fine." Your body is frozen but trembling at the same time, and your closest help is on the phone, miles away from the woods. Your breathing is shaky, and it starts to come closer to you, and you can't move.
It's nearly in your face when you hear another growl, and you turn your head to see another one? The animal in front of you turns its head, and it backs away, fully turning its attention to the other one, which looks even bigger than the one, but its eyes are just as red.
It jumps in front of it, and they just stare each other down, not moving, and all you can do is watch, frozen in fear. The smaller but very much gigantic wolf looks back at you before running off, and in the middle of your mind racing and blaring alarms, you try to comprehend what in the fuck is happening.
The bigger wolf watches it leave, but when it turns to you, you jump, moving backward on the ground until your back hits a tree, the wolf following you. You're shaking uncontrollably now, nowhere to go, and you ultimately prepare for the worst. It carefully stalks towards you, and you shrink against the tree like it'll save you, and when it gets towards your face, you turn your head, wincing as you think that this is how you'll go out, and with the knowledge that your friend was fucking right.
You can feel its breath on your face, and your eyes open wide when you feel it lick up your neck. You carefully look at it, meeting its eyes before taking a deep breath. "You're not gonna eat me?" you ask pathetically, your voice barely audible even to your own ears, and it blinks at you.
You hesitate to move, but when it shows no sign of aggression, you carefully stand, the wolf taking a small step back to give you some room. You stare at it, many emotions running through you, and it nudges your hand softly, and you slowly lift your hand up, placing it on its head.
Its fur is soft, and a small smile forms on your face as it pushes its head further into your hand, its tail wagging when you scratch behind its ear. You huff out a laugh in disbelief, taking your hand away, and you watch it step back before it crouches down.
You watch in confusion, and your face morphs into fascination and then surprise when you watch it turn into a human right in front of your very eyes. The man stands up fully, and you know you have a look of bewilderment on your face, but then your eyes fall down his body.
"Oh, my God, you're naked," you exclaim softly, jumping lightly in place as you look away, and you hear footsteps coming closer to you.
"Are you okay?" The voice is deep but quiet, and you look up, seeing a redhead towering over you. You gulp heavily as you nod your head, too overwhelmed by everything that's happened in so little time. "Why are you out here by yourself?"
You take a little longer to respond, the man speaking in perfect English even though he just shifted from a wolf surprising you. "Werewolves are real?" you answer, your voice in complete disbelief.
He chuckles quietly, giving you a short shrug. "As far as I can tell," he jokes, and you notice the ears on his head twitching slightly, and in your peripheral, you can see the tail swishing behind him. "But seriously, are you okay?"
You nod quickly, sighing as you cross your arms over your chest. "Yeah, just a little bit...shocked," you describe, and you gasp when you remember that your friend was still on the phone. You look around for it, finding it under a couple of leaves, wiping the dirt off as you see that she hadn't hung up the phone.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she screams when you finally speak to her, and you glance at the man in front of you before responding.
"Nothing, just got a little sidetracked, I'm heading to my car now."
"I can walk you back," he offers, and you shake your head, not really knowing how you would manage to walk back to your car with a naked man beside you.
"No, it's okay. I can manage." You give him a soft smile talking to your friend when she speaks again, and you wave at him before walking back to your car.
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Did you tell your friend that she was right? Uh, no. Did you go back in the woods a couple of days later to try and find him again? Stupidly, yes, you did. You roughly remember where the encounter happened, and you felt bad because you didn't even thank the guy, and it had been bugging you.
This time, you decided to go as the sun is starting to set, thinking that going late at night wasn't this best idea, but hell, going back out here again is fucking stupid. You look around hyper-aware of your surroundings this time, but there's no way you'd be able to sense a wolf coming out of nowhere.
You think you hear something behind you, but when you look there's nothing there, and when you look back in front of you, you're screaming and finding yourself back against a tree as a different wolf corners you against it.
Its fur is more of a dark brown, and it's not as big as the man a couple of days ago, but it's still as menacing. You grimace as you try to keep eye contact as you hold your hands up. "I'm just looking for someone," you start, your voice strained as you try to keep your distance from it as it gets in your face. "He saved me a couple days ago, I just wanted to thank him," you explain, hoping that it can understand you or at least see that you're not a threat.
"Relax, Bakugou, she's okay." You relax slightly when you hear the familiar voice, and the wolf huffs at you before backing away, and you're still in shock when you watch it shift into a man as well.
"So, the nakedness is a common theme, I see," you comment under your breath as the blonde man in front of you crosses his arms, a deep scowl on his face as the redhead walks up towards you, naked as well of course.
"You're not allowed here," Bakugou tells you.
"I know, I know," you answer quickly. "I just wanted to say thanks for saving me earlier. I realized I didn't say it, so..." You trail off, looking between the two taller men.
"You didn't have to put yourself in danger to do that," the taller one muses, and you respond with a hesitant smile as you shrug.
"Yeah, but there was really no other way to do it." Bakugou rolls his eyes, moving to survey the area as the man keeps his attention on you.
"Well, you're welcome," he tells you warmly. "And I'm Kirishima. And you've obviously already met Bakugou." The blond just huffs at his words, and you laugh softly as you tell him your name. "That's really pretty," he tells you like it's something he wasn't really supposed to say out loud, and he clears his throat when he hears his words. "You should probably get back before it gets too dark."
"Right," you start, taking a step forward. "Thanks again, Kirishima." You both share another private smile before you walk off, Kirishima watching you go.
"Don't do it," Bakugou tells him when you finally disappear. "She's human, Kirishima," he adds like that isn't the most obvious thing in the world, and Kirishima sighs as he looks towards his friend.
"You can't pick them, Bakugou. You know that better than anyone," he says, and Bakugou only responds with a roll of his eyes, but Kirishima can see him trying to hide the faint pink appearing in his cheeks.
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You've obviously come to the conclusion that you'll never see Kirishima again, but that doesn't mean that you still don't think about him every now and then. You ended up asking your friend more about werewolves coming up with some bullshit excuse like you just wanted to know where she got her information from, and it just went deeper from there.
Of course, there's not much recent information, and you figured since werewolves are "rumored," they prefer to stay hidden, so you didn't tell your friend anything about your encounters with not one, but three werewolves. It's been going on three weeks now, and nothing's really changed, but a part of you is disappointed. You've just gone on with your life like nothing happened, doing the mundane things you've always done: go to work, go to the store if you need to, go home, go to sleep, hang out with your friends if you're all free.
You finally have a weekend off, happy that you finally get some time to yourself, and you open the front door, getting ready to walk to the end of your driveway and get the mail when you notice something on your doorstep. You almost stepped on it, but you manage to step around it just in time, looking down to see a pile of flowers.
They look like they've been hand-picked, and you crouch down, looking over it before you look around, seeing if you can see who could've done this because it looks too put together to be unintentional, but you don't see anyone. You're a little skeptical about it, so you go get your mail before touching it, but as you're walking back into your house, you find yourself stopping to look at it again.
The flowers are really pretty, beautiful even, and you bite down on the chance that whoever did this isn't some creepy stalker that's trying to hurt you, and you pick up the flowers before walking inside.
~
You've put the flowers in an old vase you had found, and they hadn't even died yet, and there's more on your doorstep, this time the assortment is even bigger. You frown in concern and a little in fear, and you try to sense if someone could be watching you, but you don't really feel anything, and you're not fully sure what causes a shiver to run down your spine.
But there's a part of you that doesn't want to throw them away, so you just place them in a planter you have, leaving them outside. You've asked your friends if they're playing some kind of prank on you, but they tell you that they have no idea what you're talking about, and you don't talk about it like you're worried so that they don't get concerned.
You wait for an even bigger arrangement to be on your doorstep, but it never comes. You had been thinking about it almost everywhere you went, but every time you open your door, expecting to see it, but you don't. You shake off your worry as nothing since everything seems to be going back to normal, and you don't think about it again.
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You're hot. Like ridiculously hot. You groan softly, your skin almost sticky with sweat, and you remember having the heat on, but you don't remember having it set to an inferno. You go to push the blankets off of you in your barely awake state, but you stop moving slowly when your blankets have suddenly become solid, and when you realize that you're not doing that much moving.
Because you can't. When you try to move your body, it doesn't budge, and as you wake up and start to become more coherent, you start to hear breathing that's not yours, and your neck is the hottest part of your body. You open your eyes, realizing that there is a body on top of you.
Your eyes widen as you start to flail, shocked screams that sound more like gibberish flying out of your mouth, and the person's head sits up suddenly, their body not moving off of yours. "Kirishima? What the fuck?" you exhale, letting your head fall back against the pillows when you realize he's technically not a stranger in your bed.
"Were you having a nightmare?" he asks, the moonlight coming in from the window illuminating his face, and you can see concern laced with the utmost attention on his face, his ears upright.
You sigh heavily as you close your eyes for a split second before looking back at him. "No, you scared me. I thought someone had broken in, or--" You don't mean to raise your voice at him but you were awoken to what seemed like a terrible surprise, and your adrenaline levels are through the roof.
His ears fall as he slumps slightly, making you realize how much of his weight is actually on you. "But you took care of the flowers, and you left the window open so I thought--"
"You left the flowers?" you ask, looking at your alarm clock, rubbing your eyes when you see that it's three in the morning. You did leave the window open, doing so in order to get some fresh air in while you were cleaning and you must've been too tired to realize that you hadn't closed it for the night. "Wait, you were stalking me?"
He gives you a shy look as he glances somewhere off to the side. "I didn't mean to scare you, honest. I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he says softly.
"By sneaking into my house at night and giving me a heart attack?" The look he gives you is even more pitiful, his ears practically pinned to his head, and he starts to move.
"I can just go if--"
"No," you start, grabbing his arm as you sigh again. "I'm sorry, it's just the adrenaline." His ears perk up a little, and he's already here; there's no point in sending him off now, and you don't know how long he's been here. "You can stay, just give a girl a heads-up the next time."
You hear a fwapping sound on your bed, realizing it's his tail wagging before he falls back on you again, nearly knocking the wind out of you before he happily nuzzles your neck. It tickles a little, so you laugh softly, pushing his head away. "Okay, okay! I said you can stay, but you can't stay on top of me. I feel like I'm gonna melt."
He moves off of you, but it's not even a second before he's got you on your side, one arm wrapped around you. You're finally able to kick the blankets off, nearly sighing in relief when you feel cool air finally hit your skin. You can still hear his tail wagging, and you can't help but smile, really wondering what in the hell you've gotten yourself into.
~
When you wake up in the morning, the sun is directly in your face, causing you to move a hand in front of your face to block the light. You go to move, but when you can't, the event that happened floods back into your mind. You turn to try and see him, but you're just met with his chest, having to look up to see his face.
He's actually not snoring too loud, his ears twitching every now and then, and you shake your head at the absurdity of the situation you're currently in. You try to slide out of his arm, but once you start moving away from him, the arm around your middle tightens. "Where ya going?" he slurs, his eyes still closed, and you're surprised he can have such a tight grip when he's half-asleep.
"To use the bathroom. I'll be right back." He reluctantly lets you go, and you stretch when you finally stand, shivering slightly now that his warmth isn't against your back. You yawn as you pad towards the bathroom, brushing your teeth after you pee and wash your hands, and when you open the door, you gasp loudly seeing Kirishima standing on the other side.
"Morning," he chirps, his tail wagging softly, and you half-smile as you let your hand fall from the doorknob.
"Morning," you say, your voice saying that this whole thing is still pretty shocking to you, and you squeeze past him, walking back into your room, a plan in your mind to find something to eat, but once you get past him, his arms are wrapped around you, and he's walking with you into the kitchen. Sure, start off your morning with some breakfast and a werewolf attached to you.
You're not even sitting on a chair at your dining table, your sitting in his lap, and he just sits there, occasionally rubbing his nose on your neck as you eat and watch TV. You're amazed at yourself that you're not as bothered as you figured you should be, but he's not really hindering you from doing anything, and it is your weekend off, so it's not so bad.
"Are you gonna leave soon?" you wonder, and when you look at him, his ears have fallen again.
"You don't want me to stay?"
"No, no. I was just--I mean, what about your friends?" you ask, and he just gives you a shrug as his arms tighten around your waist.
"They'll be fine." It's all he says before he turns his attention back to the nature documentary that you had put on because it seemed to grab all of his attention. You look at him for a second before you finish off the rest of your food.
You start to think about everything that's occurred in the last week, and you remember reading something about how werewolves court, but it was outdated, and there wasn't anything that was particularly human-related, so the last thing you expected was an open window to be an invitation to just come on in.
You spend the rest of the day doing nothing basically, not really wanting to because you had no reason to leave, but everywhere you went, Kirishima was there, even standing outside the door while you went to the bathroom just like he did this morning, and you were nearly expecting him to just come in with you.
Your friend had texted you earlier, making plans and you agreed, you not being the one to turn down a girl's night, and when you tell Kirishima, he looks more than distraught. "You're leaving?"
"It's only gonna be for a couple of hours," you respond, deciding to wait until he leaves to start changing, but it doesn't look like he's going to budge.
"Can I go with you?" It's like you're seeing actually puppy dog eyes, and you grimace softly.
"I don't think that's such a good idea. No one knows about your...kind, right? You can't risk it," you try.
"I can hide it, I've done it before." You sigh, starting to feel bad, but it's just supposed to be you and your friends.
"You can't, Kirishima, I'm sorry. I'll be back though, and then you'll see me again, okay?" You try to find a middle ground, and it seems to work because even though he slouched over, his ears down, he nods. "You can come see me again. It'll be like I never left." He doesn't look any more pleased, and he gives you your space as you decide on an outfit to wear, gently ushering him out of the room so you can change.
When you come out of your room, he's on you again, but this time you feel his tongue on your neck. "What the hell are you doing?" you nearly screech in shock, pushing him away lightly, and he backs away for a second, but he's still on top of you.
"You won't smell like me anymore," he mumbles against your skin, and you huff softly as you rub a hand over his head.
"It's just a girl's night, okay? My "smell" shouldn't change that much," you tell him, but it doesn't deter him, and he keeps touching you until he feels like he's done enough. "Am I good to go?" you ask playfully, and he doesn't look that happy, but he nods anyway.
Your phone dings with a text, and you look at it before heading towards the door. "Okay, my ride's here. I'll see you later." And that's the last thing you say before heading out the door.
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When you're friend drops you off, it takes a little bit longer for you to get to the door, you're not drunk, but you're definitely a couple of steps from it. You fumble with your keys until you finally get it in the lock, stumbling through the door and closing it behind you before locking it.
You're too focused on taking your shoes off to notice anything else but the task that you're doing, and when you look up, you see Kirishima standing in front of you. You jump, your hand coming up to your chest before you sigh heavily. "Kirishima? What are you doing here?"
"You said you were gonna be back in a couple of hours."
"I thought you would be--well, I did say that," you surrender, and when you try to take a step forward, he crowds you against the door, doing the same thing he did to you before you left.
"You smell like another man," he starts. "I thought you said it was a girl's night."
You scoff as you just let him keep doing what he's doing, knowing that you read something about this, so it's probably going to be a normal occurrence. "Well, yeah that's what I told you, but I wasn't actively hanging out with any guys tonight."
"Is there someone else?" he asks suddenly, his head snapping up to look at your face, and you frown.
"What? Kiri, no. I swear, there were just some guys at this place we went to. Nothing happened," you reassure, noticing that he looks really upset, and you rub your head, feeling a headache coming on. "I need my bed," you say softly, and you go to turn, but suddenly your feet aren't on the floor anymore. Kirishima's carrying you now, and he's walking into your room and towards your bed, and you struggle in his arms slightly. "Wait, I need to brush my teeth or at least change into my pajamas."
"That can wait," he says, leaving no room for argument, and you can't really fight him once you hit the sheets, sleep coming out of literally nowhere, and you can already feel yourself drifting off. You groan quietly when you feel Kirishima lay on top of you, but sleep is already coming over you, and within minutes you're out.
~
The first thing you notice when you wake up is that it feels like there's a wad of cotton in your mouth, and you swallow heavily in an attempt to wet your mouth and your throat. The second thing you notice is that you can't move. Again.
You can't even throw his arm off of you, and you sigh, relaxing before you try again. "I'm not letting you leave," he says.
"But I have to pee," you moan. "And shower, just do anything hygiene-related in general," you add, and you expect him to let you up, but you're thrown for a loop when you suddenly feel weightless and you're nearing the bathroom door, but you're not walking there yourself. He sits you on the counter, and when you try to move, he puts a firm hand on your stomach.
"Don't move." His voice is soft, but it's firmer than it's ever been, so you don't move, and he places a hand on your forehead. "How are you feeling?"
"My head kinda hurts," you say softly, and he nods before leaving the bathroom, and you quickly pee before he comes back, sitting back on the counter. He comes back with a cup of water, grabbing some pain medication and handing it to you.
You take it, and then he's grabbing your toothbrush, and you try to push him away when he tries to do it for you, but he stops you again. "Let me take care of you." You sigh quietly, the look on his face making you relent, and you sit there, letting him brush your teeth, and you actually can tell how big he actually is compared to you.
Even sitting on the counter, he's still towering over you, and he wipes your face off with a washcloth, moving to the shower next. He turns on the water, setting it to a temperature that he thinks is good enough for you before moving you off the counter.
You lift your arms up so that he can take your dress off, and as he takes off the rest of your clothes, you try to hide yourself, but he doesn't seem to really notice because he's pushing you towards the tub. You step in, the water feeling so refreshing that you don't realize that he's gotten in with you until you feel his hands on your shoulders.
You turn around, your face meeting just over his sternum, and you actually take your time to look at him even more as he's washing you, and your eyes widen when you realize that his body isn't the only big thing about him. You never really noticed it because you didn't just want to look at his junk, but now that he's standing here in front of you, it's hard for you to tear your eyes away from it.
He's completely focused on you, turning you around to wash the other side of you, and his hands are so soft against your skin that you can't really think about anything else, but you really can't when he rinses you off and pulls you against his body. His big arms wrap around your middle, and you hum softly when you feel his lips on your neck, brushing over the junction of your neck and shoulder.
His nose moves over it before you feel his teeth graze over the spot, but then he stops. "Not yet," he mumbles, and you frown as you turn your head to face him.
"Not yet?" you repeat, and he just looks at you, nodding his head in confirmation.
"Not yet." He cuts the water off, getting a towel to dry himself off before drying you off, and you sit on your bed quietly as he rubs lotion over your body.
"I didn't mean to make you upset last night," you start, and he looks up at you as he finishes. "It wasn't my intention," you add, and he just waves you off with a smile, pulling you into his lap.
"It's okay. As long as you don't leave again any time soon." He looks ecstatic, and you hate to burst his bubble, but you might as well rip the band-aid off now.
"I actually have to work this week. I was only home all weekend cause I didn't have to." His ears fall as his hands slow down with their movements against your body. "But I'll be coming back!" you try. "I'll be back before you know it."
He's nowhere near pleased about it, but he decides to try and make up for it by keeping you in his arms for the rest of the day, barely letting you leave.
~
Trying to leave was taking a lot longer than it usually does, having to convince Kirishima that you would be back, and with him scenting you on top of that, another thing that you definitely decided would happen very often. You basically had to pull yourself out of the door, giving him a few scratches behind his ear to finally let you go.
You don't have to hesitate to admit that you'd rather be at home than sitting at a desk all day, already surprised with yourself that you're so suddenly used to have Kirishima attached at your hip that you feel kind of empty? in a way. You think about calling him, but you haven't even given him your number, and you don't even know if he has a phone.
You do have a house phone though, but the moment you try to reach for it, your manager comes to tell you that he's dragging you into another meeting. You discreetly roll your eyes as you stand. The phone call will just have to wait, but you're pretty sure he's fine.
Kirishima is restless. And that's putting it lightly. He's been pacing around your house since you left, and time feels like it's moving in slow motion. He's laying on the bed, but that seemed to make time move even slower. You told him when you were going to be back, so out of complete boredom, he goes back to his actual home, hoping that he doesn't come back to it being complete chaos.
When he gets there, it's just Bakugou, and he doesn't waste any time commenting on what he's doing. "You came back a lot sooner than expected," he starts, but his voice softens a little when he speaks again. "She reject the flowers? I told you it wasn't a good idea."
"No," Kirishima starts with a soft laugh even though his body is displaying how upset he is. "She has work, so I'm by myself for the next six hours."
"That's what humans do. I told you that when you first had the thought, and you knew that when you first had the thought, but--"
"Alright, alright, Bakugou. I get it." He sighs, rubbing a hand on his neck. "But you've experienced it all, and I haven't. Even if she's human, and even if I get to experience a little bit of it, I want to."
He doesn't respond to that, only giving him a look that Kirishima can interpret as understanding. "You do know that there's a risk since she isn't claimed, right? Shindou is still out there. Who knows what he's doing right now."
"I won't let that happen," Kirishima states. "I'm not going to let anything happen to her, and won't let him get near her."
Bakugou waves him off with his hand, a half-grin on his face. "Yeah, yeah. Whenever you do find him, call me. Let me get a few hits in."
A smile breaks out on Kirishima's face as he shakes his head fondly before he nods. "Yeah, always."
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When you get back home, you're more than surprised when you're not backed against the door, a werewolf scenting you down. It's too quiet in the house as you slip your shoes off, throwing your keys on the tiny table you have by your door. You check your room first, confusion covering your face when you see the sheets are unmade but there's no one in the bed.
The house actually looks like it hasn't been touched, and you're racking your brain trying to figure out where Kirishima could've gone because you're back at the time you told him, so he shouldn't be out looking for you. You walk into the kitchen, and you look out the window to see Kirishina outside, rolling in a pile of leaves. As a wolf.
You scramble through your back door, running up to him, and he hears you before you even turn the corner, and you have to stop in order to not run into him. "What the hell are you doing?" you start, and he turns his head to the side, his tag wagging vigorously behind him. "You can't be out here! Like this!" You wave your arms at his form, and he tilts his head, sitting down in front of you, and even in this form, he's still way bigger than you, his head at your chest.
You don't even know if he can understand you, but you keep talking anyway. "Someone could see you. You can't be a wolf in my backyard." He finally shifts, standing tall in front of you and naked in your fucking backyard.
"Sorry, I just didn't know what to do while you were gone," he says, and your sigh is audible as you close your eyes, rubbing your fingers over your forehead.
"I get that, but if you wanna go wolf, you can't do that here. There's some woods not too far from here, and you can run around or play or whatever, just not here." You repeat yourself, not knowing what could've happened if someone were to see him, and you know there's absolutely nothing you could use as an excuse.
His ears fall a little as he nods, and he's following you closely into the house when you walk back inside, and you collapse on your bed. It's not too long before you're being flipped over, and a weight is on top of you, and thankfully he's put on some sweats as he starts to return your smell back to him.
You're able to reach for the remote without having to move, and you turn on the TV, having to turn the volume up due to Kirishima's tail smacking the bed. He doesn't move off of you after he's done, his nose rubbing against your neck.
"Are you happy now?" you chide since his tail hasn't stopped moving since you've gotten home, and he makes a happy noise that sounds more like a small growl.
"I have nothing to do when you're gone," he says against your skin, his arms wrapping around you tighter, and you huff softly, moving a hand up to scratch as his ears, and you swear you can hear him purring as he tilts his head towards your hand. "I hate it when you leave."
"I know, but I have to. If I could stay home then I would. But I'll come back. I'm not leaving." Or rather you really can't, because at the end of the day this is your house, but you don't add that part in. "So, what else did you do today besides roll around in the backyard?"
"I went to go see Bakugou, and--" He stops, his body going stiff for a second before he lifts his head to look at you, and your hand drops from his head in question. "Be careful, okay?"
Your mouth drops open slightly, stunned at his sudden statement. "For what?"
"Just be careful. Promise me you will."
You nod shortly. "Yeah, okay." And he drops his head back into your neck, pushing his head back into your hand, and you start rubbing behind his ears again like nothing happened.
~
It's been about a month since you met Kirishima, and you guess you could call him your boyfriend? Nothing coupley has really happened by human standards you would say, but he's practically moved in at this point. You have noticed that for the past couple of days he's been more distant, not laying on top of you as much, and you wonder why.
He's never home most of the time, and instead of seeing him all of the time when you're home, you're seeing him a couple of times a night. You haven't really questioned him about it because he's reassured you time after time that it has nothing to do with you, he's just going through something right now. He tells you there's nothing you can do when you ask if you can help him, and he drops it at that, running off into the night again.
You've been swamped with so much work lately that you haven't had enough time to think about the possibilities it could be, figuring it has to do with something about him being a werewolf, and when you come home, he's not rubbing himself all over you once you walk in the door.
Not even a couple of minutes after you close the door, you hear rustling on your front porch, so you turn around, opening the door, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a loud thump on your doorstep. You think it's Kirishima as you finish swinging the door open, but he's standing right in front of you. With blood on his face.
Your brows furrow as you look down, stopping the scream that comes out of your mouth with your hand when you see a deer laying by his feet, and it definitely doesn't look alive. You look back at him in horror, but he just has a smile on his face, his tail wagging behind him.
"W-What?" It's all you can say, not knowing what to say, the smell of blood starting to flood into your nose.
"I hadn't shown you that I could provide for you," is all the information he gives you, and it takes you a second to come up with something to respond with.
"Am I supposed to eat that?"
He nods quickly, not tearing his eyes away from you, and you take a deep breath, covering your nose as the smell floods in again. "Um, thank you?" You say slowly, and that somehow makes his tail move even more.
Now where in the actual hell are you going to put that thing? You don't even know how to properly fix a deer in order to not get an internal parasite, and there's no way you're keeping that in your house. "You can just put it on the back porch for now," you say, almost absentmindedly because you're still reeling from the shock of this situation, and he hosts it up on his shoulder like it's as light as a backpack, and when he tries to step in the house, you stop him.
"Outside" you add, pointing outside because you don't want blood all over the house, and he proudly carries it back there, and you pray that no one sees him.
When he comes back, he tries to touch you, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. "You smell like blood," you say, wrinkling your nose now that you can smell him fully now. "Go get in the shower. Now."
He deflates. "But--"
"Now." Your voice is a little louder, more firm, and he slouches even more before making his way towards the bathroom, and you sigh when you hear the door close.
Sometimes, you asked for excitement in your life, but you're not sure if this is exactly what you meant.
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You're not back home when you should be, and Kirishima is past worried. He also noticed that the deer was gone roughly a couple of days after he brought it to you. He needed to blow off some steam, and it happened in the heat of the moment, but he realized that he didn't show you that he could be a good mate, and he brought it home.
You wouldn't really do away with it, would you?
His heart sinks a little as he thinks about it, but he's more worried about you. You gave him your number a while ago, but he'd just rather see you with his own eyes than hear your voice over the phone. He's about a step from the door when he hears a car door slam, and he stops, immediately recognizing your scent, and he opens the door when you walk up.
"Where were you?" It's the first thing that comes out of his mouth, his worry taking over, and you adjust your hold on the box you're holding in your arms.
"I had to make a quick stop," you grunt. "Now, if you could move this box is really heavy." He quickly moves out of the way, closing the door behind you as he follows you into the kitchen. You set the box down on the counter heavily, your breathing ragged as you rest your top half on the counter.
"What's in the box?" he asks, his sniffing audible to you, and you set yourself up on the counter next to it.
"The deer you brought me." His eyes widen as they look towards you. "I know absolutely nothing about deer, but someone at work does. And they got it processed. You know, so I don't get sick when I eat it." You end with a sigh. You're gonna be eating deer for a while.
Kirishima stopped listening after your first sentence. "You kept the deer?"
"Yeah, I mean, it's not every day a werewolf brings me a deer. And you looked really proud, so I didn't just wanna get rid of it."
He's moving over to you at lightning speed, and you suddenly feel his lips on yours, but the moment you get over your surprise and melt into the kiss, he's pulling away, his face in your neck. "You kept the deer." It sounds like it's supposed to be more to himself than to you, but you still hear it, and you notice that he's paying a lot more attention to the junction between your shoulder and your neck, feeling his nose on it, and then his lips.
He pulls away, stopping himself before it gets too far, and he's moving too fast, and when he finally looks at you, he stops moving. "Is there something special about me keeping the deer?" you ask in disarray, and he nods his head happily, but he doesn't give you an explanation, then he's going rigid, his face falling. "What?"
He steps back from you a little. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--I just got excited." You tilt your head a little, not understanding what he means, but then it hits you. You grab his hand before you move away from you, giving him a soft smile.
"No, it's okay," you reassure. "It was nice," you say quietly, and he smiles widely as he steps closer to you.
"Then can I kiss you again?" You chuckle at the question but nod your head anyway, and he's crowding you again, and you hold your breath in anticipation, sighing when his lips finally meet yours.
His arms wrap around your waist as your legs spread to fit his body, and he pulls away before leaning in again, this time with a deeper kiss, and your arms wrap around his neck when he picks you up, your legs doing the same as he carries you to your room.
He sets you on the bed carefully, fitting himself back between your thighs as his hands find your waist again. You moan softly as his tongue moves into your mouth slowly, your fingers moving into his hair at the base of his neck. As things get more heated, he pulls away, kissing down your neck as his hands crawl under your shirt, and you notice that his nails feel sharper along with his teeth against your skin.
"Eijirou." You whine it softly into the air when his nails graze over your skin, causing goosebumps to form all over your body. He pushes your shirt up, his hands starting to grope at your tits, and you moan even louder when you feel his teeth start to bite down on your neck.
He stops then, realizing what he was about to do, and you put a hand on his cheek when he stops moving. He lifts himself up, opening his eyes, but he has to close them when he sees your face, the look on it making it harder for him to fight his urge. "Fuck," he says under his breath, taking a deep breath as he tries to calm himself down.
You lift yourself up with your elbow, and when he finally looks at you again, there's concern etched in your eyes. "Are you okay?"
He nods a little, his body sagging when he sighs. "Yeah. I'm sorry," he starts. "It's not you, I swear," he promises, resting his hands on your arms. "It's just--not yet."
"Okay," you respond with a quiet huff. "We don't have to rush anything, it doesn't bother me." You move a little, fixing your shirt, and his eyes instantly zeroing on your neck, his teeth marks still there, and his brain malfunctions again.
He shakes his head, getting up quickly, and you try to reach for him, but then he's rushing out of the room, and then you hear the front door close.
~
You were worried about Kirishima, so you waited for him to come back, wondering what could be wrong because your concern is growing. You wake up when you feel a weight falling on you, and you immediately wrap your arms around him, realizing you must've fallen asleep waiting for him, and you're glad that you don't have to work tomorrow.
"Where'd you go?" you ask softly, moving a hand to his head, and you notice that his hair is damp, so he must've just gotten out of the shower.
"I wanted to clear my head. I didn't mean to make you worry," he mumbles in your neck, and you move your head away so that he'll look at you.
"Can you tell me what's going on? You're starting to scare me," you tell him honestly, and he sighs as he moves off of you, rolling onto his side and you do the same, facing him.
"It's the full moon. It makes it harder to stay...calm," he finishes slowly and you shrug.
"And that means?"
"My instincts to do certain things start to kick in harder, and I don't want to hurt you." It's not a total lie, but he doesn't want to say what he wants because he doesn't want to scare you away. He doesn't think he will because of how easily you just accepted him into your life, and he knows he's thrown you for a loop, but it's just to be safe.
"You're not gonna hurt me, Eijirou." You say after you laugh lowly between the two of you.
"It's just to be safe," he reiterates.
"Well, thanks for telling me," you say, a yawn following after. "And if there's anything that I can do, just let me know, okay?"
He nods, but little do you know.
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Kirishima's back to acting the way that he was, holding onto you every chance he got, being right there at the door when you got home, barely letting you leave to get to work. You actually realized how much you missed it, the feeling of being touched constantly, made you ridiculously touch starved when you weren't surrounded by him. It even got to the point where you were either climbing on top of him or moving him closer to you.
Seeing you act this way only makes Kirishima happier, his tail seeming to wag nonstop now, and you find yourself starting to hate leaving the house, and you really despise going to work even more than you use to. Of course, no one knows about him, not wanting to tell anyone that your boyfriend is a werewolf or wanting to explain a million things to them. Maybe one day, you'll tell one of your friends, but until then, you won't say a word.
When you get home, you're basically pushed out of the door as soon as you get in it, and you try to push against Kirishima, but you don't really do as much moving of him as he is of you. "Kirishima, what are you doing?"
"Nothing, uh, you said you needed to go to the store, right? I'll go with you." He says it quickly, pulling you towards your car, and despite your confusion, you get in anyway.
"Are you hiding something?" you question, putting your keys into the ignition, and he shakes his head, waving you off.
"No, of course not," he denies. "You said you needed to go grocery shopping, and I wanted to get to you before you didn't want to go anymore."
You squint at him, but you start the car anyway, backing out of the driveway.
He's already hiding the very noticeable features about him, and he seems more excited about going to the store than you do. He's walking with his arms wrapped around your waist as you push the shopping cart through the aisles, and there's a couple of times where you can hear his tail moving in his pants, and you have to tell him to knock it off so prevent getting weird looks from strangers.
You're going down the aisles in order so that you don't have to keep going back and forth, but you realize you forgot something that wasn't on the list, and Kirishima offers to go get it. You rest your weight on the cart, making sure it doesn't roll from under you, looking at your phone while you wait for him to come back.
"That seems like a lot of food for just you." You turn your head to the voice, meeting a man with jet black hair that towers over you, and you chuckle.
"Oh, my boyfriend could eat for days, so I have to make sure he's got enough," you joke, and you put yourself flush against the cart when he steps closer to you.
"Well, it doesn't look like your boyfriend's here," he counters. "And it doesn't look like you're claimed either." He whispers the next sentence, and you swallow heavily, Kirishima's warning of being careful blaring in your head. There's something familiar about him, but you can't pin it, and...what does he mean by claimed?
You release an uneasy laugh, trying to push the cart away, but he keeps stalking closer to you, and you don't know what to do because you don't want to make a scene, and you can't just scream Kirishima's name across the store.
"Get the fuck away from her, Shindou." You jump when Kirishima's suddenly next to you, pushing him out of the way and stepping in front of you. You grab onto his arm as you look past it, Shindou's eyes on Kirishima.
"'S been a while since I've seen you in your human form, Eijirou," he muses, but Kirishima doesn't break a smile, his whole body tense. You frown at his statement, trying to piece everything together, but what he says next causes it to all make sense. "I saw her first that night, yet she's the one with you. How does that work?"
He was the other wolf that night? It makes you think that he's the very reason why Kirishima told you to be careful, but you had never crossed paths with him, at least you didn't think you did.
"You could've at least talked to me, instead of stalking towards me like you were gonna kill me," you speak up, and his eyes cut to you, and you hold the stare, not faltering.
You can feel Eijirou's breathing pick up, and you slide your hand into his, feeling his nails getting sharper, and you rub circles onto the back of his hand with your other one. It calms him down a little bit, his nails start to dull, but his breathing stays heavy.
They shouldn't do this here, at least they should know that it isn't a good idea. You don't much about Shindou, but you hope that he's smart enough to not start a fight in the middle of the store aisle.
He smirks at you, looking back at Kirishima. "You two have fun with your shopping," he says before walking off, and you both watch him until he disappears. When you feel Kirishima might follow him, you stop him, tightening your grip on his arm.
"Let's just go, Eiji. That was the last thing on the list," you try, and he turns around, setting his hands on the shopping cart, caging you in-between him before heading towards the register.
He's still tense even after you walk out of the store, and he helps you load the bags in the car when he turns around suddenly. He's looking off somewhere, and you follow his line of sight, but you can't tell what he's looking at. "Kiri--"
"Get in the car," he tells you firmly, and you stop moving towards him, your frown deepening.
"What?"
"Get in the car." He hasn't looked your way, his eyes staring in the direction he's looking at, and you walk in front of him.
"Kirishima, I'm not leaving you. Let's just go, okay? It'll be fine--" You stop when he looks down at you, his eyes redder than they usually are.
"Get in the car and go home." He starts to walk off, and you know there's no way you can stop him, but you try. "I'll be back before you know it." He says it with a smile and then he's running off, and you call after him, but it's no use as you watch him disappear.
~
You waited for him in the parking lot for about an hour, and he never came back. Your hands are shaking with worry as you drive home, quickly hauling the groceries into the house. You sit down on the couch, your leg bouncing as you anxiously wait for Kirishima to come through the door.
You're so wired, you put the groceries away to try and calm yourself, but when he's still not back, you start to pace back and forth. You tried calling his phone, but your heart dropped when you hear it ringing in your room. You lay down on the couch, watching the door, listening for anything, any sign of him, but it never comes.
It's going on four AM now, and your eyes burn with sleep, but you can't bring yourself to close your eyes. The sleep starts to win out about ten minutes later, but then you hear footsteps on the porch, and you're racing to the door. Your hand is hovering over the doorknob, not knowing who could actually be on the other side, but then you hear your name and that familiar voice.
"It's me. You can let me in."
You're swinging the door open, and he's walking inside, and you look at him, but see that his face has blood on it. His shirt is ripped and filled with blood too, and tears fall from your eyes against your will.
"You are a fucking asshole!" you scream, and you try to hit him in the chest, but he catches your wrist, the smile on his face falling. You try to hit him again but stops you once more. "You had me scared shirtless for hours! And you left your fucking phone! And stop catching my wrists so I can fucking hit you!"
You're nearly hysterical, but he grips your wrists a little tighter, pulling your arms down. "Baby, relax. Relax. I'm okay." You don't want to relax. There's tears streaming down your face, and he wipes them away, and your fatigue finally hits you as you slump. "It's over, okay? He won't mess with us anymore." Your eyes widen, and he shakes his head, already knowing what you're thinking. "No, I didn't do that. But he's not anywhere near here anymore."
You nod slowly, looking down as you calm your heart, and he lifts your head up by your chin. "Have you slept?" he asks, and you scoff as you throw your hands up, letting them fall back down at your sides.
"Of course, I haven't slept. I didn't know what happened to you, I was worried." You look down his body again, and you see that he's still bleeding. You grab his hand, ignoring him when he tells you that you need to lay down as you guide him to the bathroom. You make him sit on the toilet as you grab your first aid kit, and you start to clean his wounds and the blood off of him that must not be his.
"You look awful," you whisper, partly scolding him for doing something so stupid, and you see his chest move with a huff.
"You should see the other guy." You give him a look that you don't find the joke funny as you tape up the open wound.
"Are you supposed to heal really fast or something?" you ask, running your fingers over the gauze.
"Shindou's an Alpha, too. It'll take a little longer for it to fully heal." You hum softly as you put the kit away, and then you turn back to him. "I'm sorry I made you scared. I got angry."
"You're an idiot," you deadpan, sniffling loudly.
"But I'm your idiot, right?" You smile despite yourself, shoving him in the shoulder.
"Stop being cheesy, I'm trying to be mad at you right now." He grabs your hands, pulling you towards him, and you sigh when he plants his lips on yours, your hands coming up to cup his face.
"Are you still mad?" he says after he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours.
"A little," you mumble before you turn your head to the side to yawn loudly. He stands then, keeping a hand in yours as he moves towards the door.
"Come on, sleepyhead. I wanna show you something." You let him guide you out of the bathroom, the fatigue really hitting you now; you're practically a zombie.
You walk into your room, and he turns the light on, and the first thing your eyes notice is that your bed has gotten about two feet taller. And not the post, but the bed itself. "What is this?" you ask, seeing a whole bunch of different things on your bed from your clothes to his, different blankets and pillows.
He gets a little quiet as he rubs the back of his neck. "It was what I was working on before you got home." He pauses before he finishes his answers. "It's a nest."
You look at him, seeing his face red as he waits for your reaction, and you look back at it, a smile forming on your face. "I love it." His hand tightens around yours at your words.
"Really?"
You nod quickly, and it's mostly because it looks like the most comfortable thing in the world, and before you can walk to it, he's picking you up, nearly throwing you on top of it, and then he's on you. He kisses you happily, his tail making a rhythmic noise against the fabrics, and you can't help but laugh into the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck as he plants his face in yours.
And it's not even five minutes before sleep claims you both.
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Kirishima has a big problem. Like a huge problem. And he's starting to run out of options. This isn't supposed to be happening now, but it's your fault that it is. You don't know it of course, but it's your fault. And he knows one of the events that started it.
He was lying down on you one day, and he'd lifted your shirt up, kissing up your stomach because it was making you laugh, claiming that it was ticklish, and he kept going until he got to your chest. His eyes zero in on your boobs, and before he can even think things through, he's putting his mouth on one.
You moan at the feeling, but you don't push him away, and he starts to suck it into his mouth. He goes back and forth between them, sucking on them until you were pushing him away because they were starting to get sensitive. "You know I can't produce milk until I'm pregnant, right?" you tease with a soft laugh, and his brain blanks.
"Oh."
"Oh?" It's all he can say. His face tells you that his mind is elsewhere, but before you can question him about it, he's snapping out of it, and eventually distracting you from asking him about it.
His rut kicked early and it hit him like a train. He woke up overheated, his body tingling, and he had to get away from you before he did something that he was going to regret later. He basically avoided you all morning only giving you a kiss goodbye and practically shoving you out of the door.
He remembers the look of confusion on your face crosses his mind, and he'll explain it when he's in the right mindset, and not the mindset that only gives him one thought: to mate with you.
But he hasn't told you about any of that yet, wanting to wait for the right time, and he thought he would have enough time to tell you before it happened, but it came before he knew it. He's done everything to try and fight it, maybe try and get rid of it. He's been running through the woods all morning, even going so far as to bang his head on the wall a couple of times.
But then he started to get hard, even hornier, and it seemed like the more he ignored it, the worst it hurt. He's throbbing in his sweats, but he doesn't want to touch himself because that will pull him down a rabbit hole that he won't be able to escape.
He's been eating all of the food, having to fill his hunger with something else because you're not here. It starts to get too much though, and he finds himself laying on his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and time is moving so slow.
His senses are heightened, which means he can smell everything, which is what's making this situation worse. He closes his eyes, but that only makes him think of you, and he groans as he strips off his shirt. Maybe one time wouldn't hurt? Maybe after one orgasm, it'll tone down.
It doesn't take long for him to convince himself, and when he palms himself, he's already on the brink of cumming. Yeah, just one time. He shoves his sweats off, throwing them to the side, his underwear following, and his dick slaps his stomach before he can grab it, and when he does he nearly melts in relief, but as he takes a deep breath in, he can't help but smell it.
And he's already too far gone, so he doesn't have any reservations as he gets up, and gets to the laundry. The dirty laundry. He digs through it until he finds what he's looking for, and he can feel his mouth watering just look at the piece of clothing in his hand when he finds it.
It's not even anything sexy, just a random pair of gray cotton panties, but the smell is what attracts him the most. You're ovulating, and that's what kicked his rut in early, the smell of you just flooding into his nose, and the rest is history.
He holds them to his nose, groaning when he takes a deep inhale, and he licks at the crotch, nearly crumbling when the taste hits his tongue as he scrambles to find another pair. He's able to find one, keeping that one under his nose as he wraps the other one around his dick.
He's practically humping the floor, his release right there, and another deep smell is what sends him over the edge, his body going rigid as he cums, coating your panties and the floor in his release. He falls limp onto the floor, feeling a little disappointed that it's being wasted, but as he catches his breath, he realizes that it didn't work and that he's still throbbing painfully.
He's moving his hips against the floor quickly, his nails digging into the floor as he cums within record time, a growl coming from him this time as he whines at the oversensitivity, but it feels good, and he can't stop.
What the fuck has he done? He was stupid to think that he would be fine after one nut, but now he's even more desperate. He's sweating buckets now, and he cranks the air up as high as he can get it, but he's still hot as ever, and now he's back on the bed, finding a random shirt of yours in the pile of the nest, holding it to his nose as he strokes himself quickly.
His eyes shoot open when he hears his phone ring, and he grabs it from the nightstand, seeing your name flash across the screen. He doesn't know if he should answer it, but he knows you're probably calling because you're worried about him, and he answers it right before it goes to voicemail.
He doesn't say anything, trying to keep his breathing leveled so that you don't suspect anything. "Eiji, are you okay?"
He stifles a moan when you say his name, nodding his head even though you can't see him. "Yeah." It's all he can get out, and it's a lot airier than he would like it to be. "W-What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing," you dismiss. "I was on my lunch break and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with you this morning. You just seemed a little flustered."
He feels so awful using your voice to jack off, but he can't help it. You're right in his ear, and his hand just so happens to be on his dick while he's wildly horny, and he doesn't say anything to you. "Hey, are you okay?" The concern in your voice is what sends him over, the fact that you care so much about him, and he bites down on his tongue as he cums, shooting all over his hand.
"I'm fine," he breathes out heavily.
"Are you on a run or something?"
"Yeah, yeah. I was feeling a little restless today," he lies, using it to allow himself to breathe a little bit more heavily into the phone.
He hears you laugh, and his hand twitches around himself, trying so hard to not move it. "You know I'll be back before you know it."
That causes him to groan a little too loud, the thought of you coming home and finally giving him the chance to breed you flooding into his head. "Yeah, I know. I'll see you then." He hangs up the phone, throwing it to the side as he cries out, the urge to stroke himself again winning out. He doesn't know how many times he's cum, losing count the moment he started losing his mind to pleasure. He's throbbing, sensitive, and covered in his own cum, and there's downtime where he actually feels a little satisfied, and he's finally able to catch his breath. And he tries to figure out how he's going to tell you the truth.
~
This is another instance where you come home and Kirishima's nowhere to be seen. As you look for him, you hope that he's not getting another deer, having your fill of it to last you for a long time. You look out the window to check the backyard, making sure he's not out there again, but then you hear noises coming from your room, and you follow them.
And the last thing you expect to see when you open the door is Kirishima on the bed, naked, on his knees as hips his hump against the bed. You freeze when you step into the room, swallowing heavily as the image in front of you sends heat flooding in between your legs.
"Um..." you trail off softly, completely floored, not knowing what to say, and his head turns to you, his eyes red and he whines loudly, his hips still moving, but they've slowed. "Are you...what?"
He shakes his head quickly, his movements stuttering as he tries to get himself to stop moving. "It hurts," he breathes, his nails on the brink of ripping what's underneath his hands.
"Okay, okay," you say quietly, your legs walking themselves towards the bed. "What can I do?" Everything happens in a blur, Kirishima moving towards you, your clothes being ripped off, his face in between your legs. You barely have time to think about breathing, and when you finally do, you lift yourself up on your elbows.
His face is inches from your core, his nails digging into your hips as he starts to drool, and you feel your face grow warm as he takes a deep inhale, closing his eyes. "Don't do that," you scold softly, trying to push his head away in embarrassment, but he doesn't even move, his pupils dilated as he keeps his attention on you, and you feel yourself getting wetter even under his gaze.
"Are you okay with this?" he asks, his lips hovering over your folds, practically touching him. "You're okay with whatever I do to you?"
"What are you trying to do?" You don't know why you're voice is shaky, maybe it's because you've never seen him like this before, and it's doing nothing but making you even more turned on.
"Taste you," he says quickly, his eyes not meeting yours. "Then breed you, and then you're gonna take my knot." You throw an arm over your face, your skin like a furnace, and you wonder how he can just say shit like that so nonchalantly. And you do know what he's referring to in his last statement, finding out that knowledge when you were bored in your research, and you happened to stumble across fanfiction.
The moment you came across it, you knew how deep in a hole you had gotten, but you were too intrigued to not read it, so you read one. It seemed to be pretty accurate for the most part, right down to a T actually, and you feel yourself gush at his declaration, and from what you read, is basically life-changing. You nod your head quickly, your breathing already getting heavy as you pull your arm away to look at him.
"Y-Yeah, I'm okay with that." You've barely gotten the word okay out, and he yanking your legs over his shoulders, a yelp coming from you as he smashes his face against you. He groans loudly against you, and you try to move away from him at the sudden but very much needed stimulation, but he holds you down, his nails digging into your skin just bordering on painful.
His tongue is everywhere at once, moving from your swollen clit to your hole, and his tongue definitely seems to be longer, feeling it deeper in your walls than previous men you've been with. You're moaning loudly, forming words nearly difficult as you pull at his hair. His tail is smacking the bed violently as he starts to rut against the fabric, eating you out with so much enthusiasm, it's overwhelming.
You feel your high approaching quickly, and all he's done is touched with his mouth, and you clench around his tongue at the thought of what pleasure his dick might bring, and he moans, the vibrations heavy against you. The sounds of slurping and sucking are so vulgar to your ears, but you don't care, tugging harder on his hair as you get closer.
He pulls you closer to his face, his hips moving faster as he speaks against your lips. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, I wanna taste it, want it all," he says, but you can't make it out as the blood rushes in your ears, your thighs clenching around his head as you cum, your slick coating his face, and he barely lets a drop hit the sheets.
He makes sure to catch all of it, and you don't have a chance to come down from your high because he doesn't pull his mouth away from you. "Kiri, fuck, it hurts," you whine, pushing weakly against his head, but it doesn't feel like anything to him, his head spinning, and he feels almost hysterical.
"I know, baby, I know. Just give me one more, 'kay?" When he pulls away to speak is the only break you get, and then he's diving in again, spreading your legs apart until you feel your muscles pull from the stretch. You can't even move now, feeling like you're melting into a puddle.
You can barely react, soft moans coming from you as your chest heaves up and down. Your climax approaches even faster than before, the overstimulation heightening it, and you groan when he pushes his fingers inside of you, not knowing how many he's sliding in, but they're thick, your walls pulsing around him as he stretches you out.
He splits his fingers as he presses on your sweet spot, and you can feel your legs start to shake, and you can't even warn him when you cum this time because it hits you out of nowhere. You cry out as your juices cover his face even more, and you really can't tell who's getting more pleasure. You or Kirishima.
He continues to move his fingers in you, and a weak, shaky hand attempts to grab at his wrist. "Kiri, I can't--" You feel tears protruding your lash line, and you gasp loudly when he slides them out, finally feeling you can breathe again.
You seem to sink more into the bed as you go limp, having no strength to move anymore, and you feel the bed dip by your legs, signaling to you that Kirishima's moving. You don't lift your head because his body's hovering yours, his face dripping with your cum. "I had to stretch you out, you got a lot to take." He's got a feral grin on his face, but his eyes still have a hint of the Kirishima that you met that night in his eyes. But the rest of it is completely gone, and you wonder if this is what he meant when he said his instincts start to take over.
You watch him sit back on his haunches, stroking himself with the hand that was previously in your cunt, and your eyes widen when your eyes land in between his legs. You thought it was big when you saw it in the shower, but hard, it looks massive, and it's a little intimidating. You can practically see it throbbing, the tip a ridiculous shade of red, and your eyes follow the lines of the thick veins you can see clearly, your eyes finishing at the huge balls at the base of his dick, and he's producing so much pre-cum it's spilling over his hand and onto the bed.
"That's...inside me?" you breathe, and he sets a hand on your thigh, and you're surprised at how soft it feels, and you look up at him.
"I'll go slow, okay? I'll make you feel good, I promise." Well, you can hold him to that, the two orgasms he's already given you proving that statement with no sweat, but it still doesn't stop your heart from beating even faster.
He spreads your legs again to accommodate his massive body, lining up with your entrance, and he grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he guides himself in. Oh, fuck. You already feel your walls trying to stretch to its limits to fit his girth, but he's just so big.
Your nails dig into the back of his hand as a broken whine leaves your lips, and he leans down to plant his lips on yours softly, which is a drastic contrast to the way he's splitting you open. He slides in even more, slowly, but it's still overwhelming, and the tears in your eyes fall, a pitiful sob stuttering out of your chest. "That's the tip," he mumbles against your lips, and your eyes widen as you fumble a cry out again.
"It's too--it's so--" You don't know what to say, trying to relax your body against him, but you feel every nerve ending being pushed to the limit, some you weren't even aware could be stimulated.
"I know, but you're doing so good. You're taking me so well." You moan at the praise, looking down to see that there's so much more of him to go, and you feel like you might pass out from the intense pleasure. "You're being such a good girl right now. You know you're my good girl."
The whine you respond with is even higher, and the praise making you gush even more around him, and even with him moving painfully slow, the squelching is so recognizable. "Fuck me, you're so tight," he groans, his face falling into your neck, and he plants sloppy kisses against your skin, using every fiber in his being to not sink into you quickly like he wants to. "You feel so fucking good."
You haven't even realized that he'd stopped moving, and he guides you to look at him, your eyes glazed over, almost giving you the look of being in a trance. "Focus on me, I'm right here," he coos softly, and you can feel his balls twitching against your ass, and you realize that he's all the way in, but you also feel that he's all the way in your throat.
You look down, moaning at the sight of the bulge in your tummy, and he hums softly, smugly as he moves your head to look at him again. "Yeah, you see that? You see me in your tummy?" You nod quickly, feeling like breathing is a hard task, and he kisses the tears on your face, sweat coating every inch of your skin. "You ready for me to move?"
You brace a hand on his arm as you nod, and your mouth falls open when he slowly slides out, only halfway, before bringing himself back in. If this is how you die, you literally couldn't have picked a better way. You feel every inch of him rubbing against your walls, and everything about it is so good, you can't find one thing to focus on.
He whines as he falls against you, throwing your leg up around his waist as he bites down on your neck, but not enough to mark you, as he slowly accelerates the rhythm of his hips. You're moaning wantonly in his ears, which only causes him to go faster, his balls smacking against your ass loudly as the bed starts to creak with the weight of his motions.
"Shit, fuck, you're gonna make a pretty mama." It slips out against his will, and he growls when you clench around him, and he turns his head so that his mouth is right next to your ear. "Yeah, you want that? You wanna be a mama, wanna take my seed?"
He feels you feebly nod against him, pulsating around him even more frequently, and he cums on the spot. He goes rigid as his dick twitches, spilling inside of you, and you can feel how warm and full you feel, and there's so much of it, most of it already spilling out of you before he's even finished cumming. You cum not too long after him, and that's when his final wall breaks.
His hips are brutal against yours now as he shifts, his nails growing longer as his teeth sharpen, threatening to break the skin on your neck. He pulls your legs up around his waist, covering you fully with his body, and the only thing you can do is scream, moan, or whine.
He moves down to your chest, taking one nipple into his mouth as he thinks about your tits huge and full of milk, and he sucks on your nipple like you're actually producing it. Your face is covered in tears at this point, and you find any fiber in your body to finally speak even though he's rendering you speechless.
"W-Want it, Eijirou. Please," you beg. "Knot me, I want it--can take it." His nails dig into your hips, eventually drawing blood as he holds you down, fucking into you with even more fervor. "Mark me, baby, do it, wanna be yours, let me have it."
He nearly roars at your words, and he's approaching his high ridiculously quickly, and you can feel it start to swell at the base of his dick, and you bite down on his shoulder as you literally feel like you're being ripped apart. "You're gonna take it all," he grunts, his tongue licking over your pulse point. "You're. Gonna. Take. It. All." His words are punctuated with every thrust, his knot starting to catch at the rim of your poor, abused hole, and you cum when you feel him bite through the skin on your neck, his knot fully formed as he shoots into you, the tip abusing your cervix.
He keeps his movements shallow, both of your minds dizzy with euphoria, fucking both of you through your highs as his tongue laps at the blood on your neck. You're trembling underneath him, both of your heavy breathing largely audible, feeling your heartbeats thrumming in your chest. He lets your legs fall as he kisses over the mark, up your neck, over your tear-stained face before he finally meets your lips.
It's lazy, mostly tongue, both of you exhausted, and he shifts back, pulling away to look at your face, and he's relieved when you look utterly satisfied. "Are you okay?" he whispers, grabbing a towel that was nestled in the middle of the nest and placing it on your hips where he broke the skin.
You hum as you nod, your movements slowed as you feel your eyelids heavy with fatigue. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he says, his voice sounding apologetic, and he brings his hands up to cup your face, wiping the rest of your tears away. "You should've stopped me."
Your hand comes up to tangle in the hair on his neck, and you shake your head. "I said I wanted it," you slur, feeling contently full and pleased in more ways than one. "I'm okay."
"I can't do much to help you," he says, sheepishly. "Kinda stuck here for a while," he adds with a soft laugh.
"'S okay, just want you to hold me." You're both coating in each other's cum, hair clinging to your bodies from the sweat, but he wraps his arms around you, apologizing when you wince at the sudden stimulation inside of you, and he plants soft kisses across your skin, whispering praises as he moves along. "This is what you were hiding from me, wasn't it?" you ask softly.
"Yes," he admits playfully. "It's not gonna scare you off is it?" he jokes, and you get enough energy to huff out a laugh.
"A week after we met, you broke into my house and climbed into my bed. This was nothing," you reply confidently, and he feels his face heat up softly at his actions when he first met you, and he eyes the mate mark on your neck before returning his eyes to you.
"Did you mean it? You wanna be mine?"
You smile sleepily, your eyes closing as you nod. "Kinda late for that question, but yes." You sigh heavily as your breathing starts to even. "Love you, Eiji."
He feels his heart stutter at your declaration, and his face hurts from smiling crazy hard, and he kisses you gently again before rubbing his nose against yours, his tail smacking against the bed profusely. "I love you, too."
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I really sat here and wrote all of this... *sighs*
Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!
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joekabox · 3 years
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I just watched Digimon Adventure: Last Evolution Kizuna
I’m writing this while my thoughts are fresh, so I just want to say these may not be my final thoughts on the film. Sometimes a film takes a little while to fully hit me, and this is just my thoughts immediately after watching said film.
Spoilers below, and a lot of text. I had a lot to say, sorry. I also apologize if its a little rambley, that’s kind of just how my brain works. Anyway...
Going into the film, I heard mixed reviews from various sources. From some, I heard the film was bad, from others, that it was good, but from most, that it was just okay. Nothing horrible, nothing great, but an okay film. 
I’m not sure where I sit, presently, but perhaps I’ll come to an idea by the end of this review.
The film is very well put together. Unlike Tri, and arguably the last bit of Adventure and a good portion of Adventure 02, Last Evolution felt like a cohesive plot, beginning to end. It knew what it wanted to be, and it did it. There wasn’t a point where I felt confused about what was happening, and unlike Tri, it didn’t throw in random elements that went unexplained from 02 and proceed to leave them unexplained. I think the closest we get is a shot of Sora, alone, with her Digivice turned to stone with little explanation as to what happened, but honestly, I think we can all agree we know what was happening, just putting together the scenes the film showed us earlier of her and Piyomon together. She was hit first, and while the film didn’t hold our hand on her journey, her journey acted as a vehicle to drive us towards the ending of this film, and I appreciate it.
Every emotional scene hits, every action scene is well executed. The animation is fresh and new, but evokes the original style in a way that isn’t exact but certainly close enough. I think that was maybe a good choice, given the theme of the film itself. 
In tone, it isn’t just a sad waterworks of a story the entire way through like Tri tried to be, but instead one loaded with emotional weight but enough pep and action to keep it feeling upbeat most of the time.
Overall, I liked watching this movie. I felt compelled to keep watching, and the opening scene of the film is just a love letter to Adventure as a whole. I honestly forgot it was only an hour and a half long as I got engaged with the story, as it never feels slow but every scene has weight and depth to it.
This film seems to care far more about the characters and drive of the story than Tri did, and by that I mean it didn’t try fixing all the flaws of the original, but simply let them rest. I think that might have been intentional, as this movie really felt like a ‘good bye’ to the series. The entire plot was about putting Adventure to rest, after all.
Now for the bad stuff.
This film really missed the chance to introduce Biomerging to the Adventure mythos via Taichi and Yamato, and while it gave that honor to the antagonist of the film, it didn’t seem to bother with the protagonists, probably because people seem to cringe when some fans even mention the concept of humans turning into Digimon.
Tamers gave us the concept of Biomerging to drive home the idea that a tamer and their Digimon partner had a bond beyond just friendship, and while perhaps ham-fisted, was a great visual metaphor. Last Evolution seemed to have a subtle buildup to this same core idea, but when push came to shove, we have Agumon and Gabumon becoming very humanoid versions of their Greymon and Garurumon forms respectively, meanwhile Taichi and Yamato just sit on their shoulders and pantomime their actions. I’m deeply curious if the initial idea was to biomerge them, but they bailed last second, but I digress.
This film also seems to continue the trend of just not caring about 02, but less so. While I will 100% give this film credit for not only including the 02 cast but also giving them a plot within the film, they didn’t really feel connected to the rest of the characters, not even towards Hikari or Takeru, who they spent the entire length of a show with. They just sort of feel like sidekicks to the Adventure cast, and not their own characters. We never even get Imperialdramon, despite Imperialdramon being shown to be at least on par with Omegamon in abilities, if not slightly surpassing them.
And, my biggest complaint, and one that probably isn’t a surprise: the time limit on having a Digimon partner makes little sense when looking at the rest of the mythos. In 02, we are shown the character of Oikawa, who’s entire narrative is a lifelong goal to go to the Digital World like him and his late best friend always dreamed of, and relies on children to aide him because he’s a grown man (if I recall correctly). From that alone, it seems like the ‘adults can’t have Digimon partners’ angle makes sense...except it doesn’t, because in the last bit of the show, Oikawa finally does make it to the Digital World, and what awaits him on the other side? His chosen Digimon partner, who waited this entire time to meet them, having dreamed of the day Oikawa would one day visit the Digital World.
While I suppose the ‘grown ups don’t have Digimon’ bit isn’t necessarily unsupported, it feels like an unnecessary plot device. The only saving grace I think it has, beyond making for an engaging and emotionally impactful film, is that several points of the film suggest this may not be the final say. Gennai makes an off handed comment about the possibility of delaying it, and there’s a constant message of “well see each other again.” While that may be just a hopeful thing to say in the face of sadness, much as one often says such things to a dying loved one, a producer of Last Evolution has stated that the film does, in fact, line up with the established Adventure canon, including the ending of 02, which specifically states that not only do Taichi and Yamato have their Digimon partners, but that everyone gets a Digimon partner. 
If this film really is intended to be canon with the finale of 02, and that Agumon and Gabumon will one day return, then I feel this film simply cared more about its narrative of growing up and moving on than anything, and honestly...I don’t think that’s horrible, in retrospect. This film, as mentioned, had a very cohesive plot, and a very strong story it was trying to tell, and it did it well. At no point did I feel anything was done to punish the audience or throw a kink in the hose, if you will.
The worst aspects of Tri (which I keep comparing this film to, sorry), were its insistence to cut away from 02, correct things done wrong in the lore of Adventures past, and tell an ultimately disheartening and sad message of “sometimes bad things happen and it sucks and there’s no good side about it, but we must move on.” Last Evolution has a similar message of “sometimes bad things happen and it sucks,” but it goes on to say “but that doesn’t really matter, given all the good times we had, does it?” It doesn’t make you feel bad for having invested time into people and things you care about.
While Digimon Adventure: Last Evolution Kizuna was not perfect, and not the sendoff I wanted, it was okay. It was a love letter to the series, and it had a great deal of depth to it I’ve not seen in an Adventure story since my childhood, and at no point did it make me wish it hadn’t happened...and honestly I think that’s exactly perfect. That is exactly the message it was trying to convey.
At the end of the day, perhaps Agumon and Gabumon are gone, for now, but just because they left, it doesn’t mean they took their memory with them.
To quote the translated lyrics of Butterfly, by the late Koji Wada, which began each episode of the original Adventure:
“After an endless dream, in this miserable world That's right, maybe not using common sense isn't so bad after all Even with these awkward wings, dyed with images that seem to stay I'm sure we can fly, on my love”
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seeyacowboy · 5 years
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Blood of a todoroki
Chapter 5.
Dabi x f!reader. A.u. Oc
Warnings- mention of blood. Slightly lime. Violence. Cursing. Alcohol. Mention of Abuse. This follows the touya/dabi theory.
I’ve had writers block so badly the past couple of weeks. Thankfully inspiration hit me.
Just for a little recap your a anti-hero named Exemplum (Latin for copy). Quirk- copy other people’s quirks after getting a sample of their blood. You and your U.a. Hero/ classmates are in your 20’s now.
•••
It was about 7:45pm when you started walking up the stairs to the town hall. It was something out of a movie. Cameras clicks and lights flashing. it made her hands sweat, but she was not going to ruin this dress.
“Okay (y/n) we got some dresses for you to try on for the ball.” The tall metal bartender exclaimed.
Your room was only a few doors down from the entertainment/living room area and you always had your door slightly cracked during the day for times like this.
walking out in a silk robe that went down to your knees. Someone had put a pedestal for you to stand on like at the tailors. Shyly standing on it bringing your hands to your sternum holding them together rubbing each knuckle out of nervous habit. Everyone’s eyes were on your tailor but you couldn’t help but feel plagued with the idea that they were staring at you.
“Can you guys like go in another room or find some crime related thing to do?” Dabi laughed at your edge.
“Surely you aren’t bothered are you, (y/n)?” asked spinner.
“No I’m clearly thriving off the attention, spinner. If you could call the news paper about me being in a dress and make it the front page I’d be fucking delighted.” Most people in the room let out a chuckle.
Kurogiri was at the top of your ankle measuring the length from your hip to ankle. “Okay ,dear, it looks like you have a couple of options considering your height.”
He walks off to get the dresses.
“ I need a fucking shot. My hands are sweating like crazy.-“
During your rambling you didn’t notice that dabi had come over and sat on the couch directly in front of the platform. he leans forward and takes the first knuckles of your fingers in his hand and kisses them. It was enough in that moment for you to calm down.
Kurogiri comes back with three dresses.
One is a champagne color, full length, low cut in a deep v shape and a slit from the bottom until your upper thigh. You could have died right then and there. This was out of your comfort zone but its also the most amazing dress you have ever seen in your life; basically running to your room to try it on.
Coming back out in some strapped open toed high heels and ear rings on.
I think everyone’s eyes widened (dabi’s jaw just about hit the floor.) when they first saw you. Feeling super confident you strut your stuff back to the platform and do a little spin.
“ eh it’s okay.” Making you turn around to look at the hallway you just came out of seeing Shigaraki leaning against the wall.
“Okay? Just okay? THAT’S IT!” you throw your arms up. “I’m going in jeans and a hoodie!”
“ No you’re not. It’s the first dress just try the next one on. This just screams u.a. prom. You’re in your twenties now let’s look like it.” You gasp and place your hand on your chest.
“Well ,I never.”
“Yeah, whatever get moving.”
You look back at dabi and he raises his hands not wanted to get in the middle of it and leaning back into the couch.
“Who’s side are you on?”
“I’m a villain; anything to discomfort and inconvenience ,I suppose.”
With that you go to your room and showing the crew two more options. They settled on a bodycon dress that went to your calves and was more of an a-line at the cleavage. Silk with a lovely deep blue color almost being perceived as black from different angles. Matched with black heels and diamond ear rings.
Dabi and you waited outside for your car to drive up. He had you leaning up against the wall with his hand above your head and staring into your eyes. You pulled a cigarette out of your clutch putting it in your mouth letting his long finger light it for you. “Pretty girls don’t light their own cigarettes.” He smirks looking up and down between your lips and eyes.
letting his free hand snake over the side of your thigh. He loves the feeling of silk on his finger tips. Exhaling the smoke without care letting it go into his face, he was unfazed. You lean over to his ear and whisper “ do you know what it means when someone blows smoke in your face?” He hummed very interested. “It means they want to fuck.” Letting the k at the last work click and linger out of your mouth as you lean your back against the wall. Dabi bit his bottom scarred lip and huffed. “If only there was time, we’ll just have to wait until you get back.” He finished with a poke on the nose. You see headlights turning the corner and coming toward you. Putting out your half smoked butt. Leaning up and giving dabi a kiss as the car pulls closer, he takes you by the arms and looks deep into your eyes. “Come back soon.”
“Oh I will believe me.” You smiled him.
You get into the car and he shuts the door behind you. Dabi is left standing in the streets with his hands in his pockets.
•••
“Exemplum!! Are you here alone tonight?!”
“Exemplum!! you look stunning give us a good shot!”
“Exemplum!! why have you been gone for so long? Eloped? Who’s your secret man?”
You practically started running up the stairs trying get away from these intrusive questions. Looking down at your feet to make sure you don’t fall over yourself in these heels you don’t notice as you crash into someone. You look up to see shinsou, pleasantly to your surprise. Giving him a big smile you bring him into a tight hug and whisper “it’s been a long time, my friend.” Into his ear. He agrees and returns the hug. “Come on lets get you out of these cameras before the vultures eat you alive.” He gives you a crazy grin. You laugh at his comment and wrap your arm in his walking into the building.
In a very short amount of time the two of you ended up at the bar. You’re drink of choice was a vodka tonic and shinsou got a jameson and ginger. It felt like every 2 minutes someone was coming up and saying hi.
“Hey do you remember that kid over there? What’s his name? Shindou?” You remarked pointing your finger in the most nonchalant way possible.
Shinsou looked out the corner of his eye and let out a chuckle “it sure is. Didn’t you kick his ass during the licensing exam?”
“Oh easily, he’s such a prick. He thinks just cause he has vibration quirk he can get all the girls. He can’t even use it correctly.”
“What’s that’s suppose to mean?” Shinsou knitted his eyebrows together causing you to smirk as you bring your drink to your lips.
“Well the reason I kicked his ass during the licensing exam was because we kinda hooked up in an empty locker room before it started and he couldn’t find certain areas so I told him I’d have a better time doing it myself. He called me a bitch and left me there. I had to show him who the real bitch was.”
Shinsou is pretty much in tears from laughing so hard. Everyone is looking over at this point which is making you laugh. You can’t help but blush and cover your face. “Shin! stop making a scene he’ll look over here!” You couldn’t help but snicker.
You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn around to see a young man with a head set and clip board. “Hello miss Exemplum. Are you ready to get on stage?”
“On stage? What are you talking about?”
“We were told by hawks you would be performing tonight, he said not to trouble you about it before because you get stage fright.”
You put your drink down on the counter. “Who the hell is hawks? What the hell is going on.” Your fold your arms over your chest.
The young man gently takes your hand and pulls you out of your seat “you’re so silly, Exemplum. Hawks told me you would pretend you didn’t know what I was talking about. Come on we start in fifteen minutes!”
You turn your head around to see shinsou passing you your drink with a smile “good luck, you’re gonna need this for the nerves”
You were dumbfounded. Who the fuck is hawks and how did he know you could sing? You haven’t sung in front of people since freshman year when you would do open mic nights down the street from the school. Your very closest friends would go but never this hawks. You don’t even remember that name from high school. You get back stage and down the drink throwing the whole glass in the trash. You see a man quite tall and with tinted blue sunglasses on that kinda matches his suit walking his way over to you. Keeping your best poker face waiting for him to make the first move. Finally he opens his arms with a “Exemplum”. He’s very excited to see you for a complete stranger. Never the less you give the same energy. He sways with you in his arms as if you’re his best friend he hasn’t seen in years. He turns his head into the crock of your neck and whispers “sorry to have to introduce myself like this, but it’s the only way I can give you information. You need to make a clone and have it go to office 367. In the middle filing cabinet is the papers you need.”
Pulling away looking up at hawks with wholesome eyes. “Aw dear hawks it’s so good to see you. I promise to check up with you after I perform. You’re such a ham for surprising me like this.” To most people your voice would sound honest, but hawks somehow knew it was sinister. Letting him go you walk up to the boy with the clip board. “Excuse me, how much time do I have and what song am I singing?”
“You have 5 minutes and you’re singing ‘love on the brain’ by Rihanna. You almost roll your eyes at the choice.
“Okay I’m just gonna use the ladies room before we start.” You start heading over to the bathroom
“Okay miss Exemplum ! I’ll come find you if I need too!”
Shortly you make it to the ladies room and lock yourself in a stall. You keep your eyes close and work your rusty vocal chords using the techniques that are now so foreign to you. As you do this a clone starts multiplying out of your body thanks to twice’s quirk. Your exact replica looking at you and they just nod knowing the plan. You heard a knock on the door.
“Miss Exemplum we have 2 minutes!”
“Okay I’ll be out shortly thank you!”
You look up to see an air vent and look back at your clone. You instantaneously interlock your fingers and lean down so your clone can put there foot into your hand and open the vent for them to crawl to the air duct.
“Miss Exemplum!! We have 30 seconds!”
You bust through the door and storm your way to the stage taking the microphone out of the young mans hand. “Miss Exemplum you’re all sweaty are you okay?” Completely ignoring him you walk even faster. You’re just in front of the curtain when you here the instruments playing. The lights click off and everyone on the other side is slightly shocked to what’s happening. Hearing the instrumentals on your que you start to sing.
‘And you got me like, oh
What you want from me?
(What you want from me?)’
the background singers do their part as you walk out from between the curtains and into the middle of the stage quickly but not rushed remaining elegance.
And I tried to buy your pretty heart, but the price too high
Baby you got me like, oh, mm
You love when I fall apart
(fall apart)
The overhead light finally turns on to reveal you standing there. Hearing some cheers of encouragement coming from shinsou and some other friends; you can’t help but smile.
‘So you can put me together
And throw me against the wall
Baby you got me like ah, woo, ah
Don't you stop loving me
(loving me)
Don't quit loving me
(loving me)
Just start loving me
(loving me)’
Meanwhile your clone is crawling through the duct peering out each vent. Luckily you have a shapeshift quirk allowing you to turn into a cat to be more comfortable and make less noise. After some time of crawling around you were finally able to find the room, thanking the lord for glass windows on the doors making it so you can read the numbers of each room (backwards which fucking sucked).
‘Oh, and baby I'm fist fighting with fire
Just to get close to you
Can we burn something, babe?
And I run for miles just to get a taste
Must be love on the brain
That's got me feeling this way
(feeling this way)
It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good
And I can't get enough
Must be love on the brain yeah
And it keeps cursing my name (cursing my name)
No matter what I do I’m no good with out you and I can’t get enough must be love on the brain
Baby, keep loving me
Just love me, yeah
Just love me
All you need to do is love me, yeah’
You haven’t felt this good in years. Sassing the audience like crazy,giving them all you got. You don’t know how hawks knew, but you loved this song. It reminded you of dabi and not just because it talks about fire. Touya growing up became more insecure about his quirk/ about himself in general so you made a point proving to him that he’s not the monster. he will never be the awful things that endeavor insulted him with. Useless. Worthless. Pest. Faulty. You haven’t seen endeavor since your parents funeral, but if you did you’d spit at his feet. This song not only represents your love for dabi, but your hatred for hero’s like endeavor.
‘Got me like ah-ah-ah-ow
I'm tired of being played like a violin
What do I gotta do to get in your motherfuckin' heart?
Baby like ah, woo, ah
Don't you stop loving me
(loving me)
Don't quit loving me
(loving me)
Just start loving me
(loving me)’
The clone finally finds the room and turns into a snake to get through the chicken wire like material flopping onto a counter against the wall directly below it. It was a really large office on the 8th floor. It almost contained nothing besides a back-wall-corner desk for work space, a main desk for clients and a couch. You form back into a human and get into the computer chair. The light of the screen lights up your face.
‘Oh, and babe I'm fist fighting with fire
Just to get close to you
Can we burn something, babe?
And I run for miles just to get a taste
Must be love on the brain
That's got me feeling this way
(feeling this way)
It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good
And I can't get enough
Must be love on the brain, yeah
And it keeps cursing my name
(cursing my name)’
As your mud/cell clone eyes dart all over the screen looking for any information you notice something. Tilting your head to the side looking past the the monitor to see a man in a plague mask and suit sitting on the couch staring at you . “I don’t suppose this is your office is it?” You sassed knowing the answered would be no. The man remained silent. “Well then if it’s not your office then it’s mine. I have some paper work to file so excuse me.” Why do you have the shittiest coping mechanisms for confrontation? Taking a pair of dollar store reading glasses off the desk and putting on the very tip of your nose like an old library. Beating the keys like you were writing an essay to save your life. “Do you think your fucking funny or something? You’re disgusting and disease ridden. I know all about your illness and I find it sickening.” The man with the bird mask squints his eyes closing them in on you. He practically is spitting his words in your direction. Knitting your fingers together so they interlock mimicking his face and smiling sinisterly at him. “My names Exemplum. What’s your name?” “Overhaul. Are you looking for these?” He holds the folder up with all of stain and one for all’s paperwork you came to retrieve. Making sure your face stayed in the same smile giggling softly. “You caught me,overhaul.” In one swift movement you got up on top of the desk holding your hands in the air. “Go easy on me,okay?” Leaping off the front of the desk and walking towards him. He stands up making a confused face. He didn’t think it was gonna be this easy. “You wanna see a magic trick?” You wink at the man. “ true magic or a quirk?” He ALMOST seemed intrigued. “True magic.” Using momo’s quirk you make 5 cards all of different values and houses from behind your back. You put them out in front of you facing down ward so you can only see the generic side. “Pick a card. I’ll close my eyes and put it back anywhere in the deck the same way you got it.” You shut your eyes loosely holding the cards up in front you so only he can see the values of each one. Overhaul was hesitant but he did pick. It was the 3 of clubs. He memorized it and put it at the left end of the deck,but not fully in so you could feel it. “You all set?”. He hummed in response. Eyes now open you look at all your options. making the cards faces look at the floor. You pull a card on the right side and face the card towards overhaul smirking. “This it?” You can tell he’s PISSED. “What kind of joke is this? No, you idiot. That’s not my card.” You twist the card in your fingers really fast revealing a flash drive. “I never said I was going to pick out your card. I told you to pick a card. You chose wrong.” You start dashing toward the wall/window of glass Ariel jumping into mid air 8 stories up. You twist your body mid air so you were facing him flinging his 3 of clubs at him like a kunai. It just manages to scratch his wrist and you immediately pull it back by the invisible string you flawlessly attached to it. Very excited to practice this new quirk. Overhaul can’t help but watch this unfold completely surprised by your actions. Just as you were loosing momentum and gravity found its way back to you, you close your eyes taking in the feeling of weightlessness. Only to be woken up by a big hand roughly taking yours. Your eyes look up to see blue tinted glasses with the same color suit. You’ve never been so thankful for a flying turkey in your life.
‘No matter what I do
I'm no good without you
And I can't get enough
Must be love on the brain’
Once you hit that final high note the whole building goes up in a roar and you take a bow. Knowing the clone found the files and is on the way back to the league you can actually enjoy yourself.
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Bah, HumBuck! Plans F and G
Summary: You’re the newest Avenger. Realizing that Bucky plans to spend Christmas alone, you enlist the help of Wanda, your best friend, and Steve, Bucky’s best friend and your mentor. You’re determined to make his Christmas amazing. Plan A Plan B Plans C and D Plan E Ok, Plan F and G have to work... please let plans F and G work. Pairing: Bucky x Female!Powered!Reader Word Count: ~1,515 Warnings: language, fluff A/N: This is for Sam’s Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree Writing Challenge. My prompt was #16, “’This was a terrible plan.’ ‘This was your plan.’” @lovelynemesis Sorry, this chapter is pretty short. *gifs not mine*
Masterlist // Plan E // Wing It
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“Mhm!” you hummed cheerfully. You wished you could be more eloquent around him, but he made your brain turn into a jumbled mess. You blamed his eyes. Or maybe it was his voice. Or the way his soft brown hair framed his face. Or those pouty lips. Or maybe his god-like physique. Maybe his skills? Or his hesitant, kind personality?
You bit back a beleaguered sigh. No, it was just Bucky as a whole. He just... did that to you, and you should have accepted it long ago.
Oh well. Plans F and G were bound to work. You had the entire team helping you this time.
To your surprise, dinner went well. Plan F was a success. Everyone ended up lending a helping hand (even Vision and Wanda, who reappeared shortly after the prep work had begun) and by 5:30 the lot of you were gathered around the dinner table, glistening Christmas ham front and center, surrounded by way too many side dishes for only the five of you, even after taking super soldier metabolism into account. There would be leftovers for days.
After a brief moment of silence, Steve began carving up the ham, giving generous portions to himself and Bucky. The rest of you began digging into the side dishes as merry chatter filled the table. Even Bucky came out of his shell, laughing and talking more than you’d ever seen him around people other than Steve.
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By the time the pies were reduced to bits of fruit and crumbs in their trays, you were all stuffed (even Steve and Bucky, which almost never happened). The happy chatter had slowly given way to a companionable, sleepy quiet.
It was you who spoke up first, snapping everyone out of their food coma-induced states. “Pack up the leftovers and watch a movie in the lounge?” you asked them lazily.
Wanda groaned. “But that would require us to move,” she said dramatically.
“Even I must admit that moving at the moment does not sound ideal,” Vision chimed in, earning a few cheeky smiles from the team. The Vision could overeat. Who knew?
“The faster we get this done, the sooner we can relax and inevitably fall asleep on the couches while we watch movies,” Steve said knowledgeably.
Although none of you wanted to move, his logic won out and all of you began the arduous process of cleaning up. You moved dishes from the dining room to the kitchen, where Wanda and Vision carefully packed away leftovers in glass tupperware. Steve and Bucky tackled the dirty dishes with nearly scary precision. You were done faster than you thought you’d be.
Steve wrapped some leftovers in tinfoil and placed it on low heat in the oven. Sharon was due back soon from her mission and he wanted to have hot food ready for her, even if they were technically leftovers at this point.
After everything was clean and tidy, the five of you meandered your way to the lounge, your food comas not relinquishing their grips on your bodies just yet.
Vision and Wanda collapsed on one of the smaller couches. Wanda immediately buried herself and Vision in a small mountain of blankets, tucking herself neatly up against him.
You, Steve, and Bucky flopped onto the largest couch, with you in the middle.
“FRIDAY, do the thing,” you muttered. Time to start Plan G.
“Right away, Miss (Y/L/N),” the AI replied in its Irish brogue.
The lights immediately dimmed and the projector whirred to life as the giant white screen lowered. A moment later the screen lit up, the Metro Goldwyn Mayer Lion roaring its way onto the screen. At the sound of the first toll of the bell- before the first word was uttered or the first face was shown on screen- Bucky and Steve tensed next to you. Just like all older movies, the credits came through at the beginning, a choir singing joyfully while accompanied by a cacophony of bells as names popped up on screen.
You’d chosen A Christmas Carol for a reason. While it was a Christmas classic, it was one of the few that dated back to when they were younger (well, this 1938 version did, at least). You looked over to Steve as the first scene started playing, trying your best to remain still as you fidgeted excitedly. Dinner went well and now they’d be able to-
You froze at the look on Steve’s face. He wasn’t looking at the movie or even at you. He was staring wide-eyed over your head... directly at Bucky. You swiveled so quickly to look at Bucky you nearly gave yourself whiplash.
Bucky was staring at the screen, looking mortified.
“Buck-” Steve said quietly.
Nearly faster than your eyes could follow, Bucky vaulted over the back of the couch and headed out of the room, straight towards the elevators.
“Bucky, wait-!” you made to run after him, but were stopped before you’d even left the couch by Steve’s firm grip on your wrist.
“FRIDAY, stop the movie, please,” he said quietly.
“Yes, Captain Rogers,” the AI chirped. No sooner had she finished speaking than the movie stopped, lights flicking back to a normal level.
“Steve, what-”
“I wish you’d asked me first... about the movie choice,” Steve said softly, dropping your wrist. He stared at the hallway his friend had just disappeared down forlornly, blue eyes immeasurably sad.
“I- I thought you guys would enjoy it! It came out in 1938 so I thought there was a chance you guys would have seen it! I... why?” you asked, gesturing helplessly at the place Bucky had been a moment ago.
Steve let out a long, sad sigh, sounding- for once- like the nearly century old man that he was. Wanda and Vision surreptitiously watched from their couch, morbidly curious about Bucky’s reaction, too.
“It was Rebecca’s favorite Christmas movie,” Steve said solemnly.
Oh. Oh. Oh no. Rebecca. Bucky’s sister.
“She would make us watch it every time it came on the TV around Christmas time. One year the Barnes’ TV broke so she dragged us to the neighbor’s place to watch it. We... never really knew why she loved it so much. She loved to yell at Scrooge, though,” Steve said slowly, his gaze eighty years away.
You flopped face-first onto the couch, startling both Steve and Wanda. “Oh god I fucked up,” you said, voice muffled by the couch cushions.
“Yeah, you did,” Steve agreed, staring down at the rapidly deteriorating pile of goo formerly known as (Y/N).
You turned your head enough so you could glare at him out of the corner of one eye. “This was a terrible plan,” you said angrily. “Beginning with the cookies all the way down to the movies, this plan blew,” you said dejectedly, banging your head repeatedly into the sofa cushion.
Steve raised an eyebrow. “This was your plan,” he said, sounding a little annoyed.
“I know! That’s why I’m trying to suffocate myself in this luxurious Corinthian leather,” you mumbled despondently, mouth squished up against the cushion.
Steve rolled his eyes at you and hefted you off of the couch as though you weighed nothing.
“Hey!” you squawked indignantly, trying to squirm out of his grasp to no avail.
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“Stop moping. Go fix it,” Steve said, literally throwing you over the couch and towards the hallway where Bucky had disappeared.
You somehow managed to land on your feet, teetering slightly as you regained your balance in your sudden change of position. “Wouldn’t you be the best one to go talk to him?” you asked, glaring at the blond super soldier
“No, he won’t want to talk to me right now. I’ll remind him too much of... just go, (Y/N). Captain’s orders,” he said stoically, waving you off lazily.
You thought about arguing but movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention. Wanda was making tiny shooing motions. She mouthed something along the lines of “go get him,” making you roll your eyes. Two against one. You were good, but not out-argue Captain America and the Scarlet Witch good.
You turned your attention back to Steve, scowl wrinkling your brow. “Fine, but when he tells me to fuck off, you have to talk to him. Alright?”
Steve shrugged as though the very idea was a nonissue. “Fine, fine. Just go,” Steve said dismissively.
Knowing that was the best deal you were going to get, you turned on your heel, stalking off down the hallway Bucky had vanished in.
So much for your plans. It was time to wing it and hope for the best.
Time to Wing It! (Next Chapter)
This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!
☕ Buy Me a Coffee! ☕
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olicitysecretsanta · 6 years
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To @laureningall   from @bowsmoakandarrow
It started small and spiraled out of control. Hope you love it!
The warmth from the hot chocolate in her hands spread throughout her body as the crisp air bit at her nose. It was a colder-than-usual holiday in Star City this year, at least according to what her co-workers said, and she had donated most of her heavy clothing from Boston before she moved here. She tugged her scarf up higher on her neck and sipped at the hot liquid.
"What about this one?"  
Felicity spun around at the sound of her roommate's voice. Lacey stood over among a small row of shorter Christmas trees and continued to run her fingers over one of the branches. "What about it?"
Lacey pointed at the small tree on the right. "How does this one look?"
"Like a Christmas tree?"
"Felicity! You're not helping!"
"I'm sorry!" The blonde winced at her friend's outburst and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm Jewish, I don't really do the Christmas thing except with you. I just like looking at all the lights and decorations."  
Lacey sighed and folded her arms across her chest. "Okay, let's put it this way. Which one of these living things would you like to stare at for the next week in our apartment?"
Felicity tugged the corner of her lip into her mouth as she debated between the two trees. While it's true she didn't technically celebrate Christmas over the past few years she had enjoyed some of the traditional festivities of Christmas with Lacey since they had been in school or too broke to fly home. In return, Lacey had learned about the traditions of Hanukkah and celebrated with Felicity. She studied both trees and lightly ran her fingers through the boughs. She carefully stepped backwards and pointed to the one on the right. "That one."
"Yay! Good choice. I'll go pay for it while you stand guard."
"Lacey, it's a tree, not a prisoner."
"You mock me but you haven't experienced Christmas ruined until someone steals it after you pick it out."
"Yeah I'll just take your word on that." She took another sip of hot chocolate as she watched her roommate scurry off to the counter. She turned back towards the tree and jumped when she saw a young woman inspecting it.  
"Hey Ollie, what about this one?"
Felicity's eyes widened and she stepped closer to the tree. "Oh, excuse me, that's actually mine. My roommate's up paying for it right now."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize--"
"What'd you find, Speedy?"
Both girls looked over to where the voice was coming from. "Oh, nevermind Ollie, this one's actually hers."
The man looked over at Felicity and she swore she stopped breathing. She had never been the kind of girl who gawked at gorgeous men or chatted like they were eye candy but wow, it all made sense now. She swallowed as her mouth went dry at his tall, muscular build and even with it being covered by a henley and coat she wanted to grab onto his arms and never let go. The muscles fit his frame well and when her eyes finally made it to his face she had to hide her gasp at the chiseled jawline and stunning blue eyes. She had never felt this attracted to someone physically before and she suddenly felt overheated and flushed. She blinked as she tried to focus back and noticed the man step towards her with concern in his eyes, not that she had been looking at his eyes, and oh crap. He'd been talking to her and she has done nothing but stare and drool. "I'm sorry, what?"  
"I asked if you were okay, you kind of spaced out for a minute and didn't look too good all of a sudden."
Felicity groaned inwardly and furiously nodded at both of them. "I'm fine, I promise. Sorry I get caught up in my head and then someone like you shows up and my entire thought process blanks and I mean it's not your fault that you look like that but actually it kind of is and oh my God, I'm going to stop talking in 3...2...1..."
The short brunette burst out laughing and shook her head. "Don't worry he has that effect on everyone. Though not as strong as on you, apparently."
"Speedy." He effectively quieted her and turned back to Felicity with an amused grin while she just desperately wished for an asteroid to hit them right there at that exact spot. "Please ignore her. We didn't mean to try and take your tree. I'm Oliver and this is Thea, my little sister."
"Yeah not so little anymore, Ollie."
Felicity let the brisk air ground her before her head could wander off again. "I'm Felicity. Felicity Smoak. I'm sorry about the tree. My roommate really likes that one and she gets a little protective about her trees every year."
Oliver smiled and nodded. "It's okay, I get it. Christmas trees are important things, you have to have the right one, don't you think?"
"Definitely." There was that damn smile again that kept making her forget that she didn't actually celebrate the holiday. The crunching of the snow behind her alerted her that Lacey must have finished.  
"It's all mine!" The small group turned toward the other woman that smiled with glee at her newfound acquisition. "Sorry but trees are important."
Oliver grinned and looked back at Felicity. "We were just talking about that actually and how important they were."
"Yes, very important," Felicity nodded and turned toward her roommate. "This is Lacey, my roommate. Lacey, this is Oliver and Thea. They were also looking for a Christmas tree. They almost tried to take yours."
"Ahhhh, well, you have good taste but that one's mine. I have strict necessities when it comes to buying trees since there isn't enough room in the apartment for a big one, and they can't be messed with."
"As much as we all agree that Christmas is important I'm sure they don't want to hear about your yearly can't-go-home plans. We should get that tree home, Lacey."
"Wait, you're by yourselves at Christmas?"
Both girls looked at Oliver who seemed, well, confused at the idea. "Well it's the two of us so technically not alone."
"Why don't you join us for Christmas then? It's just us and we'd love to have you over. There's plenty of food."
Lacey glanced at Felicity who just stared at Oliver with a smile. "That's so nice of you but--"
"Oh we'd love to! Yes, Christmas! We'll be there." Felicity knew her roommate was staring at her but Oliver grinned from ear-to-ear so she couldn't really be bothered to care. "Thank you. We'd love to."
"Great! That's fantastic. Uhm, let me give you my number and I'll text you the address." Felicity grabbed her phone out of her pocket and handed it to Oliver. A few taps later he handed the device back to her and if her hand lingered on his, well, it was completely accidental. "We'll see you both Monday then."
"Looking forward to it!" Felicity grinned and waved at Thea and Oliver as they said goodbye and wandered off to find another Christmas tree. A slap on her arm jolted her back to the present. "Owwww, what the hell?"
"What do you mean 'what the hell'?" Lacey folded her arms across her chest and glared daggers at her. "Number one, despite who he is, he's a total stranger, Felicity. Number two, you're Jewish!"
"I know, I know," she winced before her gaze shifted to the direction where the duo had wandered off. "I'm sorry, but did you see him? My brain doesn't function well socially on a good day. His stupid face was there in all its gorgeousness and the filter from my mouth to my brain stopped working." She smiled at Lacey who had softened a little but still seemed irritated. "Don't hate me please?"
The other girl sighed and nodded before she turned toward the tree to determine the best way to get it home. "I don't hate you, but Felicity, you're Jewish. You don't celebrate Christmas."
"I know, but that's what Google is for right? It's only one night."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Calm down, Speedy."
"Oh don't you 'Speedy' me. You can't just invite people over to celebrate Christmas with us!"
Oliver scoffed as he handed the attendant a wad of cash and dug his heavy gloves out of his jacket pocket. "Why not? Those movies you watch every year during Christmas say otherwise. Besides they were very nice and didn't have anywhere to go for Christmas."
"Are you dense? They were staying in their apartment! That doesn’t mean they're alone."
"Well I'm not going to apologize for inviting them over. They could have said no but they didn't so clearly they didn't seem to want to be alone so please don't make this holiday more difficult."
Thea groaned and shook her head before she reached down toward the bottom of the tree to grab the trunk. "Fine. Of course I'll be nice to them, Ollie." She hoisted the bottom up and worked with Oliver to carry the tree to their car. "Let me ask you this though. We usually have take-out. Where the hell is all this supposed food going to come from?"
They propped the tree against the car as Oliver reached inside to grab the long rope he had brought. "You and I will cook. I'm sure Google will tell us how."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Does Google tell you what to do when there are no turkeys left for Christmas?"
Oliver glared at Thea as they stood in front of an empty freezer bin. "I don't understand. How are there no more turkeys?"
"Well, Ollie, normal people plan for Christmas. They don't decide to cook on a whim when they meet people."
"Speedy."
"Alright, alright, no more snark. I promise. Okay what did we have growing up? I mean there was turkey but there was also a crap ton of other stuff."
Oliver shut his eyes and rocked back and forth on his feels as he tried to remember the good parts of the holidays growing up. " Well I remember turkey, mashed potatoes, cornbread, a green bean casserole thing, stuffing, gravy, ham, salad, I think there was pot roast too. Rice and veggies too." He smiled at the memory and chuckled. "So much food."
Thea laughed and searched the meat area. "Yeah, I remember that part. We were always stuffed and couldn't move. Okay, so, that's a lot to work with actually. What about ham? We can do that instead of turkey. It's probably easier too." Thea nudged Oliver gently out of the way to grab the shopping cart and pushed it down the aisle towards the freezer full of hams. She studied them quickly before she grabbed one and held it towards Oliver. "I guess this one? Is there a way to pick these out?"
Oliver stared at the ham and shrugged. "I have no idea. I think it looks fine." He watched as Thea placed the meat in the cart and turned back towards him. "Alright, Speedy, what else are we doing. Mashed potatoes?"
"Definitely. Mashed potatoes, stuffing, cornbread. Too many carbs?"
Oliver laughed at grabbed the cart from Thea then steered it towards the produce. "It's Christmas I think we can allow it. Just to be safe we'll make a salad though."
"Wait do they have any food allergies? Should we have asked that?"
Oliver stopped in the middle of the aisle and spun back towards Thea. "Oh shit. I didn't even think of that. Wait, let me text Felicity and ask her. Hopefully she'll get back to us quickly." Oliver quickly snatched his phone out of his back pocket and fired off a quick text.
Hey it's Oliver. I forgot to ask, are either of you allergic to anything?
He pressed send and kept his phone in his hand as they circled the store and grabbed all the components for their impromptu Christmas dinner. They rounded the corner after they stocked up on hot chocolate when his phone buzzed. He hurriedly unlocked the screen to see Felicity's name and quickly opened it.  
Lacey isn't it but I'm allergic to nuts. Long story on how I found that out and it wasn't very fun. Wow how can I still ramble in text? Anyway, just nuts.  
Oliver couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he read the text message. Her rambling had charmed him yesterday when they met and he liked that it seemed to be a normal everyday occurrence. He was so used to people being either completely composed or totally off their rocker around him that he found it refreshing that she just spoke what her mind thought.  
"Hello? Earth to Ollie?"
Oliver snapped up at the hand waving in front of his face. "Huh? Sorry."
"Oh God help us tomorrow. You have that look."
He scoffed and moved the cart forward again as he skimmed the checkout lanes for a short line. "I have no look on my face of any sort."
"Oh but you do. You have that love sick puppy dog look on your face."
"Thea--"
"Hey I'm just saying. You'd have to be blind not to see the sparks between you and Felicity yesterday even if it was for a few minutes. You deserve to find someone amazing. Just be careful okay? After last time--"
"Thea I'm not talking about this right now. It's two people who were alone for the holidays and seemed nice. End of story."
"Okay. If you say so. Just remember who called it when you guys get married eventually."
Oliver rolled his eyes and heaved the gallon of milk up onto the counter before he turned back. "So how's Roy? Still playing the tough kid?" Thea grumbled and quieted down after that and though he appreciated his sister's concerns there were some things that didn't want to drag to the surface. They were better off left buried.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The odd-colored sky began to set outside the passenger window as the car bounced gently down the road. Felicity stared out as the colors changed minute by minute and she couldn't help but wonder if this was a good idea. The brisk air floated through the city as they drove and everyone outside was bundled up just a little more than usual. It almost made her wish that she was back home in her apartment, wrapped in a large fluffy blanket, sat in front of her heater with a hot cup of tea. She got them into this, however, and she certainly refused to back out now.
Felicity had always prided herself on not being that girl that got swept up in charm and attractiveness whenever a particularly good-looking guy crossed her path. Growing up in Vegas she had become virtually immune to that problem. Except it had failed her this time when Oliver appeared. Something about him caused her carefully curated filters to go on strike and leave the babbling, flushing Felicity in its place. She would never know what on earth possessed her to accept his invitation or why, for that matter, the other three let her. No, actually, that was a lie; she knew what made her accept it. It was piercing blue eyes and a smile that lit up the whole city and her entire brain had blanked along with every reason of why she should have said no.  
The car hit a small pothole and she was quickly jolted out of her thoughts. She reached toward the dash and turned the knob on the heater up a notch and settled back in the seat.
"How come you're so nervous?"
The blonde whipped towards her roommate who drove them through the holiday traffic. "What do you mean? I'm not nervous."
Lacey chuckled and shook her head. "Really? Not only have you been super quiet since we left but you've been spinning your ring around your finger."
Felicity glanced down at her hands and exhaled and shifted to face her friend. "I'm trying not to be but this might be the worst idea I've ever had."
"No definitely not the worst. Nothing beats that app you created that..."
"Oh God, just let that stay dead and buried. I see your point but what the hell was I thinking? He could be a murderer or a total asshat or a thousand other things and then we'll be either stuck there or carried out in tarps."
"Relax," Lacey insisted as she merged over to the far turning lane. "He's not a murderer or serial killer. He might be an asshat but that also might be his old self or just rumors."
Felicity blinked as she let that statement sink in. "Wait. What you mean old self? Do you know him?"
"Oh my god are you kidding right now? Everyone knows Oliver Queen."
"Oliver who?"
"Oh for the love of everything read a damn tabloid every once in a while. Do you really think I'd let either of us go to a complete stranger's home on a holiday? I'm not about to end up as inspiration for an episode of Criminal Minds."  
Felicity stared at her friend unsure of how she felt by this development. "Okay, so who is he?"
Lacey slowly pulled the car over on a somewhat quiet street and placed the car in park before she slid the key out of the ignition. "Why don't you go see for yourself?"
Felicity stared out the window and upwards at a towering building with various holiday lights twinkling against the stucco and glass. "Wow. Okay I think I've changed my mind. Let's go home. This was a really bad idea."
Lacey rolled her eyes and popped the trunk as she climbed out of the car. "Let's go or I will physically drag you. I could be at home in my pajamas with an entire bottle of wine and Chinese food right now. Instead I'm here so come get this ridiculously heavy bag and get a move on."
She quickly unbuckled her seatbelt and scurried, not very gracefully, towards Lacey to grab the gift bag she had brought. The car locked and beeped behind them as their heels clicked on the pavement on their way up the path. They entered the small but elegant lobby and were immediately greeted by the doorman. Felicity's eyes widened and she was thankful that Lacey took over. Going to school at MIT meant being around and working around an elevated status that she hasn't been around in Las Vegas. However it felt different tonight and, based on previous evidence and experience, she blamed Oliver for being knocked off her game.
Lacey tugged her arm as they quickly followed the doorman to an elevator that he held the door for. He bid them goodnight and reached in to press '17' before he backed away and allowed the doors to close gently. Felicity tapped her foot against the smooth tile as the elevator made its way up to the seventeenth floor. The doors glided open and the girls made their way quietly through the silent hallway to the door. Felicity took a deep breath and rang the doorbell before she could back out as she fiddled with the tag that hung off the bag.  
"Stop fidgeting and breathe. What did you end up getting them?"
"Oh," she glanced down at the bag as she heard movement from the other side of the wall. "A fruitcake."
Lacey's smile dropped from her face as she stared in disbelief. "Are you kidding me right now?"
"No, I Googled it and it said that fruitcake was a tradition."
The door swung open and warmth and the delicious smell of comfort food wafted through the air. Oliver stood in the doorway, one hand draped across the doorknob, in dark denim jeans and a deep green cargo button up that almost made Felicity forget who or where she was. Oh god, how was she ever supposed to make it through this dinner?
"Hey, come on in. I'm glad you both are here." He held the door open wider and ushered the girls into the loft. Felicity started to shrug off her jacket and Oliver quickly helped her and hung it up carefully on the hooks next to the door. He helped Lacey as well and when the coats were put away Felicity offered the bag to him. "Just a little something, well traditional, for the holiday."
Oliver's face showed his surprise as he carefully took the bag from her. "Thank you. You really didn't have to do that. We're both just happy that you could join us."
Lacey smiled sweetly at him and Felicity elbowed her in the side when she started to talk. "Felicity didn't want to show up without something to thank you for inviting us."
"Well like I said we're happy to have you both here." Oliver carefully set the bag on the coffee table before he reached inside and pulled out a tin. He gently pried the lid off and set it on the table before he studied the saran-wrap in the container. "Ooooh did you bake something?"
"Yeah, it's a fruitcake." She watched as confusion spread across his face and she immediately tried to explain. "You know, it's a tradition at Christmas. I wanted to bring something that fit in with it and It seemed like something good to bring."
"I think I can honestly say that I've never got one at Christmas. Thank you, Felicity. Really, it's so thoughtful." The amusement seemed to spread as he made his way towards the kitchen with the tin and set it down on the corner of the bar.  
"Yeah no one actually likes or eats fruitcake. This is why you clear things with me." Felicity glared at Lacey before she turned her attention back to their host. She watched as he carefully moved around the bar area and she could only pray that wine was going to follow very shortly.  
"Did either of you want something to drink? Wine? Beer? Something else?"
"Oh god wine, wine is good, thank you." Oliver tilted his head in amusement at Felicity before she blushed and readjusted her glasses. "Sorry. I just really love wine of any kind."
He shook his head at her and grabbed a bottle of red and glasses before he set them on the counter. He looked at Lacey who nodded in agreement and poured out four glasses before he handed them to the girls. He motioned for Thea to come over and as she took her glass he cleared his throat and raised his glass slightly. "To new friends and a different kind of holiday celebration."
"Different, indeed," Felicity mumbled before they all raised their glasses in agreement. She let the rich taste glide down her throat in appreciation before she smiled and took another sip. "This is excellent wine."
"Thank you, it's one of the Chateau Lafite Rothschild '82 bottles that I have."
Felicity tried desperately not to choke on the liquid in her mouth and was proud of herself that she only coughed twice. She knew how much that bottle of wine cost; it was on a list of things-she-wanted-but-would-never-try list. She took a baby sip and hoped she could enjoy every drop of it.
A timer went off in the kitchen and Oliver glanced back as Thea moved around and grabbed a spoon. "Dinner is actually close to being ready, it's a little early, I hope that's alright?" Both girls nodded and Oliver motioned for them to sit or wander about before he quickly moved to help Thea with the final steps.
Lacey moved towards the sofa where the fire crackled in the fireplace as Felicity moved towards the wall of photos along the stairway. There were many people in them that she didn't know but she spotted both Oliver and Thea right away in all of them. They hadn't changed much over the years with the exception of Oliver and his longer hair. She was glad she didn't know him then; even his smile in the pictures looked like he was a pretentious douchebag.  
She took her time with the photos before the gorgeous lights on the Christmas tree in the corner caught her attention. She moved over to the gorgeous tree that made the room smell delightful and looked at some of the ornaments on the tree. Many were store-bought, she could tell, but there were quite a few that were handmade and had names and years on them. She grinned at one that held a photo of Oliver and Thea when they were young; it had child's writing on it and she couldn't help but be charmed by it.  
"That was the year that Thea decided she needed a cat despite being allergic to them."
Felicity startled a little at Oliver's sudden appearance but grinned up at him when she noticed the soft smile he had. "Oh that must have been a fun holiday."
He chuckled at the memory before he turned towards her. "She was upset for awhile but lucky for us a friend of hers fell in love with it and Thea could visit anytime she wanted to. It worked out for all of us."
"Dinner's ready! Come help yourselves."
Oliver turned back from Thea's announcement before he held his arm out for Felicity to go first. She thanked him and they both, along with Lacey, moved towards the kitchen. Felicity padded her way over to the counter where the food was spread out and grabbed a plate. "This all looks amazing. What all did you both cook?"
Thea grinned and moved to refill her glass of wine on the opposite side. "Well there's ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, steamed veggies, green bean casserole, cornbread, and salad too."
Felicity plastered a smile on her face as she surveyed all the side dishes and ignored the one at the end. "This looks delicious. Thank you again for inviting us." Thea nodded and went in search of more wine as Felicity spooned more of the side dishes onto her plate. She hoped that if she piled it with everything else that no one would notice the lack of meat on her plate. She piled a ton of vegetables in all the empty cracks on her place and double checked that no one was around her to watch before she moved quickly past the ham. There were some things she just could not get over in her tradition.  
She grabbed some cornbread out of the basket and, happy with her food-hiding-ninja skills, carefully balanced the heavy plate as she quietly walked back to the table. She gently placed her plate down on the beautiful wood and suddenly found her chair being pulled out. She glanced up at Oliver in surprise before she quickly thanked him and sat down as he pushed the chair in slightly. She didn't know that there were still men in the world that did that.  
She waited patiently and somewhat nervously as everyone else piled their own plates full and slowly returned one by one. Thea placed a full bottle of wine in the center of the table before she sat down next to Felicity and the blonde silently sent prayers to the girl. Once everyone sat down and kinds words were said over the food they all dug in and immediately the table was bathed in silence for a few minutes as they all enjoyed the amazing food. They all got to know each other a little and both Felicity and Lacey delighted in hearing some of the stories from when Oliver and Thea were younger and the antics that had ensued.  
Felicity found that she enjoyed herself very much with the tiny group though she noticed that Oliver kept looking her way every once and awhile. She was sure she blushed every time that he did but she eventually tried to ignore it altogether. The longer they all sat and laughed at the table the more Felicity realized how much she liked them both but especially Oliver. She had a feeling that if she wasn't careful it could develop into more than that and she wasn't sure that would be the best idea. Then again, that would mean that Oliver would have to feel the same way; which, if she were being honest with herself, there was no way that would ever be a possibility.
After dinner Oliver mentioned a pie for dessert and the girls immediately dug in to the cherry pie that he had baked. He was apparently famous for that dessert among his friends and family and it was the only thing he ever baked. Felicity had enjoyed the evening immensely and was glad that her brain had lost its filter that day.  
Until all the food was gone.  
Thea had put Christmas music on and while she enjoyed listening to most of it she didn't actually know any of the words to most songs. She noticed Oliver and Thea singing the words and Felicity immediately began to panic. She tried to motion to Lacey that this was going too far for her but Lacey seemed to enjoy the two and started to join in when her favorite came over the speakers. Felicity grabbed her wine glass and downed the rest of it in one gulp before she stood quickly and stalked over to Lacey. "I hate to interrupt this but we really need to get going. I have to work in the morning and I really don't want to fall asleep at my desk."
Lacey glared at her, obviously upset that her good time had been ruined. "Wait don't you have--- oh that's right, you do have to go in." She had been ready to protest until an elbow in her side had her quickly pivot in the other direction.  
"Oh, really? It's still early but I understand. Let us at least send some of the food home with you though." Oliver moved towards Felicity and motioned for her to follow him. "I know you didn't eat a whole lot tonight so hopefully you can reheat some of it later."
"Oh, that's really not necessary," she tried to protest as Oliver got a plate out of the pantry. "Honestly, Oliver, you two will probably need all of it."
"Not at all, we're happy to share." Oliver began to move towards the ham cuts when Felicity's panic reached its peak.  
"No! Oliver, please." Felicity immediately clamped her hands over her mouth at her outburst as Oliver stared at her with wide eyes. "Oy vey. I'm sorry."
"Are you okay? Did I do something wrong? I know you said you have to work tomorrow but it's still early and I thought the food was good."  
Felicity wanted to melt into the floor and disappear from the world at the look on his face. "No, Oliver, this was one of the best dinners, I promise."
He put the plate back down on the counter and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I'm sorry if this Christmas wasn't the best, I had a great time with you here though."
"I'm Jewish."  
Her eyes squeezed shut and the silence grew heavy between the two. She peeked out of one eye and saw Oliver's confused expression. "Wait, what?"
Felicity's shoulders dropped and she immediately slapped her palm to her forehead. "I'm sorry. I should have said something but you were both so nice the other day when we were getting Lacey's tree and having others around seemed like it would be fun. Which it was, I don't want you to think it wasn't, I had a great time tonight and the food was great and I'm just going to grab my coat and go now."  
Felicity turned and tried to escape to the coat rack but Oliver reached for her arm. "Wait, you don't celebrate Christmas? And you still came?"  
She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders at his confusion. "Like I said, you were both so nice and it was nice to have others for a holiday. Please don't me upset. I should really, just, go. Thank you for a lovely evening Oliver." She quickly spun on her heel and bolted towards the door where her coat was. Thea had just finished saying goodbye to Lacey, who had just walked over to Oliver to say her goodbyes, so Felicity quickly took the opportunity to say her own goodbye. She hugged Thea quickly and thanked her then bolted out of the door towards the elevator with her coat still tossed over her arm. She kept hitting the button on the elevator and hoped that it would arrive quickly so she could hide. Her prayers were, for once in her life, answered as the doors slid open and she immediately rushed into the corner. She placed her bag on the ground and hurriedly slipped her coat on just as Lacey appeared. "Don't you dare say anything okay?"
Lacey grabbed Felicity's bag off the floor before she pressed the button for the ground floor and shook her head. "No, I won't. I think you did enough of that on your own. Come on, let's go home, grab some ice cream, and watch some Doctor Who."
Felicity smiled in relief and hugged Lacey fiercely. "Thank you. I'm sorry."
Lacey linked her arm with Felicity's as they walked out of the building towards the car. "Don't worry about it. I still had a great time. Besides, I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of them."
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wordcharming · 4 years
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Thursday In September
There are those who watch Jeopardy and those who watch Wheel of Fortune. (I know, some people watch both…just humor me for a second.) It could be said that one group of spectators is high-brow, educated, intellectual—the folks who peruse The New Yorker and The Economist whilst sipping on their Counter Culture pour-over. While the other tends to be made of up yokels who might not have much to offer in the brains department—those who thumb through People while gulping down Dunkin’s finest. 
Regardless of the target demographic, both shows seem to welcome jolly contestants who proudly exclaim that they’re married and, without fail, mention how wonderful, beautiful and lovely their spouses and children are. But what if they spoke the truth?
“I’m Ted. A yokel from a small town in Alabama who’s married to a whiny woman named Sarah who’s only with me for my money. We have two spoiled, bratty kids, Tessa and Jimmy. I’m currently having a mid-life crisis and I hate my job. Can’t wait to spin the wheel, Pat.” 
These are the things that went through Emily’s head while munching on pretzels with onion hummus, which tasted a lot like heart attack in a can, aka Lay’s French Onion dip, that she once couldn’t get enough of in the ’90s. She was a game show fanatic.
She wasn’t one of those ladies who had dreamt of the perfect wedding day, her Prince Charming, wealth, a career. Despite her old age, she was a lifelong spinster and she’d always preferred career hopping rather than being chained to the same desk for years and years. Since first seeing Supermarket Sweep during its original 1965 airing, all she’d ever really wanted was to be a contestant. She had been an audience member for one episode in 1997, but she never got chosen to compete. 
Each time she was at the ShopRite checkout and she heard the beep, she thought of the fun she could have on the game show. Running down the aisles of the empty grocery store, hurling turkeys and hams into her cart, tearing a clue off a giant inflatable banana, getting into a tug-of-war over with fellow contestants over the diapers, grinding coffee for bonus points! Oh, the joy! Who would accompany her on the show? Would it be her brother, a fellow longtime fan of the game show, or her best friend, Phyllis? She hadn’t thought that far into it. All she knew was that she wanted it. And she wanted it badly.  
Unfortunately for Emily that ship had sailed, for the show had gone off the air entirely in 2003. But all these years later still it was fun to fantasize about sharing the stage with David Ruprecht, his colorful sweaters and his treasure trove of corny jokes. She could only hope that if somehow in some other lifetime she got on the show, she wouldn’t get swept up in the excitement or ever have the chance to ram into David with a cart, which had happened on at least one occasion that she recalled.
These days Emily was a part-time hermit crab peddler at a mall kiosk, working the night shift three days a week and mostly living off her hefty retirement savings. Certainly not the most glamorous job, but she did like it. There was something about her crustacean companions that thoroughly amused her. They each had their own little personalities—Dragon the jerk, lovable Fiona, curious Ian—and their unofficial names, by which she called them. Even though she didn’t really support pet stores and the kiosk owner had a strict don’t ask, don’t tell policy when it came to replenishing the stock, she had fallen in love with these little creatures one morning while mall walking with her frenemies, Gertrude and Penelope, two sisters she’d known since childhood.
The trio had trekked the mall every morning just as the gates cranked open one by one at the storefronts, soft rock music throbbed through what seemed to be invisible speakers, and the smell of hot pretzels began to permeate the stuffy air. They wore matching white t-shirts with My Three Mall Walkers embroidered over the left breast—a Penelope creation. She was never shy to brag about how she’d named the girl gang after her favorite childhood TV show, My Three Sons, how long it had taken her to weave the thick pink thread through the cotton tee, and how fabulous they had turned out. “Right, my lovelies? I did such a beautiful job.” 
Each morning was the same, meet at the double doors of the southwest entrance, the first to be unlocked, adjacent to JCPenney. Almost every time she approached, Emily’s frenemies snickered and then made a quip about her hairpiece, messy turquoise eyeshadow, or “old lady sneakers” followed by a, “Hun, we love you. You know we’re kidding, right?” Some days, when Samuel was working security, the Bobbsey Twins would flash him little coy, yet devilish, grins in synch whilst batting their mascara-slathered eyelashes and he would unlock the door a few minutes early. Though they were octogenarians, they never underestimated the power of flirtation.
This particular Thursday in September had started off just like any other and Samuel had in fact unlocked the doors two minutes before official opening time. The women passed the food court and movie theatre, Kay Jewelers, then H & M, made a right towards Victoria’s Secret, and turned to walk the perimeter of Macy’s. Penelope and Gertrude dominated the conversation as usual while Emily chimed in every now and then. Time flew by and even though it had been nearly an hour, it sure didn’t feel that way. Instead of continuing to the JCPenney finish line, Gertrude and Penelope suddenly bee-lined for the ice skating rink. 
“Emily! C’mon, darling. There’s no one on the ice right now and we feel like causing a wee bit of trouble,” Gertrude exclaimed, her veneers sparkling under the bright fluorescent light almost as if they were winking at Emily. 
Not one to bend the rules, Emily stayed behind and as her two friends giggled like schoolgirls and danced on the ice. Their fun was cut short when seemingly from out of a nowhere a Zamboni shaped like a shopping cart came barreling through.
“Gertrude! Penelope! Watch out for that Zamboni ,” Emily screamed while pointing her finger. “Please get out of the way!”
Before she could warn them any further and before they could take action, the Zamboni took them out like bowling pins. First Gertrude went down, and Penelope immediately followed. 
“…it’s a…but…I thought those things could only go 9 miles per hour…” Emily muttered to herself while sobbing and attempting to run towards the scene. She was of course halted once she crossed the threshold from the polka dot carpet onto the ice, and though it was an interesting struggle, she eventually made her way to the scene.
Her two friends lay there like ragdolls. At some point in the time it took her to get to the middle of the rink the Zamboni had stopped and the driver had gotten out to check on the women. 
“Are you with them? I-I-I-I am just so incredibly sorry. It appears they have no pulse, ma’am. Let me call 9-1-1.” 
Emily stood in the middle of the ice rink shaking uncontrollably and sobbing until the paramedics came and confirmed the passing of her friends. The Zamboni driver tried to console her by softly apologizing and placing a hand on her upper back but, shocked, Emily sat in silence.
Samuel soon arrived with two policewomen in tow, both of whom stood side by side looking down at Emily. 
“This is a crime scene. Everyone off the ice,” barked the brunette on the left. The blonde glanced angrily at the brunette, then smiled as she turned to face Emily, adding, “Sorry for your loss, ma’am. Would you please come with me to tell me what happened?” while extending her hand to help Emily up. “If Samuel would be so kind to escort you to the carpeted area, you can just wait for me at the picnic table,” she added with a smile.
The sly Zamboni driver pivoted toward the exit and the brunette immediately shook her head and exclaimed, “Not you, Mr. Zamboni. Samuel here tells us you were the driver. So stay put because I have a few questions for you.”
Arm in arm with Samuel, Emily slowly made her way off the ice as she heard the conversation fading, “It all started because I needed extra money to feed my ninth child. So I created my Tricked Out Zamboni channel on YouTube—which, by the way already has 2 million fans—” 
“Get to the point already!” the brunette interjected.
“…so after months of dedication I had finally gotten this fine specimen up to 65 mph! Unfortunately these two little old ladies decided to trespass just as I was taking it for a spin. I had no idea they were here. In fact, we don’t even open for another thirty-four minutes. Cheryl must’ve just lifted the gate moments prior so she could go get her morning coffee…”
While listening to Mr. Zamboni’s explanation, Emily was jolted by the thought of what Gertrude and Penelope’s passing really meant: no more having to wake up early and listen to them bicker, brag or complain—they’d seemed to be doing more of all three lately and she was just about at the end of her rope. Not to mention, they had never really been kind to her and they did spend a lot of time making her the butt of their jokes. Between her sniffles and cutting through two salty streams of tears, a smile formed on her face. 
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight in the distance of the policewomen cuffing Mr. Zamboni and the three of them approaching. Two male backup officers had now gotten to the scene and were promptly instructed to take Mr. Zamboni to the station. The female officers jotted down a witness statement from Emily and said they’d call her if they needed any follow-up information. 
Still shaken, though admittedly not exactly sad anymore, Emily was free to go. She stepped back out into the mall corridor, passing Aldo, Boscov’s, Express, Game Stop and making her way to the exit near JCPenney. She took a few moments to relax and collect her thoughts once she reached Beryl, her blue BMW convertible. She put the top down, cranked up the radio and headed home.
The next morning, to her relief, Emily puttered around the house in her pajamas and rainbow slippers, read The New York Times while sipping her coffee and munching on a toasted English muffin with butter, relishing the unforeseen me time her friends’ deaths had gifted her. Once she was finished, she got up from the table and plopped down in front of the TV. Commercials, commercials, commercials, on every channel. She got so sick of channel surfing that she stopped on a random one on ABC, catching the tail end of another ad for a new incontinence drug. What came next took her by surprise—three people in bright colored t-shirts racing down an aisle with shopping carts. 
“Could this be what I think it is?” she quietly asked herself. 
“Sunday, October 18, it’s a rrrrace against time, to grab the priciest items you can find…the return of the classic game show…” a voiceover purposefully shouted as if directly at Emily. 
She was instantly flooded with jumbled thoughts, images of her two friends’ scowling faces, the odd shopping cart-shaped Zamboni, the sisters’ limp bodies on the ice, and all those times she’d told her friends and relatives about her game show dream.
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obtusemedia · 5 years
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In Ascending Order: Top 50 Songs of the ‘90s
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The ‘90s have become sort of an idyllic period that many Millennials and Gen Xers look fondly upon. It makes sense — the economy was good, Seinfeld ruled televisions, we weren’t worried about either the USSR or North Korea nuking us — but if there’s one thing that has really kept the ‘90s beloved, it’s the music.
There’s something for everyone at the end of the 20th Century, from grunge to gangsta rap to boy bands to Britpop. The ‘90s featured rock’s final years of pop relevance, as well as the blossoming of its underground movements. Hip-hop became a massive cultural force. And although pop wasn’t as strong as it was in the ‘80s, it did have a nice bounce-back period near Y2K.
Capturing the essence of the wildly-divergent ‘90s in just 50 songs is difficult, but I took a swing at it anyways. Let’s dive in:
HONORABLE MENTIONS:
> “Even Flow” by Pearl Jam (1992): Since I’m a Puget Sound native, I should love Pearl Jam more than I do. But sorry, I’ve never been able to muster too much love for the iconic grunge act. That said, “Even Flow” has a great, energetic groove that goes nicely with Eddie Vedder’s bellow.
> “Not If You Were the Last Junkie On Earth” by the Dandy Warhols (1997): By 1997, Nevermind seemed like a century away, as bright-and-shiny pop tunes took over from Alt Nation. So how did indie rock respond? By making a snarktastic, uber-catchy power pop jam about how “heroin was so passé,” complete with a music video featuring dancing syringes. The ‘90s were wild, guys.
> “Crash Into Me” by Dave Matthews Band (1996): If Greta Gerwig gets to admit that this song is actually good despite the oddly skeevy lyrics at times, then so do I. Just forget about the time they dumped 800 pounds of poop in the Chicago River and let Dave’s froggy voice whisk you away.
> “Metal Detektor” by Spoon (1998): America’s most consistent indie rock band wouldn’t reach their heights until the early 2000′s, but “Metal Detektor” is a solid lo-fi preview of the groovy, nervy tunes to come.
> “All Star” by Smash Mouth (1999): Forget the memes and Shrek and remember that this song is iconic for a reason. Did it age badly? Absolutely. But that’s part of its dorky, wonderful charm. And like every young Millennial, I know every word by heart. HEY NOW
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#50: “Inbetweener” by Sleeper (1995)
One thing I love about Britpop is its fondness for character vignettes. Pulp were masters of this, and Blur occasionally dipped their toes in that pool, but even the B-listers knew how to nail a depressed-suburbanite character study.
“Inbetweener” tells the story of a married couple who settled for each other. They weren’t each others’ first-choices, they were just supposed to be “inbetweeners.” By the time they’ve settled into adulthood, their lives have descended into complete boredom, but they’re also too lazy to change anything. It’s the black hole of mediocrity.
Sleeper does a stellar job making the story pop, with a sunny sound to balance out lead singer Louise Wener’s deadpan vocals. In a way, it’s a bit ironic that a pop-rock song with a chorus this anthemic would be about the most boring lives imaginable, but I imagine that was sort-of the point.
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#49: “When I Come Around” by Green Day (1994)
Bay Area legends Green Day went 100 percent into the pop side of pop-punk with the infamous graduation anthem “Good Riddance.” But I’ll always prefer their earlier, snottier side, which balanced the two genres perfectly.
“When I Come Around” is a song so maddeningly catchy that it doesn’t even matter that drummer Tre Cool utterly fails to stay on beat, occasionally slowing down and speeding up. Thank god for Billie Joe Armstrong’s timeless melody and crunchy guitar tone, both of which keep this song afloat, along with a solid slap-bass. 
Honestly, the amateur vibe of “When I Come Around” is endearing nearly 25 years later, when most mainstream rock feels aggressively focus-grouped. Even Green Day would become much more polished later on (not that this was always bad), so it’s nice to see the youthful energy and passion on display.
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#48: “Jesus Freak” by DC Talk (1995)
There were many subgenres that peaked in the ‘90s that I’ve already mentioned, but there’s one more movement that had its prime years in this era: Christian rock.
...wait, wait, don’t click away yet! I’m not trying to proselytize here — some ‘90s Christian music could pass as the real deal. A few, like Jars of Clay, even notched a mainstream hit. But no Christian rock band was bigger among the youth-group set than DC Talk, who never really crossed over to secular audiences. And their signature song, “Jesus Freak,” is absolutely ridiculous — and that’s what makes it great.
Christian music in the ‘10s is mostly bland and focus-grouped to death. If you can tell one Hillsong or Lauren Daigle tune apart from the next, you have better ears than I. But “Jesus Freak” was a strange beast. Instead of joy or thankfulness, its primary emotions are defiance and rage. They even worked with the same music video director as Nine Inch Nails! Amy Grant would never. (although she certainly had her mainstream pop sellout moment in the ‘90s)
Does “Jesus Freak” have some embarrassing lyrics about John The Baptist’s belly? Of course. Does it blatantly rip off “Smells Like Teen Spirit?" Definitely. But, most importantly — is it a banger? HELL (err...heaven) YEAH.
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#47: “Vapour Trail” by Ride (1990)
Shoegaze is definitely a sound that I respect more than I actually like. Personally (as you’ll see later on this list), I prefer its more structured, catchier cousin, dream pop.
But Ride managed to find the sweet spot between My Bloody Valentine and top-40 with their sweetly melancholy “Vapour Trail.” It definitely has all the hallmarks of shoegaze — it���s very spaced-out, the lyrics are both romantic and depressing, and there’s a definite wall-of-sound feel to it — but there’s also an actual hook. Thanks to its jangly guitars and orchestral coda, it almost feels like The Smiths’ take on the subgenre.
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#46: “Enter Sandman” by Metallica (1991)
Why yes, I am that loser that’s never been able to get into metal, yet loves the simpler pleasures of “Enter Sandman.” What can I say — it’s a total jam and the hooks are plentiful.
It’s honestly kind of hilarious that this song became a massive success right as R.E.M. and Nirvana were rapidly shifting what popular rock sounded like, because “Enter Sandman” leans much heavier towards cheesy, over-the-top hair metal than grunge. I can’t get enough of James Hetfield hamming it up on the mic, literally cackling like a Disney villain at a few points.
For me, the corniness is part of the fun here, along with the raw energy that the band brings to the song. “Enter Sandman” let the masses headbang along with the metalheads, and for that, I’m grateful.
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#45: “...Baby One More Time” by Britney Spears (1998)
Here’s proof of how massive Britney Spears’ debut single was: I was in preschool when it was released, and I knew it just as well as the Sesame Street or Arthur theme songs at the time. “...Baby One More Time” was a staple of Radio Disney, which was my main exposure to non-Christian music before elementary school (that, and Thriller, of course). Those opening piano stabs were etched into my brain from a very early age.
There’s a good reason it’s stuck with me: Britney’s breakthrough smash is a pop classic. “...Baby One More Time” captures the passion of a teenage crush better than almost any song from its era. And Max Martin’s crystal-clear, melodramatic production is untouchable. Frankly, it might still be Britney’s best song, over 20 years later.
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#44: “Animal Nitrate” by Suede (1993)
One of the first major Britpop anthems, “Animal Nitrate” is a swaggering, cocky ode to the UK’s finest glam rock. Marc Bolan would’ve killed to write something this seedy and catchy.
In a way, it serves as sort of the mid-point between Blur and Pulp’s winking snark and Oasis’ hard-charging stadium-fillers. Just add a nice dose of sleaze. Suede weren’t able to keep up the momentum from their landmark debut, but at least they have classic singles like “Animal Nitrate” that cemented their legacy as pioneers.
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#43: “Born Slippy .NUXX” by Underworld (1996)
I’m not normally a fan of super-long electronic songs. In fact, this will be the only representative of electronica — a fairly popular scene in the late ‘90s — to show up on this list.
But “Born Slippy” is special. First off, to be completely honest with y’all: I’m a bit biased, since the track was famously featured in Trainspotting, one of my favorite ‘90s movies. So it was always going to have positive connotations for me. Beyond that, “Born Slippy,” more than any other classic electronica song of its time, is bonkers. After a long, atmospheric intro, it’s essentially five and a half minutes of rambling, drunken chaos over a thudding drum beat (with one little break in the middle).
It’s both minimalist (a good chunk of the song is just a drum machine and chanting) and maximalist (IT’S SO LOUD). “Born Slippy” is the audio equivalent of losing your mind, and I love every second of it.
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#42: “Groove Is In The Heart” by Deee-Lite ft. Q-Tip (1990)
And here’s a dance song with the complete opposite vibe! While Underworld turned their thumping beats into cold, confusing chaos, Deee-Lite only has one mission with their classic one-hit-wonder: to soundtrack the greatest party of all time.
“Groove” just about succeeds in that goal, too. The bassline and clattering percussion are untouchable, the lyrics are pure nonsense in the best way (more dance songs should throw in Dr. Seuss references), and the group even snagged funk legend Bootsy Collins to throw in some random ad-libs here and there. 
Q-Tip, a budding legend in his own right, contributes a nice verse, but the real draw here is Deee-Lite’s aggressive quirkiness. Where else will you find a dancefloor filler that includes slide-whistle solos?
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#41: “This Is How We Do It” by Montell Jordan (1995)
New Jack Swing — the subgenre that mixed R&B smoothness with hip-hop beats and attitude — might have peaked in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, but its best track came way after its pinnacle.
“This Is How We Do It” will always be an effective crowdpleaser. Somehow, Montell Jordan found a way to balance street smarts with a squeaky-clean jam perfect for a Bar Mitzvah. He essentially perfected Will Smith’s formula, but Jordan had an extra advantage: his golden vocals. Yeah, his rapping is a bit corny, but you can’t deny that voice.
The ‘90s had plenty of gangsta-lite party jams like “This Is How We Do It,” but thanks to Jordan’s charisma and a deathless chorus, this one stands above the rest.
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#40: “Movin’ On Up” by Primal Scream (1991)
If you’re going to rip off the Rolling Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” you might as well go for the jugular and only steal its massive ending.
“Movin’ On Up” is absolutely shameless in that regard, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t effective anyways. This gospel/classic-rock pastiche is four minutes of straight euphoria: Uplifting lyrics! Jazzy piano! Soaring guitar solos! And of course, a gospel choir so powerful that their voices break through the noise like the Kool-Aid Man. 
Primal Scream were smart enough to let the choir take over the second half of the song, just letting the vaguely-religious vibes ride itself out. Because of this brilliant decision, “Movin’ On Up” is somehow more danceable than the rest of its album, the acid-house landmark Screamadelica.
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#39: “Just A Girl” by No Doubt (1995)
Riot grrrl, an aggressively feminist brand of indie rock, was an important ‘90s subgenre, but rarely a commercially successful one. Still, there were some acts that polished up that style of angst and packaged into something different yet still great, and one of them was No Doubt.
Although Gwen Stefani might be more well-known to most millennials for teaching us all how to spell bananas, her best song might still be “Just A Girl.” It’s a pretty simple concept — woman is righteously upset by how society coddles her because of her gender — but Stefani sells with her flexible vocals and loads of personality. She shifts from an exaggerated Betty Boop pastiche to a Californian alt-rock wail within seconds.
The rest of No Doubt are able to keep pace with their frontwoman, bouncing back and forth between the springy verses and mosh-friendly, speedy choruses. It’s a good fit for Stefani’s manic energy, and a nice burst of bright energy to bring a close to a dreary era of rock.
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#38: “Ruff Ryders’ Anthem” by DMX (1998)
Forget shiny suits: If I’m listening to late ‘90s hip-hop, I’ll take the rawer pleasures of DMX every day of the week.
On his breakout hit “Ruff Ryders’ Anthem,” DMX began to hone his now-legendary untamed style, although it’s a bit more subtle than how he would sound a few years later. It’s not quite as bombastic, but in some ways, that makes this feel a little more like the real X. It literally sounds like a mobster making threats, and it just happens to rhyme and be over a killer beat.
There’s all the ridiculous lyrics you’d expect from DMX here — highlights include the wonderfully emo couplet “All I know is pain/all I feel is rain” and a coda that’s simply a machine gun firing and X yelling “TALK IS CHEAP, MOTHERFUCKER!!!” But for the most part, it’s proto-DMX, and it’s interesting to see a larger-than-life figure somewhat grounded.
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#37: “Friday I’m In Love” by The Cure (1992)
The first couple years of the ‘90s are flooded with awkward ‘80s leftovers, but one wonderful (and very ‘80s) song that snuck into the next decade is “Friday I’m In Love,” The Cure’s final hit.
It’s shocking that something this bouncy, simple and optimistic came out the same year Nirvana and Pearl Jam dominated the airwaves, but great music can succeed at any time. Robert Smith’s nursery-rhyme melodies and lyrics are so simple that it’s shocking that this song wasn’t actually written ages beforehand.
And it’s refreshing to hear a band famous for getting angsty pull out a happy-go-lucky love song tailor-made for romantic comedies. At some point, Smith had to write an upbeat song, right?
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#36: “Everlong” by Foo Fighters (1997)
There’s an argument out there that “Everlong,” written by Foo Fighters frontman and former Nirvana drummer Dave Grohl, is better than any Nirvana song. I cannot remotely agree (spoiler: Nirvana places much higher on this list), but I can understand why “Everlong” has such a strong reputation.
Easily the best Foo Fighters song, “Everlong” is everything you’d want in a radio-friendly alt-rock single. It’s catchy, but still has some legitimate grit and bite. Propulsive and anthemic, yet still angsty and relatable. Grohl somehow took a grimy post-grunge banger, added romantic lyrics, and made it work. I certainly can’t imagine Bush or Everclear pulling that off.
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#35: “Wannabe” by Spice Girls (1996)
In less than three minutes, five British women kicked down the doors of alt-rock and birthed the late-’90s bubblegum pop boom with one song. And what a glorious burst of energy that song is.
"Wannabe” might be the most purely fun song on this entire list. From the springy piano beat to each of the five girls showing off their bold, feisty attitudes (except for Posh Spice...sorry, Victoria), to Scary and Ginger Spices’ cheeky rap breakdown at the end, it’s impossible not to like. The song is a bit repetitive, yes, but when you have nuclear-grade weapon hooks like these, you might as well use them. ZIGAZIGAHHH
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#34: “Fake Plastic Trees” by Radiohead (1995)
And now to the exact opposite side of British music!
Not to be that annoying contrarian, but I’ve never been able to get into Radiohead. A lot of their music is too cerebral for my tastes — I don’t mind thoughtful lyrics or experimentation, but I need a hook or a groove to grab onto.
Still, I do have a fond spot for their early years. And “Fake Plastic Trees,” my favorite song of theirs, is the perfect midpoint between grunge angst and sweeping Britpop balladry. 
The lyrics are abstract, yet Thom Yorke’s yearning, cracked vocals convey more than any words could’ve. Like one of my favorite modern acts, Japanese Breakfast, his voice acts simply as another instrument to convey the heartbreak. Match that with a slow-burn power ballad fit for a rom-com credit roll, and you’ve got an instant classic. It’s really too bad Radiohead got bored with this sound...
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#33: “It Was A Good Day” by Ice Cube (1992)
Ice Cube is not normally a happy guy in his classic songs. Whether he’s pissed at the cops or his former bandmates, he’s usually in a bad mood for some reason. But for his most beloved track, Cube imagines what a day with no problems would be like, and it’s sublime.
He nabs a triple double on the court without trying. He gets to bang a chick he’s been trying to have sex with since high school. He seemingly wins every game of bones and craps he plays. And most importantly, the police and gangs didn’t hassle him.
Many gangsta rap songs are about turmoil and chaos, but “It Was A Good Day” shows that even the toughest thugs just wanted some peace and to have a good time.
(although if it was a really good day, the Supersonics would’ve beaten the Lakers...)
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#32: “Hunger Strike” by Temple of the Dog (1991)
This song is so Seattle that the CD single probably came with a complimentary damp flannel, a Dick’s deluxe, and coffee stains.
It’s a bit surprising to me that there hasn’t ben any Seattle artists on the list proper yet, seeing as the city was the epicenter of ‘90s culture. Obviously, grunge played a role, but this was also the decade when Starbucks, Microsoft and Amazon blew up; the decade when the Sonics and Mariners had superstars like Gary Payton and Ken Griffey, Jr. (the Seahawks had to wait another decade to hit their stride); the decade where the Emerald City’s reputation changed from South Alaska to one of America’s iconic locales.
And before Nirvana and Pearl Jam took led that charge, “Hunger Strike” was the first grunge breakthrough, and for good reason. In a way, it’s sort of the Watch The Throne of grunge, with Chris Cornell and Eddie Vedder exchanging vocals. The chorus, when Vedder sings the hook while Cornell bellows “I’M GOING HUNGRAAAAAAAAAAAY” like a madman, gives me goosebumps every time. 
Honestly, I like this lighter-waving ballad more than any of Pearl Jam or Soundgarden’s actual songs. Not sure why this connects with me more — perhaps it’s the four minutes of raw emotion and wailing vocals over gorgeous harmonizing guitars. Vedder and Cornell work shockingly well together, too. I wish the duo made more music.
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#31: “Connection” by Elastica (1994)
There is no Britpop song that’s cooler than “Connection.” While most of the subgenre is all about wink-wink cleverness or gigantic classic-rock riffs, Elastica dispenses with both of those for Justine Frischmann’s snarling attitude.
Elastica kept things very simple on their most iconic single. There’s a rudimentary guitar riff (which yes, they stole from Wire, but who cares), a steady beat, and Frischmann rolling her eyes over the whole thing. “Connection” is not a song that needs a lot of explaining: one listen, and you’ll instantly understand why even American teens couldn’t resist the snark.
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#30: “Alison” by Slowdive (1993)
Slowdive’s masterpiece, Souvlaki, might have been a bit late to the shoegaze party by 1993, but it and its iconic leadoff track, “Alison,” have stood tall over the movement regardless.
My favorite shoegaze song, “Alison” is a hazy soup of distorted guitars, hypnotic drums and hopelessly romantic lyrics about a druggy (and possibly imaginary?) relationship. About half of the lines are about drugs and confusion, and lead singer Neil Halstead describes the titular woman as his anchor through the chaos of life. It’s a slow-dance made for a goth prom, and it lingers in your brain long after it’s over.
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#29: “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-a-Lot (1992)
“Baby Got Back” has unfortunately become sort of a punchline by this point. Not because it’s a clunker —I think most people seem to love it as much as I do — but because of its constant feature in kids’ movies (I first heard it in Shark Tale as a child...the early ‘00s were a strange time) and the fact that the song has been boiled down to just a few lines. 
“I like big butts and I cannot lie.” “Oh. My. Gawd. Becky, look at her butt.” “My anaconda don’t want none unless you’ve got buns, hon.” Those moments define “Baby Got Back” more than anything else.
Which is a shame, because it’s a masterpiece of trashy fun. Seattle icon Sir-Mix-a-Lot somehow found out how to make solid punchlines about booty for four minutes — you try coming up with that many iconic moments in a short timespan! And the dizzying production, with its sharp horn bursts and super-tight bassline, is no joke.
"Baby Got Back” might be a goofy novelty track, but there’s actual effort put in. It’s a formula more artists should strive for.
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#28: “California Love” by 2Pac feat. Dr. Dre and Roger Troutman (1995)
Yes, this is the cliché 2Pac choice. But “California Love” is difficult to resist.
Backed by a rowdy Dre beat (and a great opening verse from the Dr. as well), Pac’s comeback single after being released from prison is truly timeless. You go to any L.A. party or sporting event and it’ll inevitably be played (partly because it’s strangely clean for a gangsta rap anthem). And 2Pac is game to shout out the entire state — he even gives Sacramento props over 20 years before Lady Bird!
Pac has some deeper, more introspective songs than “California Love.” But sometimes, the basic pick is the right one.
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#27: “Summer Babe (Winter Version)” by Pavement (1992)
Pavement has always been the cool kids’ ‘90s band. While the massive alt-rock acts put their raw, bleeding-heart emotions on display, Pavement kept things sardonic and snarky. They were willing to poke fun at The Smashing Pumpkins. They’re essentially the Jim Halpert of rock — kind of lazy and self-removed, but with too much charisma to ignore.
Yet, for all their snarky bonafides, my favorite song of theirs is one of their more emotional. “Summer Babe” still features Stephen Malkmus’ famously flat, dry vocals, but the song has some real heft to it regardless. The deep-fried guitar shredding its way though the track and the noisy drums work well amongst the sloppy-but-charming sound. It’s meandering, but when Malkmus puts some juice in his vocals for the final minute, it still strikes a chord. 
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#26: “Deceptacon” by Le Tigre (1999)
By the late ‘90s, punk icon Kathleen Hanna had already moved on from her massively influential riot grrrl band, Bikini Kill. Distorted guitars were so 1992. What was next? ‘80s nostalgia, of course!
“Deceptacon,” by Hanna’s other famous band, Le Tigre, is a sizzling slice of new wave perfection. With its proudly-analog synth stabs and dance beat, the song perfected the indie-band-goes-disco formula 10 years before everyone else tried it. Seriously, this sounds way more like 2009 than 1999, and it’s shocking that its somehow from the 20th Century.
But “Deceptacon” isn’t purely a Duran Duran tribute — there’s still that same fury that Hanna was famous for. Her raw vocals make for a strange, yet captivating combination with the poppy beat. It’s a punk song you could dance to, just like the Ramones always wanted!
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#25: “Fantasy (Bad Boy Remix)” by Mariah Carey feat. Ol’ Dirty Bastard and Puff Daddy (1995)
There might not have been any ‘90s popstar bigger than Mariah Carey. She racked up 14 number-one hits, including “One Sweet Day,” a monster R&B collaboration with Boys II Men that is still tied for the longest stay at the top of the charts (if only it was a better song). 
However, she’s never been my favorite — overwrought R&B ballads really aren’t my thing. But she did release one single that I unabashedly love, and that’s partly due to an assist from one of hip-hop’s weirdest stars.
I’m still not sure why the powers that be felt that Carey, a super-polished pop balladeer, and Ol’ Dirty Bastard, a rapper who sounded and acted like a homeless man on bath salts, was a good combo. But it worked beautifully! ODB’s weirdo charm proved to be a nice balance to Carey’s more sanitized sound. And the pop structure reigned in ODB just enough — although that didn’t stop him from spending the first 45 seconds just shouting out random places (“JAPAN ARE YOU IN THE HOUSE?!?”) and later quoting Donny and Marie Osmond. The man was a maniac.
But arguably what makes the song work better than either artist’s contribution is that sparkling production. The remix of “Fantasy,” helmed by Bad Boy mastermind Puff Daddy, strips back the original song’s heavier sampling of the ‘80s classic “Genius of Love” to just the groovy bassline for most of the song, letting the synth burbles wait until the chorus to pop. The result is one of the few truly great American pop songs of the mid ‘90s.
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#24: “Blue Jeans” by Blur (1993)
Despite their relatively low placement on this list, Blur are my absolute favorite band of the ‘90s. They helped create one of its prominent movements, Britpop, with their 1992 single “Popscene,” and went on to dominate the subgenre. And when they got bored with that sound five years later, Blur proved they could do angsty, distorted alt-rock just as well as the Americans. (And five years after that, lead singer Damon Albarn started a fun little side project — you might have heard of them.)
But my favorite song of theirs doesn’t really fit into either Blur’s eras. Technically, “Blue Jeans” was released on their first Britpop album, Modern Life is Rubbish, but it doesn’t really have the same witty, uber-English vibe as their hit singles from that time. Instead, it’s a low-key, almost dream-pop song that’s simply about being content in a relationship. 
Sounds a bit boring, until you actually listen to the track — Albarn’s melody here is stunningly beautiful, yet down-to-earth, and the quaint music backing him matches the vibe of the song exactly. And his lyrics nail the early stages of love — “I don’t really wanna change a thing/I wanna stay this way forever.” There’s few songs that capture the simple joys of a romance like “Blue Jeans,” particularly in the honeymoon period.
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#23: “Forgot About Dre” by Dr. Dre feat. Eminem (1999)
The defining sound of West Coast hip-hop — the squealing synths and trunk-rattling bass of G-Funk — was mastered by one man in the early ‘90s. Dr. Dre’s The Chronic was a landmark for the genre in 1992, and his iconic style can be heard from MCs throughout most of the decade.
But by 1999, things had changed. The biggest names in hip-hop sounded nothing like Dre’s signature sound, from Puff Daddy’s sample-heavy pop-rap to the chaotic Southern twang coming from No Limit Records. Dre was seen as a has-been, a relic.
However, “Forgot About Dre” ended Dre’s slump that year. The funky Chronic beats were supplanted by a sharper-edged, metallic production over which Dre publicly shamed the world for ignoring him and his legacy. It’s a ballsy move to already anoint yourself as a legend just 11 years after you burst onto the scene, but with Dre’s track record, he could afford to do so. And although he’s not the greatest rapper technically, he spits with enough force and charisma to sell his snarling lines.
Dre also had a partner to give him a boost: the then-newbie Eminem. A lot of Em’s big 2000′s hits have aged badly in my opinion — the production is awkward and there’s too much homophobia — but he sounds sharp as hell on “Forgot About Dre.” His verse is arguably the song’s highlight, as he unleashes a rapid-fire, charmingly random verse with endlessly quotable lines.
“Forgot About Dre” cemented Dre’s status as a titan of the industry who could seemlessly create new trends and stay afloat through multiple decades. And with it being one of Eminem’s breakout moments, it also proved Dre could be a kingmaker.
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#22: “You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morissette (1995)
The ‘90s were the decade of angst. So what better climate was there to release a scathing takedown of an ex, who may or may not be one of the dudes from Full House?
Okay, so it’s never been confirmed that “You Oughta Know” is actually about Dave Coulier. But that doesn’t lessen its rage and impact. Morissette is seething with rage about this breakup, writing all-time classic lines like “Does she know how you told you’d hold me until you die/’Til you die, BUT YOU’RE STILL ALIVE” and of course, “Are you thinking of me when you fuck her?!”
Morissette perfectly uses the era’s classic quiet-loud dynamic shifts to her advantage, creepily whispering at the start of the verses, and slowly growing louder and angrier until she’s screaming her lungs out by the chorus. Her ragged, off-kilter vocals perfectly capture the blinding emotion she feels. It’s a karaoke staple for those who’ve just been dumped for a good reason.
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#21: “Big Pimpin’” by Jay-Z feat. UGK (1999)
That Timbaland beat. Dear lord. How can it sound so good against three radically different flows?! The man is truly a genius.
Yeah, Hov and Bun B and Pimp C all deliver here too, but let’s not pretend that beat isn’t the reason why this is a top-shelf Jay-Z single.
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#20: “Larger Than Life” by Backstreet Boys (1999)
Yeah, it’s better than “I Want It That Way.” Not by a lot — they’re both perfect — but I’ve always preferred upbeat boy band songs to ballads.
“Larger Than Life” was named accurately. From the second the thumping beat kicks in, the song is a stadium-filling anthem, the kind arena-rock bands would’ve written a decade prior. Does it have a chorus that’s easy to scream along to at concerts? Check. Does it have a beat you can awkwardly groove to? Check. Does it have a bad-ass guitar solo thrown in? Shockingly, yeah.
Boy bands were the true rockstars of the late-’90s (apologies to, uh, Matchbox 20?), so it would only make sense to have one of them create a bonafide rock anthem. And when you match the Backstreet Boys’ sugary hooks with a roaring atmosphere worthy of Def Leppard, you’ve got a classic on your hands.
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#19: “The Fly” by U2 (1991)
‘90s U2 is the best U2. I love Joshua Tree and Unforgettable Fire as much as the next guy, but I’ll take their weirdo, aggressively-ironic decade over their more earnest years any day.
Perhaps no song encapsulates U2′s ‘90s ethos better than “The Fly.” It’s got a slinky, nocturnal feel to the music, with The Edge’s guitar distorted slicing through like a machete. The swirling, tripped-out guitar solo here might be his greatest ever.
But like many U2 songs, “The Fly” belongs to Bono. In it, he plays the titular sleazebag from hell (literally — the song is about a crank call from down there), whispering sweet nothings into the listener’s ear. Do the lyrics actually mean anything? Honestly, I’m still not sure, but they still somehow sound transgressive and witty, if a bit corny. But you’ve got to expect a little corn when U2 is involved. And when Bono duets with himself on the sublime chorus, both as The Fly and in a piercing operatic falsetto, it’s one of the best hooks of the band’s career.
“The Fly” was the world’s introduction to the new U2 in 1991, and although it might have shocked people expecting another “With Or Without You,” it’s aged beautifully over 25 years later.
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#18: “Heaven Or Las Vegas” by Cocteau Twins (1990)
Cocteau Twins are usually held up as dream pop’s forefathers, helping create a distinct, hazy sound that would inspire future artists from The Cranberries to Beach House to Washed Out. One listen to “Heaven Or Las Vegas” proves why the Scottish trio was such an inspiration.
“Heaven Or Las Vegas,” the title track to Cocteau Twins’ flawless 1990 album, is one of the most immaculate, gorgeous songs of the decade. Invoking both heaven and Las Vegas was accurate: the track is graceful, yet also drenched in neon synths and glitz. It perfectly toes the line between holiness and kitsch.
And here’s where I admit that, like most people, I can’t make out 90 percent of what vocalist Elizabeth Fraser is singing. Beyond belting out the title of the song in the chorus, the rest sounds like French, or speaking in tongues. Regardless, her ethereal alto is a perfect compliment to the swirling keyboards and gauzy guitars floating around her in space.
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#17: “All The Small Things” by Blink-182 (1999)
In the classic video for “All The Small Things,” Blink-182 spends the entire runtime clowning on the TRL-era boy bands of the time. Here’s the ironic thing about that video: “All The Small Things” is secretly the greatest boy band song of the ‘90s (yes, that means *NSYNC didn’t make the list...their best songs came out in the early aughts, sorry).
Blink-182 are technically a pop-punk band, not a boy band, but you wouldn’t really know that from their most iconic, and best, hit. “All The Small Things” is direct, punchy and has a monster sing-along chorus. Sure, Tom DeLonge’s nasal whine isn’t a typical teen heartthrob voice, but young Justin Timberlake had an unusual voice too (“IT’S GONNA BAY MAAAAE”). 
The fact that “All The Small Things” is basically a bubblegum Trojan horse for Hot Topic kids is exactly what makes it so great. Chugging guitars can peacefully coexist with a TRL-ready melody and surprisingly romantic (if simple) lyrics. 
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#16: “Gin & Juice” by Snoop Doggy Dogg (1993)
Nowadays, Snoop Dogg is probably more known for his intense love of weed, unwillingness to turn down collaborations, and friendship with Martha Stewart more than any new music. But Snoop’s earned the right to ease into being a hip-hop elder statesman, thanks to his landmark album Doggystyle and its standout single, “Gin & Juice.”
The young Snoop (only 22 at the time!!) had already nailed down his trademark, chilled-out drawl by 1993. He uses it to great effect on “Gin & Juice,” describing a wild house party filled with sex, drugs and alcohol like it’s just another regular day at the office. You can practically hear his knowing smile in the verses, and the chorus sung by D-Ruff is infectious as hell.
Of course, major credit has to be given to Dr. Dre’s G-funk production. It’s my favorite beat of his from this era, and its dog-whistle synths and shuffling beat perfectly fit the early-’90s California party vibe. 
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#15: “Semi-Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind (1997)
This is probably the only song in history to take heavy lyrical influence from the Doug theme song and simultaneously be about crystal meth.
It shouldn’t be hard to explain why “Semi-Charmed Life” is a classic, right? It turned an insanely bleak topic into one of the sunniest, most propulsive jams of all time. The rap-singing in the verses is a blast to keep up with, and that falsetto “goodBYYYYYYYE” in the chorus is the ‘90s equivalent of the high note in “Take On Me”: often-attempted in karaoke, with a very low success rate.
The late ‘90s had no shortage of great, weird pop jams, and “Semi-Charmed Life” is near the top of the pile.
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#14: “Say It Ain’t So” by Weezer (1994)
My favorite ‘90s album will always be Blur’s Parklife. But my second choice would probably be Weezer’s self-titled “Blue Album,” a nerdy power-pop masterpiece. It’s an angstier mirror of The Cars’ 1976 debut, also self-titled; appropriate, seeing as Cars frontman Rik Ocasek produced Weezer’s first album.
The record’s centerpiece is the heartbreaking “Say It Ain’t So,” a perfect power ballad. The band nails the quiet/loud/quiet dynamic shifts from the mumbling verses to the supercharged chorus. There, Rivers Cuomo scratches his vocals, displaying his emotional wounds after alcoholism tore apart his family. 
For a band known for very silly songs like “Buddy Holly” and “Beverly Hills,” the passionate bridge, where Cuomo first wails away vocally before making his guitar do the same in a fiery solo, is truly heartbreaking. “Say It Ain’t So” proved that California dorks could pull off sadness just as well as the flannel-wearing Seattleites, if not better.
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#13: “My Heart Will Go On” by Céline Dion (1997)
Earlier this year, Avengers: Endgame moved past Titanic on the all-time box office charts. As much as I enjoyed Endgame, this feels wrong. Sure, Marvel is a big deal, but was Endgame as much of a phenomenon as Titanic? No. Frankly, it’s not even a top-5 Marvel movie (although it is better than Avatar, which Endgame could pass soon for first place). 
Why has Titanic cemented itself in pop culture history? Part of that is because the movie is a stone-cold classic, featuring a frothy romance between two of a generation’s greatest actors that ends in unspeakable tragedy and heartbreak. But I believe there’s another aspect to the film that’s helped keep its legacy strong: its unsinkable theme song.
“My Heart Will Go On” is one of the greatest movie themes of all time, precisely because it mirrors its movie. Like Titanic, Céline Dion’s signature song starts as a tender, soft romance, before bursting into a dizzying climax that pummels the audience into submission, forcing tears.
I don’t think I need to emphasize that Dion is a fantastic singer — there are very few singers that could nail both the cooing opening and the Whitney Houston-esque belting at the final chorus. But “My Heart Will Go On” is still occasionally considered a punchline, and that’s just wrong. Any song with this much emotional heft and force cannot be taken lightly.
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#12: “What’s The Frequency, Kenneth?” by R.E.M. (1994)
Two of Gen X’s longest-lasting and most important acts, U2 and R.E.M., switched roles in the ‘90s. U2 shifted their image from overly-earnest arena-rockers to weirdos dabbling in underground sounds. Meanwhile, their American counterparts went from mumbling college rock jams to radio-friendly ballads.
Not to be a total snob, but I’ve always preferred R.E.M.’s jangly ‘80s sound over their blockbuster early ‘90s albums. But the lead single off their underrated 1994 record Monster might be my favorite song of theirs.
“What’s The Frequency, Kenneth?” sounds like very few other R.E.M. songs. There’s no mandolins, and Michael Stipe’s lyrics are much clearer (although they make little sense). Instead of being bouncy and light, the guitars are a blast of crunchy distortion, not far off from a typical Smashing Pumpkins song.
In fact, Peter Buck’s guitar work here is what makes “Kenneth.” His echo-y sound adds a raw texture to the tune. And although the lyrics are a bit cryptic (apparently it’s about Boomers trying to advertise to Gen Xers? I have no clue), Stipe’s melody is on-point, as usual.
Although the sound of alt-rock had long passed by R.E.M.’s original style, “Kenneth” showed that the Georgia legends were more than able to keep up.
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#11: “Steal My Sunshine” by Len (1999)
This sunburnt ode to being young and dumb in the gloriously young-and-dumb late ‘90s is the greatest summer anthem of all time. And the greatest one-hit-wonder of all time.
“Steal My Sunshine” is the soundtrack to driving with the windows down, goofing with your friends and pretty much any positive aspect of summer. Gloriously dumb and kitschy-fun summer songs like this are perfect examples of why the late-’90s was a golden age for pop.
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#10: “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” by Shania Twain (1997)
While we’re talking about that late-’90s pop boom, how crazy is it that the era’s best single is technically a country song? 
Of course, “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” is barely a country song — yes, there’s some violins and slide guitar buried in the mix, but there’s also a thundering synth riff and Twain barely has a Southern twang (makes sense, seeing as she’s Canadian). And there’s no mention of any country tropes like pickup trucks or whiskey in the lyrics.
What “Man!” does bring to the table is a tongue-in-cheek, groovy pop-rock jam that’s just as easy to love as it is to make jokes about. Sure, it’s corny as hell — see the obvious joke in the song’s title — but Twain is clearly having way too much fun to care. And in a decade filled with angst and irony, a super-cheesy pop jam like this probably seemed like a needed salvo.
And the Mutt Lange production on this has some serious oomph to it. Before his extensive work with Twain, his then-wife, Lange was arguably best known for mastering the roided-out arena rock sound of the ‘80s, assisting on classic tunes from The Cars, AC/DC and Def Leppard. He even gave us this beautifully ridiculous Billy Ocean track, which might be the greatest song ever written. Lange brings some weight to “Man!”, making Twain’s female-empowerment anthem an actual anthem.
Listen, if this song isn’t for you, I get it. But for those of us who have the prerogative to have a little fun, “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” is the pinnacle of one of pop’s greatest eras.
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#9: “Check The Rhime” by A Tribe Called Quest (1991)
A lot of ‘90s rap hasn’t aged well, even if it’s still a ton of fun. Albums from Dr. Dre and Puff Daddy and even Jay-Z can sound like time capsules. But that’s not a problem that A Tribe Called Quest has, as their smooth jazz-rap still sounds timeless and perfect.
“Check The Rhime” is the Queens group’s brightest highlight off of their 1991 magnum opus, The Low End Theory. It’s a simple setup: MCs Q-Tip and Phife Dawg introduce the other rapper by reminiscing about freestyling on street corners back in the day. Then, both Tip and Phife get their own verse, each stuffed with playful lines and life advice — Industry Rule 4080 still holds to this day.
Unlike a lot of ‘90s hip-hop that was trying desperately to either be menacing or cool, Tip and Phife ooze effortless charisma on their verses in a playful, almost childlike way. Phife starts his verse reminding everyone “how nice I am” (before proclaiming that he flips off “punk MCs”). Tip even seems to diss MC Hammer by saying “rap is not pop/if you call it that then stop,” but apparently, this was meant as a defense of the then-megastar. Maybe.
“Check The Rhime” works partially because of its funky, minimalist production, but also because the Tribe’s two rappers were born to spit non sequiturs and awkward brags over a jazz-rap beat until the end of time.
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#8: “I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone” by Sleater-Kinney (1996)
I’m not sure how flamingly hot of a take this is, but I’d say Sleater-Kinney is the greatest band in Northwest history. Yes, better than Nirvana. 
1997′s Dig Me Out is a flawless masterpiece, and there’s not a single dud in their eight-album discography. Unlike many of the major Washington acts from this era, the Olympia three-piece never lost relevancy, releasing some of their strongest work in the 2000′s.
But Sleater-Kinney’s best single, “I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone,” is actually from one of their early albums. And it serves as a thesis statement for the decades of great music to come.
Legendary guitarist Carrie Brownstein takes over vocals here, nailing both the sardonic verses and the thrilling, off-kilter chorus. “Joey Ramone” tackles an interesting subject: how almost all of indie rock’s heroes up to that point had been male. So when Brownstein wails about wanting to be Joey Ramone or Thurston Moore, she’s placing Sleater-Kinney in the pantheon of rock greats. And this was just their second album.
Luckily, Sleater-Kinney had the goods to back up their chutzpah, and “Joey Ramone” became prophetic.
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#7: “Supersonic” by Oasis (1994)
Just a couple months after Kurt Cobain’s death, two unibrowed guys from Manchester (and the rest of their band) completely upended the rock world with their band Oasis’ debut album, Definitely Maybe. After a few years of gloom-and-doom dominating the genre, it, along with fellow hit albums from Blur and Pulp, helped usher in the brighter world of Britpop in the mid-’90s.
That album’s first single, “Supersonic,” is still the greatest thing Oasis ever produced. (Yes, it’s better than “Wonderwall.”)
“Supersonic” is a blast of rude, snotty rock-n-roll cranked up to 11. In an era of irony and sarcasm, lead singer Liam Gallagher was spouting out nonsense lyrics like they were the most important and coolest thing in the world. And for the four-and-a-half minutes of this song, they probably are.
Everything about “Supersonic” is boneheaded perfection, from the thunderous drums to the dual guitars, one crunchy, one soaring; all the way to Liam’s sneer. This is prime Oasis, the band running on all cylinders. Based on how ramshackle this sounds, it’s no wonder the band only stayed great for two albums. But at least we’ll always have that legendary start.
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#6: “1979″ by The Smashing Pumpkins (1995)
On the opposite end of the cool spectrum as Oasis and Sleater-Kinney, you have Billy Corgan — singer/songwriter/control freak of The Smashing Pumpkins and alt-rock’s most weaselly, petty figure. But say what you want about him as a person, Corgan wrote some incredible alt-rock pop nuggets.
“1979″ is a major outlier in the Pumpkins’ discography. It’s not an angsty shoegaze/grunge banger or an orchestral power ballad. It’s a low-key, skeletal new-wave track that perfectly captures the boredom and aimlessness of youth.
While many songs about being a teenager capture either its euphoric highs or angsty lows, “1979″ is one of the few classic songs that nails the in-between moments. It’s the feeling of walking to the 7-Eleven with your friends, cracking jokes that you’ll probably forget the next day. It’s about sitting in a parking lot and just waiting to leave your hometown.
"1979″ isn’t a grand gesture, but in a backwards way, that makes it even more profound. And from a band who typically dealt in soaring, intensely emotional songs, it was a brilliant change-of-pace that will no-doubt be relatable to teens for a long time to come.
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#5: “Rebel Girl” by Bikini Kill (1993)
Two massively important alt-rock movements came from the Puget Sound in the early ‘90s. One is grunge. The other is riot grrrl, centered around a group of furious, political women-led bands in Olympia. And although Sleater-Kinney may be the subgenre’s longest-lasting act, its brightest moment came in 1993 with Bikini Kill and their incendiary single “Rebel Girl.”
Lead singer/songwriter/punk icon Kathleen Hanna is the focal point of “Rebel Girl,” wailing away on the microphone about an unnamed woman who is just the absolute coolest. The woman is described as a confident, revolutionary lesbian figure who would serve as an inspiration for angsty teens across the globe.
And oh yeah — “Rebel Girl” absolutely shreds. It sounds like there’s maybe 18 guitars going at once on the track, and Tobi Vail’s drum work is fearsome. Just to give more rock cred to the song, it was produced and features guitar work from Joan Jett. The rock legend and Bikini Kill made a great pairing, creating a song that sounds angry, with its distorted guitars and punk drums, but is actually a triumphant feminist anthem for the ages.
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#4: “Linger” by The Cranberries (1993)
In an early-’90s rock scene filled with distorted guitars and raw angst, The Cranberries broke out in 1993 with a song that sounded nothing like the crowd. And over 25 years later, their stunningly gorgeous single “Linger” has aged far better than most of the grunge and alt-rock it was surrounded by.
The Irish four-piece took inspiration from Cocteau Twins’ and Galaxie 500′s dream pop and just made the hooks even more bulletproof and melancholy. “Linger” is the kind of ballad that’s a perfect fit for a longing prom slow dance and for crying with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s on the couch after a break up.
The late Dolores O’Riordan’s lilting vocals are a miracle here, able to express both hope and resignation. Her heavy Irish accent helps the vocals become another instrument in the band’s sweeping wall of sound, alongside the jangly guitars, marching-beat drums and orchestral swells.
It’s the most beautiful song of an ugly (in a good way!) decade, and arguably the greatest dream pop song ever written. The Cranberries would later adopt the heavy guitars of their Seattle peers, but “Linger” is still a high-water mark for the subgenre.
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#3: “Juicy” by The Notorious B.I.G. (1994)
The first verse alone could’ve gotten “Juicy” into this list’s top 10. It’s one of the most-memorable and quotable verses of all time, exquisitely detailing The Notorious B.I.G.’s rise to fame. And then we get two more stellar verses?! 
“Juicy” is frequently cited among one of the greatest hip-hop songs of all time, and it’s deserving of that reputation. Biggie penned the definitive rags-to-riches story in just five minutes (honestly, more like four, as he and producer Puff Daddy let the beat ride for a bit at the end) and then blessed it with his silky-smooth, commanding flow.
What separates “Juicy” from other come-up anthems is the vivid detail Biggie gives us, both about his impoverished Brooklyn upbringing (“We used to fuss when the landlord dissed us/No heat, wondered why Christmas missed us”) and his stunning rise to fame (“Girls used to diss me/Now they write letters cause they miss me”). He even brags about owning a Super Nintendo AND a Sega Genesis, which was the biggest early-90′s flex possible.
Of course, knowing the tragic ending of Biggie’s story, “Juicy” has a bit of a bittersweet feeling to it now. But its ‘80′s-retro beat and infectious glee can still bring a smile to my face every time I hear it.
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#2: “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana (1991)
Well, duh.
There is no song that encapsulates an entire decade and generation like “Smells Like Teen Spirit” does for the ‘90′s and Gen X. It famously changed the entire rock landscape nearly overnight from sleazy hair metal to grimy alt-rock. It’s one of the most famous and iconic songs ever written. And shockingly, it still retains all of its revolutionary power nearly 30 years later.
How does “Smells Like Teen Spirit” pull off the balancing act of being a time capsule, yet still sounding remarkably fresh? I believe it’s because it captures the raw feeling of visceral rage and confusion better than nearly any song. Most angry songs have a target, whether its racist politicians, stuffy adults, or even a crappy ex. “Teen Spirit” has no tangible reason for its angst. Kurt Cobain’s lyrics are famously nonsense. And that’s what makes the song so brilliant.
Because the song is so emotionally powerful in a visceral way, it really doesn’t matter that the lyrics are meaningless. All you need to love the song is to connect with the anger buried deep, and start moshing the moment Dave Grohl’s instantly-recognizable drum fill meets the clanging guitars. It’s a total banger.
Cobain might not have had the intent of creating a generational anthem that would last beyond Gen X. But as long as people feel “stupid and contagious” alongside a creeping rise of angst, waiting to burst, “Teen Spirit” will remain relevant.
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#1: “Common People” by Pulp (1995)
For a subgenre entirely built around a particular country’s culture, most major Britpop acts surprisingly refrained from politics. Oasis never sniffed the subject, and while Blur got close, songs like “Parklife” or “Stereotypes” were more winking jokes than bold statements.
Then there’s Pulp. Their most beloved track, “Common People,” is a scathing attack on the British upper class who indulge in poverty tourism, unaware of how the other half really lives. And it’s the best song of the ‘90s.
There are few things I love more than a perfectly executed story-song, and lead singer/songwriter Jarvis Cocker gives listeners a doozy here. “Common People” is about a rich woman talking to, well, a common person, and she decides she wants the poor guy to show her how to “live like common people.” Cocker’s songwriting is very literary, going into detail about the woman’s history and her botched attempt to act poor while shopping for groceries, as well as all the lower-class problems the wealthy will never understand. As Cocker bluntly puts it, “If you call your dad/he could stop it all.”
“Common People” is just as furious as “Teen Spirit,” but Cocker has clear targets here: the one-percent, and the misguided idea that poverty is somehow cool. The song starts calmly, almost at a whisper, but by the final, heart-pounding climax, Cocker is wailing away, condemning the upper-class with gusto.
The swelling disco-rock groove channels this anger into an absurdly catchy tune — an odd combination of musical tone and lyrics, but one that’s effective. It’s a giant middle finger that you can sing along to.
Britpop might have ended, but the sentiment of “Common People” is still fresh today as a righteous anthem for the trod-upon. 
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5 Stupid Things We Need To Stop Clicking On
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Are you trying to find the perfect drink to pair with losing custody of your adolescents? ” Or maybe you are only pondered, “Dr. Pepper Ten sounds like the refreshing discus you contact for when defending an alleged rapist you haven’t met.” SORRY LADIES, OUR CREATIVE DIRECTOR IS STILL DEALING WITH SOME CHILDHOOD TRAUMA INVOLVING PENISES . b> Products should conclude the customer happy , not be so intentionally foolish that the customer hears about them during a Jimmy Kimmel monologue. You shouldn’t spawn every tenth new Oreo out of cat suppository in the hopeles said he hoped that cookie influencers tweet about it. And pizza, you peculiarly need to get your shit together. In 2012, a Pizza Hut employee happened upon the relevant recommendations of a hot-dog-stuffed crust, relatively by coincidence, when his administrator caught him fucking a pizza and asked written explanations. This distinguished the last experience there would ever has become a non-insane pizza ability. 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Did you think LaTonya from Fayetteville was chosen as Jet ‘s “Beauty of the Week” because of her prevailing tits and smile? Wake up. It’s because her front tattoo announces “Abortion is Bae.” Please, all of us, we have to stop get outsmarted by the Jet magazines of the world. 3 It’s Not An Contest When Fictional Characters Die In 1992, DC Comics killed Superman — an indestructible ventriloquist with laser noses, frost wheeze, and chronosphere-bending flight speed — with a rock ogre who was pretty good at punching. Despite it being the third occasion he had died, the country is entered into mourning and the tale was picked up by the actual bulletin. Which was weird, because if the media wanted to cover upsetting Superman fibs, where were they when his girlfriend get turned into a pony and fucked his mare? I think about this every day. Every day. div > Why are we so preoccupied with fictional deaths? Most of the time, they’re not even real in the make-believe macrocosm in which they happen. Captain America and Batman vanish around 20 epoches a year, each in different combinations of fake-outs, resurgences, and universe reboots. If a dead guy’s best friends own a meter machine and the Eye of Agamotto, you can probably hold back on making funeral proposals. And if your favorite person dies on The Walking Dead , perhaps don’t debris an hour watching Chris Hardwick cry until you accompany the body. It should help you relax knowing that most fictional fatalities are exclusively abusive escapades, but the “real” ones are about as meaningless. I mean, you knew there wasn’t going to be any more Firefly . This death cost us maybe two wisecracks. div > Remember when Han Solo expired? He was a 73 -year-old laser gun fighter scheduled to get his own movie in three years. His death was both long overdue and altogether inconsequential to the amount of Han Solo you will continue to see on your TV. His father-in-law, Darth Vader, was on screen for about 36 minutes before he died in 1983, and since his death, there have been more Anakin Skywalker narratives than anyone could ever require. Anakin Skywalker is the Nicolas Cage of outer space. He stopped making good movies three decades ago, more he’s still everywhere and radiating inexplicable planetary energy. If George R. R. Martin gone on TV to announce that a comet smacked Westeros between works and everyone in A Song Of Ice And Fire is lead, how is that different from “the worlds” you’re living in now? The chap have undoubtedly wanted to focus more on snacks for about four works. You know what’s sadder than identifying Ned Stark get his head chopped off? Watching some fragile-hearted slobs go across the various stages of sorrow in a YouTube video afterwards. Mothers, if your child is filming themselves weep over a make-believe death, that’s a bigger default than if your child is filming themselves pee into a tube sock for Patreon advocates. I symbolize, you can do whatever you demand, but when you cry over forgery people whom you can still hear every day for as long as you miss, you’re exclusively sending a message to the people around you that you’re a drastic piece of shit. But I know something that will ovation you up! 2 Being Special Is Free That’s right, I said it. You’re welcome. It’s pretty easy to sell someone nothing more than the notion that they’re special or important for actual money. For illustration, somewhere right now, a Todd is looking through a rack of keychains to see if they have one with his reputation on it. “I hope they have a Todd, ” he might announce as he thumbs through dusty debris. “They do! And it’s spelled right ! b> ” So Todd will buy it, a cute remember of the worst collected in the least interesting part of a town he formerly called, and it will never occur to him that an Indonesian plant gambled and won that a completely shitty Todd would one day pay money to prompt himself of his own name. This next part is way off-topic, but not even the Indonesians could have foreseen that this keychain would one day be used to frame Todd … … for Toddslaughter. div > Back to the point I was trying to utters: We are all prone to this idiocy. Coke had its first marketings increase in more than a decade when it introduced the idea of adding the customers’ stupid fucking lists to their cans and bottles. And the internet has been recurred by ego-stroking personality quizs and IQ tests since before we used it to pay girlfriends peeing into tube socks. We are so desperate to be told we’re special that we will expel all disbelief and critical consider to hear it. You should know that answering a few simple-minded personality interrogations does not determine you the coolest ninja turtle, and you shouldn’t trust the scores of an Iq test that you watched yourself cheat on which likewise advertises free Slavic women and four new pounds of dick girth. One of my favorite a few examples of this, and favorite things in general, is an online community announced Intertel — “An International Society of the Intellectually Gifted.” It’s very difficult to get in. You can only affiliate if you tally in the top one percent of any self-administered intelligence test and mail in a $10 lotion reward. You may have considered that this in fact checks to see whether you’re stupid enough to forward in a test with a 98 percent composition or less and nothing else. If you get accepted, you then compensate a $39 annual reward to be a part of a genius squad for people who are very specifically not. What do you get? I’m so glad you asked. For the annual reward, you get inexhaustible pity and the human rights of berth a photo and bio about your singularly unsophisticated soul. It has created an avalanche of unearned narcissism that looks like a late ‘9 0s Casper Van Dien supporter page whose webmaster travelled mysteriously missing. Image courtesy of the property of the Casper Van Dien Fan Page& Genius Community webmaster. div > OK , no, but seriously, this next epitome is a real screenshot from the Inertel( An International Society of the Intellectually Gifted) website. This is a real person who really thinks he’s in the 1 percent of intellectual nobilities, and this is his real profile. I didn’t doctor this. This is what an actual genius named BigJim3 69 remunerations $39 a year to expose. Fucking! This macrocosm is spell and you get to live in it! div > Another business that employs your adoration of yourself on a big, sprawling magnitude is the pop-up museum manufacture. The reputation implies that there are things to do or learn inside them, but they’re more like oversized photo booths than artistry halls. For speciman, if you take a junket to the zany, world-famous Museum of Ice Cream, you will memorize zero to one things about ice cream and feed ice cream worth $45 less than the entering ticket. What you will do is wait in line to make photos of yourself next to what you’d describe in any other situation as “nothing of interest.” So to be clear, we are so self-obsessed that it’s now an efficient business model to charge us money to make pictures of ourselves so we can promote you online. You didn’t fool ME, Museum of Ice Cream. But my family loved it. Five stars. div > 1 Stop Attaining It Seem Like There Are Nazis OK, so the world has just fairly stupid prejudiceds to elect Donald Trump chairman, but not all of those voters were full white supremacists. Some of them were simply extremely theological to know when someone is lying or too old to change their memory about politics. And yes, a troubling number of them were Nazis. But in a lot of ways, most things are fine and the world isn’t as unpleasant as you think. You’re welcome again. div > Impossibly shitty parties, like the Trump supporters who made that Garfield mug privately, looks a lot like they’re everywhere. A pile of that is our omission — the good beings making fun of them. They use us to amplify their articulates, like Han Solo( R.I.P .) reassuring a hallway of Stormtroopers that he’s acces more people than he actually is. Every few minutes, a website publishes a variant on the article “These Miserable Fucks Said Something Racist About A Thing And Got Annihilated By Twitter.” They’re fun and vaguely heroic, but if you read more than one, you’ll start to see that they all share the same content. It’s the same three or four prejudiced tweets quoted in each article, tweeted by the same three or four prejudiceds who “attacked” the Star Wars with the Asian girl and “staged boycotts” of the all-lady Ghostbusters . We need to stop treating these three or four beings like they’re a threat to anything other than skewing PornHub’s algorithm to favor mother-son incest. BREAKING NEWS: Regional high school’s least-likable puncture still manufacturing quite a sight out his irrelevant awfulness. div > Here’s a comforting information: A analyse of Reddit found that 1 percent of communities were responsible for 74 percent of all conflict. We are taking the intentionally insensitive notes of a Kia’s worth of debate club hobbyists and feigning they’re a tidal wave of detest “were supposed to” stand together against. The “alt-right” movement is 30 sons more cranky to year and too slow to hear Dungeons& Dragons . Their adherents are a lethal group of gamers who will disappear once they sour 17, and their media channel is a cable network whose entire audience will be dead in two more flu seasons. All these people want is for the other side to get upset, so if we stop writing thinkpieces about the rise of dapper grey patriotism and focus more on how liberals hate suicide religions, we can be rid of them almost immediately. BREAKING NEWS: C-word who are tweets C-wordy antisemitic concepts DOES! div > Ann Coulter is a good example. She’s the skeletal are still in relic antipathy, and she has about as much cultural affect as Corey Feldman’s band, Oral Thrush and the Yeast 2000 s. Has she ever done anything other than hiss bad acts at impatient Tv identities or suppose that clinical antisemitism is antisemitic slapstick? She only seems like she is a thing because 10,000 of us dunk on the bitch each time she condemns her oral thrush on the Jews. Without all of us excusing to one another how mistaken she is, Coulter would just be straying through Home Depot to see if there are any lily-white works she can ask about the lavatory refuge rails. And soon she would be spawning spider eggs in her lip while her parakeet watched their own bodies rot. “Rawk! The Jews are at it again! ” it would recite to her undiscovered body. “The Jews are at it again! “ We all seem to get how foolish it is when the story answers “teens” are doing a comically apeshit circumstance like human centipede gatherings or detergent eating. Why can’t we use those same beings psyches to figure out how one Nazi nerd looking for attention isn’t “the Right”? I know it’s tough to stand trolls, but Kim Kardashian owning all the world’s money should have taught you that there is virtue in shutting the fuck up about some things. We need to stay strong not in the battle against the “alt-right, ” but in the battle to ignore them. The next time you verify another tower about how maids won’t time republican people, leave it alone. Let those dickless Nazis prevent writing versions of that section into the empty vacancy until they discover evil campaigns brides to dry up. And the next time someone on your Facebook thread attacks their Second Amendment liberties after local schools shooting, don’t confirm their child assassination fandom with tending. Move your cursor to the left and click on their mother’s chart. Pose as Blake Shelton, acquire her moist rely, and calmly destroy that child-murderer’s family. Every one of us can shut up and make a difference. Seanbaby devised being funny on the Internet. You can follow him on Twitter, or frisk his hit mobile competition Calculords . b> Did you realise Casper van Dien was in a Tarzan movie in the 90 s ? i > b> Support Cracked’s journalism with a tour to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you . i > b> For more, check out 5 Deeply Embarrassing Thing The News Keeps Doing and 6 Time The News Went Totally Overboard Chasing A Story . i > b> You should click on this join and follow us on Facebook . i > b> Read more: http :// www.cracked.com/ blog/ 5-stupid-things-we-need-to-stop-clicking-on / http://dailybuzznetwork.com/index.php/2018/06/30/5-stupid-things-we-need-to-stop-clicking-on/
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5 Stupid Things We Need To Stop Clicking On
We are living through the final gasps of the Information Age. Experts estimate that 62 percent of all information we now receive is deliberately false, and that includes the percentage and experts I made up at the start of this sentence. The sad truth is, most of you will never have the critical thinking or research skills to know what’s real, and that will only make you more sure about the wrong things your stupid ass believes. The good news is that this article isn’t about that shit. The fake news fight is over, and stupid won. No, this article is about the dumb things we all keep falling for — even you, the genius who chose the right political side and religion.
5
Pointlessly Insane Products Are Not That At All
Last year, Tiffany & Co. started selling the Sterling Silver Tin Can, an empty can that costs $1,000. You’ll notice that this is far more than you’d normally pay for soupless garbage. To be clear, this wasn’t some tin can that once held Prince’s final green beans. It’s only a can. As an artistic statement, it was 50 years stale, and as a money-making scheme, it was somewhere between a portable diarrhea box and that same product without a lid. It’s the kind of idea that would make the other Saved By The Bell writers say, “Look, if you’re not ready to come back to work, take more time off to deal with the death of your son.” The point I’m making is that it’s hard not to comment on Tiffany’s silly can, and that’s more appealing to Tiffany & Co. than when we comment on how the people who mined their products all died of slavery.
“Darling, I was part of many souls transcending penetration to transform a utilitarian men’s room into an installment of signature Tiffany oeuvre.” — this Tiffany copywriter explaining to his wife why there are seven colors of pubic hair in his underpants
Read Next
8 Baffling Poop-Themed Toys Kids Are Lining Up To Buy
And it’s not only tin cans and Wu-Tang albums that are marketed in intentionally strange ways. Food advertisers have figured out that they can get more attention by being ridiculous than by being delicious. Remember when KFC used fried chicken as sandwich bread in the Double Down? Or when Chick-Fil-A announced that their fried chicken hated gay people with the Cajun Titty Jiggler? We all made fun of them, but they absolutely did not care. These are people turning pigeon meat and “deported” foreign nationals into nugget shapes. They’ll take any press they can get.
We need to stop doing this. It’s very possible the only conversation any of us had or will ever have about Dr. Pepper came when they released a special version of their soda for men only. We all went on Twitter to say things like, “Forbidding women from tasting Dr. Pepper Ten will only delay the discovery that it’s made from semen, not stop it completely.” We asked questions like, “Why would you make a soda for men only? Are you trying to find the perfect drink to pair with losing custody of your kids?” Or maybe you simply speculated, “Dr. Pepper Ten sounds like the refreshing treat you reach for when defending an accused rapist you haven’t met.”
SORRY LADIES, OUR CREATIVE DIRECTOR IS STILL DEALING WITH SOME CHILDHOOD TRAUMA INVOLVING PENISES.
Products should make the customer happy, not be so deliberately dumb that the customer hears about them during a Jimmy Kimmel monologue. You shouldn’t make every tenth new Oreo out of cat suppository in the desperate hope that cookie influencers tweet about it. And pizza, you especially need to get your shit together.
In 2012, a Pizza Hut employee happened upon the idea of a hot-dog-stuffed crust, quite by accident, when his manager caught him fucking a pizza and demanded an explanation. This marked the last time there would ever be a non-insane pizza invention. Today, pizza marketing is a series of deranged innovations, like a serial killer’s journey toward becoming the Minotaur. For instance, Pizza Hut created “smart” shoes that place an order for you. Aside from getting the elderly to wonder what they’re going to come up with next, what the fuck good do pizza shoes do anyone? If you have a use for ordering Pizza Hut via shoe, your foot is going to fall off from diabetes long before you get to do it a second time.
And did you know that Domino’s spent millions of dollars promoting something called “carryout insurance?” It’s what it sounds like — a financial guarantee that when your sloppy ass drops a pizza, they give you another one. Aside from getting us to mention how dumb that is, what’s the point? Was there a community of fat idiots eating pizza off the ground and demanding their representatives do something? Let’s say it’s just to set your mind at ease. Let’s pretend you’re thinking about ordering Domino’s, but decide against it because you’re always dropping pizza. Will this convince you? Of course not. You’re not even here. You were taken in the night by mad scientists, and now you’re a lump of brain tissue labelled “HISTORY’S SADDEST FUCK.”
“CARRYOUT INSURANCE!? Hey, boss? Yeah, I just found a loophole that gives me unlimited floor pizza. So what I’m saying is you can kiss my ass.“
4
All Things “Of The Year” Are Arbitrary Decisions Made By Small Teams Of Random Assholes
We are living in the darkest of times. Our current sexiest man alive looks like a rectangle who makes its living hustling milk-drinking contests.
“I’m digesting four gallons of Half & Half. Hi, I’m Blake Shelton, your sexiest man alive.”
When People magazine announced hoedown music standout Blake Shelton as the sexiest man alive while Casper Van Dien was still not dead, it hit like a bomb. Every Twitter account and Safeway express lane had a hot take on it. It wasn’t merely controversial; it was a direct challenge to what vaginal lubrication even meant. What will it do to society if passably handsome NASCAR dads are the new standard of sexy? Do we need to stop doing sit-ups? Will there be enough denim?
What will Casper Van Dien do with this boner?
You know what we should have been doing that whole time? Not giving a shit about how handsome Blake Shelton is. Don’t get me wrong, Blake Shelton is alright. His condoms probably don’t expire, and if he was arrested for sodomizing a dairy cow, you’d think “Him?” But let’s not play games. He’s not the sexiest man alive. At best, he’s “Oklahoma’s Hottest Mostly Ham DNA.” But we should remember that this isn’t some great honor decided by measuring the gonad stimulation of test subjects. “Sexiest Man Alive” is picked by four or five editors desperately trying to hang onto print media jobs, and every now and then one of them is smart enough to say, “What if we trolled everyone?” With all respect to Blake Shelton’s fuckability, if you died trying to teach a prosthetic arm how to give a handjob, the People staff would write your name up on the “Sexiest Man Alive MAYBES” board.
It’s important to keep in mind how meaningless these titles are before we get outraged. Before Donald Trump, Time gave its 2006 “Person of the Year” title to You, as in the second-person pronoun. And in 1938 they gave it to Hitler, the Donald Trump of 1938. These are meaningless choices meant to inspire terrible conversations between uninteresting people. Did you think LaTonya from Fayetteville was chosen as Jet ‘s “Beauty of the Week” because of her winning tits and smile? Wake up. It’s because her face tattoo says “Abortion is Bae.” Please, all of us, we have to stop getting outsmarted by the Jet magazines of the world.
3
It’s Not An Event When Fictional Characters Die
In 1992, DC Comics killed Superman — an invincible ventriloquist with laser eyes, frost breath, and chronosphere-bending flight speed — with a rock monster who was pretty good at punching. Despite it being the third time he had died, the country went into mourning and the story was picked up by the actual news. Which was weird, because if the media wanted to cover upsetting Superman stories, where were they when his girlfriend got turned into a pony and fucked his horse?
I think about this every day. Every day.
Why are we so obsessed with fictional deaths? Most of the time, they’re not even real in the make-believe universe in which they happen. Captain America and Batman die around 20 times a year, each in different combinations of fake-outs, resurrections, and universe reboots. If a dead guy’s best friends own a time machine and the Eye of Agamotto, you can probably hold off on making funeral plans. And if your favorite character dies on The Walking Dead, maybe don’t waste an hour watching Chris Hardwick cry until you see the body.
It should help you relax knowing that most fictional deaths are only abusive pranks, but the “real” ones are about as meaningless.
I mean, you knew there wasn’t going to be any more Firefly. This death cost us maybe two wisecracks.
Remember when Han Solo died? He was a 73-year-old laser gun fighter scheduled to get his own movie in three years. His death was both long overdue and completely inconsequential to the amount of Han Solo you will continue to see on your TV. His father-in-law, Darth Vader, was on screen for about 36 minutes before he died in 1983, and since his death, there have been more Anakin Skywalker stories than anyone could ever want. Anakin Skywalker is the Nicolas Cage of outer space. He stopped making good movies three decades ago, yet he’s still everywhere and radiating inexplicable cosmic energy.
If George R. R. Martin went on TV to announce that a meteor hit Westeros between books and everyone in A Song Of Ice And Fire is gone, how is that different from the world you’re living in now? The guy has clearly wanted to focus more on snacks for about four books. You know what’s sadder than seeing Ned Stark get his head chopped off? Watching some fragile-hearted slob go through the stages of grief in a YouTube video afterwards. Parents, if your child is filming themselves weep over a make-believe death, that’s a bigger failure than if your child is filming themselves pee into a tube sock for Patreon supporters. I mean, you can do whatever you want, but when you cry over fake people whom you can still see every day for as long as you want, you’re only sending a message to the people around you that you’re a dramatic piece of shit. But I know something that will cheer you up!
2
Being Special Is Free
That’s right, I said it.
You’re welcome.
It’s pretty easy to sell someone nothing more than the idea that they’re special or important for actual money. For example, somewhere right now, a Todd is looking through a rack of keychains to see if they have one with his name on it. “I hope they have a Todd,” he might announce as he thumbs through dusty garbage. “They do! And it’s spelled right!” So Todd will buy it, a cute reminder of the worst store in the least interesting part of a city he once visited, and it will never occur to him that an Indonesian factory gambled and won that a completely shitty Todd would one day pay money to remind himself of his own name. This next part is way off-topic, but not even the Indonesians could have foreseen that this keychain would one day be used to frame Todd …
… for Toddslaughter.
Back to the point I was trying to make: We are all susceptible to this crap. Coke had its first sales increase in more than a decade when it introduced the idea of adding the customers’ stupid fucking names to their cans and bottles. And the internet has been haunted by ego-stroking personality quizzes and IQ tests since before we used it to pay girls peeing into tube socks. We are so desperate to be told we’re special that we will suspend all disbelief and critical thinking to hear it. You should know that answering a few simple personality questions does not make you the coolest ninja turtle, and you shouldn’t trust the scores of an IQ test that you watched yourself cheat on which also advertises free Slavic women and four new pounds of dick girth.
One of my favorite examples of this, and favorite things in general, is an online community called Intertel — “An International Society of the Intellectually Gifted.” It’s very difficult to get in. You can only join if you score in the top 1 percent of any self-administered intelligence test and mail in a $10 application fee. You may have considered that this in fact checks to see whether you’re stupid enough to mail in a test with a 98 percent score or less and nothing else. If you get accepted, you then pay a $39 annual fee to be a part of a genius club for people who are very specifically not. What do you get? I’m so glad you asked. For the annual fee, you get unlimited pity and the right to post a photo and bio about your unusually gullible self. It has created an avalanche of unearned ego that looks like a late ’90s Casper Van Dien fan page whose webmaster went mysteriously missing.
Image courtesy of the estate of the Casper Van Dien Fan Page & Genius Community webmaster.
OK, no, but seriously, this next image is a real screenshot from the Inertel (An International Society of the Intellectually Gifted) website. This is a real person who really thinks he’s in the 1 percent of intellectual elites, and this is his real profile.
I didn’t doctor this. This is what an actual genius named BigJim369 pays $39 a year to display. Fuck! This world is magic and you get to live in it!
Another business that exploits your love of yourself on a massive, sprawling scale is the pop-up museum industry. The name implies that there are things to do or learn inside them, but they’re more like oversized photo booths than art galleries. For instance, if you take a trip to the zany, world-famous Museum of Ice Cream, you will learn zero to one things about ice cream and eat ice cream worth $45 less than the entry ticket. What you will do is wait in line to take photos of yourself next to what you’d describe in any other context as “nothing of interest.” So to be clear, we are so self-obsessed that it’s now an effective business model to charge us money to take pictures of ourselves so we can promote you online.
You didn’t fool ME, Museum of Ice Cream. But my family loved it. Five stars.
1
Stop Making It Seem Like There Are Nazis
OK, so the world has enough idiot racists to elect Donald Trump president, but not all of those voters were full white supremacists. Some of them were simply too religious to know when someone is lying or too old to change their mind about politics. And yes, a troubling number of them were Nazis. But in a lot of ways, most things are fine and the world isn’t as awful as you think.
You’re welcome again.
Impossibly shitty people, like the Trump supporters who took that Garfield mug personally, seem like they’re everywhere. A lot of that is our fault — the decent people making fun of them. They use us to amplify their voices, like Han Solo (R.I.P.) convincing a hallway of Stormtroopers that he’s way more people than he actually is. Every few minutes, a website publishes a variation on the article “These Miserable Fucks Said Something Racist About A Thing And Got Annihilated By Twitter.” They’re fun and vaguely heroic, but if you read more than one, you’ll start to see that they all share the same content. It’s the same three or four racist tweets quoted in every article, tweeted by the same three or four racists who “attacked” the Star Wars with the Asian girl and “staged boycotts” of the all-lady Ghostbusters. We need to stop treating these three or four people like they’re a threat to anything other than skewing PornHub’s algorithm to favor mother-son incest.
BREAKING NEWS: Local high school’s least-likable prick still making quite a spectacle out his irrelevant awfulness.
Here’s a reassuring fact: A study of Reddit found that 1 percent of communities were responsible for 74 percent of all conflict. We are taking the intentionally ignorant comments of a Kia’s worth of debate club hobbyists and pretending they’re a tidal wave of hate we must stand together against. The “alt-right” movement is 30 boys too cranky to date and too slow to learn Dungeons & Dragons. Their supporters are a toxic group of gamers who will disappear once they turn 17, and their media outlet is a cable network whose entire audience will be dead in two more flu seasons. All these people want is for the other side to get upset, so if we stop writing thinkpieces about the rise of dapper white nationalism and focus more on how liberals hate suicide cults, we can be rid of them almost immediately.
BREAKING NEWS: C-word who only tweets C-wordy antisemitic things DOES!
Ann Coulter is a good example. She’s the skeletal remains of antique intolerance, and she has about as much cultural influence as Corey Feldman’s band, Oral Thrush and the Yeast 2000s. Has she ever done anything other than hiss wrong things at impatient TV personalities or pretend that clinical antisemitism is antisemitic comedy? She only seems like she is a thing because 10,000 of us dunk on the bitch every time she blames her oral thrush on the Jews. Without all of us explaining to each other how wrong she is, Coulter would just be wandering through Home Depot to see if there are any white employees she can ask about the toilet safety rails. And soon she would be hatching spider eggs in her mouth while her parakeet watched her body rot. “Rawk! The Jews are at it again!” it would repeat to her undiscovered corpse. “The Jews are at it again!”
We all seem to get how dumb it is when the news says “teens” are doing a comically apeshit thing like human centipede parties or detergent eating. Why can’t we use those same giant brains to figure out how one Nazi nerd looking for attention isn’t “the Right”? I know it’s tough to resist trolls, but Kim Kardashian owning all the world’s money should have taught you that there is virtue in shutting the fuck up about some things. We need to stay strong not in the battle against the “alt-right,” but in the battle to ignore them. The next time you see another column about how women won’t date conservative men, leave it alone. Let those dickless Nazis keep writing versions of that article into the empty void until they learn evil causes women to dry up. And the next time someone on your Facebook thread defends their Second Amendment rights after a school shooting, don’t validate their child murder fandom with attention. Move your cursor to the left and click on their mother’s profile. Pose as Blake Shelton, win her moist trust, and quietly destroy that child-murderer’s family. Every one of us can shut up and make a difference.
Seanbaby invented being funny on the Internet. You can follow him on Twitter, or play his hit mobile game Calculords.
Did you realize Casper van Dien was in a Tarzan movie in the 90s?
Support Cracked’s journalism with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.
For more, check out 5 Deeply Embarrassing Things The News Keeps Doing and 6 Times The News Went Totally Overboard Chasing A Story.
You should click on this link and follow us on Facebook.
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5 Stupid Things We Need To Stop Clicking On
We “re living” the final choke of the Information Age. Experts estimate that 62 percent of all the points we now receive is purposely mistaken, and that includes the percentage and professionals I made up at the start of this sentence. The sad fact is, the majority of members of you are able to never have the critical envisage or research abilities to know what’s real, and that will simply manufacture you more absolutely convinced the erroneous situations your stupid ass belief. The good story is that this article isn’t about that shit. The imitation information fighting is over, and stupid won. No, this article is about the dumb things we all keep falling for — even you, the genius who chose the right political area and religion.
5
Pointlessly Insane Product Are Not That At All
Last year, Tiffany& Co. started selling the Sterling Silver Tin Can, an empty can that costs $1,000. You’ll notice that this is far more than you’d naturally pay for soupless garbage. To be clear, this wasn’t some tin can that once impounded Prince’s final dark-green nuts. It’s simply a can. As an imaginative word, it was 50 years stale, and as a money-making strategy, it was somewhere between a portable diarrhea carton and that same product without a eyelid. It’s the kind of sentiment that they are able to offset the other Saved By The Bell novelists tell, “Look, if you’re not ready to come back to effort, make more time off to deal with the death of your son.” The item I’m building is that it’s hard-boiled not to comment on Tiffany’s silly can, and that’s more appealing to Tiffany& Co. than where reference is comment on how the ones who quarried their concoctions all lived of slavery.
“Darling, I was part of many someones transcending penetration to convert a utilitarian men’s room into an installment of signature Tiffany oeuvre.” — this Tiffany copywriter justifying to his wife why “theres” seven colourings of pubic hair in his underpants
Read Next
8 Baffling Poop-Themed Toys Kids Are Lining Up To Buy
And it’s is not simply tin cans and Wu-Tang recordings that are marketed in intentionally strange modes. Food advertisers have figured out that they can get more attention by being ridiculous than by being delicious. Retain when KFC employed fried chicken as sandwich food in the Double Down? Or when Chick-Fil-A announced that their fried chicken detested lesbian people with the Cajun Titty Jiggler? We all made amusing of them, but they perfectly did not care. These are people souring pigeon meat and “deported” foreign nationals into nugget figures. They’ll take any press they can get.
We need to stop doing this. It’s very possible the only conversation any of us had or will ever have about Dr. Pepper started when they liberated a special copy of their soda for men exclusively . We all went on Twitter to add stuffs like, “Forbidding females from savor Dr. Pepper Ten will only retard the disclosure that it’s made from semen , not stop it completely.” We asked questions like, “Why would you make a soda for men exclusively? Are you trying to find the perfect drink to pair with losing custody of your adolescents? ” Or maybe you are only pondered, “Dr. Pepper Ten sounds like the refreshing discus you contact for when defending an alleged rapist you haven’t met.”
SORRY LADIES, OUR CREATIVE DIRECTOR IS STILL DEALING WITH SOME CHILDHOOD TRAUMA INVOLVING PENISES . b>
Products should conclude the customer happy , not be so intentionally foolish that the customer hears about them during a Jimmy Kimmel monologue. You shouldn’t spawn every tenth new Oreo out of cat suppository in the hopeles said he hoped that cookie influencers tweet about it. And pizza, you peculiarly need to get your shit together.
In 2012, a Pizza Hut employee happened upon the relevant recommendations of a hot-dog-stuffed crust, relatively by coincidence, when his administrator caught him fucking a pizza and asked written explanations. This distinguished the last experience there would ever has become a non-insane pizza ability. Today, pizza marketing is a series of deranged inventions, like a serial killer’s pilgrimage toward becoming the Minotaur. For speciman, Pizza Hut created “smart” shoes that situate an degree for you. Aside from get the elderly to wonder what they’re going to come up with next, what the fuck good do pizza shoes do anyone? If you have a use for dictating Pizza Hut via shoe, your foot is going to fall off from diabetes long before you get to make love a second time.
essay >
And did you know that Domino’s devoted millions of dollars promoting something called “carryout insurance? ” It’s what it sounds like — a monetary guarantee that when your haphazard ass puts a pizza, they give you another one. Aside from getting us to mention how foolish that is, what’s the pitch? Was there a community of overweight idiots devouring pizza off the foot and involving their representatives do something? Let’s say it’s only to place your subconsciou at ease. Let’s profess you’re “ve been thinking about” prescribing Domino’s, but decide against it because you’re always stopping pizza. Will this convince you? Of track not. You’re not even here. You were taken in the night by mad scientists, and now you’re a bulge of brain material named “HISTORY’S SADDEST FUCK.”
“CARRYOUT INSURANCE !? Hey, boss? Yeah, I just perceived a loophole that gives me boundless flooring pizza. So what I’m saying is you can kiss my ass . i> “
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4
All Things “Of The Year” Are Arbitrary Decisions Made By Small Teams Of Random Assholes
We are living in the darkest of goes. Our current sexiest guy alive looks like a rectangle who acquires its living hustling milk-drinking contests.
“I’m digesting four gallons of Half& Half. Hi, I’m Blake Shelton, your sexiest mortal alive.”
When People store announced hoedown music standout Blake Shelton as the sexiest humankind alive while Casper Van Dien was still not dead, it stumbled like a bomb. Every Gab report and Safeway express lane had a hot take on it. It wasn’t simply controversial; it was a direct challenge to what vaginal lubrication even wanted. What will it do to society if passably handsome NASCAR dads are the brand-new standard of seductive? Do we need to stop doing sit-ups? Will there be enough denim?
What will Casper Van Dien do with this boner?
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You know what we should have been doing that whole season? Not establishing a shit about how handsome Blake Shelton is. Don’t get me wrong, Blake Shelton is alright. His condoms maybe don’t expire, and if he was arrested for sodomizing a dairy moo-cow, you’d anticipate “Him? ” But let’s not play games. He’s not the sexiest male alive. At best, he’s “Oklahoma’s Hottest Mostly Ham DNA.” But we should remember that this isn’t some enormous honor decided by appraising the gonad stimulation of test subjects. “Sexiest Man Alive” is picked by four or five journalists desperately trying to hang onto print media chores, and every now and then one of them is smart enough to say, “What if we trolled everyone? ” With all respect to Blake Shelton’s fuckability, if you died trying to learn a prosthetic forearm how to give a handjob, the People organization would write your figure up on the “Sexiest Man Alive MAYBES” board.
It’s important is maintaining mind how insignificant these entitlements are before we get outraged. Before Donald Trump, Time opened its 2006 “Person of the Year” title to You, as in the second-person pronoun. And in 1938 they gave it to Hitler, the Donald Trump of 1938. These are meaningless choices meant to engender awful conversations between uninteresting people. Did you think LaTonya from Fayetteville was chosen as Jet ‘s “Beauty of the Week” because of her prevailing tits and smile? Wake up. It’s because her front tattoo announces “Abortion is Bae.” Please, all of us, we have to stop get outsmarted by the Jet magazines of the world.
3
It’s Not An Contest When Fictional Characters Die
In 1992, DC Comics killed Superman — an indestructible ventriloquist with laser noses, frost wheeze, and chronosphere-bending flight speed — with a rock ogre who was pretty good at punching. Despite it being the third occasion he had died, the country is entered into mourning and the tale was picked up by the actual bulletin. Which was weird, because if the media wanted to cover upsetting Superman fibs, where were they when his girlfriend get turned into a pony and fucked his mare?
I think about this every day. Every day.
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Why are we so preoccupied with fictional deaths? Most of the time, they’re not even real in the make-believe macrocosm in which they happen. Captain America and Batman vanish around 20 epoches a year, each in different combinations of fake-outs, resurgences, and universe reboots. If a dead guy’s best friends own a meter machine and the Eye of Agamotto, you can probably hold back on making funeral proposals. And if your favorite person dies on The Walking Dead , perhaps don’t debris an hour watching Chris Hardwick cry until you accompany the body.
It should help you relax knowing that most fictional fatalities are exclusively abusive escapades, but the “real” ones are about as meaningless.
I mean, you knew there wasn’t going to be any more Firefly . This death cost us maybe two wisecracks.
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Remember when Han Solo expired? He was a 73 -year-old laser gun fighter scheduled to get his own movie in three years. His death was both long overdue and altogether inconsequential to the amount of Han Solo you will continue to see on your TV. His father-in-law, Darth Vader, was on screen for about 36 minutes before he died in 1983, and since his death, there have been more Anakin Skywalker narratives than anyone could ever require. Anakin Skywalker is the Nicolas Cage of outer space. He stopped making good movies three decades ago, more he’s still everywhere and radiating inexplicable planetary energy.
If George R. R. Martin gone on TV to announce that a comet smacked Westeros between works and everyone in A Song Of Ice And Fire is lead, how is that different from “the worlds” you’re living in now? The chap have undoubtedly wanted to focus more on snacks for about four works. You know what’s sadder than identifying Ned Stark get his head chopped off? Watching some fragile-hearted slobs go across the various stages of sorrow in a YouTube video afterwards. Mothers, if your child is filming themselves weep over a make-believe death, that’s a bigger default than if your child is filming themselves pee into a tube sock for Patreon advocates. I symbolize, you can do whatever you demand, but when you cry over forgery people whom you can still hear every day for as long as you miss, you’re exclusively sending a message to the people around you that you’re a drastic piece of shit. But I know something that will ovation you up!
2
Being Special Is Free
That’s right, I said it.
You’re welcome.
It’s pretty easy to sell someone nothing more than the notion that they’re special or important for actual money. For illustration, somewhere right now, a Todd is looking through a rack of keychains to see if they have one with his reputation on it. “I hope they have a Todd, ” he might announce as he thumbs through dusty debris. “They do! And it’s spelled right ! b> ” So Todd will buy it, a cute remember of the worst collected in the least interesting part of a town he formerly called, and it will never occur to him that an Indonesian plant gambled and won that a completely shitty Todd would one day pay money to prompt himself of his own name. This next part is way off-topic, but not even the Indonesians could have foreseen that this keychain would one day be used to frame Todd …
… for Toddslaughter.
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Back to the point I was trying to utters: We are all prone to this idiocy. Coke had its first marketings increase in more than a decade when it introduced the idea of adding the customers’ stupid fucking lists to their cans and bottles. And the internet has been recurred by ego-stroking personality quizs and IQ tests since before we used it to pay girlfriends peeing into tube socks. We are so desperate to be told we’re special that we will expel all disbelief and critical consider to hear it. You should know that answering a few simple-minded personality interrogations does not determine you the coolest ninja turtle, and you shouldn’t trust the scores of an Iq test that you watched yourself cheat on which likewise advertises free Slavic women and four new pounds of dick girth.
One of my favorite a few examples of this, and favorite things in general, is an online community announced Intertel — “An International Society of the Intellectually Gifted.” It’s very difficult to get in. You can only affiliate if you tally in the top one percent of any self-administered intelligence test and mail in a $10 lotion reward. You may have considered that this in fact checks to see whether you’re stupid enough to forward in a test with a 98 percent composition or less and nothing else. If you get accepted, you then compensate a $39 annual reward to be a part of a genius squad for people who are very specifically not. What do you get? I’m so glad you asked. For the annual reward, you get inexhaustible pity and the human rights of berth a photo and bio about your singularly unsophisticated soul. It has created an avalanche of unearned narcissism that looks like a late ‘9 0s Casper Van Dien supporter page whose webmaster travelled mysteriously missing.
Image courtesy of the property of the Casper Van Dien Fan Page& Genius Community webmaster.
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OK , no, but seriously, this next epitome is a real screenshot from the Inertel( An International Society of the Intellectually Gifted) website. This is a real person who really thinks he’s in the 1 percent of intellectual nobilities, and this is his real profile.
I didn’t doctor this. This is what an actual genius named BigJim3 69 remunerations $39 a year to expose. Fucking! This macrocosm is spell and you get to live in it!
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Another business that employs your adoration of yourself on a big, sprawling magnitude is the pop-up museum manufacture. The reputation implies that there are things to do or learn inside them, but they’re more like oversized photo booths than artistry halls. For speciman, if you take a junket to the zany, world-famous Museum of Ice Cream, you will memorize zero to one things about ice cream and feed ice cream worth $45 less than the entering ticket. What you will do is wait in line to make photos of yourself next to what you’d describe in any other situation as “nothing of interest.” So to be clear, we are so self-obsessed that it’s now an efficient business model to charge us money to make pictures of ourselves so we can promote you online.
You didn’t fool ME, Museum of Ice Cream. But my family loved it. Five stars.
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1
Stop Attaining It Seem Like There Are Nazis
OK, so the world has just fairly stupid prejudiceds to elect Donald Trump chairman, but not all of those voters were full white supremacists. Some of them were simply extremely theological to know when someone is lying or too old to change their memory about politics. And yes, a troubling number of them were Nazis. But in a lot of ways, most things are fine and the world isn’t as unpleasant as you think.
You’re welcome again.
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Impossibly shitty parties, like the Trump supporters who made that Garfield mug privately, looks a lot like they’re everywhere. A pile of that is our omission — the good beings making fun of them. They use us to amplify their articulates, like Han Solo( R.I.P .) reassuring a hallway of Stormtroopers that he’s acces more people than he actually is. Every few minutes, a website publishes a variant on the article “These Miserable Fucks Said Something Racist About A Thing And Got Annihilated By Twitter.” They’re fun and vaguely heroic, but if you read more than one, you’ll start to see that they all share the same content. It’s the same three or four prejudiced tweets quoted in each article, tweeted by the same three or four prejudiceds who “attacked” the Star Wars with the Asian girl and “staged boycotts” of the all-lady Ghostbusters . We need to stop treating these three or four beings like they’re a threat to anything other than skewing PornHub’s algorithm to favor mother-son incest.
BREAKING NEWS: Regional high school’s least-likable puncture still manufacturing quite a sight out his irrelevant awfulness.
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Here’s a comforting information: A analyse of Reddit found that 1 percent of communities were responsible for 74 percent of all conflict. We are taking the intentionally insensitive notes of a Kia’s worth of debate club hobbyists and feigning they’re a tidal wave of detest “were supposed to” stand together against. The “alt-right” movement is 30 sons more cranky to year and too slow to hear Dungeons& Dragons . Their adherents are a lethal group of gamers who will disappear once they sour 17, and their media channel is a cable network whose entire audience will be dead in two more flu seasons. All these people want is for the other side to get upset, so if we stop writing thinkpieces about the rise of dapper grey patriotism and focus more on how liberals hate suicide religions, we can be rid of them almost immediately.
BREAKING NEWS: C-word who are tweets C-wordy antisemitic concepts DOES!
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Ann Coulter is a good example. She’s the skeletal are still in relic antipathy, and she has about as much cultural affect as Corey Feldman’s band, Oral Thrush and the Yeast 2000 s. Has she ever done anything other than hiss bad acts at impatient Tv identities or suppose that clinical antisemitism is antisemitic slapstick? She only seems like she is a thing because 10,000 of us dunk on the bitch each time she condemns her oral thrush on the Jews. Without all of us excusing to one another how mistaken she is, Coulter would just be straying through Home Depot to see if there are any lily-white works she can ask about the lavatory refuge rails. And soon she would be spawning spider eggs in her lip while her parakeet watched their own bodies rot. “Rawk! The Jews are at it again! ” it would recite to her undiscovered body. “The Jews are at it again! “
We all seem to get how foolish it is when the story answers “teens” are doing a comically apeshit circumstance like human centipede gatherings or detergent eating. Why can’t we use those same beings psyches to figure out how one Nazi nerd looking for attention isn’t “the Right”? I know it’s tough to stand trolls, but Kim Kardashian owning all the world’s money should have taught you that there is virtue in shutting the fuck up about some things. We need to stay strong not in the battle against the “alt-right, ” but in the battle to ignore them. The next time you verify another tower about how maids won’t time republican people, leave it alone. Let those dickless Nazis prevent writing versions of that section into the empty vacancy until they discover evil campaigns brides to dry up. And the next time someone on your Facebook thread attacks their Second Amendment liberties after local schools shooting, don’t confirm their child assassination fandom with tending. Move your cursor to the left and click on their mother’s chart. Pose as Blake Shelton, acquire her moist rely, and calmly destroy that child-murderer’s family. Every one of us can shut up and make a difference.
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