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wheatnoodle · 10 months

Text

i love you, evangeline

og post | p1 | p2 | p3 | p4 | p5

~🌷🌻~

“so,” dustin says around a mouthful of french toast that has him spewing crumbs everywhere, “can i ask about…y’know…you becoming…you?”

“yeah, sure. ask away. we didn’t do secrets before this,” evie freezes briefly as she grabs a napkin to give him. her face cringes slightly. “sorry about that, by the way.”

dustin flaps the napkin to wave her worry off. “dude, you could literally get killed if you tell the wrong person.”

“way to remind us,” robin rolls her eyes over her coffee mug.

“anyways!” evie cuts in with a clap of her hands. “your questions?”

“oh! right. i wrote them down,” dustin says and pulls out his phone to open his notes.

“he wrote them down,” robin repeats sarcastically under her breath, earning a snort from evie and a glare from dustin that has her raising her hands in surrender.

dustin takes a sip of his orange juice and clears his throat. “okay. did you know before you left hawkins? how did you figure it out?”

“yeah, i knew before i left. i think right around when the whole…vecna thing happened was when i really understood what was up,” evie nods thoughtfully, “like, i always felt…different? or just lost, i guess. and then with starting to find words to put to my feelings, like transgender and dysphoria, it started to feel like maybe i wasn’t so weird. robin and i went shopping and tried on like skirts and stuff and that was wild. and then i started thinking about all the girls i had dated and what that meant, and honestly, i think i wanted to be them rather than be with them.”

“so if you didn’t want to be with them, are you gay? or…i guess straight? like you like dudes?” dustin asks, his brows drawn as he listens.

“y’know, i haven’t really thought too much about it but…yeah,” she shrugs. “i guess i’d say i’m straight since i like men.”

“cool,” he nods with a smile. “damn, so even as a girl, you and robin still won’t date.”

“oh dude, i was struggling helping her out with everything after her boob job. i swear, i was no better than a man,” robin says across the table.

“she wore an ace bandage as a blind fold,” evie laughs, tossing her head back. dustin giggles as he watches robin pick up the newspaper to smack evie with, her cheeks bright red.

“is it only robin and now me who knows?” he continues along with his questioning.

“you two and my dad’s secretary since he didn’t feel like answering the phone. she congratulated me, by the way,” evie smirks at the end. just picturing her dad’s face if he were to hear the news. the rage, the steam coming from his ears. screams that could be heard blocks away as he throws another lamp. and his loyal secretary of 8 years has already congratulated his daughter and told her how happy she is for her. robin high fives her every time she gets to mention it.

“damn! i cant imagine how much that took for you to cal him. nice work,” dustin smiles proudly. “would you ever want to tell more people from hawkins?”

she’s silent for a minute. it’s something she didn’t think she’d ever consider doing. and yet, she can’t outright say no.

“i think so. someday. i hope.”

“i could…ease them into the idea so it’s less of a shock? just like…gauge where everyone’s head is at in regards to transgender individuals, give you two updates, see where to go from there?” dustin suggests with a shrug. robin’s brows raise under bangs. now that’s an idea she hasn’t had yet.

“that sounds…good,” evie nods confidently after a second, a new smile blooming on her face. robin cheers from her seat and throws her arms in the air. “just be subtle! don’t walk in all ‘hey guys, how do you feel about hypermasculine jocks from small towns turning into women who wanna be barbie?’.”

“oh no, you stole my plan word for word,” dustin rolls his eyes. “no shit i’ll be subtle. it’s a shame a side effect of estrogen isn’t intelligence.”

“don’t forget i’m hosting you,” evie warns with a pointed finger.

“yes, mom,” he sighs heavily, “okay, you can stop me if this is too far. you said you got your boobs done, did you get…like…the surgery? like the surgery?”

“not too far, honestly. yeah, i got it about…a year ago, actually! ahh happy birthday to me!” evie claps excitedly.

“does it work?”

“DUSTIN!”

“i just don’t get why he hasn’t said anything. he said he would update us what she’s like, i mean c’mon, he’s the first one invited over! the first one allowed over! he promised to text when he got there, what if something happened? did everyone die? him and robin are silent! nobody answers their texts!”

“eddie! will you please just stop? dustin is fine and i am sure he isn’t wooing your fairy princess, love of your life, big stupid crush, ms evangeline,” gareth groans. he’s laying upside down on the couch in his and eddie’s apartment, curls dangling to the ground. it’s been forever of listening to eddie gush about robin’s roommate and now it’s just even worse with dustin staying with them. the least eddie could do is stop pacing in front of him, he’s making him motion sick watching his legs go back and forth.

finally, eddie flips down next to him with a heavy sigh. he takes a long swig of his beer, effectively draining half of it down his throat, before just staring at the ceiling.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. you’re right. everything’s fine. plus, it’d be pretty fucked of him to go flirt with her when i called dibs.”

“you can’t dibs a woman-“

“yeah, yeah, shut up.” eddie lightly kicks at gareth’s shoulder. he sighs again, his finger fiddling with the wrapper on his beer bottle. “…do you think he’s mentioned me?”

“that’s it, i need a knife.”

~🌷🌻~

taggie waggies:

@lololol-1234 @xo-r4e @paintsplatteredandimperfect @homohomohoe @charlies-candid-corner @tartarusfairy @howincrediblysapphicofyou @steddie-as-they-go @bestwifehaver @sexymothmanincarnate @zoeweee @romanticdestruction @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @breadboi66 @shadowofaliar @mollymawkwrites @lofaewrites @estrellami-1 @ronance-is-my-wife @afewproblems @heartsong18 @discount-izukumidoriya @mightbeasleep @bookbinderbitch @justforthedead89 @onehandedbitch @anxiouseds @sunfloweringstories @cyranyx @thegingerrapunzel @hequet @herebedragons404 @magpiemuseum @scheodingers-muppet @the-ghost-in-your-curtains @background-noise-headache @steddieloverrr @punctualhowell @musical-theatre-gay @its-a-me-a-morgan @chronically-stupid-human @stevesbipanic @says-swag-unironically

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serregon · 1 year

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what your favorite Tolkien ship says about you

Sam/Frodo - looking back on your childhood, you can pinpoint Lord of the Rings as the beginning of your crippling addiction to soft gay cottagecore

Aragorn/Legolas - you still have that poster of Orlando Bloom from a tiger beat magazine that you taped to your bedroom wall when you were 10

Legolas/Gimli - you are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of height differences

Aragorn/Boromir - you are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of dying tragically, like if you cry every time

Aragorn/Arwen - your ideal date involves being carried off into the sunset by a buff man who drinks nothing but respect women juice

Eowyn/Faramir - you spend your days panhandling outside Peter Jackson’s house for footage of the deleted wedding scene

Eowyn/Merry - you saw Eowyn stabbing the witch king and you were like, “god I wish that were me”

Arwen/Eowyn - your ideal relationship dynamic is just girls being friends, gals being pals

Elrond/Celebrian - you just want good things for Elrond, and really, who wouldn’t?

Galadriel/Celeborn - you were thrilled when “Barbie is everything, he’s just Ken” became the hot new meme

Sam/Rosie - you are heterosexual

Galadriel/Sauron - you are extremely heterosexual

Bilbo/Thorin - you have written at least one fix-it fic where Thorin and Bilbo raise baby Frodo together

Thranduil/Bard - you’re just here for the dilfs

Thranduil/Thorin - your ideal relationship dynamic is that one meme that’s like “fuck you” “fuck me yourself, you coward”

Melkor/Sauron - your addiction to edgy boys got so bad that one day you were like “hey you know what’s better than one edgy boy? two edgy boys”

Maedhros/Fingon - you have a thirty page google doc citing HoME quotes that you incest—I mean insist—are proof that Maedhros and Fingon are Gil-galad’s true parents

Fëanor/Nerdanel - you have gotten into at least three heated internet arguments with people who think Fëanor is a fascist

Celebrimbor/Annatar - your ideal date involves getting pinned up against the wall by your sworn enemy as they place the tip of their sword just underneath your chin and then use it to tilt your head up a little

Celebrimbor/Narvi - half of you are coming here from shipping gimleaf, half of you just want Annatar to get eiffel towered

Túrin/Beleg - you are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of the “I’ll cut your throat” “you’re beautiful” scene from Princess Mononoke

Haleth/Caranthir - you’re always a slut for MEN! GETTING! PEGGED!

Glorfindel/Ecthelion - your ideal relationship dynamic is verified himbo, certified morosexual

Maglor/Daeron - you are a film believer in the inherent eroticism of dramatic breakup songs

Beren/Lúthien - you are J. R. R. Tolkien

#insp by eldena doublecast #silm memes #lotr memes #silmarillion #lotr

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suzy-queued · 7 months

Text

A Gallavich tale, told 100 words at a time.

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

A man jumped into the back seat of Ian’s car.

“You a driver?” Dark hair, one small piece of luggage.

“Yeah, only if you’re registered on the app.”

“Screw the app. Take me to Nashville.”

Ian choked on his Gatorade. “That’s eight hours from here.”

“So?”

“You gotta plan these things out. Get matched with the right driver.”

“It’s not like I knew that my fucking boyfriend was gonna run off to fucking Yee-Haw Land to elope with my sworn enemy.”

Ian checked the rearview and saw pain behind those angry blue eyes. He switched his app status to OCCUPIED.

---

Ian took the entrance ramp onto I-90. They should arrive in Nashville around … oh, 3:37 AM.

“I have an emergency kit.” Ian nodded with his chin. “Under the seat. A few comforts in case you need ’em.”

The passenger shuffled through the insulated bag. “Boxed juice. Granola bars. Fucking gummy bears, man? This is childhood stuff. You got any Jack Daniels?”

Ian felt a spark of disobedience. “I’ve got a few joints in the glove box.” This was definitely off-book behavior, but it felt right. “They come with a price.”

“What’s that, Jeeves?”

“You’ve gotta tell me your whole story.”

---

The dark-haired passenger scoffed. “You don’t look like you’ve got the stomach to get caught up on my bullshit.”

“Try me.”

“Whatever. Fuckin’ sadist.” He settled into his seat. “You ain’t wearing a wire, right?”

“Not today.”

“All right, so, you ever heard of Berry Buds?”

“Those stuffed animals in the shape of fruit? Don’t people use those to smuggle coke?”

The guy raised an eyebrow. “You too delicate to hear about crime, pumpkin? There’s murder, too. Betrayal. And a pair of pink flamingos.”

“Wait, back up. You forgot the most important part. What’s your name?”

The passenger only smiled.

---

Man, this passenger could talk. Ian heard an hour’s worth of Milkovich family crimes.

Milkovich.

Ian didn’t know the guy’s first name. Only how passionate he was, the excitement in his voice.

“So Iggy launched the box of M-80s into the river, right, and this long-legged yahoo waltzes up.” Milkovich paused. “Wait, did you just yawn? If it’s such a chore to listen, I can fuckin’ stop.”

Ian made eye contact in the rearview mirror. “I was promised murder. A boyfriend.”

Milkovich slunk in his seat. “Keith.” All his passion faded to pain. “Yeah … guess I can talk about him.”

---

“Keith is …” Milkovich seeped with defeat and anger. “He’s the first person who saw me as more than a thug. We met at the liquor store. Been together seventeen months. I thought we were long-term, you know? Then he starts spending time at clubs. Digging into the scene. I don’t give a fuck if he does coke to let off steam. But he keeps getting it from the same guy. Real tall motherfucker. White-blond hair. Wears sweater vests.”

“Northside prick.”

“Oh, you know this guy?”

Ian had seen plenty of club action. He hardened in solidarity. “I know the type.”

---

“Anyways, that’s how I realized my piece-of-shit boyfriend is marrying fancy-pants Logan Covington, the motherfucker who snipes our business and has led the biggest anti-Milkovich smear campaign this side of Michigan.” The passenger let out a sigh. He slowed for the first time in an hour. “Shoulda known by that haircut. He came home looking like a walking Ken doll.”

“So, wait.” Ian sorted through the complicated story threads. “Are you going to kill your boyfriend?”

“No, man, keep up. I want to get him back.” He leaned forward, laying his hand on Ian’s shoulder. “And you’re gonna help me.”

---

Ian scoffed. “Don’t rope me into your drama.”

“Come on, man. We show up at the chapel, tell Keith I’m dating you now, let the jealousy unfold.”

Unbelievable. Ian shouldn’t even consider the offer. He had a ton to do this weekend. But Milkovich was obviously hurting.

Ian scratched his chin. “And I’d be on the clock the whole time?”

“What, you scared to do it? You a homophobe or something?”

“I’m gay.”

Milkovich stared, hard. He looked Ian up and down. “You never mentioned that.” He gave a coy smirk.

Ian felt a shot of electricity. “You never asked.”

---

The Silver Diner in Lafayette, Indiana bustled with activity.

Milkovich talked over the sizzling grill. “Still don’t know why we stopped here.”

“Can’t think on an empty stomach.” Ian flagged the waitress.

Jolene smiled, leaned into the booth. “Order’s coming right up, sugarpot.” She touched Ian’s arm as she left.

Milkovich frowned. “That shit happen to you a lot?”

“What?”

“Chicks waving their boobs in your face.”

“I don’t really notice.” But Milkovich noticed. Interesting.

“It’s good, actually. We can use it in our plan. People find you attractive.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t say me.”

---

Milkovich rolled a coin across the diner table. “You see that? Table's tilted by a degree-and-a-half. Cheap off-balance pedestal leg. I’d have used a trestle instead.”

Huh. This guy’s shoulders relaxed when he talked about normal stuff.

“The key with builds like this…” The guy was smart. Layered. Funny. And his eyes twinkled when he geeked out about construction, apparently.

Ian was finding new ways to be awed each minute.

“…at least shim the motherfucker because…”

Ian interrupted. “I’m in.”

“Huh?”

“Your plan? I guess can pretend to like you.”

Ian’s stomach swooped. Pretend might not be the right word.

---

“Seriously, you’ll do it?” Milkovich raised an eyebrow. “Okay, lay it on me. Tell me everything about you.”

Ian enjoyed sharing his details. “I’m one of six kids. Two sisters, three brothers. Wait, you’re not writing this down? You’re gonna memorize all this shit?”

The guy leaned forward, intense, piercing. He traced his finger around Ian’s wrist. “We’re chained now. I’ll remember everything about you.”

This was absurd, but the guy seemed dead serious.

Ian felt goosebumps. He took charge and matched the guy’s intensity. “Then tell me your first name.”

A quick tongue flick. The guy nodded. “It’s Mickey.”

---

Turns out, scheming and joking with Mickey was easier than breathing. Ian drummed on the table. “Okay, how’d we meet? I gave you a ride somewhere?”

“And then I rode you.” Mickey laughed. “Simple enough. How about second date?”

Ian’s inner romantic spun into action. “A rooftop picnic. You brought snacks and whiskey.”

“Hm. Doesn’t sound like me.”

“I brought a tire iron and gun because I didn’t trust you.”

Mickey smirked, like these lies were becoming reality in his head. “Wise man.”

Ian swelled. His weekend suddenly had purpose. He’d be the best fake boyfriend in the goddamn world.

---

They hit the john before they got back on the road. Pissed in outdated urinals, washed their hands.

Ian watched Mickey closely. Every turn, every strut, every smirk. That’s how he noticed that Mickey flinched when the hand dryer shot to life.

“Mickey Milkovich.” Ian laughed. “You can dump a mob boss in the Chicago River but you’re afraid of a little hot air?”

“It’s fucking startling.”

Mickey paused in the doorway. Tilted his head. Looked up at Ian. “Keith … he never noticed that about me.”

Ian elbowed him, defusing his sadness. “I’m going to learn all your secrets, boyfriend.”

---

Around midnight, the rhythm of repeating street lights on Interstate 65 lulled Ian toward sleep.

“Can I ask you a question?” Mickey looked damn relaxed, too. Seat leaned back. Legs stretched out. Talking in a low voice. “Let’s say I blew this.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Say I end up alone. Do I deserve that?”

Ian could certainly judge. He’d heard about Mickey’s crimes, his family, his dating history.

He wanted to hold Mickey’s hand. He wanted to find the right words to remedy this hurt.

“Mickey, you are the most –”

A bang. A crash. Ian’s face smashed into the airbag.

---

Ian took inventory. He was conscious. Neck pain. Bleeding nose.

He scrambled to unfasten his seatbelt. To wave away the airbag dust.

He pawed at Mickey’s leg, arm, chest. “Are you okay?”

“I’m scraped up.” Mickey coughed. “What happened?”

“Someone clipped our bumper. We spun out. Hit the guardrail. I was out of control.”

“Why are you pulling on my eye?”

Ian lowered his hand. “Checking for a concussion.” He tried to steady his breath, calm his panic. “I’m sorry. I let you down.”

Mickey set his injured hand on Ian’s, offering shaky reassurance. “Better than being worm food, man.”

---

The cops had come and gone. Reality settled in. Ian’s car was undriveable. They were stranded.

Mickey’s anxiety spiked. “How the hell am I getting to the wedding now?” He paced along the shoulder, pointing at Ian. “Who drives for a fucking living and doesn’t have roadside assistance?”

Ian spoke via speakerphone to a random tow company they’d Googled. “It’s a silver Camry. Near exit 130.”

Mickey yelled into the phone. “Just look for the goddamn ring of fire lighting up I-65.”

Ian prayed for strength. “Ignore him. There’s no fire.” Unless you counted the flames rising from Mickey’s nostrils.

---

Ian talked to Mickey in the crammed cab of the tow truck. “I told you I’d get you there. I’ll think of something.”

The mechanic pulled into a repair shop. “Car can stay here. Hank opens at 7:00 tomorrow.”

Mickey exploded. “It’s not open 24 hours?”

“This is Indianapolis, not L.A.”

“How are we supposed—"

Ian held up a hand to stop him. He could feel Mickey’s desperation, his impatience and heartbreak. “Is there a hotel nearby?”

The mechanic pointed across the street. To a run-down motel called King Richard’s Royal Inn.

Mickey glared. “Well, long live the fuckin’ king.”

---

Josie at the front desk didn’t even look at her computer. “I’m sorry. It’s race week. We don’t have room for more guests.”

Mickey glared at Ian. “Come on, Gingerbread. You’re taking me to the Motel 6.”

Josie snorted. “You’ll be lucky to find a campground in this town with a vacancy.”

“Guess I’m sleeping in your fucking lobby, then.”

As if Ian didn’t feel bad enough about this situation.

A chime sounded on the computer.

“Hey, now.” Josie smiled. “We’ve just had a cancellation.” She looked between them. “It’s a single. One full-sized bed.”

Mickey didn’t hesitate. “We’ll take it.”

---

“Door’s flimsy enough to kick open.” Ian unlocked the motel room.

Mickey groaned. “No TV. No closet. They better have hot water.”

“Jesus, the bed’s small.” Ian’s neck ached. This was officially hell.

“You gonna be all right, Red? We’ve got to get used to touching each other.”

Ian grabbed him and pulled him close, roughly. “Think we’ll be able to fool Keith?”

And, damn, Mickey’s face was right fucking there, looking tired. Cranky. Kissable. “We should do it bareback in the middle of the chapel just to piss him off.”

Oof.

Ian was not going to survive this night.

---

Mickey cracked the bathroom door as he showered, fogging up the motel room.

Ian sat on the bed, still for the first time tonight. He felt warmth. Pain. Adrenaline let-down.

Mickey’s silhouette moved behind the curtain. A hint. A tease. An invitation.

What if … Ian pulled the curtain back?

He could feel those sturdy shoulders, that smooth skin. Trace his tongue along the water droplets. Grab that thick … hair.

What if Mickey dropped his guy and took Ian on? Then what?

Would Mickey get tired of him?

Desire. Curiosity. Potential. Ian’s thoughts swirled like water.

… then the shower clicked off.

---

“Jesus!” Mickey pulled the curtain back. “Damn water turned to ice.” He jumped from the shower, lunging for a towel.

And of course Ian had been staring and saw everything. Mickey’s dripping body. The toned muscles in his legs. His stomach. A quick flash of his anatomy.

Ian turned away.

“Fucking freezing, man.” Mickey’s wet feet slapped on the floor. “This is on you, Gallagher.”

Ian peeked. The towel did nothing to hide the curve of Mickey’s ass.

God, Ian had to tamp down his infatuation. Maybe cockiness would work instead. “I hear skin-to-skin contact gets you warm the fastest.”

---

Mickey huffed at Ian’s joke. “You tryin’ to see me naked?”

“It’s for science. Research.”

Mickey shrugged and reached for the knot of his towel. The world moved in slow motion now, a tattooed hand tugging white cotton.

The fabric fell away, sliding down his leg. Dark hairs matted against skin. Body with the right balance of definition and softness.

Ian’s heart beat fast. He felt it getting stronger and stronger and stronger.

He glanced up and fell into Mickey’s eyes.

One touch could overcome the silence. One touch could reveal Ian’s crush.

Mickey smiled, all confidence. “Your turn, Loverboy.”

---

In this game of chicken, Mickey was winning.

Ian gulped. It was only fair, right? Mickey needed to see his body for their boyfriend charade to work.

Ian peeled off his jeans. His t-shirt, going slow and begging all his parts to stay chill.

Mickey never broke eye contact.

Ian slid his boxers down, breathless.

“Patriot tattoo. Boobs tattoo.” Mickey nodded. “Carpet matches the drapes. Uh-huh.”

How could Mickey stay so calm when he was tearing Ian’s nerves to pieces?

Mickey stepped within touching distance. “Only one more question, hot shot.”

“What’s that?”

“How good of an actor are you?”

---

Ian held his ground. “I’m a great actor.”

“Could you kiss me right now?” Mickey’s gaze raked down Ian’s body. “Kiss me and not get hard?” Mickey spoke oh-so-slowly. “We’re together, right? So we supposedly kiss all the time. Can you control yourself?”

A song burst through the tension. A silly cartoon voice repeating, You are my cute-cumber. You are my cute-cumber.

Mickey’s eyes widened. “Fuck, my phone.”

He scrambled, but the sound went silent before he got there.

Ian laughed. “Seriously? That’s the cheesiest alert.”

“You don’t understand.” Mickey looked up with pain in his eyes. “That’s Keith’s ringtone.”

---

Keith’s call shifted Mickey's vibe from flirty to flustered.

Ian slid on his boxers and jeans. Being naked suddenly seemed wrong.

“Why the fuck was he calling?” Mickey threw the towel over his lap. “He didn’t leave a voicemail. Is he having second thoughts about the wedding? Should I call back?”

Ian had no clue how to help. “Just take a minute. Breathe.”

“My brain’s turning to mush here, Gallagher. I’m exhausted. I’m confused. We haven’t eaten in hours. And now this? Tell me what the fuck to do.”

Ian didn’t think. He yanked Mickey’s head back and kissed him.

---

The kiss was overwhelming. Tinged with panic. Wonderful. Scary. Exciting. Over too soon.

Mickey touched his own lips. “That’s good. I … needed that.”

“This trip’ll be stressful enough without you freaking out. When the anxiety ratchets up in that head of yours, I’ll take care of you, all right?”

Mickey nodded. Took a second. Smirked. “Knew you couldn’t do it.”

“What?”

“Knew you couldn’t kiss me without getting hard.”

“You’re an asshole.”

But the intensity on Mickey’s face told Ian not to push. The bright blue eyes. The absolute relief at being taken care of.

Ian let the moment simmer.

---

Ian needed to be supportive. A bodyguard. A wingman, offering safety pins and pep talks.

He pulled two joints from his pocket. “You weren’t meant to face this weekend sober.”

“Fuck, man, you always know what I need.”

“Snagged ’em from my glove box after the crash.” Ian lit up and offered one to Mickey. “I know everything seems fuckin’ hopeless, like your life is wrecked. You ain’t wrong.”

“This supposed to make me feel better?”

“The point is, it’s okay to be who you are.”

“What’s that, big guy?”

Ian threaded their fingers together. “A loser, just like me.”

---

The wee hours passed in a purple haze of weed and exhaustion.

They didn’t sleep. They lay beside each other in that tiny bed, clothes on, joking and mumbling.

They bumped elbows, knocked knees, held hands.

Ian ached for more touch. For a kiss that meant more than comfort.

Mickey’s icy blue eyes held him at bay. I can’t face that yet. Please let me hover outside of reality a little longer.

In the orange glow of sunrise, Ian gathered his nerve. He asked the question he’d been pondering all night. “You still want to go to this wedding, Milkovich?”

---

Mickey sat too far away on the motel bed. “Why wouldn’t I go? Keith is my boyfriend. We live together.”

“How’s that gonna work out once the newlyweds get home?”

“I still want to go.”

This wasn’t right, goddammit. In the movies, a kiss leads to a romantic finale, not this stubborn insistence to stay on course.

Ian grasped at one last hope. “To win Keith back?”

Mickey inched closer. He held Ian’s chin. Broke into a smile. “To show him what a big mistake he made.”

This time, the kiss was only about the two of them. Fuckin’ finally.

--- * --- * --- * --- * ---

Hey. Is this thing on?

Gallagher’s been doing an okay job telling this story, but now it’s my turn. And none of that past-tense, passive bullshit. I’ll tell you everything the moment it happens, okay?

You’re gonna witness every mile, every pit stop, every tacky decision my ex makes for this wedding. His abysmal choice in groom. Some godawful silver balloon arch. Those lime-flavored vodka Jell-o squares he loves so much.

Damn, I can’t wait to see the scowl on Keith’s face when Ian and I start playing tonsil hockey on the dance floor.

We’re gonna fuck some shit up.

---

It’s seven AM. I’m camped outside Hank’s Body Shop drinking coffee-colored swill.

Ian’s beside me, giving me bedroom eyes, running his fingers up my arm. He’s tempting as fuck.

Hank unlocks the door and lets us in. “Knew you’d be waitin’.”

I spot Ian’s car, nod toward it. “What’s the damage?”

“Her bones are good, but you’re looking at three grand in parts and labor. I have an opening on October first.”

“October? That’s six weeks from now.”

Hank shrugs. “You can tow her somewhere else. No skin off my teeth.”

Ian eyes darken, and not in a sexy way.

---

Look, I’ve learned a lot about Gallagher in the past day. If he says he’s gonna do something, he will.

We’re definitely getting to Nashville.

He’s got about eighty tabs up on his phone. “Ubering is ridiculously expensive. A rental car’ll surcharge me because I’m not twenty-five.”

“You’re not?”

“Not until next May.” Ian doesn’t even look up. “Greyhound leaves at 11:30. What time’s the wedding?”

“Six.”

“Guess we’re taking the bus.”

I fucking hate this idea. Ian can tell. He grabs me by the waist. “We can cuddle the whole way there.”

Okay, maybe I fucking love this idea.

---

We leave the car behind. Leave the body shop behind. Check out of the motel, leave it behind.

All I’ve been doing lately is letting things go. Releasing the goddamn trapeze wire and falling without a net.

My ex is the hardest fucking thing to let go.

Ian and I sit in the back seat of a cab, on our way to the bus station. He holds my hand, simply. “This is the first time I’ve seen your shoulders relax.”

He's a six-foot-high, freckly-armed godsend. It's easier to let go when a motherfucker like that is waiting to catch you.

---

The bus trip passes in a blur. I’m lost in a tangle of Gallagher limbs. He touches my forehead, cups my cheek, kisses me every minute on the minute.

After all the shit we’ve gone through, the ride feels too easy. Roadblocks are easy to rally against. But when the path is clear, doubt creeps in.

We pull into Nashville Station at four o’clock. It’s sunny. The air smells like Keith.

He’s probably putting on his tux and double-checking the flowers right now.

I’ve been obsessed. I haven’t taken a moment to breathe.

Fuck.

Am I doing the right thing?

#galladrabbles #galladrabble #100 words #gallavich fan fiction #master post #no sleep til nashville

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hyperfixated-archivist · 5 days

Text

Here’s some crack fics I wrote a month ago that haunt my restless dreams. Behold.

———

The archive is on fire

this bothers nobody.

the tape recorder is on, rolling like proud Mary.

”Martin came into work today, fucking hate that man. Wish he would die. I’m such a good boss”

the door opens, and in comes Martin Crackhorn. “Sup you sexy snake, want some leaf juice?” “Fuck off you bastard, I’m reading about the mentally Ill.”

martin blushes.

Tim bursts through the wall like the kill aid man, dressed head to dog in mr bonzo merch. And lingerie, but no one cares about that—there are more pressing matters.

“I solved the arg mother fuckers, here’s my girlfriend.” Alice hand drier walked in on the ceiling, because trans people don’t like physics or any of its motives. “Wassup bitches, gimme a twenty.”

“Why?” Sasha asks, crawling out from her desk chewing a table. “Because I’m so sexy that’s why.”

They all nod in agreement.

“Welp,” Elias says, notifying to everyone that he was still there with a slap of his 200 hundred year old knees. “I’m getting another divorce today, can’t stick around.”

“Leave my dad alone!” Martin and Tim say, glaring at each other before Martin stabs Tim in the elbow. “They! That was new!!”

Jon sighs. “I wish mr spider had just eaten me instead of billy wheeler.”

“Womp womp” says nikola, taking his ear and chewing it like Tabasco.

“I hate this life.” Gerry says, “make out with me,” says the sexy yellow door.

“No thanks, I’m a book, we will never work.” Micheal runs away crying.

“what did you just say to my grandson?” Gertrude has risen from the dead. “I think you’re confused gramma.” “No, I’m Gertrude.”

Eric is in the corner putting his eyes back in, but they’re backwards and he is horrified by the sight of his own Brian.

”marry me Juliet,” says Martin to his emotionally constipated boss. “No! I’m busy.” He picks up the binoculars and looks at Tim who is sat two feet from him on Alice’s lap.

“Omg that’s so gay.” Alice is weeping openly now.

Peter walks in, the room goes misty.

“There you are, my prized little problem.”

“Dad!” Elias gets a weird look, but no one follows up on it because Tim is missing both his girlfriend and his knees.

Peter dips out after punching Jon in the emotions.

”I can see it all.” Jon gets punched by Daisy, who immediately smooches bassira on the forehead before jumping into the coffin.

“Well,” “shit,” Berlin and Hoop are pale and normal looking, pay no attention to the zippers on their necks.

”it’s time to d-d-d-duel!” Mary has been skinned. Everyone ignores her. As they should.

“Well,” Martin wants to say he didn’t see this coming, but he did. “I’m going to marry you.��

“Oh word?” Jon and Martin have a wedding in spring. It is delightful, no one dies, and the priest is just happy to be free from the meaty clutch.

Jared hopworth is the flower girl. It does not end well.

The eyepocolypse is avoided, but Daisy still does because it’s what she deserves.

Elias gets killed by jurgen lightener, who immediately dies of Ligma.

All is well, except for Tim. He is suffering.

Click.

———

Heavy metal blasts from her mouth.

”wassup twot, where’s the cheese?” Mary sighed. “We ‘ave non.” “Bullshit, give me the cheese before I ceaseless watcher you.”

Mary visibly tenses. She pulls out an uno reverse.

Gertrude eats it.

”Dearly beloved, get wrecked.” Gertrude does a backflip.

”I want your lungs.” “No, that’s gay.”

The crusty dusty old bitches fight. Gertrude wins, the absolute girlboss.

Micheal comes out from Gerry’s room, no one ask why.

“Oh no!” Gertrude’s eyebrows run away. “The consequences of my actions!”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Nuh uh.”

a gunshot rings out.

Gerry is an orphan, Mary is still alive, Micheal is single, and Gertrude is secretly John Cena, hence why the eye couldn’t see her.

”if you don’t like my killer attitude—“

Eric bursts in. “You’re cheating on me?!”

“What? No?” Gertrude is a confused old lady.

“Not you— her.” “Oh, yes. She’s a lying scumbag.”

Eric gets the rusty shears, but trips and dies. Not on the shears, but from embarrassment and testicular blueness.

“Gerry wants to die.” No one knows who said it, but it’s very true.

So he does.

momstermf enermguy. Bag for lumgs.

”I want to marry you so that we can divorce.” “Alright Elias, calm your saggy tits.”

No one is happy, and Micheal is still a door.

“Don’t @ me.” Gertrude is dead now, and all is at peace.

———

Martin was hungy. Tim owned a pet gorldfish.

Can I make it anymore obvious?

”Martini, you absolute gay barnacle, have you seen my fish Charles-Jevil—“

Marin is choking on the fish. Greedy bastard.

Jon is crying in disappointment and also because of his severe and chronic lack of parents.

Sasha is dead. No one knows why.

Tim has a gun, and breaks through a wall just to walk back in through the front door.

Will wood is blasting from every device, electronic and not.

It’s just Red Moon. Again, and again.

Elias walks in, hears will wood, and because he is a homophobe he immediately dies.

Agnes would have come, but she was on a date with her boyfriend because they deserve happiness and they get it.

Tim has been c4’d by Martin. The audience cheers, then weeps until the archive is flooded.

”My paper-work!” “Jon you fucking neek, no one cares about the fucking boxes you foolish bitch!!”

Jon is having a panic attack, and the water has eaten his shoes.

Tim has forgotten his anger, and since he is a ghost, he can get his pet fish back from Hades, Orpheus style.

Spoiler, he looked back. She died.

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loops-n-boops · 1 month

Text

Seed Dump!!

after a little unexpected turn to a DC hyperfixation that lasted roughly two weeks I'm back to my farcry shit (the usual) so imma give y'all a three for one, John doodles, Seed playlists and hcs in one post,, take your juice

Jacob Seed:

listens to cheesy love songs and some rock and metal

Most think John swears the most but that's a lie, it's him. Whenever Joseph isn't around he'll throw a "fuck this" every now and then

likes adult coloring books and crossword puzzles

if Joseph asks a favor that doesn't involve strength he always goes "I volunteer Johnny"

He opens doors for John and goes "ladies first"

can and will tackle John to the ground and yell "say uncle". He does all the annoying older brother shit idc

Tends to fight with Joseph. They always fought back and forth. As kids it was about how Joseph wouldn't 'man up'. Now it's about how he treats John, not knowing Joseph's been manipulating him to stay this whole time too

So in the past I hc that he's gay, I feel he struggles to come to terms with that. To this day he still is under the impression that it's wrong and makes him look soft, so he still tries to act like he doesn't

Rants to the judges. He is waits until he knows he's alone with the alpha of the pack and just dumps everything he has in his mind. That dog knows things no one else knows

His friendship with Eli in the past was a good one. It reminded him too much of his friendship with Miller (minus the possible secret romance part). They had similar inside jokes, Eli playfully punched him the same way Miller did. He hated it. He still hates it

Jacob is much more of a listener than a talker but prefers surrounding himself with people who talk a lot

Joseph Seed

Joseph doesn't hate John. He's hard on John so he learns. Johns become their father in Joseph's eyes and is making sure to shape him up. However he doesn't realize how terrible he's being to him as he does so.

His biggest fear is being alone. To combat that he almost subconsciously manipulates people to stay with him. He doesn't want to hurt them, but if he doesn't they'll leave. He'll be alone again

As a child Joseph wanted to be an author. He had notebooks filled with vibrant stories he made up in his head. Once a teenager though he found an interest in baking. Him and his wife's date nights consisted of them playing music as they tried a random recipe they found. It was a piece of happiness he never had as a child. They wanted to save money and open a bakery together. Still, to this day, Joseph gathers ingredients on Friday nights and bakes.

Has a heavy preference for Jacob. The man was with him the longest, helped him the most. It isn't that he doesn't love John, but he's detached. John wasn't there as long as Jacob was. John was raised by different people.

He hates winter. Winter was when Faith taken from him. He won't enter any vehicle. He won't go outside much. He hates it.

Puts everyone before himself. He could have not eaten at all that day but he will still be sure to make sure everyone else has. He will forget to eat unless someone else tells him to

His favorite song is Little Lies by Fleetwood Mac and whenever he hears it he gets a boost of happiness. He knows every word.

I don't care what anyone says, I think he's shockingly the worst with kids. He can't handle the tantrums, they stress him out. He doesn't yell or hit but he completely shuts down and won't really react

Doesn't put his hair down often. He sleeps with it down but beyond that? It's always up. Usually in a bun, but sometimes he'll go ponytail.

When angry he tends to quietly glare. He tells from time to time yeah, but he more often will glare at whoever upset him. A look that basically says 'you know what you did'

Hes actually much more of an introvert than people may think. He doesn't like being alone but that doesn't make him an extrovert. His idea on a relaxing day is sitting in a room with his brothers where they all do their own thing but they don't speak much. Comfortable silence. The idea that they're there makes him happy, and the fact that they can indulge in their own hobbies without judgment makes him even happier

John Seed

Much more of a talker than a listener. This makes him and Jacob a good pairing since he would talk a lot and Jacob would smile and listen.

He despises fast food. He tried it once and declared it as the grossest thing to every touch his mouth. He's also definitely the pickiest eater in general. He hates most seafood, broccoli, brussel sprouts, fast food, pizza if it's too greasy, chicken if there's too much tendon, the flavor of mashed potatoes and steak together but he'll eat it on separate occasions. He was picky as a kid and he's still picky as an adult

Actually needs glasses but will not wear them. Luckily he has contacts. However one time he lost one and had to wear his glasses and his chosen were staring at him confused. He needed them since he was little but he never got the appointment when he was with his brothers. Jacob did notice him squinting a lot. Joseph only had glasses because he got his prescription years ago (but they should've been renewed)

He went to religious schools from second grade onward. I'm talking the ones with uniforms and all your teachers are nuns. There's so many pictures of little John with one of those school uniforms and dorky glasses and a big smile.

Speaking of which I believe he was the cutest kid out of all of them. He had big ol doe eyes and got excited over everything. Joseph and Jacob used to call him sunshine when he was young because no matter how miserable and dark the world was around him he always was a happy little boy. He was bright, loving, innocent. An absolute sweetheart in his youth. He was the kid that waved to strangers on the street, his go to form of affection was hugs, and he comforted his brothers when they were upset despite not understanding why they were even upset.

The Duncan's viewed Johns innocent nature as why he was a tainted soul. He didn't understand accountability and the idea that not everyone was good confused him. They had to teach him. Besides, the Duncan's weren't too good themselves.

His adoptive parents were Henry and Amelia Duncan. They adopted John due to Amelia's infertility. John was the youngest there and was promising so they chose him not knowing they were taking a broken boy and breaking him beyond recognition. Johns obvious mental illness also made them feel he needed to be shaped. They were the type of people that thought praying could solve everything. John barely saw doctors, he never got therapy, and when they found out their son was bisexual they threatened to send him away.

However, Henry's mother: Evelyn loved John for who he is was. Accepted her little grandson. Henry's family was large, the man having four brothers and a sister. John was the baby, all of his newly adopted cousins being older than him. Not a lot of them were good, John wasn't even that good, but Evelyn had a clear preference for John, always calling him her angel. (I have too many Duncan hcs I'll stop there)

Johns behavior first began to plumiit near his sophomore year of high-school. He got a stick and poke tattoo when he was too young to have one from a friend. It did get infected but that was fine for him. It was a taste of freedom. A taste of freedom he never had in the past. He wanted a taste of the freedom of adulthood and was willing to rush his adolescence to get that. By the time he was a senior the little angel people knew and loved died, and in his place was a cold hearted snake that lacked any form of remorse for what he did. All he cared for was his own amusement.

As a boy he drew a lot, he quickly discovered art was something he enjoyed. He drew pictures of him and his brothers, but when he lived in Atlanta their faces started to become blurry. Were Joseph's eyes blue or were they green? Who was taller, Joseph or Jacob? What didn't help was the Duncan's wanted every aspect of Johns life before them to not exist. They tried convincing him that they weren't his family and that they hated him. They made him go into speech therapy to force his rural accent to go away. They didn't adopt a son, they adopted a pet.

I'll do a little softer one for the end: Johns secretly a bit of a hopeless romantic. He's always been fond of the idea of romance. He loves cheesy rom-coms, he reads romance books. All of it. Hes well aware that a romantic relationship is something he'll never have, but it doesn't hurt to wish for one. He falls too quickly, but then gets scared when he has to be vulnerable. He has issues, he's not a good person. His issues will scare everyone away. He has no chance. A part of him envies his brothers: Joseph for having a marriage and Jacob for clearly not being interested in romance at all. But some nights, he doesn't care. He'll grab a DVD player and watch his silly little romantic comedy movies (or say yes to the dress if he's feeling something dramatic) and will eat half a bag of gummy bears

#far cry 5 #fanart #john seed #joseph seed #jacob seed #headcanons #sketches #fc5 #doodle

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sugurusdiscordmoderator · 5 months

Text

Gamer Girly - part 2

link to part one • link to master list

cw: alcohol, bisexualness, idk me being half gay

MDNI 18+

not proof read, literally wrote this bc of my insomnia and not being able to sleep tonight

You and Geto texted to plan a FaceTime call in a few days as it worked for his schedule and you were beyond nervous. Even going as far as using your whitening strips and getting your eyebrows done. You planned it for Thursday evening, a time after Geto’s stream was over, before you, Utahime, and Haibara were about to go out to bars for Thirsty Thursday with your fake ID’s. You did your makeup and hair while listening to the squads stream rehearsing in your head what you think Geto would say. You picked out a black crop top and a short denim skirt to wear paired with your vans. As they wrapped up their stream you started feeling anxious and took a shot of a vodka mini bottle you had lying around your apartment to calm some nerves. As you swallow some orange juice as a chaser your phone buzzes from your desk.

‘hey just wrapped up, let me know when you’re free and I’ll shoot you a call. :)’

god texting him felt like you were flirting in high school all over again like a giddy innocent girl.

you set your macbook up on your desk so you could have a better view of him for the FaceTime.

‘sure, ready whenever you are!’ You respond.

Your anticipation leads to sweaty palms and sipping a white claw that was left in your fridge at some point as you pace around your bedroom, making sure everything in the background is okay.

your ringtone from your laptop goes off rather loud and you quickly sit at your desk but don’t press the answer button too soon. The 10 seconds it takes the call to load seems like years as you bounce your leg under your desk.

“hey!” You both speak at the same exact time, as you nervously giggle.

“How are you?” Comes out of both your mouths at the same time again.

“I’m sorry, you first,” you say as he chuckles with his eyes squinted close in the most precious way.

“I’m great, happy to be done streaming for the night and getting ready to go out with some friends, how about you?”

“I’m also going out with some friends for once! We don’t go to bars a whole lot but wanted to try one tonight. Other than that great now that I actually get to speak with you,” you admit, blushing.

“Yeah about that, this moderator thing is pretty easy, mainly the thing you have to watch out for on my discord is people sexualizing Shoko. She’s started to get butthurt about how she’s ‘more than a pretty face’” he rolls his eyes sarcastically.

“Oh yeah of course…” you pause, “are you guys like dating or…?” You close your eyes not believing you just fucking asked that.

“Oh no no, she’s been Satoru and I’s best friend all through high school. We taught her to play and she has pretty much gotten better than us.”

“Satoru?”

“Oh sorry yes that is Gojo’s first name, we all go by our last names on the stream.”

“Oh yeah okay, makes sense,” you glance over at the notepad sitting next to your laptop wondering if you should be taking notes.

“I have to admit there’s not really a whole lot that goes into it, I just wanted to see you over FaceTime.” He grins, lighting up a blunt and casually looking at his screen to see your reaction.

He can’t be flirting with you…right? You decide to take the ball in your court, “well what can I say, I’m only one of your most devoted fans,” winking at him and hoping you don’t seem too lame.

He chuckles, taking a long puff of his blunt and passing it to someone off the screen.

You dare to ask, “also sorry if this is too personal to ask so soon, but I saw your area code is close to where I go to college, can I ask where you’re from?”

He looks like his brain is trying to fit pieces together for a moment, looking up at the person he passed the blunt to. “Uh, yeah I’m from Shibuya and I go to university here.”

Your jaw drops, “like University of Shibuya?”

“Yeah, are you familiar with it?” He asks.

“I’m a junior here! I had no idea you guys were from around here or went to the same school!”

You hear Gojo in the back whisper “oh my fucking god”

Suguru shoots daggers at Gojo, still off screen, and doesn’t know what to say.

“We don’t have to meet up or anything if you’re uncomfortable with it! We can just pretend like we didn’t talk about this,” you blush nervously thinking he was put off by something you said.

“No, no, I mean it would be great either way. Just was a little surprising that’s all.” He responds, no longer looking around for Gojo, just focusing on you on his screen.

“Yeah well I’ll promote you to a moderator tonight and have the other mod text you to kinda explain the situation.” The dark haired mystery man smiles awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Oh and the pay, uh how does $20 per hour sound?”

“Yeah sure whatever you’re willing to pay I’ll take it!” you say almost too eagerly. You knew mods got paid kind of well but you didn’t know it was this good. If he streams 7 days a week for 2 hours, that’s already $280 a week. Plus the time you spend in discord on the chats.

“Okay well I’ll be in touch…” he trails off and you can’t tell if he’s either high or just uninterested in your conversation. (In reality Gojo had a girl sitting on his lap sucking his face off and Suguru was trying to decide if he was disgusted or turned on)

“Yeah, thank you for picking me! Look forward to talking with you,” you say hoping he’s not regretting his choices noting that he got a little awkward after the talk about being local arose.

“Yeah, see ya,” he says too casually with hardly a hint of a smile on his face. You click the ‘end call’ button and sigh. It seems like this unobtainable crush you had on suguru for the past 9 months was still just that. Why had you never seen him around town or campus? Granted, it was a really big school and everything but never once had you seen him, by god you would remember that face.

You snap out of your trance back to your white claw and scroll to find your texts with Utahime while you down the can

‘your place in 10?’ you text her.

‘Yes, sorry kinda last minute but some of haibara and i’s other friends are going to come too’ she texts back and you groan, not in the mood to meet new people.

The thought of having to be social enough to go to the bar was anxiety inducing, but now having to actually meet people before you’re drunk? You grab two more of the mini bottles of vodka you have in your freezer downing one and shoving the other in your pocket for when you get to Utahime’s apartment.

You walk into her unlocked flat without knocking, being too in your head from the FaceTime call and what it meant. Utahime is sitting on the counter, Haibara between her legs as they are making out passionately. Her arms wrapped around his neck, legs spread in her skirt so Haibara (and you) can see her turquoise panties.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you giggle staring at the scene in front of you. “I thought you were expecting me.”

Utahime, obviously embarrassed jumps down from the counter acting like nothing happened and walks over to give you a hug. Wearing a blue skirt, white shirt, and red bow in her hair she looks as cutely innocent as ever. You looked about as opposite as her as possible with your ripped denim skirt, black crop top revealing your cleavage just perfectly, and black and white checkered vans.

“How did the call go?” She asks as Haibara excuses himself to the bathroom trying, but failing, to hide his boner from their make out session.

“Great but I have news about like the four of them -“ you’re cut off by a knock at the apartment door.

In walks a girl with white hair, a black button up black mini skirt, with knee high socks. She was accompanied by two average looking men, obviously whipped by her aura.

“Mei Mei!” Utahime runs over to her and gives her a hug. You’re a little taken aback by the warm welcome this new girl received versus your very awkward one. Well I guess that’s what you get for not knocking.

Haibara comes out of the bathroom looking like he just splashed cold water on his face and neck, “Bayer, Kokun, good to see you.” Walking up to them to dab them up.

You take this opportunity to down the mini bottle in your pocket and take a sip of Utahime’s sprite she left sitting on the counter. Sheeeeesh, three mini bottles and a white claw in before you even leave for the bar? You’re feeling pretty good and confident. Walking in on the couple’s make out session made you realize how long it had been since you got any action. Besides your vibrator working over time, usually after Geto’s streams.

You force yourself out of your thoughts and walk up to the trio chit chatting with the couple and introduce yourself. “Hey I’m y/n” and extend your hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you, y/n, Utahime has told me a lot about you.” Mei Mei says in her naturally sultry voice. Your eyes nervously look at Utahime, consider she had never mentioned this attractive white haired woman to you before.

“We’re new friends, she just moved in down the hallway and these two guys helped her move in.” Utahime says reading your mind.

“Ah nice to meet you, I’m just a few floors up if you ever need anything.” You respond.

“All we’re missing is Yuki right?” Mei Mei asks as she directs her attention to Utahime.

“Yeah but who knows if she’ll show up. I’ll text her to just meet us at the bar.”

With that, the group heads out to go to one of the dive bars in the city, a little place with karaoke on Thursdays. Supposedly Mei Mei knows the bouncer quite well, walking up first in the crowd to whisper something in his ear, finger trailing down his chest. You’re not sure what she said to him, only that his cheeks turned red and he let the 5 of you in without checking your IDs at all. From what you heard this place didn’t let fakes in very easily so you wonder what could have bribed that man. You grab a high top table in the back near the pool tables with Utahime and Mei Mei as the 3 boys go to grab you drinks.

“Can we sing a girls song together?” You propose to the two.

“Y/n are you drunk already? You’d never suggest that sober.” Utahime raises her eyebrows at you.

“How about the spice girls?” You ask ignoring her question. Mei Mei nods with a slight smirk. As you go up to put your name on a slip of paper the boys come back with the drinks. The DJ winks at you and you immediately regret your decision.

A few songs later and it seems your drink is gone, listening to the boys talk about sports and video games, as the two girls chat about their one annoying neighbor on their floor that has the loudest sex imaginable.

You walk up to the bar and stand patiently next to a tall beautiful blonde woman.. you try not to stare as the bartender comes over to her and asks her order. “I’ll take a whiskey and ginger ale, and whatever this girl is having.” She smirks pointing her thumb over to you. “Vodka cran please,” you squeak out to the bartender, nervously smiling at her.

The man goes to make the drinks as she sticks out her hand, “Hi pretty, I’m Yuki.”

“Oh you’re Yuki! Friends with Mei Mei and Utahime?” You stumble out the words remembering her name from earlier.

“Sorry, I’m y/n. I’m here with them tonight, I can take you to them if you’d like?”

Yuki leaves her card with the bartender and hands you your drink. “After you,” she smiles taking the first sip of her drink looking you up and down smugly. You grab her free hand with her vape in it and weave from the bar back to the table you all had claimed.

“I found someone you guys may know?” You shyly interject trying to be funny. The whole group erupts into various versions of “Yuki! Oh my god so good to see you!” She props herself up on the last open barstool at the table. Baggy red cargo pants and a black crop top, no bra with nipple piercings pretty obvious. She catches you staring and nods her head in a “come here” kind of way.

“So what’s your type?” She asks.

“Uh what?” You question back.

“What’s your type of woman?…or man I guess.” She eyes you up and down as if trying to determine your sexuality.

“Uh… I like long hair? And someone who can have a good time?” You’ve never had to answer that question on the spot so you think your answer was decent enough.

She lets out a chuckle and takes another sip of her drink. “So you’re not playing for a single side I’m hearing.” She smirks and puts her arm around your shoulder.

“Yeah I guess not” you smile back realizing how close your faces are.

Just then the DJ announces the next karaoke names, “y/n, Utahime and Mei Mei are going to sing us Wannabe by the Spice Girls!”

“y/nnnn” a tipsy Utahime grabs your hand and starts rushing you three to the stage. One thing you forgot about this place is you have to take a shot before singing. You three take your shots of what tastes like battery acid, stinging going down and trying not to think about it as the music starts.

The 90s classic song gets ever girl in the bar singing and dancing at the edge of the stage and you see Haibara behind the crowd video taping your performance.

Your words are starting to slur slightly and you are just having a great time feeling like a pop star. You swear up in the balcony of the bar you see a white head of hair jamming out and screaming the words but hey everyone’s having a good time!

The song comes to a close and the three of you get escorted off stage. You split from the two and say “I’m going to step outside to smoke for a second,” as you do when you drink.

You walk up to the back door of the bar and as you go to push, you feel someone else pull. With the alcohol in your system, your reaction time is a little delayed. Before you know it you are falling forward towards the gravel with your arms out.

“Oh Jesus Christ” you mumble out assessing the damage while you sit up so you are on your knees. Only a few scrapes as the person on the other side of the door comes up to you and puts a hand on your back.

“Oh my god are you okay I’m sorry,” you hear a familiar voice. Too familiar.

You turn around to meet amber eyes inches from your face.

“Geto?” Your jaw drops.

—

A/N I had to go through my archives to see what someone would wear to a bar in 2018 😭 and look up a discord mods hourly pay on google 😭 also had a bi panic moment w Yuki and Utahime and MeiMei as usual if you can’t tell

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jellogram · 6 months

Text

How to order at a bar: a very thorough walkthrough for people who like instructions

Seems like y'all don't really go out to bars very much, so here is some advice from someone with bar-hopping experience (in the US and Canada at least).

If you want to go out but find it too intimidating and think you will look stupid, here's some help.

Nearly every bar has a house cocktail menu. They are usually sitting on the bar somewhere. If you don't see one, you can ask. These drinks are their specialties and come with a list of ingredients. If you like any of the options, order one of these.

If the house cocktails are way out of your price range, that means the bar is going to be too expensive for you.

If that's the case, or you just generally don't like the vibe of the bar, you can leave without ordering anything. No one will get mad. Most people won't even notice.

If the bar is quiet enough, and the bartender is friendly, you can also ask them what their personal specialty is. They often have something off-menu that they love to make and it's usually awesome.

If it's busy, you might have to flag down the bartender like you're hailing a cab. Just wave at them and they'll come over when they can.

If you want something safe and familiar, here are some good standbys you can get at basically any bar:

Old fashioned: every bartender has their own way of making these. It's basically bourbon with some orange flavors. They're good and dependable but I don't recommend them for people who don't like the taste of liquor.

Cosmopolitan: this is sugar juice. Don't ask for one from a biker bar or old dive, but new, trendy, or gay bars will probably have a good one.

Sidecar: tastes like boozy orange juice. A little less common than the others but nearly every bar can make one, and it's pretty a simple drink for those who are picky.

Moscow Mule: vodka, ginger beer, and lime. Refreshing but only for people who really like ginger.

Long Island Iced Tea: basically every kind of booze. The slightly classier version of jungle juice. This is for getting fucked up.

Mai tai: a good tropical cocktail. Strong but sweet. Every hawaiian- or beach-themed bar will have at least one of these on their menu.

Beer: If you're not super into beer, you probably don't want an IPA. I usually go for Rainier, Heineken, Dos Equis, or Shocktop. You can ask them if they have any good local light beers or ciders.

Wine: Unless you're specifically at a wine bar, don't order wine.

If they ask you what brand of liquor you want in your cocktail, and you don't know any brands or don't have a preference, you can just say "whatever's cheapest" and they'll roll with it.

When you give them your card, they will ask if you want to close your tab. If you are going to stick around a while, say no. If you are bar-hopping and know you'll head out soon, say yes.

Different bars do this differently. Sometimes they'll hold onto your card while the tab is open and sometimes they won't. It doesn't hurt to ask how their process works. They won't be annoyed.

You pay and tip like at a restaurant.

So there you go. Hopefully this helps. It can be a little intimidating walking into a bar, especially if you're very young, but I promise you that bartenders have seen some serious shit and a polite kid being a little confused is not going to be an issue for them.

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fox-daddy · 15 days

Text

The arcana as stolen memes again, again

Julian; the desire to disappear vs the desire to be held and wanted

~~~

Mc: what is the most complicated way to cook an egg?

Nadia without missing a beat: Atmospheric re-entry

Mc holding an egg:...well shit

~~~

Muriel: What if instead of stepping out of my comfort zone I step into an even comfier zone?

~~~

Lucio: huge fan of when my speech patterns rub off on people enjoy when that happens

Lucio: NEVERMIND, my mum just said skill issue to me

~~~

Mc: I wish I had the ability

Muriel:...to do what?

Mc:yeah

Muriel:...

Mc:...

~~~

Asra: I think we should have glowstick juice injected in our bones when we're born so if we break em there's a fun little surprise

Mc: whats the surpise?

Julian cutting in: blood poisoning

~~~

Lucio: if you step on a person's foot they open their mouths, just like trash cans.

Mc: trying not to encourage him by laughing*

~~~

Mc: one time Asra put a glass of milk on the table in front of me and I meant to ask them 'who's milk is this?' because I wasn't sure if it was for me or if they were putting it down on the table to go grab something else and I just stared down at the milk and said 'who's this?' and they turned around and without missing a beat said 'that's your new friend mr.milk' then we stared at each other for a solid twenty seconds before they asked if I was high.

~~~///~~~

(modern day arcana *not the au faking it*)

Nadia: the worst part about parallel parking is the witnesses

Mc: you know their are no witnesses if you're bad enough at parallel parking

~~~

Mc; those moments when straight people assume you're one of them and you feel like a gay secret agent

Nadia: lebionage

Portia:bi spy

Julian: it's an ace case

Asra: secret gaygent

~~~

Nadia: 'kobe' is for accuracy and precision while 'yeet' is for power and distance

Mc: I can turn this into dnd stats

Nadia:???

Mc:Kobe is dexterity, yeet is strength, oof is constitution, tea is intelligence, yolo is wisdom, and wig is charisma

~~~

Mc; You want to know one of my favorite facts? If you leave a hamster wheel out in the forest wild mice will come and run on it. That is one of my favourite facts.

Muriel:... bobcats and lynx's will sit in cardboard boxes abandoned in the forest. I asked Asra about it and they said 'cat's' while shrugging.

~~~

Mc; George Washington died in 1799, 15 years before the first dinosaur was classified. So therefore, Gorge Washington never knew about dinosaurs

Portia: Why does this make me so sad?

~~~

Nadia: if you add two pounds of sugar to literally one ton of concrete it will ruin the concrete and make it unable to set properly. Which is good to know if you want to resist something being built, French anarchists used this to resist prison construction in the 80's.

Portia: I'm just going to go ahead and take a note about this for purely educational purposes.

~~~

Julian: you got to be dunkin my doughnuts

Asra: you gotta be hutting my pizza

Portia: you gotta be mackin my donalds

Nadia: you're really innin my outs here, buddy. You're fivein my guys.

Lucio: ya whiting my castle. Ya darying my queen. Ya steaking my shake.

Mc: but are you belling my taco?

~~~///~~~

(ones with my oc's because why not)

Hunter: stuck in an elevator because Portia decided to jump?

Everyone minus Muriel and Julian: fucken mint

Hunter: Julian's had three panic attacks in ten minutes?