#ALL THOSE PINS. I AM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nia-jul · 3 months

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WET CIGARETTES

Gojo Satoru, your prettiest customer, insists on ordering the most insane drinks possible. As a barista, it’s your duty to fullfill them.

alternate!universe, fluff, happy ending

(This is a long one guys 🙈)

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You love your job. The truth is, the people who romanticise working at a coffee shop were exactly right. Yes, the hours can be long, and the occasional Karen can turn what should be a five-minute interaction into a half an hour one. And sometimes you go home with burns from a hot coffee pot, or spills on your favourite trousers. But you love every part of your job.

Except for Gojo Satoru.

Your most troublesome customer. You know he goes to your university, because you’ve seen him wearing a hoodie with its logo on it. You assume you both have different majors, because you don’t cross paths at all.

But he comes to the shop every day without fail. And he orders the most complicated, diabetes-inducing drinks known to man. He strolls up to the counter, blinking those bright blue eyes at you, with his perfect smile and his hair that looks so soft to touch and starts rattling off his order.

Okay, it’s not the worst thing in the world. Gojo is easy on the eyes, and it’s quite funny to see how far he’ll take it. You’re not exactly sure if he even consumes the stuff he buys. Maybe he’s trying to impress you. Maybe he’s trying to annoy you. You think he succeeds more with the second option, but it’s fine. You like the little challenge everyday.

Today, you’re wiping down the counter when you see him appear behind it and begin drumming his fingers against it.

“Hi, sugar.”

You look up, unamused. He’s wearing a black compression shirt that hugs his muscles and grey sweatpants. He’s probably come back from the gym, judging by the sweat that sticks some strands of his white hair to his forehead. He looks good. Whatever.

“Gojo. What monstrosity will it be today?”

He hums under his breath. He rests his cheek on his palm. His skin is so clear. For all the coffee he drinks, at least.

“I would like… A single shot, 4 pumps sugar free peppermint, nonfat, extra hot, no foam, light whip stirred grande white mocha.”

Your mouth gapes. “Gojo. What? That’s not- what even is that?”

He laughs, loud and boyish. The shop is quite empty, so, you can take your time to mock his ridiculous request.

“I don’t know. Thought I’d try something different, you know?”

“You try something different everyday. I think this one wins the stupidest order yet.”

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. You know you like it. I bring some joy to the darkness that is your shift.” He pouts and leans forward.

You rolls your eyes. You turn and grab a cup to begin concocting his drink.

“Don’t call me that. And it doesn’t bring me joy. It does test my memory, though,” you pause, “How many pumps of peppermint was it?”

“Four. And what’s wrong with sweetheart?”

“I’m not your sweetheart, Gojo.”

He groans. He watches as you flit around behind the counter, going to steam the milk for his drink.

“Come on, what else am I supposed to call you? I don’t know your name.”

You point to the name tag pinned to your shirt.

“Yes you do.”

“That’s not your name.”

You nod and insist that it is. His eyebrows raise and he nods towards it.

“Your name is Brian?”

“Cute, right? I don’t like strangers using my real name, so they let me print a fake one.” You smile.

“It’s a shame, really. Brian suits you.” You stick your tongue out and Gojo grins.

The drink doesn’t take long. You make one of the fancy milk designs on the top, and slide it over to him.

“Here you go.”

He thanks you. He peers at the design at the top, eyeing the drink.

“I like this. You should learn how to draw my face on there.”

“Ah, yes. You’re right, that does sound like a great way to pass my time.” You nod sarcastically.

He sips the drink carefully. His nose scrunches and he sticks his tongue out.

“Oh, that is not good. At all.”

You laugh. You reach over and grab the drink, taking a swig. Gojo protests, but you can tell his effforts to get it back are half-assed. You wince, the warm peppermint drink sliding down your throat.

“Yeah, gross. How did you even come up with this?”

He shrugs, “They just come to me.” He nods at the cup in your hand, “You know, we basically just kissed.”

You snort, “You can keep dreaming, Gojo.”

“Oh, you’re definitely in my dreams, baby. All the dirty ones.”

Oh, he’s feeling brave today. You turn to hide the flush that dusts your cheeks. You wipe down the steamer.

“Baby is gross.”

“Tell me your name then.”

You point at the name tag on your shirt. Gojo groans and runs a hand through his hair. You glance down at the ignored drink on the counter.

“Gojo, you haven’t even touched your drink.”

He shrugs. “Oh, well. It’s not like I can’t pay for it.”

You hum under your breath. Rich people.

The shop starts filling up, and your manager pops his head around the door to tell you to get a move on.

“Sorry, Gojo. You gotta get a move on.”

“Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wave him off, sighing as he drops his drink in the trash.

——

The next day, Gojo walks in with someone else. A girl, short brown hair and an unlit cigarette in her mouth. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him with anyone else. Maybe she’s a girlfriend. Gojo seems awfully close to her, a smile gracing his lips as she says something to him.

You’re staring. You turn away quickly. It’s none of your business what he’s up to and you don’t care, anyway. Gojo could be married for all you care.

He bounds up to the front. Gojo has a way of taking up every space he’s in, and as he leans across the counter, he’s all you can see.

“Hey, cutie.”

“Hello. What can I do for you today?”

“Aw. No complaints. You like cutie?”

“Feels like something a 12 year old would call his discord girlfriend, but. Sure, let’s go with that.”

He laughs, but he straightens up quickly.

“Look, I’ve got no time for our cute banter today. I’ll have a Venti, triple-shot caramel macchiato, with three pumps of vanilla, two pumps of hazelnut, one pump of caramel, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and extra whipped cream on top.”

“No time for banter, but time for all of that.”

“Oh, and a mocha.”

You smile. “Who’s that normal order for?”

He points at the girl he came in with, who’s gone outside to smoke her cigarette.

“Shoko. Luckily for you, she likes normal people drinks.”

You turn to start making their drinks. Today’s order is much tamer than usual. It actually sounds like it might taste nice, and it’s sugary enough to satiate his sweet tooth. You wonder if he’ll ask that girl to try it for him.

“So. You got any plans today?” You say.

“Mhm. My friend and I are going shopping. She asked me to keep her company, but I think she likes my credit card’s presence more than mine.”

“Makes sense. At least she gets something out of the card.”

“Ha ha ha. Come on, she gets mean when she’s impatient.”

You shake your head, waiting for the milk to steam. “It takes as long as it takes.”

“Okay, Carla.”

“Wrong.”

“Bridget?”

You tell him he’s wrong again and laugh at his whining. You finish his drink off with an alarming amount of whip cream, to his request, and place it and the mocha on the counter.

“Done in record time.” You wink.

He tries it, and perks up.

“I’m impressed. This one actually tastes nice.”

He slides it over to you, and you take a sip.

“Yeah, you’re right. It is nice.” You say, incredulously.

“Can I have a sip?”

You look to the left and Gojo’s ‘friend’ has appeared. She smells a little like cigarettes but she’s so breathtakingly pretty that you don’t think anyone‘s really worried about that. She takes a drink before Gojo can protest, and she winces.

“God, it’s so sweet. You’ll die an early death if you keep going on like this.”

“Well, good thing it’s not for you.” He grabs it and passes her the mocha.

The girl looks over at you and smiles.

“Hey. I’m Shoko. It’s nice to meet you. Gojo doesn’t shut up about you.”

You tilt your head at the boy, who is looking away from the two of you, and coo.

“Aw, how sweet!” You awe, pressing a hand to your heart.

“He calls you Barista girl. Says you make the best drinks.”

You shrug. “I wouldn’t say best. I am the only one who will make his insane orders, though.”

“That’s true. He doesn’t even drink them half the time. Just throws them away the second he leaves. It’s like the only reason he comes here is so-“

“Okay! Okay, we’ve got to go.” Gojo claps his hands together, cutting off Shoko, and steering her away.

She grins, waving at you. She yells it was nice to meet you, and you say it back, much to Gojos dismay, and wonder what the real reason he comes here is.

——-

The next time Gojo comes in, he looks good. He’s wearing a black button up, the top few buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to show his forearms. There’s a silver chain around his neck, and his hair is done up in a way that looks effortless and prepared at the exact same time. He’s also holding a bouquet of pretty flowers, pink and white and perfect looking.

God. You move away before he notices you blatantly staring at him. It’s almost closing, and you’ve got ten minutes before you’re free to go. You should be annoyed at his presence. You and Choso, the guy you were working with tonight, had just cleaned up, and you know Gojo’s order would probably need every appliance in the building. Any other customer would be shunned away, a quick point at the clock.

But Gojo’s not any other customer. Not that you’d ever tell him that.

“Hey, Gojo.”

He smiles. “Hey, gorgeous.”

Your cheeks heat up. God, if only he wasn’t so attractive. It would be so much easier to act like you don’t care when he calls you all those things.

“You look nice. You going somewhere after this?”

“Mhm. I’m going on a date.”

You pause to where you’re emptying out the coffee pots. A date? He was seeing someone else after spending god knows how long flirting with you?

You shouldn’t be surprised. He’s never asked you out, and Gojo is attractive enough to be someone who doesn’t care about girls' feelings. You know you should’ve seen this coming. It probably was just a little fun he had everyday, joking around with the oblivious, head-over-heels barista who allowed him to act like a dick with his stupid coffee orders.

Whatever.

“That’s nice. What can I get for you? You need to hurry up though, because we’re closing soon.” Your voice is flat, and your hand rests on your hip.

“Uh. Just a coffee.”

You frown. “No obnoxious order today?”

“Nah. I’ve got places to be. And I need to be awake tonight, if you get my drift.” He winks and you scoff.

You turn and fill the coffee pot, a little more aggressively than normal. You unfortunately do get his drift. Before you can say anything in response, Choso comes out from the back.

Choso is cute. He looks intimidating, always monotoned and looking sleep-deprived, but he was a sweetheart. He always ties his hair into little buns, draws cute designs on top of the lattes, and always makes sure you don’t close alone. Plus, he looks good in an apron. You think you’d like him if it weren’t for an annoying blue-eyed boy and his stupid orders.

“You okay if I clock out?”

You turn to him and smile. “Yeah, I’ll lock up. You working tomorrow?”

Choso takes his apron off and drapes it over his shoulder. You turn to face him, effectively ignoring Gojo.

“Nope.”

“What? Choso, come on, I can’t work if you’re not there, it’s so boring!”

He laughs, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. It make the muscles in his arms stand out, and wow. Does he work out? Probably.

“You’ll be fine without me.”

“I won’t.” You pout.

“Goodbye.” He walks away, nodding at Gojo, who looks just peachy waiting for his coffee.

“So who’s that?”

You turn back to face him. “Choso. He works here.”

“Yeah, I figured. You like him?”

“Yeah. He’s great. My favourite coworker.”

Gojo nods slowly. A weird sort of quiet settles over you two. A part of you wants to ask who’s he’s going on a date with, but you respect yourself too much for that.

“What time do you get off?” He speaks up.

You pause slightly. “Me?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow. “No, the other barista behind the counter. Yes, you.”

“Oh. I’m done in ten.”

“Okay, good. Our reservation is in half an hour, so we should make it.”

The coffee pot whirs to let you know it’s ready. Instead, you keep staring at Gojo, who’s looks all too serious for somebody speaking nonsense.

“What?”

“It’s a nice place, don’t worry. Thought I’d splurge, to impress you. These are for you, by the way.” He thrusts the flowers towards you.

“I- What? Gojo, what’s going on?” You laugh, a little hysterical, confused as to what the hell is happening.

He grins. He walks right over to the you, leaning over the counter, so you’re a couple inches away from each other.

“You really think I’d ask anybody else out? I’ve been asking for these stupid orders at for weeks now just to throw them out so I could talk to you, that wasn’t a hint?”

“Yeah, but I just. I don’t know, I thought you were just messing around!”

“Are you really that clueless?”

“Hey! You-“ You stop for a second.

You take the apron from around your neck and throw it behind you into the office. You cross your arms and you nearly laugh at the nervous look that crosses his face.

“Did you make a reservation and dress yourself up for a date you didn’t even ask me to?”

Gojo scratches the back of his head. “I-“

“And then come in here and just tell me when it’s happening, without even giving me time to prepare myself?”

“I- Barista girl, I can explain.” He clasps his hands together.

“And you still don’t even know my name.”

He sighs. “The mystery is part of the fun, babe.”

You smile slightly. You have no idea what went through his head, but it’s cute he tried so hard. Even if it was a little weird.

“What if I had plans tonight, huh?”

Gojo shrugs. “I was hoping you’d cancel them for me.”

“And if I didn’t?”

“Not too sure. Maybe throw the coffee I’m still waiting for in your face?”

You perk up suddenly, remembering the pot that was still bubbling behind you. You take a cup and fill it for him, fit it with a lid and give it to him.

“So. Are you going to ask me out properly?”

He nods. His face is determined and he grabs the flowers from your hands. He takes two steps back and he walks forward.

“Barista girl, will you do me the honours of going on a date with me tonight?”

You frown, sighing dramatically, “I don’t know. I’ve had such a long shift. I’m tired.”

Gojo grabs your hands, pulling you towards him. The counter gets in the way, but you don’t think he cares. The two of you are still close enough that if you moved a couple inches forwards you’d be kissing. He smells like something expensive, and it overwhelms your senses. His lips quirk up in a little smirk, and you think your skin is buzzing where he’s touching you.

“I’m sure I can help wake you up, baby. You just gotta say yes.”

“I- I kinda look like shit, though.” You whisper.

“Don’t say that, you look beautiful.”

You know you don’t. Your hair is being held up poorly by a claw clip, random strands falling out of it. Your mascara is slightly smudged under your eyes, and there’s a lovely new coffee stain on the shirt you're wearing, courtesy of Choso knocking into you before you got a chance to put your apron on.

But he’s looking right at you like you’re the most incredible thing that he’s ever laid his eyes on that you feel like you might actually believe him.

“Okay. Okay, fine. If you let me go home and freshen up. Put a dress on, or something.”

“Oh, I can get behind that.”

You snort a laugh, stepping back. The nervousness from before is gone, and he’s grinning at you excitedly. He waits the few minutes it takes you to lock up, and holds his arm out for you to take while he walks you to his car.

It’s seven in the evening and the sun is just starting to set. The sky is beginning to turn, seeping from blue to orange to pink, and the light is catching off Gojos face. He’s speaking animatedly as he talks about the restaurant he’s taking you too, oblivious to your staring. He’s planned every last detail, somehow remembering when you said that you loved Asian food about a month ago.

You don’t really know much about Gojo. You do know enough to say that he is so sweet it makes your teeth rot.

You say your name, then, softly enough that he nearly misses it. He stops mid sentence and turns to you.

“Is that your name?”

You nod.

“You have a very pretty name.”

You smile. “Thank you.”

He nods slowly. “You can call me Satoru, by the way.”

“Okay, Satoru.” The name feels nice on your tongue.

He groans when you say it, hand reaching up to cup your face.

“God, it sounds so beautiful when you say it. It’d sound even better if you were screaming it, though.”

You roll your eyes, face a fiery red, and let a laughing Satoru lead you into his car.

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AUTHORS NOTE

Gojo satoru the man that u r.. also that cosplayer is EXACTLY how I envision him in my brain.. so obsessed..

again, any requests r welcome! (I’m literally lost for ideas)

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #fluff #jjk fluff #oneshot

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oliverreedmasterass · 2 months

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Words: 8k

Synopsis: Based on a hilarious personal anecdote from the incredible @writingcold about seeing something bizarre at a hotel in Green Bay, the GVF guys find themselves caught in a heap of trouble. The problem is, they can't quite work out what they did.

Warnings: language, drinking, drug use, mentions of theft, drowning, and running into traffic

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“Do you know why you’re here, son?” a graying man dressed in a loose-fitting two-piece suit with a strewn purple tie leaned close to the young man who sat across from him at the aged wooden table.

“No clue,” Jake avoided eye contact while wringing his hands together out of sight of the older man. He snuck a quick glance at the man’s golden nametag pinned to his chest. Doug. “I was just minding my business in my room and then somebody dragged me down here. Am I in trouble?”

“Depends on how much you’re willing to share with me today,” Doug stared back at Jake with his piercing blue eyes. “I’m gonna need you to tell me what you were up to last night.”

Jake’s face pinched as he tried to think back. He made a humming noise to stall, and wiped at his mouth - a nervous tick he had never been able to shake.

“My band and I were out getting drinks,” Jake remembered. “At Ned Kelly’s Pub. Someone recommended the place to us since they’re known for their sour beers. It’s something I’ve been getting into a lot more recently.”

It was a perfectly normal evening. Like, genuinely, nothing crazy was going down. Jake, Josh, Sam, and Danny all squeezed around a tall pub table, leaning over their pints to sip out of the top of the overfilled glasses. Jake wiped his mouth with the back of his hand to clear the foam from his upper lip and craned his neck to look over Josh’s head at the live band. They were playing a Creedence Clearwater Revival song, and it sounded good enough that Jake started to tap his foot to the beat.

“I can’t believe we’re in Green Bay,” Josh called over the music to his friends. Jake took another slurp from his glass and then nodded his head in agreement.

“We had the opportunity to go anywhere in the world, and we settled on Wisconsin.”

“I don’t regret it,” Sam shrugged. “It’s not too far from home and, hey, I’ve always wanted to get my hands on one of those Packers cheese hats.”

Jake gazed at the ridiculous cheese hat that was perched atop Sam’s head and grimaced at how stupid his younger brother looked.

“I’m becoming one with the cheese,” Sam proudly stated.

Jake flicked at Sam’s hat, knocking it just slightly off of his forehead.

“Are you really gonna keep that thing on all night, Sammy?” he asked. He had noticed Sam was earning some strange looks from the other patrons in the bar which gave him serious second-hand embarrassment. Sam let out a loud laugh at Jake’s question and forced the hat back down on his head so it was set in place.

“I know you hate it, Jake. So, yeah.”

Jake faked a scowl, but couldn’t help chuckling into his beer. He took a deep sip and let the taste of the sour beer wash over him. Their Lyft driver had totally been right when she recommended this place. It was by far the best sour beer he had ever had, which was seriously saying something.

Jake took in the bar around him while he worked on his drink. It was classy and pretty packed, which felt just right. He knew he had stepped foot in hundreds of bars like Ned Kelly’s Pub before, but that just made it feel more like home.

When he finished his drink, Jake stepped away from the table and grabbed his glass, motioning back towards the bar that was only getting more crowded. “I’m gonna get a refill. Anyone need anything?”

“Ask if they have peanuts!” Sam shouted with enthusiasm. He enjoyed throwing the peanut shells at Josh and getting them stuck in his curly floof.

“Don’t do that,” Josh firmly told Jake. “It took me two weeks to get them all out of my hair last time. Two weeks!”

Jake looked beyond Josh to Danny, who was mouthing at him to go and get the peanuts. Jake shook his head at his friends and made his way to the bar, where the bartender was finishing up another order for a group of women around his age.

“Just a second,” the bartender held up his finger to Jake, who nodded his head with a smile. While he waited, he bobbed his head along to the live band’s Allman Brothers cover.

“Hey,” a voice said next to Jake. “You look familiar.”

Jake was curious where the conversation would go, so he turned to his left and looked at one of the women who was waiting for her drink. “Do I?” he asked with a cheeky grin. While he usually didn’t like the attention, he sometimes got a kick out of people trying to place his face. The amount of times people had mistaken him for Julien Baker was extraordinary.

“Did we go to high school together?” the woman guessed. Jake had heard that one plenty of times.

“Not unless you grew up in Frankenmuth, Michigan,” Jake replied.

“Really? You don’t sound like you’re from Michigan,” the woman observed. This comment threw Jake off.

“Where would you guess I was from?”

“You’ve got, like, an echo of a British accent. It’s really interesting.”

“What can I get for you?” The bartender’s attention was finally on Jake.

“Fill ‘er up,” Jake motioned down to his glass.

With his glass filled to the brim once more, Jake made a detour over to where the band was playing so he could watch the guitar player. The guy obviously had a lot of experience under his belt, because he was hitting every note in perfect precision. Jake liked to think that he was a pretty talented guitar player, but this guy wasn’t making a single error, and it was blowing his mind.

Once they finished their song, Jake gave them an extra loud whoop in front of the stage. “Bravo!” he added.

“Hey, thanks,” the lead singer grinned at Jake. “Got any requests?”

“Play Cream and I’m never leaving this joint,” Jake beamed wide.

“You better get yourself comfortable then,” the guitarist chuckled before launching into SWLABR. Jake let out a whoop in glee, gave the band a thumbs up, and made his way back to his friends’ table.

“Hey there, social butterfly,” Josh poked fun at Jake.

“I like the vibe of this place,” Jake shrugged. “The band said they would play Cream for me.”

“So what you’re saying is it’s gonna be impossible to get you out of here, right?” Danny stared at Jake.

Jake swigged down more beer, and then nodded in Danny’s direction. “You’re gonna have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming.”

Danny shook his head at Jake with a smile between his pursed lips and Jake stuck his tongue back out at him. He jumped in surprise when he saw the woman from earlier at the side of their table.

“I figured out where I know you from,” she announced, looking proud. Jake arched an eyebrow. “You’re from that rock band!”

“Bingo,” Jake pointed at her. As fun as it was to get misrecognized, there was something gratifying in knowing that they were big enough to get spotted out in public.

“My sister is a huge fan,” the woman continued. “She saw you guys during your last tour and said that your show was literally life changing. She’d die if she knew I was talking to you right now. But, uh, I’m sure you’re used to hearing this, so I’ll keep it brief. I just wanted to bring this over to thank you for making my sister so happy.”

Jake stared at the tall pint that the woman was handing out to him in awe.

“It’s a Copper State Sun Soaked - I overheard you ordering it at the bar,” the woman continued as she slipped the glass into Jake’s hands.

“Thank you,” Jake told her, and he really meant it. The woman waved goodbye to him and made her way across the bar back to her friend group. Jake looked down at the pint in his hands, and set it next to his other glass.

“Water for the rest of the night after this, I promise,” Jake looked around at everyone. “Mark my word.”

“And that’s what I did,” Jake told the older man. “We hung around the bar for about another hour, and then we made our way back to the hotel. I went to my room and crashed almost immediately. Then, when I woke up, I was brought down here.”

“Interesting,” Doug studied Jake. The kid looked like he was being sincere, which threw Doug and his hypothesis in for a loop. He searched Jake’s face for any signs of deceit. “I sent you down here to talk to me because there was vandalism reported in the lobby last night.”

“Really?” Jake’s eyebrows raised. “What happened?”

“Let’s just say that someone tampered with something that’s really important to me and my hotel.”

Jake had no trouble looking Doug in the eyes this time around. “I can promise you, sir, I had nothing to do with it.”

Doug gazed at Jake a few beats longer, and then nodded his head. “You’re free to go.”

“Oh thank god,” Jake heaved out and then rose from his seat.

“But I want you to send in someone else from your party,” Doug continued. Jake frowned at that.

“We have to hit the road soon.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

Jake gave a grunt, and left the room in silence. A few minutes later, his twin, Josh, entered into the hotel manager’s office, looking around at the IKEA-inspired decor.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Josh greeted Doug. “Fake plants are really in right now.”

“Take a seat,” Doug motioned towards the wooden chair that his brother had just been nervously sitting in. Josh slowly lowered himself into the seat and then folded his hands politely in his lap.

“Is this about the bathrobe I took from the bathroom? Because I thought it was complimentary. If it’s not, I’ll put it back.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Doug shook his head. “It’ll just get charged to your card.”

“Aw man,” Josh pouted.

“I’m trying to fit the pieces of a mystery together, and I need your help. Can you tell me what you did last night?”

Josh gave Doug a look that showed he was surprised by the question, but shrugged. “My pals and I went to this pub right by the river for their tap selection. We wanted to have a celebratory night out before we headed back home to Michigan.”

The night was already exhausting. Jake, Josh, Sam, and Danny all squeezed around a tall pub table, leaning over their pints to sip out of the top of the overfilled glasses. Josh winced at the taste of the sour beer and nudged the drink away from him. The rest of his friends were still hard at work, slurping down the beer with content. Josh folded his hands in front of him and thought about their weekend away from home. Their trip to Green Bay had started on a whim, inspired by a side comment from Sam about how they had never really spent any quality time in Wisconsin. Paired with Danny’s recent That 70s Show obsession, it only seemed right that they would squeeze into the Jeep Truck and hit the road west.

In their 72 hours they had enjoyed some hikes, visited a cool botanical garden, and, of course, hit up as many bars as they could. Josh wasn’t sure what he thought about Ned Kelly’s Pub. Although the massive chandelier made out of glass bottles was pretty impressive, Josh didn’t feel like it outshined the other places they had visited. However, looking around at his friends’ faces, he could tell that they were all enchanted by the bar. They were gonna be there for a while.

After trading some jokes about Sam’s goofy cheese hat that he had picked up at the National Railroad Museum gift shop earlier in the day, Josh noticed that Jake’s big glass was already empty. The guy must have enjoyed that sour beer a whole lot more than he had.

“Pace yourself, tiger,” Josh found himself telling Jake without thinking. Jake had promised that he would drive a leg of their trip back to Michigan the following day, and there was no way he was getting out of it by pulling the hungover card. He had used that one way too many times.

Josh noted that Jake genuinely looked surprised by his alcohol intake, but his shock seemed to last a millisecond since he bounced over to the bar for a refill without hesitation.

“Do you like this shit?” Josh asked Sam and Danny, pointing an unenthusiastic finger down at his sour beer. He was relieved to see Sam and Danny both shrugging.

“It’s okay, I guess,” Danny sounded indifferent.

“I don’t get what the hype is,” Sam chimed in. “This tastes like soap.” Sam then proceeded to take another long chug.

“Jake seems to like it though,” Danny commented. They all turned to watch the guitarist saunter up to the bar, slam his empty glass down on the counter, and grin at the bartender. The three watched with more interest when they noticed a woman peel away from her group of friends to talk to him. Jake seemed to be torn between getting the bartender’s attention to fill his glass and listening to the woman, but he eventually started conversing with her.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Josh wondered.

Sam snorted. “He’s probably trying to convince her he has a Grammy.”

Josh noted that Jake’s body language was unusually confident as he talked to the stranger. The woman towered over him in her heels, but he seemed at ease as they laughed over something. When he got his drink, he looked like he was coming back to them, but then quickly diverted his path to head to the live band, who was playing Midnight Rambler. Josh couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw Jake move uncomfortably close to the stage, staring at the guitarist with his eyes wide.

“He’s freaking that guy out,” Josh commented under his breath. Sam and Danny paused their side conversation about how Sam could style his cheese hat to watch Jake take slow steps closer and closer to the stage. “He looks like he’s on the brink of taking the guitar away from that guy.”

“He better not,” Danny frowned. “We’re already banned from a handful of bars because of that.”

They all exhaled in relief when the band broke into a Cream song and Jake, in complete euphoria, returned to the table. Josh watched in horror as Jake guzzled his second glass down in less than 10 seconds like it was nothing. He let out a burp, smiled happily, patted his stomach, and then jolted upright when he realized he had cleared his pint.

“How is that surprising to you?” Josh asked Jake. “You’re the one who drank it all, it’s not like it magically disappeared.”

“These are just going a lot faster than I had anticipated, I guess,” Jake looked troubled.

They made a pact after some arguing that Jake would stick to water for the night, but that quickly went down the drain when the woman approached the table, gave Jake a wink, and placed another tall pint of sour beer in front of him. Josh wanted to scream at the lady to give that beer to literally anyone else in the establishment but Jake, but his mouth remained glued shut. He watched in despair as Jake, once more, threw the entire pint back like it was a shot. Frat guys around the world would be in utter awe of what he was doing.

“Water for the rest of the night. I promise,” Jake promised, starting to slur his words. “Mark my word.”

Jake did not stick to his word.

Over the next 45 minutes, Jake managed to sneak three more pints of the Copper State Sun Soaked. Whether it be bribing someone to bring him a glass in the bathroom, sipping one under the table, or lapping up spills behind the bar, Jake’s BAC was guaranteed to be nearing staggering heights.

When Jake decided to tear off his shirt and jump on stage to play the tambourine with the poor live band that was just trying to get through a Bob Seger song, Josh threw in the towel.

“I can’t do this tonight,” Josh admitted to Danny, who looked equally tired of Jake’s antics. “I’m gonna go back to my room and watch some HGTV to unwind.”

“And I left the bar after that,” Josh concluded his story. “I’m pretty sure I heard them get back to their room around 2am last night. They were a bit loud, but they quieted down pretty fast.”

“Your brother said that he stuck to water last night after his third drink,” Doug tapped his chin.

“Well then, he’s a liar,” Josh shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. But what does Jake’s drinking last night have to do with anything?”

“Nothing you have to worry about,” Doug shook his head. Josh looked like he wanted to protest, but Doug quickly motioned for the door. “Please send your brother, Sam, in. I want to talk to him.”

“Fine, but you better take it easy on him. He’s a sensitive guy, it doesn’t take a whole lot to spook him,” Josh warned Doug. He chuckled at Josh’s warning and, once more, pointed for the door.

“No need to worry, I’ll be nice to the little guy.”

Sam entered the room next, still wearing his cheese hat, which he had styled with a pair of black slacks, a yellow button up shirt, and yellow Adidas.

“What’s up, Doc?” Sam greeted the older gentleman as he peeled a large orange and started to slide the slices into his mouth. Doug motioned for Sam to take a seat at his desk and Sam complied after he took a pause to snap a photo of Doug’s bald head with his fancy camera. “I never thought I’d get to chat with a hotel manager one-on-one like this,” Sam continued to chatter while balancing the orange peels on top of the desk.

“Sam,” Doug cleared his throat. “I want you to take this conversation seriously.”

“Are you mad at me?” Sam theatrically called out, his eyes started to well up. Doug started to stumble on his words, panicking over the fact that the curly haired one had been right about his younger brother.

“No, of course not,” Doug assured Sam, using his sweetest tone. “I just need you to tell me about your time last night at Ned Kelly’s Pub.”

“How did you know I was at Ned Kelly’s Pub last night,” Sam squinted his eyes at Doug.

“Your brothers told me.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Sam chuckled. He grabbed the desk lamp from Doug’s desk and flicked it on so he could hold it under his chin, creating grisly shadows on his face. “It was a cold and dark night in Green Bay, Wisconsin,” Sam started off in a dramatic tone. Doug took a seat across from him and held his head in his hands. This was going to be a long testimony.

“Since you already know that we were at Ned Kelly’s Pub, I’ll spare you the details about Daniel and I stealing a horse downtown beforehand. You don’t need to hear about that.”

“Wait,” Doug tried to interrupt Sam. “I actually do want to hear about that.”

“I was standing at this tall table with my best friend and my brothers, feeling on top of the world with my cheese hat,” Sam cut off Doug, staring into the distance.

It was a bonkers night. Sam and Daniel kept flashing each other excited grins. They had taken something in the parking lot of the bar to really lean into the That 70s Show fantasy that Daniel was trying to live out. Sam had no idea what they had sent into their systems, but it tasted like cherries and made him feel like he was floating.

He could hear what his brothers and Daniel were saying, but his head wasn’t processing any of it. He felt like he was on autopilot as he gave short answers and laughed when everyone else did. When the conversation shifted to Jake’s drinking, Sam found himself staring daggers at the bartender. He couldn’t help it, the guy looked just like Ben Affleck. In fact, the more Sam stared at him, the more certain he was that the guy really was the A-list actor. Sam had hated his portrayal of Bruce Wayne in Batman Vs. Superman; it was a travesty.

He was ready to storm up to the guy to demand who he thought he was, dating J-Lo and being the moody cigarette “it” boy and all, but Jake beat him to it. Sam watched Jake approach the bartender and let his shoulders slump in defeat. That was a fight to pick later. Plus anyways, Sam had a bigger bone to chew: there was a portal opening on the dancefloor. Sam stared at the streaking lights of blue, yellow, and orange that seemed to be flinging out of the portal in every direction and could tell that his eyes were dilating.

“Woah,” he whispered out in awe. Josh gave him a quick glance but shook his head and went back to blabbing about how Jake was weird for liking the sour beer. Sam was pretty sure he had agreed that it tasted bad, but really he didn’t mind it. His sense of taste was heightened to God-levels, so each sip made him feel like he was consuming the elixir of life.

Sam tried to send Daniel morse code messages by batting his eyelashes, but Daniel just winked back at him. He was disappointed that they hadn’t reached the point where they could telepathically communicate with each other, but he knew it was bound to happen eventually.

“How do bus drivers exit the bus and close the door when they’re the last shift?” Sam wondered aloud. Josh didn’t hear him, but Daniel did and widened his eyes, his mouth hung open.

“Dude,” Daniel mumbled in awe. Sam was too hung up on that philosophical question to notice Jake rejoining their table, cradling another pint. He only turned his attention towards his older brother when he saw Jake unhinge his jaw to suck down all of the beer in one animalistic gulp out of the corner of his eye. Sam paled at the sight and started to run through the possibilities.

Was his brother a lizard person? Was that a normal thing that people could do? Or did he and Daniel take some seriously good shit in the parking lot?

Josh started to yell something at Jake, and Sam cupped his head in his hand, focusing on breathing through his ears. He saw a woman with five arms approach Jake and slip another drink in his hand. All over again, Jake’s jaw unhinged and the drink was gone. He chewed the glass and everything.

Sam couldn’t stay silent on the issue anymore, and tried to blink in morse code to Daniel, “BATHROOM” but Daniel fluttered his eyelashes back at Sam, obviously not getting the message. Sam sighed and jutted his thumb in some general direction.

“It’s piss time for me, the piss boy,” he shouted over the music. Josh and Jake both paused from their arguing to stare at Sam, and then Sam scampered away.

He was grateful that Daniel trailed behind him and leaned into his side when they were out of sight of the twins.

“Jake is a lizard person,” Sam shared. Daniel jumped away from Sam and shook his head in disbelief.

“No way. But he doesn’t like the sunlight that much.”

“Did you see him eat that pint glass?”

“No?”

“You must have been distracted by something else.”

“I saw a guy standing in the corner of the room who claimed he was my great-great-grandfather,” Danny remembered. “Wait, what were we talking about?”

Sam tried to think back on what information he had been so desperate to share with Daniel, but came up short. “I think the bartender is Ben Affleck,” he remembered.

“That guy stunk as Batman,” Daniel clenched his fist.

By the time they made it back to their table, Josh looked beyond fed up. He went on a rant about something, but Sam was too busy trying to spot the light molecules coming off the disco ball over the dancefloor to listen. Jake wandered away a few times and, each time he came back, his face looked brighter and happier, until he was a beaming ray of light. Sam squinted to see him.

“I’m going back to my room,” Josh grumbled, tugging on Sam’s arm to get his attention. Sam made a comment that he thought might make sense, and then focused back on Jake, who had magically appeared on top of the bar and was missing his shirt.

Ben Affleck shouted something towards Sam and Daniel, and his face turned tomato red when Sam gave him a thumbs up. Sam wondered if the thumbs up gesture meant something rude in Wisconsin, and made a vow to keep his thumb to himself.

From 10:30pm to 12:30am, Sam stood in the bathroom, gaping at his reflection in the mirror. He could have sworn that his eyes were starting to droop down his cheeks the longer he stared, and the only way he could put them back in place was if he smiled as hard as he could. It was a daunting task but, after 2 committed hours, he finally decided that droopy eyes were actually kind of cool.

He exited from the bathroom and turned in fifteen full circles looking for Jake and Daniel, but they were nowhere to be seen. Sam wanted to sob at the thought of being left alone, but he quickly reasoned with himself that they trusted him on his own, and had given him a quest to make his way back to the hotel in one piece.

So Sam stepped out of the bar and dawdled around the empty Green Bay streets. At one point he shed his shoes and chucked them into the river for the fish to wear. He plodded through the desolate neighborhoods, whistling classical music to himself that his parents had played for him on Baby Einstein CDs as a child. He was everywhere and nowhere at once. It was beautiful.

He couldn’t say for certain what he had accomplished in those hours, but he vaguely recalled something to do with a helicopter, multiple slices of Kraft singles, and a raccoon who wouldn’t stop screaming.

Around 3am, Sam finally stepped foot into their hotel lobby and was struck with a jarring familiarity at the space.

“This is my home,” Sam realized in delight. “I made it home. My journey is complete.”

“And then I fell asleep until literally 20 minutes ago when Josh dragged me out of my room to come down and see you,” Sam finished his tale. Doug looked at him with a twitching eye.

“You’re telling me you were the one who hijacked the helicopter off the top of the Bellin Building and drove down near the interstate to throw cheese slices at cars?”

“Probably,” Sam shrugged. “I still don’t know where the screaming raccoon came in though.”

“Tell me this,” Doug pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Do you remember seeing anything out of the ordinary when you came into the hotel lobby?”

“I was on drugs,” Sam reminded Doug. “Everything I saw was out of the ordinary.”

“This is no use,” Doug grumbled. “Is your friend gonna be any help to me, or was he out tripping balls all night long too?”

“Daniel has a crystal clear memory, inebriated or not,” Sam proudly shared.

“Send him in then,” Doug asked. Sam shrugged, popped up from his seat, took one more photo of Doug’s bald head, and skipped out of the room.

“This is a nightmare,” Doug groaned before taking a couple aspirin.

Danny wandered into the room, looking around him in a panic. When he saw the hotel manager staring at him, he gulped and forced his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Can I help you?” Danny squeaked. Doug’s furrowed brow loosened when he saw how much the poor guy was trembling.

“Your friend told me that you have a pretty good memory,” Doug sounded out his words. “It would be a massive help to me and my report if I could get a detailed look into everything that happened with you and your friends last night.”

Danny looked pale, but he slowly nodded his head.

“What do you need to know?”

“Tell me what happened from the second you entered the bar, to when you made it back to your hotel room.”

“Okay,” Danny whispered.

The night was frankly a mess. Jake, Josh, Sam, and Danny all squeezed around a tall pub table, leaning over their pints to sip out of the top of the overfilled glasses. Danny was feeling a bit woozy from the LSD he and Sam had taken in the parking lot before entering the bar. It had been Sam’s treat: he wanted Danny to feel like a teen in the 70s as much as he could. Weed probably would have done the trick, but Danny appreciated the gesture.

It was clear that Sam was hallucinating more than Danny, because every glimpse he caught of his friend, Sam looked like he was seeing the world for the first time. Danny, on the other hand, was dealing with a gnarly headache, a rapid heartbeat, and an overall feeling of disorientation. Sure, he kept seeing a guy who kinda looked like him, but dressed in Pilgrim clothing, speaking in a hush about being his ancestor, but that was the only thing that felt out of the ordinary.

He took slow sips of the nasty sour beer that made his stomach groan in even more protest, and listened as Jake and Josh poked fun at Sam’s cheese hat. Danny wanted to stand up for Sam and tell off the twins for not respecting the cheese hat, but he felt so queasy, he didn’t want to risk what would happen when he opened his mouth.

Jake took a long sip from his beer, entirely clearing it of its contents, and Danny was relieved when Josh spoke up.

“Pace yourself, tiger,” Josh warned his brother.

“Oh, geez,” Jake murmured under his breath, staring at his glass in awe. Danny could tell that he was surprised by how fast the beer had gone down; they had hardly been standing at the table for more than five minutes. Danny knew: he could feel every second tick away.

Jake looked conflicted, but eventually opted to take his glass back to the bar for a refill. While he was gone, Josh leaned forward to check and see if Danny and Sam liked the beer at all. Danny let out a burning burp that made him flinch, and then coughed out that it wasn’t great. What really wasn’t great was how his body was reacting to the LSD.

He watched through squinted eyes as Jake chatted with a nice looking woman at the bar, and then meandered over to the live band that was playing the Allman Brothers. Once he got them to play a Cream song, he made his way back to the table, looking proud of himself.

“Hey there, social butterfly,” Josh taunted Jake.

“Fuck you,” Jake growled. "So maybe I like this place."

“So what you’re saying is it’s gonna be impossible to get you out of here, right?” Danny stared at Jake. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped in that bar while he felt like such shit.

“You’re gonna have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming,” Jake chuckled in between drinks.

“Jesus Christ,” Sam gaped at Jake.

“What?” Jake asked, confused once more. Sam, Danny, and Josh all pointed at the tall pint in Jake’s right hand. Jake held it up to his eyeline and paled. It was empty again. “How the hell did I do that?” Jake choked out.

“You drank that thing like it was a watering hole in the middle of the Sahara,” Danny observed. Jake studied his loose black button up top and took in the dark beer stains dotting his chest and collar. His face reddened in embarrassment.

“I’ll tone it down, I promise,” he said. “I know we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Yeah, and you’re supposed to drive the second leg,” Josh nodded. “I’m not covering for your ass.”

“I’d ask Sam to drive that leg before I asked you,” Jake protested. “You stink at driving.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Go-95-On-The-Highway!” Josh exclaimed, waving his hands around in a fury.

“It was late at night, there was hardly anyone on the road!” Jake defended himself.

“Hey, hey,” Danny waved his arms across the table to get the twins to quit bickering. It was really starting to hurt his head. “Let’s not argue over something that isn’t even a problem yet, okay?”

Danny felt like he had gotten the situation under control, until the woman approached their table.

“I figured out where I know you from,” she smiled at Jake, looking proud. Jake arched an eyebrow. “You’re from that rock band!”

“You finally got it,” Jake laughed.

“Here, have this on me," the woman said.

Jake stared at the tall pint that the woman was handing out to him with hungry eyes.

“Oh no,” Danny could hear Josh whisper.

“It’s a Copper State Sun Soaked - I overheard you ordering it at the bar,” the woman continued as she slipped the glass into Jake’s waiting hands.

“Cheers,” Jake told her. The woman waved goodbye to him and made her way across the bar back to her friend group. Jake looked down at the pint in his hands, and then up at his band members.

“Give me that,” Josh motioned at Jake. “Before you do something stupid.”

Jake kept the glass firm in his hands, and tipped it back.

“You’re kidding me,” Danny gaped.

“He did it again,” Sam’s eyes widened.

Jake’s hands shook as he gaped at the third empty glass he had seen in under 20 minutes. “I swear,” he croaked out, “I’m not doing this on purpose.”

“It sure as hell seems like you are,” Josh countered. “You downed that whole thing while making eye contact with me. In fact, it felt really targeted.”

“Water for the rest of the night. I promise,” Jake looked around at everyone. “Mark my word.”

Danny wished they could have just gone back to the hotel at that point, but things never went that smoothly. After having a brief check in with Sam that confirmed Danny’s suspicions that Sam was having the trip of a lifetime, they returned back to their table to find Jake in a much worse state than they had left him.

“He keeps drinking this shit,” Josh grumbled to Danny, motioning at the pile of empty glasses surrounding Jake. “I can’t get him to stop.”

“Can’t stop, won’t stop,” Jake burped out.

“Can stop, should stop,” Josh countered. Jake gave Josh a loud and juicy raspberry, and then tore his shirt over his head.

“No shirt, no service!” the bartender hollered at Jake as he hopped onto the live band’s small makeshift stage and smacked a tambourine against his ass to their Bob Seger song.

“I DON’T NEED SERVICE FROM YEW WANKER!” Jake hollered at the man in between barking laughs. Josh stared at his twin in silence for a few beats, and then shook his head in disappointment.

“I’m not doing this tonight,” Josh spoke in a low grumble. “I’m gonna go back to my room and watch some HGTV to unwind.”

Danny watched him step away from their table, flip off Jake, and silently move out of the bar and down the city street. He desperately wanted to run after Josh, begging for them to leave together, but he remained glued in place. Jake was transforming into Oliver Reed, and that was something you couldn’t leave unsupervised.

“BOB SEGER IS A GENTLEMAN IF I’VE EVER KNOWN ONE!” Oliver Reed hollered from the stage. He took a pause from his incoherent shouting to bash the tambourine a couple of times over the drummer’s head.

“Security!” the guitarist called out in a panic. “Can you get this guy out of here?”

Danny hurried to the stage, climbed up onto the elevated wooden platform, and hoisted Jake over his shoulder. “HOW DARE YEW PUT YER GRIMY HANDS ON ME YEW BIG OLD BUFFOON!” Oliver Reed howled at Danny while trying to scratch him. He got in a few good swipes that slowed Danny down, but he successfully carried his friend out of the bar and was even met with applause as they left.

Once they were a block away from the bar, Danny set Jake down and forced his shirt into his hands.

“Put that back on, dude,” Danny snapped. “It’s, like, 30 degrees outside.”

“ME NIPS KNOW NOTHIN ‘BOUT WEATHER! I’M A MACHINE THAT DOESN’T FEEL COLD, YA TWAT!”

Danny stared at Jake in disbelief. Oliver Reed was being more of a menace than usual.

As if his words weren’t biting enough, Jake leaned forward, kicked Danny in the shin, and then tore in the opposite direction down the street. “I hate my life,” Danny groaned before chasing after Jake.

“RUN RUN RUN AS FAST AS YEW CAN, YEW CAN’T CATCH ME CUZ’ I’M THE BDE MAN!” Oliver Reed cackled over his shoulder at Danny.

Danny wasn’t happy that Jake was outrunning him by so much, but he could blame that on the LSD. It was challenging to run in a straight line when it felt like the night sky was below Danny’s feet. Talk about bad timing for the hallucinations to kick in.

“Jake! Oliver! Whoever you are!” Danny called after his friend in desperation. “Can you please stop? I’m so tired!”

“NO!” Oliver Reed’s voice echoed off in the distance.

Danny huffed and tried to pick up his pace. Jake was edging closer to the waterfront, and it was making Danny nervous. When Oliver Reed came out, he was often motivated to dive into whatever water was closest by to “seduce the mermaids.” Danny knew for a fact that Oliver Reed didn’t know how to swim (the man sank like a stone), so the stakes were higher than ever.

Thank goodness Jake stopped. Danny would have been more relieved if he hadn’t done it in the middle of six lanes of oncoming traffic.

“I PART THEE, RED SEA!” Oliver Reed held a hand up to the cars that were swerving to avoid him. Danny forced back a scream and put his head down to power towards his friend without being smushed into oblivion by an 18-wheeler. How he made it to Jake unscathed, he had no clue. “THE RED SEA! JUST LIKE YER MUM’S PANTIES LAST NIGHT!” Oliver Reed screeched at a cab that just barely missed him.

“OLIVER!” Danny yelled at the top of his lungs. He was surprised that he actually had his attention. Even though Jake had somehow acquired sunglasses and a fake beard since leaving the bar, making it hard to read his facial expressions, he could still see that Jake was listening to him attentively. “Get out of the road!” Danny continued.

Jake stared at him a bit longer, and then started to sprint away from Danny again.

“SKEEDOOSH!” Oliver Reed called over his shoulder with a barking laugh.

Danny chased Jake nearly everywhere in the city, from the downtown area to the less-populated rural areas just outside of town. It was exhausting work, and Danny kept thinking that Jake was bound to flop over, but he wouldn’t stop. Danny was starting to think that the guy really was a machine, until they made it to the front doors of their hotel.

“Best be getting me to bed,” Oliver Reed announced at the most normal volume Danny had heard all night.

“Good,” Danny gasped for breath.

Entirely unaffected by their extensive aerobics, Jake pushed the front door open and made his way into the lobby.

“Wouldn’t turn down a sip or two of the good shit,” he decided. Danny tried to stop Jake, but he was moving on a mission towards the bar area, even though it was closed. Danny nearly tripped over Jake’s feet when he came to an abrupt halt, looking up at something in awe, as if looking into the face of a deity.

“Would yew look at ‘at,” he breathed out as he took in the lifesize statue of Captain Morgan that was standing tall and proud in the middle of the hotel lobby. “The captain of the seven seas, Mr. Cap’n Morgan. I thought he was only a myth, but there he is. Wild shit.”

“Take a picture, it’ll last you longer,” Danny said, trying to move Jake along. Jake stood firm, staring at Captain Morgan with a newfound interest.

“He’s tellin’ me I’m shit,” Oliver Reed suddenly growled. “That old Oliver Fucking Reed himself is no worthy pirate. Well, I’ll show ‘im. I’ll show that bastard.”

“Jake,” Danny’s voice squeaked in shock as he watched Jake jump at the Captain Morgan statue and tear his left hand away like a rabid animal. The sword that was in the statue’s hand loudly clattered to the floor, and Jake was quick to scoop it up.

“WHO’S THE BEST PIRATE NOW, MORGAN? EH? THE BLOKE WITH ONE HAND AND NO SWORD? I DON’T THINK SO!”

“Jake!” Danny cried out once more as Jake swirled the sword around and jabbed it into the statue’s plaster chest.

“YAR!” Oliver Reed cried in triumph. “VICTORY ONCE MORE FOR THE BRITS! GOD SAVE THE QUEEN! OR WHOEVER THE BLOKE IN POWER IS NOW!”

Danny had to plank to the ground with a yelp when Jake chucked Captain Morgan’s left hand as hard as he could across the lobby. They both watched it soar towards the front doors, which automatically opened for the hand and closed when it had fully passed through. Jake attempted to chop with the sword a couple of times as if he was cutting a head of lettuce, and then lit a large cigar to celebrate his victory.

Danny rose back to his feet and, while Oliver Reed was chuckling to himself about what a great swordsman he was, he lurched forward and forced the sword out of Jake’s grasp.

“BOLLOCKS!” Oliver Reed hollered in despair. “I’VE BEEN ROBBED!”

“You’ve been saved,” Danny corrected Jake, holding the sword under Jake’s chin.

“I’ll call it a draw,” Oliver Reed gulped.

“You’re gonna do what I say, okay?” Danny growled at the troublemaker. Jake nodded, wincing at the feeling of the sword up against his jugular. “We’re gonna take a nice walk up to your room, you’re gonna get in bed, and you’re gonna have the best night’s sleep of your life.”

“That sounds bloody nice,” Oliver Reed thought aloud. “Better than a sword through the heart, I reckon.”

So Danny led Jake upstairs to his room, saw that he made it under his covers, and only left when he heard soft snores coming from the bed. Then he went to the shore of Lake Michigan and chucked the sword as far as he could.

Finally feeling content with where things were at, Danny made his way to his own room and immediately passed out under the covers to sleep off the LSD.

“I’m so sorry, Sir,” Danny told Doug with sincerity. “I tried to keep my friend from messing with your statue, but you should see how fast he moves while intoxicated. He’s like a cat.”

“I should have talked to you first,” Doug gazed at Danny in interest. “That would have saved me a hell of a lot of time and a headache.”

“What are you going to do with us?” Danny looked fearful. “I can promise you all of this was a big mixup, we have nothing against Captain Morgan, his brand, or your hotel partnership.”

“Gather your friends. I want to talk to you all.”

Danny looked on the brink of soiling himself, but he left the room and shortly came back with Jake, Josh and Sam. In his time away, Sam had managed to acquire a cheese board to serve as an accessory with the rest of his outfit.

They all crowded into the cramped office and Jake shot Danny a worried glance. Danny wasn’t sure how much Jake knew or remembered, so he opted to keep his eyes glued to the floor. He hated how awful he was at lying when he was stressed; he should have done more to cover for his friend instead of recounting every part of the night in excruciating detail. Jake was bound to never talk to him again. Probably Josh too. Sam would most likely still be his friend because he thought it was funny when Jake got in trouble.

“You’ve probably pieced together why I brought you all in here today,” Doug shared with the group.

“Nope,” Sam shook his head. “I’m still stumped.”

“My Captain Morgan statue was desecrated last night, and it’s come to my attention that one of you is at fault.”

Danny continued to study the floor.

“Captain Morgan?” Jake’s voice trailed off. His face dropped. The previous night was coming back to him fast. He had not stuck to water after his three pints of beer.

“Oh no!” Josh called out. “I liked that guy! Very nice decor. Very aquatic.”

“Captain Morgan,” Doug looked at Jake. Jake stared back at him with wide eyes. “Son, you really need to tone it down with the sour beers.”

“So I’m not the one who’s in trouble?” Sam asked around. When no one responded to him, he gave the room a peace sign and strolled out the door. “Later skaters,” he called over his shoulder.

“I know,” Jake choked. “Sour beers aren’t good for me.”

“They’re just not good, period,” Josh corrected Jake.

“It’s my fault too,” Danny burst out. “I should have stopped Jake.”

“You tried your best,” Doug gave Danny a sympathetic gaze. “You weren’t the one who tore off the hand.”

“But I did dump the sword in the lake.”

“For the welfare of everyone in the vicinity. I can respect that.”

“Wait, Jake had a sword last night?” Josh looked around at everyone. “And I missed it?”

“I’m going to ask that you cover the charge to fix Captain Morgan,” Doug told Jake. “Whether it was your alter ego or not, you were caught on those security cameras doing the dirty work.”

“So you knew it was me all along?” Jake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Then why did you make us go through all of that interrogating?”

Doug shrugged. “I mostly just wanted to try to understand why someone would destroy something as sacred as my Captain Morgan statue.”

Jake pondered this and eventually nodded, like he understood where Doug was coming from.

“But now I’m also sitting on a lot of information that the Green Bay police department would find valuable about that horse and helicopter theft that went down last night.”

“You know, it’s been so nice meeting you,” Danny nervously chuckled, pushing on Jake and Josh’s backs to steer them out of the room. “Jake will get that check sent to you as soon as you get us the invoice. Whatever the price, we’ve got it covered. Thank you so much for your hospitality, and we’ll make sure to give this place five stars on Yelp.”

Once they were out of the doorframe, Danny looked between the twins.

“Run,” he hissed. “We’re not getting caught for any more of our crimes today.”

22 notes · View notes

ihavemanyhusbands · 1 day

Note

I am foaming at the mouth @ play fighting that turns into breeding with Duncan 😖😖 plsssss can i request that? 🥹🫶🏻

Ovdrilbdgdsll ofc you may!!!

———

It had all started so simply.

You had teased and goaded Duncan about being able to beat him in an arm wrestle, and of course, he made you try and prove it.

Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t gone easy on you. But that wasn’t to say your resolve had faded when the back of your hand hit the table.

Instead, in retaliation, you pounced on him. You managed to get him on the floor, the two of you wrestling for dominance.

You straddled his hips, pressing your legs against his sides. He struggled, but you held him tighter, your body leaning over his. He stopped fighting back momentarily, letting you lace your fingers through his.

“Thinking about tapping out, old man?” You teased, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I’m just enjoying this view,” he said, shifting his body so his hips pushed up.

You felt his hardening bulge under you, and after a flustered moment of surprise, you raised an eyebrow.

“Oh… really? Is that how this is?”

He nodded and next thing you knew, he rolled you onto your back. His large body pinned you down, legs still against his sides.

“I like it when you get feisty with me,” he chuckled. “But how are you gonna get out of this one, hmm?”

His moustache tickled your neck as he bent down to kiss it. You squirmed under him, struggling even as your body responded to his caresses.

“No fair, you’re only trying to distract me!” You panted, nails digging into his biceps.

His hips rocked against you slowly, almost involuntarily, and you could tell he was getting more and more excited.

You let out a sharp exhale on a harder thrust, gripping his hair with one hand and bringing his lips to yours. He kissed you deliriously for what seemed like an eternity, his hands probing and pinching at the spots he knew would set you alight.

“Okay, you win this time,” you panted as he pulled back to take his shirt off, raking your nails down his torso and tugging at his waistband. “Take me here, please.”

And those were the magic words he needed to hear in order to unleash himself upon you.

———

#duncan vizla x reader #duncan vizla fanfiction #the black kaiser x reader #polar fanfiction #minors dni

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specksizedgoddess · 3 months

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When I said I would "show you off to my friends," maybe you thought it would be simple; it's not everyday I see a bug-sized person, after all. We could have a little chat! Who knows, we could all hit it off, you might even make some new friends! ...what, is that so naïve?

I know, I know. More likely, you had the glimmer of hope that we would pass you around and use you until there was nothing left but an Eve-ish splatter on a lucky someone's ass, or inside their holes or between their teeth. That would be a fun game for all of us. We'd get to enjoy you, and there's so many ways that big bodies can pop little bodies. I'm sure you'd get off to it before we broke you. Freak.

There will be none of that. Instead I have a pincushion and a nice foam bed for you to relax on. I am going to pin you down, literally, and display you the way that insects are displayed. That's how I'll show you off. You will not be touched by anyone or anything but sharp, cold metal. Go on and get into position. It's better for you in the long run, I promise. This way, you'll have the honor of being on display! That, and if you try to flee, I promise I will do much, much worse.

The needle is, what, four, five, six times your height and impossibly narrow. How easily I position it over your soft flesh, push it down through you, splitting, shredding, splattering everything it touches. Your tiny body offers no resistance. Hardly a twitch of my finger to get it done. You, on the other hand, are stuck in place, left to fight for consciousness through the cold, ripping pain. Why are you squirming? Are you trying to free yourself? I suppose I should pin your arms and legs, too.

Die slow, love. You're our little exhibit now.

-🌙

AHDHSHFHDHFHD OOOH MY DHAHDHS HHI HAHSGS IM. HSHDHD MHMM <333333333

SHDH THANK YOU <33

Moaning as you coo over me, telling me how you'll show me off to your friends... admittedly, all those fantasies and more and rushing through my head, blushing as I nod eagerly, so easily scooped up in your hands and led to the foam bed...

Whimpering slightly as you tell me exactly what will happen, the sharp, cold words cutting into me as I nod and moan, barely able to stammer out an apology- face getting even redder as I see the gleam of the needle, glistening with the light... sharp and pointed right at me.

I dont fight exactly- a sort of squirm, in a mix of anxiety and exitement, trying to steady myself as it descends... nodding as you tell me what will happen, exited to be treated like any other bug~

In a flash, a needle jammed theough me easily- cold metal burning against my insides as I scream in a horrid mix of pleasure and pain~ lips trembling as I mouth something unrecognizable about bugs... blood every so gently drippig as you lift me up...

Giving a weak nod as you tell me to die slowly. I can be good entertainment. I can be an exhibit. I can be good. My squirming is just an attempt to find comfort, though by the enthusiastic moans, I'm practically begging to be pierced through my limbs so I dont move so much...

Your little specimin <3

#thanks for the ask!#🌙#HI #ITS SO GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN DHFHWH #crueleve

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bucket-of-amethyst · 2 years

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HAD A THE MOST DRAMATIC FANFIC-ESQUE TEAM RANCHER DREAM I AM DOOMED FOAMING AT THE MOUTH

Scott was also there it was like a love triangle type of deal which is so weird bc i don't care much about love triangles.

But the context was that there were actors playing the parts of Jimmy, Tango and Scott (they didn't look at all like the cc's, more like actors that represented their characters). And it was just a soap opera drama for real

I don't remember much, but they were both trying to get Jimmy's attention, at some point Scott pinned him against a wall to flirt and Tango appeared behind them clearing his throat and saying "Can I help any of u? >:|" (fun fact Tango was taller than both of them)

That developed into an argument between Tango and Scott, with Tango telling him to leave Jimmy alone, and I only remember Scott shouting "You can't do this! I'm his girlfriend!" And Tango shouting back "We'll I'm his boyfriend!!" (you can imagine those camera transitions worth of indian soap operas)

Poor Jimmy was just standing there going !!!!?!?!?!??¿¿!!?¡¡?!

I'll never emotionally recover btw

#bucket of ramble #i dont doubt scott flirting came bc of the screenshots of talks he was having in empires with sausage during jimmys stream #🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘#i need sum milk #trafficshipping #team rancher #this is the second time i had a crazy dream about minecraft people soon ill have to create a tag for them #bc i dream a lot about stuff im obsessed about i m pretty sure this wont be the last timr

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aussied · 7 months

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So I started reading the Percy Jackson series...

*creeps on up in here*

Hi yes hello

So I have been reading through the Percy Jackson series for the first time because the Pinterest algorithm kept saying that the characters in my original story were similar to characters from Percy Jackson, and I had apparently unknowingly been pinning fanart as inspiration for years. So finally I was like "Yeah okay, I should read the books since apparently I already love the characters." and yanno what! I DO love the characters! I blew through The Lightning Thief book and enjoyed it. Then I made the mistake of watching the 2010 the movie and had an unhinged meltdown livetweeting about it on Twitter. I can post that on here if you guys want because I think I traveled to another plane of existence [negative] while watching it and received psychic damage. At one point I was in so much disbelief about the quality of the movie and the changes that they made that I fell into a bout of distressed laughter that I couldn't stop until I started coughing, so that's great. I just finished The Sea of Monsters book last night, but I'm gonna give myself a few days before I watch that movie because HHHHH I am not ready. I watched the trailer right after I finished the book and already had my head in my hands going "Why did they make those unnecessary changes??!" It's gonna be a ROUGH ONE FELLAS. I am already suffering. I am sosososososososososoSO thrilled about the D+ series coming this winter. Oh my GOSH. I'm incredibly sorry to the fandom who only had those Fox movies as their only adaptations for so long. That SUCKS. I'm hoping and praying that the series is as good as the trailers look. I think it'll do very well as a series rather than a movie, since the chapters are so episodic in the first book especially. I just hope that The Mouse™ doesn't cancel it prematurely. ANYWAY. I'm in that fun (horrible) state of jumping into the fandom pool where I am stoked to look at tags and search up fanart of characters, but having only read 2/7 books, I absolutely can't do that yet, because I don't want to get spoiled. I already am foaming at the mouth ready to meet a specific character that I see everywhere, but I don't think they show up until like two more books. Ahh! I hope they are as baby as the fanart I've seen has been. Luckily I've only been spoiled on two things so far... I'm kinda plugging my ears and going "lalalala!!" for how until I can blast through more of the books. Uhhhhh that's it! Not really a point to this post. It's just me waving hello to the Percy Jackson fandom I guess. Hello there! I hope to browse your tags and have A Very Normal Time about this series when I'm safely through it all!

#Lizzu original #Percy Jackson #text #text post #fandom #Nico where are you I am ready to love you #please be a nice character

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mt-shahparan · 24 days

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Bloodstream was steadily running towards the soft ocean waves. Do you think sand run amuck by blood feels hurtful? Unfeeling sands and thickening clots. What if rectanglenticular scabs came out their walls and hurled away? Blood was not giving out to the water but them. They sucked them in and echoes of delight formed around their mouths: "You cannot hide Gods' stolen spleens". Then the foams fumed and blood fell flat through their grimace. Blood was falling flat but my head's blemish was floating upturns. Like addictive substances skipping up on a head in parallel curvatures— the shapekept pumpkin sliced radiating from the very center like serpentine worms. Soon headfolds expunged and extended and echoed into a concrete apparition.. Ah I can unwind the pain now. And the frosts of a near future. Under a sky like that it was thawed inconceivably. "Ah I can picture the wound now. And the powder of a distant wind. Under a sky like that it had gushed ungleefully". And now even if those landfuls of sands pinned conchae upon eyes, they would not hold pinballs to a zip. I said- "a concrete apparition". Am I past the giants' reach? My head felt like twenty minutes after shower. Lay my head down on a nourished quilt, feeling my moisture against its. The deep earth's core standing on concern much furthest, sends a warm hull across it. The water reflects over it like chameleon and find their places. Then seaweeds rusticated their unwinding claspses. My head tickling on that ivy, I was seeing the grand murale again. There- the stony walls of sand from where the shore dropped mercury-steep. Like an endless falls. Like a blackhellicular weight on fabric of time. Of a wading sprint towards doom, all racers fixed on their startline. Looking up, pints of light could still be made out from beyond water'sroof. And there! Thee giants. With their ornate reach. They are like fats on a giant maze, dipping and dabbling its borders. In fact there were no contingent of sorts. The boldashen stupor, coming out like spoilspseudopodia of an endless chaotic massacre. Not of Ravana's finesse.

Untitled #694

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radiosandrecordings · 3 years

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I found the start of a script I was working on in.. apparently June last year. It was supposed to be for a podfic because I wanted to do my own travelling-to-the-safehouse fic but apparently this is as far as I got. I think it’s pretty good though so may as well post it. Left in all the ah... More creative notes I was apparently giving myself for direction. [Tape clicks on]

[Sound of two sets of footsteps on stone, reverberating around a confined tunnel. Possibly water drip?]

JON [Firm, but soft. Like a memory foam mattress.] Martin? Are you still with me?

MARTIN [As if distracted, snapping back to himself] … What? Oh, yes, yes, still… Still here. Sorry it’s just- [He falters, struggling for the words] Hard. With- With everything. It’s all a bit… [A pause. He’s making vague hand gestures with one hand.] A bit much.

JON [Flatly] Oh. [Realising] Oh!- Do you- Do you want me to let go of your-

[Walking stops around here]

MARTIN (OVERLAPPING) [Firmly, almost panicked] No! Uh- No. No. This is… This is good.

JON [Trying not to sound pleased. Failing] Oh! Uh- Good. Good.

[Several beats of silence as the walking starts up again]

MARTIN … It’s grounding, really. Everything else is… A lot. Even breathing feels weird. I’m too… Hyper-aware. Of my own lungs. Not sure I breathed in there, not properly anyway. You just kind of dissolve into the background. Even yourself is too much company. Your whole body just kind of feels like a limb you’ve been sitting on too long, all the blood flowed out of it. So it’s… Nice. To have you. As a- As a focus point.

JON [Muttered] Something to be said about anchors, and all that.

MARTIN What was that?

JON Nothing, just a… Bit of a personal joke.

JON (CONT’D) Anyway. I think there’s light ahead, hopefully this should be the end of the tunnel. No idea where it’ll spit us out though.

MARTIN Guess we’ll see.

[Beat]

Just… Don’t let go?

JON [Unbearly fond. Get it together, gayboy] ‘Course not.

[Tape clicks off]

[Tape clicks on]

[They’re outside. There are outside noises. You know what those sound like, don’t you? I know you’ve been at home for 3 months but please. Please try and remember. Is there wind outside? Maybe a pigeon? It’s south bank there has to be pigeons. You remember pigeons, right? Also, river noises. Boat.]

MARTIN Are we at-

JON (OVERLAPPING) Southbank. Yes.

MARTIN Southbank? But the river, we’d have to have-

JON (OVERLAPPING) Yes, I’m… Not quite sure the same physics applies, when it comes to those tunnels. They’ve spent more time being moved around by a Leitner than not. I think they end where they want to end. Bloody miracle we’re not halfway to Twickenham. Or still in London at all for that matter.

MARTIN ...Right.

[He absolutely does not get it]

MARTIN (CONT’D) [He lets out a breath] Can we just- Can we just sit? For a minute?

JON [Quiet] Of course, of course…

[Movement as they make their way to a bench and sit]

[A seagull squawks overhead]

MARTIN The sunrise is nice…

JON [Clearly not looking at the sunrise] Yeah, it is…

MARTIN Do you have any idea what time it is?

JON I’d say… Just coming up on seven.

MARTIN What, Beholding goes to the trouble of telling you that and it can’t even pin it to the minute?

JON Martin, not to sound like the most stereotypical Englishman in the world, but we’re on South Bank. I just looked over at Big Ben.

MARTIN Oh- Er- Right.

[A sigh. He relaxes from all the wound up tension]

… God it really is just there isn’t it. Like, it’s one of those things that, if you didn’t grow up here, you don’t really get that it’s… Real, y’know? It’s like, you can see it every day and never quite get past the notion that it’s something that only exists as… Cheap, shitty fridge magnets and… And novelty t-shirts.

… Does that make sense? No, no sorry I’m rambling-

JON (CUTTING HIM OFF) [Quick, reassuring] No, no I get what you mean.

[A pause. He’s searching for something to fill the empty air, desperate not to leave a silence between them. It’s only tangentially on topic, but it will do]

… I grew up in Bournemouth. Did I ever tell you that?

MARTIN [Voice slightly shaky, but solidifying] Not in as many words, no. I think you mentioned it, on a… Tape. At some point. Not directly.

[He hesitates]

… Do you want to tell me about it?

JON [Hesitant. He may not have been Lonely, but he’s spent a fair amount of time trying to diminish himself] Only if you want me to.

MARTIN But do you want to tell me about it?

JON [Meekly] … Probably not the best story for now, actually. Not terribly interesting. And when it is, it’s just a bit… Miserable, really. Childhood orphaning never really leads upwards in the ways Dickens would have you believe.

MARTIN ...Some other time then?

JON [Stumbles slightly, as if shocked by the knowledge that there will be times that aren’t this. NOW YOU’VE THROWN HIM OFF HIS RHYTHM!] Y-yes. Some other time.

[Pause. 5 Seconds? Ambience. Sound of voices around has started to filter in.]

JON [Slow] I was just… I was thinking. About what- What Peter Lukas said, back in… [With vehemence] There. And how it was… Partially true, in a way. We may not know each that well but… I’d like to change that. If- If you do.

MARTIN [Soft] I would like that.

[Content hum]

… Tell me something non-miserable, then.

JON What?

MARTIN About yourself. Something that isn’t, I dunno, doom and gloom. What about, mmm, favourite colour?

JON [Amused, mock scolding] Are you five?

MARTIN Humour me!

JON Fine, fine… Actually, no.

MARTIN No?

JON No, you tell me what you think it is.

MARTIN [Under his breath] I tell you what I think…

[Contemplative] Okay. Okay. What is… What is Jonathan Sims’ favourite colour… You used to wear a lot of green around the office, dark jumpers and tweed jackets and stuff… But I’m half convinced you just thought it was a ‘professional’ colour, to match your fancy new job. I think it’s… I think it’s purple.

JON [Surprised] Purple? Why

MARTIN When… When you were in the hospital… Georgie stuck some photos up on the wall next to your bed. Old ones, polaroids, but in a kind of artsy way since they clearly weren’t from anywhere before the 2000′s. They were you in uni, and you had this ridiculous purple streak in your hair. So… Purple.

JON [Quietly mouthing the words along, not quite processing] Had a purple streak in Uni…

[Startled, just processed fully the implications] Wait, you met Georgie?

MARTIN Not in the hospital, a bit later in the Institute yeah, but… That’s another story for later. No, we never met in the hospital, I never quite felt…

[Grimace] Up to company, when I was there.

JON Right, of course. I remember that, though. Some time in my second year; I got a bit tired of people assuming I was a post-grad student and thought I’d try and dye my grey streaks purple. It fit in with the sort of… Aesthetic, I was cultivating at the time.

MARTIN [Absentmindedly, almost as if he doesn’t realise he’s saying it] I always liked your grey streaks.

JON [Shocked Pikachu but he’s got Dreamworks single raised eyebrow syndrome] Oh?

MARTIN [Oh shit, oh fuck, did I say that out loud] It’s just… Y’know. Nice. Not something you should want to hide.

[Quickly changing the subject] … You didn’t answer though. Am I right or wrong?

JON [Slow, amused. In a visual medium he’d be spreading his hands out] You got me.

MARTIN [Inordinately pleased] Really? Huh. Okay. Guess mine. And no Knowing!

JON Oh, gosh, uhm… Yellow?

MARTIN [Hah!] Green!

JON [Audibly :D because Martin laughed] Green? Why?

MARTIN [Hummed] Mm, I dunno. Just something about it.

[Volume of crowd has increased considerably now]

MARTIN [Slightly more nervous. The slight break in conversation gave him time to notice the people beginning to crowd around]

I apparently didn’t get to include it in the script, but it was going to be a reveal later that actually, Jon doesn’t have a favourite colour. He just agreed because he wanted to make Martin happy.

#My Post #My Writing #The Magnus Archives #Jonmartin

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warsamongthestars · 2 years

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Alright. Serious time. Big “We’re hitting Reality like Chicxulub hit the Earth” time.

I know I don’t do this, I purposely don’t normally do this.

Because Reality is cold, and Society and People are messy. Its complicated on an unfathomable level, and I’ll explain what I mean by that if I’m asked.

(Unfathomable being one of those fun words of “I have a personal context for this, but its probably not the your personal context, and its very confusing that we don’t all share the same context”)

And this is gonna get messy. I’m gonna say a lot of serious stuff, and I don’t know how delicate I can make things. At best, I will not foam at the mouth and swear at you. There is no “Do not tap the glass” signs here.

This is probably gonna make you feel things, if you desire to read. Powerful things. Where the only response might be to hunt me down like the insect I am, shake me and ask me “How fucking dare you”, before promptly pinning me to a board, so that you can show off me to your friends at parties. “Look at this strange and peculiar tumblr user, that they say such things, I tells you.”

But, self-depreciation and complete fear of tumblr’s unending wrath aside, to the point.

You know.

One of the most powerful things in The Bad Batch (the series), can be found by its most basic breakdown...

Four men are raising a little girl.

That’s Significant. You have any idea how significant that is? Most places question one man raising a little girl. Most places have very critical judgements against just one man raising a little girl, even if he was the biological father. Even if he was the best person that ever did parent, ever, of all time.

And it gets better, it gets starts getting powerful, as the details are added.

The fact that two of the men are disabled, either by being severely wounded (Echo, who without his mechanical legs, would have no legs, and who still does not have a right arm as of this writing) or possible brain damage (theorized by the fact that Wrecker took something explosive to the face / head / skull, and high percussive damage like that is bad for delicate brain tissue), and they’re some of the most loving and caring of the group. That’s powerful.

The fact that several of them are theorized to be neurodivergent (The main person I tend to see in fics and posts is Tech, but there are others), coming out of a media made by a real-world culture that stigmatizes several neurodivergencies. To a point that limits lawful and social function unless you fit a false role or persona, what someone else thinks you should fit, inspite of what it does to your health and livelyhood. These characters, theorized to be neurodivergent, and yet are living the best they can as what they feel is most comfortable? And succeeding? That’s powerful.

The fact that there is a distant uncle or possible parent, living or forced to live in a bad place with either neuropsychiatric illness (the chip as a brain tumor) and or mental illness (Crosshair’s forced enhancement of the chip, causing a number of effects that would severely affect the health of the brain, thus the conscious perception of one’s self and reality around them, effectively worse than shock therapy cos now it has voices and can actively control your actions).

But the rest of the family seeks connection and have a desire to help that parent / family member find their health and happiness? That’s powerful.

The fact that these men were consistently ostracized by their family (regular clones, both before and after Order 66), by their health providers / doctors (Kaminonians, and the less said about that for now, the better for this specific post), by their government (Again, the Kaminonians, and then the Republic, then the Empire), by their first job (As soldiers, being placed in constant suicide runs), from the job they had to take when everything failed them (being placed in constant debt, giving the bare minimum to survive, and getting more and more health threatening, mind threatening, life threatening work loads).

And yet, are still trucking, still trying the best they can, to raise a little girl. So that she will not be forced to live in the hell they had to survive all their life?

That’s powerful.

Because reality is cold, and people and society are messy, and its complicated on an unfathomable level.

But, that four men, four People, four characters, all with a punishing history and the scars to show it, and they are trying to raise a little girl to the best of their ability, in order to ensure her health and happiness and future. So that she can live the best life she can? As whoever she wanted to be?

I don’t know about you.

But I’d call that powerful.

#star wars #the bad batch #bad batch #serious #extremely serious #chicxulub was the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs #ive heard theories that it created the gulf of mexico #so expect high impact #but with a lot less dino killing #no dinosaurs were harmed in the making of this post

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Dreams, Chapter 14

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 14

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1976

Summary: Once more, a moment at the bar shifts the relationship between Sam and the reader irrevocably.

Warnings: angst, FLUFF, swearing, s l o w b u r n, this section has a little gentle smut

It was sweet, actually, taking things slowly enough that Sam didn’t feel an acute sense of betraying Dean. You started kissing in stolen moments like teenagers, accidentally honking the horn of the Impala before taking over from the day shift and walking in shyly with swollen lips and mussed hair, tasting the orange juice off of his lips after breakfast.

Never more than that save a fumbled glancing grope here or there, Sam sometimes having to break away for a long walk in the brisk winter air before going to sleep with you at night, you taking extended showers to deal with the building tension. He simply wasn’t ready, and the additional closeness was already so much more than you’d had anyway, almost too much stimulation to handle. Not that it really made sense to you, that this was somehow different in his mind, but it didn’t matter.

Dean came to you in your dreams with increasing regularity. He started teaching you how to go to places you hadn’t been, or hadn’t been with him, slowly reconstructing the bar and the cabin so you could show him around your new life. Sam had been right, of course, and Dean did love the bar as you showed it to him, scuffed floors and ever-present stickiness of the cash register included.

It felt pretty real. And who’s to say it wasn’t, because it was really Dean and it was really you, the whiskey really poured and made his lips taste peaty like they always had. More than that, it was enough. You were able to relish your time together, drink Dean in while you slept feeling less desperate knowing that you’d see him again soon. The days got easier too, waking up warm inside from Dean and outside from the firm protection of Sam’s body. Neither Winchester ever told you what they did or talked about in their time together, but Sam got looser and looser. You had almost forgotten how goofy he could be, how enthusiastic and fun he was Before Everything, but the longer he spent dreaming with Dean the more he reminded you of that guy—the affectionate, quick-witted boy you’d split cans of Spaghetti-o’s with at Bobby’s a lifetime ago.

Going to work felt like a little game sometimes. Periodically one of the customers would comment on the way Sam always seemed to wait until you were right in front of the fruit before going to refill it so he had to press the length of his body against yours. Often you’d have to help him finish his side work before closing up together, having hung off him all night in a way that prevented him from getting everything done until it was just the two of you together in the darkened bar cutting up limes as your shoulders brushed against each other. The regulars thought you were finally comfortable enough to show them a little PDA, that you’d been secretly like this all along, and there was no other explanation you could give them. Like everything else, you rolled with their assumptions and got that same giddy-hot feeling in your chest and throat every time they said it—like you were being teased about some juvenile crush.

The Wednesday it finally happened you were having a normal day at work, catching those little jabs after Sam snaked a bottle opener out of your back pocket while you rattled a shaker of martinis. He kissed your hair with a smirk when he passed by you, carefully not jostling your arms as you poured the drinks into chilled glassware. When you went to refill Joe’s pint of Spotted Cow, you noticed the tap start to stutter and foam the last dregs of an empty keg and raised your head to tell Sam it was out.

He was leaning on his elbow, ankles crossed where the long stretch of his body met the floor and talking to Jake, clearly telling some joke from the way Jake cracked up and gave him that snapping handshake men often exchange instead of hugs. The smile on his face was just smug enough to show he knew whatever he’d said was funny, and more than anything he looked relaxed, looked comfortable. Looked like he belonged there, the reflection off green glassed whiskey bottles making his eyes seem lit from within. You decided to change the beer yourself and leave him in peace; the bar was slow enough that he could handle it alone for a few minutes, limited cocktail experience or not.

Every time you went into the basement at work to change a keg you were amazed that Sam even fit in the room where they were stored; it was back at the end of the walk-in cooler with ceilings so low even you felt claustrophobic there. Aluminum kegs in varied states of fullness stacked by their respective lines, marked by stickers and tags of indeterminate ages, were in a sort of half-organization around the walls. Based on how fast Sam changed them when one went empty, you were pretty sure he would know instinctively which ones were which, but as it was you had to climb around the makeshift aluminum jungle gym to trace each looping hose back to its source. You finally found the empty Spotted Cow and the line that would tie it to its respective tap in the corner. To get there you’d had to hop on top of two others, one foot on a fresh Bud Light and the other on some Coors while your spine curved to avoid hitting your head on the ceiling. Unfastening the tap from the empty keg, you yanked back to tug it off and slipped on some extra moisture on top of the metal. It sent you off balance enough that you grabbed at the tubing at the end of the tap you were holding in an effort to stay on your feet.

The hose pulled out of the line system and sprayed the rest of the beer within all over the room and you, brown ale getting in your mouth and eyes and sending you careening to the ground, tugging the empty keg on top of you with a huge clatter. You rolled it off of you, thanking God it was empty, and tried not to think too hard about the age of the beer remnant mixture leeching off the cement floor into your t shirt as you got up. By the time you got back to your feet, Sam was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath with a look of concern on his face.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asked, surveying the scene.

You still had the keg tap and hose in your hand, completely detached from the wall. “I was going to change the Spotted Cow but I couldn’t reach the back so I had to climb and then I…slipped.” Sam’s face smoothed in relief when he saw the smile spreading across your face. “And broke it.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Probably going to have a pretty kickass bruise tomorrow and I’m covered in beer but yeah, I’m okay. Sorry I pulled it out; do you know how to fix it?”

Sam smiled, his dimples carving into his cheeks. “I’ll figure it out.”

You pouted around your embarrassment and sheepishly handed him the tap. “I should probably get back upstairs,” you offered, shaking your wet shirt away from your body.

“I’m, uh, I’m ready.” Sam murmured, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

“Do you need me to go get tools or something?”

“No—I mean, like, ready.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully and the emphasis crashed into you hard enough that it almost sent you careening back into the kegs.

“Ready ready?” you breathed, sounding stupid and not caring, wanting to bound over and leap into Sam’s arms.

“Ready read—” and Sam was cut off by your lips on his, taking a sharp inhale against your cheek as he kissed you. After a beat of electric shock Sam twined into the hair at the nape of your neck, his fingers hot from washing dishes and soothing in the air of the cooler. You slid down the soft flannel of his shirt and wrapped up fistfuls of it, desperate to have him closer, closer, closer, feel the firm slopes of his body when you weren’t sleeping. He groaned into you and it sent a shudder down your spine as you slipped down the edge of his jaw to kiss along the broad expanse of his neck, tendons squirming under your lips and the thrum of his blood pumping fast and hard.

Sam moved a hand to your lower back and bent down to scoop under a hamstring, gently but swiftly lifting and spinning so you were pressed up against the doorframe by his body, hitched up in the air to better reach his face. You gasped and felt Sam’s smile against your mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist and greedily roaming the muscles in his chest as they flexed to carry you. The way the wall pinned you to Sam made it so easy to rock into him, feel the metal of his belt buckle through the worn cotton of your jeans and the heat seep through his shirt into the sticky beer drying on yours. “I—oh fuck—” Sam stammered between kisses as you rolled your hips, trying to balance the need to catch his breath with the pent-up magnetism between you. “We have—Jesus Christ, ah—there are customers upstairs,” he finally spit out.

That zapped you back to reality, finally breaking away to press your forehead against his. “Fuck,” you moaned. A long second passed, sharing air between you and Sam as he held you suspended. “Do we care?” you murmured hopefully against closed eyes, smiling.

Sam chuckled, breathy and low as he lowered you to the ground softly. “Unless you have another way of paying rent.”

You gently knocked your head into Sam’s chest. “Man, couldn’t sit on that for a few more hours? How am I supposed to work the rest of the night?”

He ran his tongue over his molars as he grabbed the tap from where it had fallen to the ground, accepting the gentle teasing. “I just—I don’t know, you were just standing there and it all kind of—it just made sense all of a sudden.”

“The stale beer did it for you? If I knew that I would’ve broken all of the lines ages ago.” You bit your lip against your smile, suddenly a little bashful and exposed and feeling every drying drop of beer across your chest.

“I um, might have another t-shirt in the car if you want me to check.”

“Thanks. I can get it though, can I have the keys?”

Sam snaked a hand into his pocket and you could see the muscles in his forearm ripple as he grabbed them for you. He handed the keys over, his face open and vulnerable even with the hint of smirk. Tapping the keys against the doorframe you stalled for time, wanting more than anything to have even just an hour without responsibilities. You reached out and stroked his arm. “You’re sure about this? It’s okay if you’re—”

Sam’s head bobbed quickly. “Yeah. Yes, I’m sure.” He looked solemn, resolute in a way that reassured you. “I’m sorry it took—”

“Nothing to be sorry about. I just wanted to check.”

He closed the step between you, tucking a chunk of hair behind your ear and gazing down into your eyes. “I know. And thank you for that.” He kissed you on the forehead, grinning into your hair. “Now go change, you smell like a frat party.”

You pushed playfully against his chest and made your way upstairs, leaving him smiling at your back as you walked away.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 15

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Photo

https://vosuth.tumblr.com/post/185517569167/tigerleggies-skillful-leggies-nibenhutracycas

This is the video the two doofuses are referring to :D

-o-o-o-

“How the hell does he do that?”

“I thought the better question would be ‘why the hell does he do that?’”

“What do you mean? Didn’t you see him flip himself off that building last week just as it collapsed? Got himself onto the rescue rig at the last second. I would think this exercise would certainly help.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know, but our followers are going to love it.”

“You’re posting it to ‘The Real Thunderbirds’?”

“You better believe it. There are some women out there foaming at the mouth for our dear brother.”

“Uhrgh, did you have to put it quite that way.”

“What? Would you prefer I say that the girls would like to get themselves some of that booty?”

“Gordon!”

“Hey, it is just viral marketing, bro. We gotta do what we gotta do to keep the brand moving.”

“Brand? What do you know about brand?”

“I know that we’ve got what they want.” A snort. “Well, at least Virgil does.” He held up the video Alan had taken on his phone of his elder brother working out in the gym. The man didn’t only do handstands, he also had the control to move his body both perpendicular to the floor and parallel, those mighty biceps of his taking all his weight, while his back kept the control.

“Hey, I could do that.”

Gordon snorted. “Yeah right.” He turned back to the phone and lined up the video for posting. A click of a couple of virtual keys and he released his big brother’s workout routine to the world. “Hah, now we just let the comments and admiration roll in.”

“Hey, seriously, I reckon I could give it a go.”

His brother stared at him. “Alan, do you even have biceps?”

Shoving up his sleeves, Alan demonstrated that, yes, indeed he did have a set of those particular muscles and they were considerable indeed.

“Wow, don’t poke your eye out there, bro.” Gordon rolled up his own shirt sleeve. “Now see here, This is a bicep, Olympic level.” Gordon flexed his arm. “See, you actually need these in water, unlike space.”

“Hey!”

“I’m just calling it as I see it.”

Alan glared at his brother. “Watch this.”

Dropping to the floor, Alan flipped himself upside down, hands walking a few steps as he gained his balance. Ever so carefully, he scissored his legs in midair and brought his body into an inverted version of the splits.

“Okay, not bad. I give you a six out of ten. Now get down before you break yourself. That gravity thing is in play.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

Alan brought his legs back to the vertical and bent his knees. His arms were trembling.

Not to be deterred, he bent his elbows lowering his body closer to the floor.

“And the crowd goes wild as Alan Tracy prepares to fall in a heap.”

“This is not as easy as it looks.”

“Sure.”

“You do it then.”

A laugh, somewhere from above Alan’s feet. “Okay, challenge accepted.”

Off to Alan’s right, Gordon inverted himself with a quick flip, scissored his legs into a split and followed it up with some vertical pushups. “See, easy peasy.”

Most of the blood that used to be in Alan’s body was now in his head and his arms were shaking even more. “You do that curly body thing.”

“It’s a gymnastics move, Al. You just need some decent control of...” And Gordon curled his body in an approximation of what Virgil had gracefully performed earlier. Unfortunately, he apparently did not have the full balance required because a single yelp and Alan found his legs tangled with his brothers and they were both falling.

The comms room floor was made of hardwood. Very hard wood.

“Ow, what did you do that for!” Alan rubbed his head.

“I just overbalanced. I can do it.”

“Sure. I’ll believe that because I have a concussion!”

“Watch.” And Gordon attempted it again. This time Alan was smart enough to be out of range when the wooden floor hit his brother.

“C’mon, it has got to be easy.”

“Apparently not.”

“Shut up, Alan.”

The floor smacked Gordon again.

“Perhaps you should ask Virgil before you put yourself in the hospital.”

Gordon sat on the floor frowning. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps our big brother is smarter than he appears.” An electronic beep echoed through the room. “Oh, we have our first comment!”

Gordon grabbed the phone off his Dad’s desk and eagerly pulled up the feed. “‘Totally gorgeous, I want me some of him.’” He cackled. “See I told you.”

The phone beeped again.

“Another one.” Gordon frowned. “‘What a couple of idiots, such a laugh’?” His brother stabbed at the phone. “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

Gordon turned the phone around and Alan was confronted with a looping gif of himself and Gordon falling in a heap attempting exactly the same manoeuvre as their brother in the video above.

The phone pinged again.

“‘Total idiots.’” Gordon’s eyes widened and he looked over at stairs to the kitchen. Alan followed his gaze to find Kayo striding towards them.

“Yes, I think you are. When Virgil finds out, you will likely need to avoid those biceps you appear to be so obsessed with. Consider your sacrifice an attempt to mollify the bear that will be hunting you.”

Kayo had scary eyes and they were pinning both of them.

“Gordon did it.” If his voice squeaked, he wasn’t owning up to it.

The eyes returned to him and strung him up by his underwear.

“Hey!” Gordon knew how to feign innocence, he just hadn’t worked out that everyone knew he’d lost his about twenty years ago...which was remarkable since the aquanaut was only nineteen.

Kayo’s voice was as cool and precise as always. “Gordon always does it, yet, you, Alan always seem to land in the thick of it.”

“He’s a bad influence?”

This time Gordon didn’t protest, he actually smiled smugly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

Kayo rolled her eyes. “I advise you to disappear for a few days.”

“Uh, yeah, we can do that.” This time Gordon’s grin was a guilty one.

Alan and Gordon did make themselves scarce, but the incident proved to be quite interesting since Virgil’s video was shared over thirty thousand times.

Alan and Gordon landing on their asses in a looping gif passed the million share mark lunchtime the next day.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #Virgil Tracy #kayo kyrano #nuttyfic reblog

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sukunasfourtheye · 3 years

Note

Part 3 as promised 💦

TW: it’s boutta get rough and dirtyyyy

“So where do the cheerleaders usually exits from” Levi’s voice came out sounding bored as fuck, not indicating that he currently had all of his blood rushing to his cock, but Hange knew by the question alone what he had in mind. “It’s hard to say, maybe I know but I possibly could be wrong and that’d be soooo unfortunate wouldn’t it be?” Tch. Levi couldn’t stand Hange’s games but he wasn’t about to let them ruin this for him “Hange.” His voice came out cold and dead, letting them know that he was my in the mood to be toyed with. “You know, I think I just totally remember that they exit through the center and right under the bleachers because thats where the players parking is.” The words tumbled out from their mouth at a rushed pace, attempting to avoid any repercussions from their past response. “Ah see, you’re so good when you want to be.” Levi crooned as he yanked their ponytail so hard their head lay on his shoulder. He glanced over as he felt eyes boring down on him. The corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to avoid smirking at the dumb look on your face. Your eyes wide as you watched how aggressive he was with ‘his partner.’ You noticed he caught you staring and the red on your cheeks about drove him mad with hunger for you.

As the game concluded with a victory, fans erupted in cheers. You and the other cheerleaders raised your Pom Poms in the air, shaking them as you ran through the gate and into the center of the bleachers to run through into the parking lot. You followed in the same line as before, which placed you behind the whole team, making it easy for them not to notice as one hand grabbed you and pulled you so close to the body it was attached to that you could feel their breath as another hand clasped over your mouth. “It’s not polite to stare.” That voice was making pools in your panties as you knew that there was only one man you’d been staring at that night. You cheeks flushed crimson as his grip around your mouth and he pushed you into the brick wall that lay underneath the massive bleachers. Everyone from the game was filtering out the front so in the shadowy corner where you were, no one had noticed what was going. With one hand pinned above your head, you had subconsciously placed your other hand lightly on his chest to feign keeping him at a slight distance from you. His hot breath fanned your face, a hint of mint and something almost herbal hits your nose as he let out a deep chuckle looking at your hand “tch, I sure hope you know that this won’t stop me, but you can use your words if you really don’t. Although, the way you were looking at me wasn’t very polite so you at least should tell me what thoughts were running through you head while you stared at me.” The tips of your ears felt hot and you were certain your cheeks had discovered a new shade of red as you turn away from his intense stare, pressing your legs together as your thoughts from readier flashed across your mind. “Are you going to tell me?” You shook your head no vigorously as you kept your head turned away from him, eyes shut tightly to avoid seeing your own embarrassment. Levi grabbed your chin tightly with his thumb and index finger firmly moving your jaw to face him, your eyes opening wide with shock as he did so. “Are you going to stop me?” Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes widened at his words, but the wetness in your legs told you there was no way in hell you’d stop this man no matter what he wanted to do to you. You shook your head no slowly this time as his grip was still tight around your jaw and you didn’t want him to let go just yet, his eyes burning with lust as you indicated that he could have his way with you.

🍃- part 4?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

I’M SORRY I - I- I - I- *brain short circuits*

Commentary under the cut bc it’s so long because I’m absolutely OBSESSED PLEASE PART 4 I’m BEGGING

HOLY FUCKING SHIT 🍃 anon WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS BLESSING?????? You are a fucking GEM this is absolutely DELICIOUS…I am ACTUALLY turned on right now. YOU TURNED ME ON THATS HOW GOOD THIS IS..YOU HAVE SUCH A FUCKING TALENT FOR WRITING?!?!

Oh my god oh my god oh my god so many things I have to say about how amazing this is:

1) They/them pronouns do hange >>>

2) YOU WROTE LEVI SO WELL HERE YOU WRITE HIM BETTER THAN I EVER COULD UGH…..the way he’s SO FUCKING nonchalant and low key threatening meanwhile he’s about to lose his shit is sooooo sexy and SO IN CHARACTER. I hear him saying every piece of dialogue in my head bc it’s just so believable he would say those things. The way he was like “where do the cheerleaders get out” so disinterested by he actually really was rabid behind it all.

3) “it’s not polite to stare” I SCREAMEDDDDDDDD

4) “Are you going to tell me?” / “Are you going to stop me?” BRUH. When I tell you. In all seriousness. My legs got WEAK OH MY GOD. My 🐱 literally jumped this is SO SEXY and threatening and I can imagine him so clearly pinning me down and being like “are you going to stop me?” Like WOW what a sexy fucking thing to say to someone IM SCREAMIG

5) this is such a sexy fucking set up for smut like you cut this part off RIGHT when it was about to get juicy you got me foaming at the MOUTH

6) I love you

7) I wanna follow your blog if you have a smut account but I get if you wanna stay anon but omg I love you

#lord have mercy this one is doing so many things to my insides you have no idea #I’m going to be having some FUN thoughts tonight ;)#someone please I love this so much #🍃 anon #I’m in love with you #anon #🍃#nonnie #levi smut #Levi ackerman #leviackerman #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou #captain levi smut #captain levi x reader #captain levi

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reh-sa · 4 years

Photo

A Moonlit Bath - A Captive Princess AU

TW: Mentions of forced marriage, including vague mentions of possible marital r*pe // Very vague mentions of suicide

The most desirable bachelorette in all of Vere is called Laurene.

She might be known to be a sullen princess, but as the only living child of former king Aleron, her beauty is only matched by her dowry and the man who will marry her will inherit it all. So naturally, when her uncle made his vows to her, no one was under the illusion it was out of love. He is ruling as the king de facto since, locking his niece tightly away, as he can only keep his position and wealth as long as he owns her. Laurene has been living a very secluded life since, miserably being a prisoner in her own home.

It is not until Damia, crown princess of Akielos, visits the Veretian court that Laurene realizes how truly miserable she is. Damia is so strong and free, and she walks so confidently among her lines. Laurene can do nothing but watch her from the shadows with envy.

Meanwhile, Damia is surprised by how little glimpses she catches of the mysterious Veretian princess. Dead-set on wanting to meet a great beauty like hers, she starts searching Arles for the hidden princess...

...but it turns out to be an arduous task. Damia is told the princess Laurene is locking herself up in her room all day, mad with grief for still not being with child, but Damia believes it is a lie. One day, she passes the doctor Paschal on his way to the princess’ chambers, delivering a fertility potion that oddly looks and smells like utterly unfertile moon tea.

“Dana,” Nikandros sighs. “I think you are reading too much into this. Don’t take this the wrong way, but did it occur to you they might keep you away from her because you have a reputation as a wife-stealer? The king would not be the first man to find his lady in your bed. Some may take offense in that. I’d like to remind you of that incident with Kyra.”

“The bigger offense is that these lords do not know how to please their ladies,” Damia shrugs. And then, after a moment: “Who was Kyra again?”

But eventually, fortune favors Damia one starry night.

She fantasized countless times about meeting the princess on a balcony, perfumed with the scent of the night flowers welling up in the air. But it turns out Damia would encounter Laurene in a place she did not think of yet: the baths.

Since there were no lights ignited inside, Damia believed herself alone for a moment upon entering, but her eyes quickly adjust to the moonlight, drawn to the silver figure in the glowing pool. Princess Laurene is even more ethereal than the rumours, wet hair clinging to a well-balanced face, her milky body disappearing into the scented water. Droplets are dancing over her curves, more beautiful and shinier than pearls. For a moment, the image in front of Damia’s eyes is one of utter serenity. But as sweet as the Veretian princess looks, she is quick to reach for a dagger hidden inside her pool when she hears Damia approaching.

“Like what you see?” she purrs with the voice of a siren.

“Very much,” Damia answers truthfully, “though the dagger is quite worrisome. Since I heard of the case of Queen Yseult, I get nervous when I see a melancholy princess alone at night in the baths with a dagger.”

That earns her a sheepish look, and Laurene genuinely blushes.

“I…I did not want to…Queen Yseult did it because she was about to birth a bastard. I’m not with child.”

“So I have heard. And I would express my sympathies, princess, if not for the moon tea you have been drinking,” Damia says.

The dagger Laurene throws cuts through the serenity in a swift motion, faintly striking Damia’s cheek until it comes to a rest in the wall behind her.

“What do you want from me?!” Laurene snaps. “If it was just to see my tits, you have seen them now. Your goal is accomplished and you can gloriously return to your chambers. I ensure you, there is no need to spy on me further.”

“Oh no, actually…” Damia says while wiping the blood from her cheek, “I came to take a bath.”

And with that, she unbuckles the pin on her chiton, the fabric slipping to the ground and revealing her naked body all at once, muscle upon muscle. As Damia walks down the steps into the water, she faintly notices from the corner of her eye that Laurene is staring at her, until the princess seems to remember in some charming display of Veretian modesty to look away. Her blush spreads even further, and Damia cannot help the bit of amusement she is feeling at that. Without a blade in her hand, Laurene seems to be much more tame.

“Also,” Damia continues, the tension in her limbs unwinding in the warm water, “I hoped to make a friend here. I am tired of having conversations with old men all day, and I think your husband does not like me. It is good to talk to another woman for once. Can I use your soap? I’ve left mine in my chambers”. “Have it,” Laurene nags, throwing the little piece of soap at her, and quickly averting her eyes again.

Veretian soaps are wonderful, made from rich and creamy almond milk with a hint of cinnamon, and so very different from the Akielon olive soaps. Even somebody like Damia can appreciate these Veretian niceties. She starts to lather herself until she is covered in luxurious foam, and for a moment there is no sound but the soft rippling of water. Eventually, it is the Veretian princess who breaks the silence.

“I have never seen a woman as muscular as you. If you didn’t have the tits, I would almost believe it was an oxen intruding my baths. Are all Akielon women build like that?” she asks, quite brazen. Damia cannot help but to grin at her rudeness. She loves that the princess has a mouth on her.

“No...I can assure you we too have some sweet, fickle maidens. But I like the competition.”

“The competition in sports, or in conquering fickle maidens?” Laurene asks.

“Both, sometimes,” Damia smiles. “I think wrestling is wonderful. Sports, I mean. It is easy to learn but hard to master. You don’t even have to have my physique, mind you, that is merely a preference. In summer, we host tournaments with challengers from all over the world. There are even women from the warrior clans of the mountains of Vask coming. And some challengers give themselves the most pretentious nicknames, you cannot imagine. Especially the men! The celebrations go on and on for days, there are competitions at day and food and drink at night. And I haven’t even started to tell you about the Okton, where we compete with different weapons on horseback-”

“Are you good with weapons? What kind of horses?” Laurene blurts. She likes to hear stories from the world outside, Damia thinks to herself.

“I shall explain it to you. But tell me first, princess, why is it you never seem to see the daylight? You would think a man with a wife looking like that would parade her through the city as if she was an expensive steed. No offense. Yet, I did not see you at the banquet, nor in the gardens or at the dance. Why is that?”

“Maybe I am simply not fond of company, princess Damia,” Laurene answers in a cutting tone.

“Oh, please call me Dana.”

“I call you however it pleases me. And for that sake, I am not fond of intruders into my baths either.”

“My apologies, princess,” Damia says. “I was not aware you would bathe at such late hour. And your baths are so lovely, I wanted to see them for myself. Those patterns are simply dazzling. Yours have depictions of naked women on the walls. In the other baths I have seen, there were nothing but cocks.”

That earns her a giggle from Laurene, as much as she tries to keep her sullen facade up. The Veretian princess might look like a shy nymph, but seems to be quite naughty. Damia decides that she likes that.

She wonders if she can go one step further.

“Princess Laurene. After showing me your baths, I wondered if you would be willing to show me the markets in the city as well. I’d love to get my hands on these colorful Veretian sweets you make from syrup and rosewater. How about tomorrow? You could dress up as a peasant girl and sneak out. Nobody will notice.”

“Lovely. Like in a fairytale,” Laurene says. “If I could overcome the minor inconvenience of not being able to leave the palace by dressing up as a peasant girl, I would use it to flee the country, not to buy candy on a market.”

That has Damia alerted.

“So much for the dislike of company. You are even willing to flee your own country?” she asks. “You can get a divorce, you know. I believe nobody likes being married to their own uncle, especially one that never lets you outside, and I don’t see the political gain for you either. So what is with that match?”

Laurene sighs. “If I didn’t know my uncle hated women so much, especially those in power, I would believe he had sent you to spy on me. But I am inclined to believe you are here out of your own free will and your raging pheromones, so I’m telling you. Yes, I could get a divorce, but there is one problem. The Veretians fear nothing as great as bastardy. If I happened to be with child at the time of the divorce, the curse still applies. I need to proof to the court I am not pregnant by being physically and geographically distant from him for…”

“...nine months?”

“Exactly. You are learning the Veretian customs fast. He knows this of course, which is why he is locking me up. Silly, isn’t it? I need to stay miles and miles away from my lord husband before they believe me I am not pregnant, as if breathing the very same air as a man’s could leave me with child. And as long as the gods and the moon tea do not fail me, that shall not happen,” Laurene explains bitterly.

“That is terrible,” Damia replies in all honesty.

“Don’t look so sad. I had a brother once, and he was very brave. I am brave, too. And I know there will be an opening for me, one day. If a foreign princess can stroll into my baths just like that, I shall be able to do the same but in reverse.” And then, in a whisper: “I’ve been even studying the sword.”

“You have?”, Damia hums, smiling at the thought of the princess strapped in a Veretian breastplate. Laurene nods, so proud that she is not able to suppress a smile herself, soft crimson coloring her cheeks. It was very charming.

“But it is difficult. There is a man from my Princess’ Guard I’ve been seeing- ...oh, don’t make that face, not like that. He teaches me. But I can only meet him in secret, since I must not be with a man alone and there is no woman here to teach me. I’ve wondered…” Laurene says, abruptly breaking off.

When she doesn’t continue speaking, Damia asks: “You’ve wondered?”

“Ah-...No, it’s nothing,” she blurts.

Suddenly, Laurene rises, water dripping from her golden hair, a view that is dazzling Damia once again.

“I’m sorry, but I have to retreat to my chambers now. I’ve been here for so long, they will wonder where I’ve been,” the princess says.

Damia simply nods, watching as Laurene emerges from the water and towels herself down in a very practical way, without a hint of sensuality. Just as she was about to leave through the door, she turns one last time.

“Dana,” Laurene says, a little shy, and Damia is dizzily struck by an emotion she cannot quite identify upon hearing her nickname from Laurene’s lips.

“You were right. It was pleasant to talk to another woman for once.” And then, a little hesitant: “I like to take baths at midnight. Goodnight.”

Damia nods, smiling at the hint.

“Goodnight, princess. Sleep well.”

And with that, the ornamental doors close and Damia is left alone in the pool.

She closes her eyes and lets herself float freely in the water, the moonlight casting patterns on her body. The baths feel so vast and empty suddenly, as if the princess herself was the one whose presence had lightened them up. Now, she was nothing but a faint dream. But Damia will meet her again at the next moon. She had said so.

In the silence of the night, a memory surfaced to her mind of what Nikandros had said earlier to her.

She was not called Damia wife-stealer for no reason.

#captive prince #laurianos #damen #laurent #captive princess #fanart #digital #art #hello I am alive and gay #if you are asking why the water is glowing in the 2nd pic #it is clearly from love #I'm not a good writer but by the gods I tried my best #the pancake wife steelestingray corrected my shitty English

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For the prompt fill, number 3 for Indruck seems pretty fitting!

Here you go! Prompt 3 was “sweet” , Indrid’s design is based on a barracuda and I went with SFW on this one.

“Duck, can you do me a favor when you lock up?” Leo dumps orange taffy into a glass jar.

“Sure, what d’you need?”

“Got some locks for the garbage cans; put ‘em on after you set the alarm out back. Somethin’s been getting into our trash every damn night for the last week. It makes a god-awful mess and I’m worried we’re gonna get a fine for littering.”

Duck nods, turns his attention back to the flock of tourists approaching the window. The afternoon is swallowed up in a pit of sugar-sticky air and blasts of welcome cold from the freezer. There are worse places for a summer job than Tarkesian’s Sweets--he’s right by the water, can watch the wildlife on his lunch break, and Leo is low-maintenance boss--but after eight hours on his feet getting splashed with soda or burned on the popcorn machine, he’s ready to head home. The trash locks have other ideas.

It takes ten minutes of cursing and fumbling to get the first bin secured. He doesn’t even know how the damn things are getting overturned; they seem too heavy for a raccoon or seagull to knock to the ground.

A tiny splash behind him, probably a fish jumping.

Then a crooked, shiny pole slowly enters his periphery. In dim yellow of the streetlight, he can tell the end of it is curved. It pokes inelegantly at the wall, then the locked can, then the wall once again, and then Duck’s leg.

The hook pulls back, pauses, then pokes him again.

“The fuck?” He grabs it when it goes for another jab, pulls up only for his arms to be wrenched towards the water. Not to be outdone, he tugs harder. His opponent retaliates with enough force that he almost tumbles off the pier. He growls, braces his foot on the railing, and hauls the hook and its owner up onto worn wood with him.

It’s a guy about his age, angular face framed by a mess of silver hair and pierced ears. Figures it’s some sort of artsy punk swimming around poking people in the leg. That explains why he’s shirtless too.

It does not, however, explain why he has a tail.

“Rude.” The guy sits up on his hands, silver and black tail flicking droplets of saltwater everywhere, “I don’t go around stopping you from eating.”

“Look man, I just wanted you to stop jabbin me and knockin the trash over.” Maybe if he doesn’t mention the tail it will go away.

“How else am I supposed to get at those odd, pulpy tubs full of ‘cookies and cream’ or ‘bubblegum’?”

“The fuck--wait, you were tryin’ to get the ice cream containers out of the trash?”

“Yes? I also want more of the caramel apples” he pronounces the last word “applees” causing Duck to giggle in spite of himself.

“Look, I have to piece words together from the signs on your store. And you obviously know what I meant or you would not be laughing, so do you have any in the cans or not?”

“Nope” Duck gets his laughter under control, “sold out of caramel apples today.”

“Drat” the visitor starts scooting across the pier towards the unlocked trashcan, “I’ll see what else I can find.”

“Wait don’t fuckin knock that over, Leo’ll be pissed at me if he comes back to a mess, and I don’t feel like pickin up trash because you want a snack!”

“But I’m starving!” The merman, because at this point there’s no way he can deny that’s what’s been rooting through the garbage, whacks at Duck with his tail.

“I know for a damn fact there’s food down there.” He points at the bay.

“Only if you can catch it, and only if it is not in another mer’s territory. Which much of this area is; I am new here, young, and thus have no claim to any patch of sea.”

“You ain’t got any family?” Something pings in his chest. It’s the part of his heart that made him pick out the runt of litter when his mom let him get a cat on his thirteenth birthday, that means he always splits his lunch with Juno because she’s running track and needs it more than he does, that makes him tear up when he thinks about everything a sapling has to survive to become a tree.

“Merfolk leave home at sixteen.” The merman shrugs.

Duck sighs, grabbing his keys, “If I bring you somethin to eat, will you leave the trash alone?”

“Yes.”

He shuts off the alarm, grabs a cone and fills it with bright blue ice cream. The merman is back in the water when he returns, arms resting on the pier.

“Oooh, my favorite!” He takes the ice cream, biting huge chunks out of it as Duck re-arms the door.

Crunch

“...The container is edible!!”

He sits next to the merman’s arms, “Guess you wouldn’t have had an ice cream cone before, huh.”

“No, but it is lovely. I wish humans threw these away more often.” He polishes off the treat, licks his fingers clean with moans Duck hears in his dreams later, and smiles, “thank you for the meal. Goodnight.”

There’s a final flash of silvery tail, and then Duck’s alone in the breezy night air.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“That’s a sandwich, correct?”

“AHfuck” Duck knocks over his water bottle in surprise. He’s eating behind the candy store like usual and not expecting an aquatic dining companion.

“Apologies. I have seen you eating here before and thought you may like some company.” He sets a sea urchin on the ground and proceeds to bang on it with a rock.

“Found some lunch?”

“I followed some otters; I was mainly trying to draw them, but they led me to a kelp bed no one else was in.”

“...Wait how do you draw underwater?”

“Let me finish cracking this open and I will show you.”

Duck spends the rest of his lunch break on his belly, the merman showing him a sketchbook and enchanted pen that conjures whatever colors the illustrator envisions. The mer is genuinely excited to talk to him. He assumes the nuzzling is due to him smelling like cotton candy; he doesn’t mind, the mer’s skin is cool and he makes cute little noises whenever he touches Duck.

Before the stands, Duck asks, “You got a name?”

“Indrid.”

“Duck.”

Indrid’s eyes flick to the nearby estuary.

“Yeah, like the bird. It’s a nickname.”

“I like it.” Indrid smiles, dives, and flaps his tail once in farewell.

------------------------------------------------------

“Cutting school again?” Indrid’s voice bubbles up by his feet.

“Yep.” Duck watches the spring clouds roll by from his favorite spot on the beach. It’s secluded and far from town, meaning no one will give him shit for skipping class and nobody will see Indrid.

He worked at Leo’s until this past summer, only quitting at the start of his senior year of high school when Indrid pointed out that much of Kepler was surrounded by water and that, if Duck wanted to see him, he did not have to keep working at the candy store in order to do so.

“Not that I mind the free food.” Indrid winks.

“Just gonna bring you bulk ice cream from Safeway; no way am I missin out on that chirpin you do when you eat it.”

Duck slides the grocery bag towards the surf, “not like KCC is gonna rescind my offer. Ain’t a fuckin Ivy League or some shit.”

“And you will be happy there?”

“Yeah. They got a decent work-study program with the park, so I can still get a job as a ranger if I want to.”

“Oh. Good.”

Indrid sounds sad, and Duck sits up on his elbows. His friend’s torso is fully on land, his tail fidgeting in the foam.

“What’s up?

“I...Barclay told me his human is going to a school further inland, and I know there are many places you could got to learn. You...you did not choose to stay in Kepler because you feel the need to look after me, did you?”

“Course not.” Duck is sitting up now, aching to stroke Indrid’s hair, “I mean, I’m glad we’re still gonna be able to see each other, and I really hopin I can get a room near the beach so it’s easy to come talk. But this is the right choice for me; if I really want to, I can transfer to a different school in a few years, and I can learn a lot here without takin on a shit-ton of debt. Besides, ain’t like I think you’re helpless; I love bringin you stuff and rubbin your fin when it’s sore, but that’s because you’re my friend. Don’t think you’re helpless. I never have.”

“Not even when I was stealing trash?”

“Thought you were a fuckin nuisance, not helpless.” He playfully nudges his shoulder with his toes.

Indrid turns his head and nips his calf, “How’s that for a nuisance?”

“Not much, felt kinda nice. Uh, I mean, uh, fuck, so, where’d that worry about my stayin come from?”

The mer crawls and wiggles until they’re shoulder to shoulder, “I think my future sight is finally developing; my fathers arrived around the time he turned eighteen, so it makes sense mine would arrive at a similar point. The trouble is, I am having a hard time telling the futures from my own imaginings and worries.”

“That fuckin sucks.”

“I’ll manage. All seers struggle at the beginning. I just wish I was quicker at learning whether certain timelines are really more likely or if they are just ones that I want to be likely.”

“Like what?”

Indrid glances at him, opens his mouth, then shuts it and faces the sea.

Duck smirks, “‘Drid, there somethin you wanna ask me?”

“No. Yes. Maybe? I, I just don’t want to pressure youOOOHhhh that’s not fair” he flops on his back with a groan as Duck scritches his upper tail, “you know I’ll do anything when you touch me like this.”

“Damn right I do. And what I want is for you to tell me the truth.”

Indrid whines, covers his face with his hands.

“Do it or I’ll stop.”

“Rude” Indrid lowers his hands enough that his red eyes peer over the top, “is that any way to treat a mer who wants to kiss you?”

Duck gives his answer by pouncing on his friend, pinning narrow shoulders into the sand as he devours his mouth in kisses.

“You like that treatment better?”

“Goodness, yes.” Indrid pulls him back down, slipping his tongue between his lips and nibbling his neck when he finally stops to breathe. Then his hand flails sideways, grabbing the plastic bag and chucking it further up the beach.

“The, the tide is coming in and I, ah, foresee us working up quite the appetite.” He tugs Duck’s collar down with his teeth, nuzzling and licking across his skin with little hums of pleasure, “so I want to save those for afterwards. Who knows” he grins, “maybe we’ll need energy for round two as well.”

Duck cups his cheek, inhales the scent of the sea and the sight of his future, “I like the way you think, sweet thing.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay fills

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